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Part Two, Chapter 3

Posted on Monday, 21 April 2003

By the afternoon of Elizabeth's second day at Netherfield, Jane had made sufficient improvement to sit up in bed and take a bit of tea with her sister. Both girls were heartily glad for the chance to enjoy one another's company without the hovering interference of the other pair of sisters in the house, and Elizabeth was especially relieved to escape the ill-natured, belittling glances of Miss Bingley, who made it a point to make her dislike known at every opportunity. But this, as most anything, was not enough to dampen Elizabeth's naturally good spirits, and further inclined to be merry after her walk and conversation with Darcy that morning, she laughingly related to her sister the goings-on of the downstairs whilst she had remained in bed.

"Mr. Hurst restricts his movements to lounging about in a half-stupor upon the furniture, drinking a shocking amount of brandy, and complaining about the lack of sport. Mrs. Hurst pretends not to notice her husband, but anyone may see that she abhors the very sight of him. I dare say the only happy moments their marriage may boast are those when they are both beating someone else at cards! Usually that someone is poor Mr. Bingley, who, I assure you, dearest Jane, is as kind and gentlemanly as ever. I do believe he asked me six times at dinner last evening whether you were comfortable and had everything you required, and then devoted another half dozen inquires to discovering the state of your health! On the other hand and to my chagrin, Miss Bingley is not so attentive. Though she positively dotes on you, Jane, as she could not avoid, she has not been so kind as to extend the compliment to me. I do not think I have ever seen in my life such determination to prove another individual ignorant, ill bred, and wholly without taste or manners, but such is the office our hostess has assigned herself where I am concerned. Poor Miss Bingley. I truly pity her. Were it to rain and she to be out of doors, I dare say she would surely drown for her nose being so high."

At this, Jane could not help but smile a little, knowing her sister did not exaggerate much, but reprimanded her for the pertness of her comment. "Lizzy! You shouldn't speak so! Miss Bingley has her faults, as we all do, but she has been very kind and generous to take us under her roof, and that, I think, is proof enough of her good character."

"You may believe what you like, Jane, but I must crave the same privilege. It is Mr. Bingley, I think, and not his sister to whom we are indebted for opening Netherfield's doors to us, and the sooner we are gone, the better Miss Bingley will be pleased." Jane started to protest but Elizabeth silenced her. "No, no, do not defend her to me! I saw the look on her face when Mr. Bingley asked me to stay and nurse you, and I know when I am not welcome."

Jane, distressed at the thought that anyone in the house should be thinking ill of anyone else, and especially when the latter was her dear sister, furrowed her brow and sought a warmer interpretation of Miss Bingley's actions.

"Surely you are mistaken, Lizzy! I cannot think so meanly of her. Perhaps her ill humor was only concern for the transport of your things between Longbourn and Netherfield. Yes, indeed it must have been so, for the roads have been very muddy from the rain, and I daresay very slick too. No doubt she was worried there would be some difficulty in bringing a trunk for you."

Elizabeth smiled at her sister, marveling at her ability to turn even Miss Bingley's jealous scowls into overtures of good will. She took her sister's hand in her own and replied lightly, "Dear Jane, how good you are! How am I to persuade you? But I see that you will continue in your angelic ways no matter how I try to poison your sweetness, and so I will yield. After all, as you say, we all have our faults."

Jane smiled and took another sip of her tea. "I suppose you will say that mine is a tendency to make saints of everyone."

Elizabeth returned the remark with a bright smile. "And mine in turn is to laugh at them if I possibly can! You see, it is a very good thing we are sisters, else we should probably drive one another mad! If I did not know you were a miracle of patience, I should probably think you would soon grow very tired of my teasing, Jane."

"Ah, but you are not the only one to employ that art, dear Lizzy."

The latter laughed. "Does that mean you intend to tease me now?"

Her sister's usually angelic smile turned playful. "I think I have a mind to. I did notice when you were giving your charming account of those in the house besides ourselves that there was a certain person, a gentleman in fact, who escaped both your wit and your mention, though I think I may safely assert he has not escaped your notice."

Elizabeth knew her sister was too perceptive to be evaded by denial, and so, attempting to look as indifferent as possible, she merely answered, "I suppose you are referring to Mr. Darcy."

"Indeed I am. How curious, that you should be so full of glowing reports of him upon your return from Derbyshire, and now that he is here in our midst you say nothing of him. I hope the gentleman has not offended in any way since he came to Hertfordshire."

"No indeed. He is the picture of courtesy."

Jane was clearly determined. "Come, come, Lizzy! Is that all you have to say for him?"

Elizabeth sighed, suddenly disinclined to be teased. "Yes."

Jane eyed her sister reproachfully. "Surely you see that he is clearly very attached to you. I half expected you to rush here this morning and tell me he'd made you an offer of marriage when I saw the two of you walking into the house together from the window."

Elizabeth laughed at this, and laying aside her empty teacup, she stood from her place at Jane's bedside and moved to the window. "You are quite mistaken, Jane. Mr. Darcy and I are great friends, but nothing more. I will not attempt to deny that I think very highly of him and that he has paid me the great compliment of holding me in friendly regard, but to be sure, it would be foolish to hope for anything beyond that."

"Lizzy, a man who regards a woman as merely a friend does not look at her as Mr. Darcy looks at you."

"And how is that, Jane? How may one classify a look, or indeed a friendship? There are, I suppose, as many forms of one as there are of the other, and you may be assured that it is our friendship in Mr. Darcy's looks and nothing more."

"Lizzy. . ."

"Indeed, Jane, I am in earnest." Elizabeth returned to her sister's side and took both of Jane's hands in her own. "Do not worry for me, dearest, for you of all people know that I may school my own heart. Perhaps I thought myself attached to him in the summer, but now I see that I am blessed to have his confidence and companionship, far more blessed than I might have hoped for." Jane still looked skeptical, but Elizabeth persisted, returning to playfulness in order to ease her sister's objections. Smiling she continued, "In any case, I am sure I should be most ill-suited to be his wife. Mrs. Darcy must be a woman of supreme elegance and refinement, possessed of an education in Town and totally without my fondness for traipsing through country mud puddles in order to tend upon an ailing sister." Jane lost her sternness and laughed a little at this, encouraging her sister's wit. "She must be very accomplished and very dignified, not to mention extremely well bred, and if you apply to Miss Bingley on the matter, I am sure she will be vastly happy to tell you that she finds me wanting in all three criteria."

"Lizzy!"

"In addition to all this, Mrs. Darcy must have a very great fortune and more servants than she can find occupations for, a set of family jewels which boggles the mind and ravishes the senses, and two very great carriages, much like the one the Lucases have just procured and which Mama takes such delight in coveting."

"Stop it, Lizzy!"

"There, you see? I am completely unsuitable for the role you would have me play, and I forbid you to feel sorry for me!"

Jane leaned back against the pillows, smiling, and with a nod acknowledged her defeat. "Very well, if you are so determined not to have him. I daresay you speak wisdom, and I in turn will hold my peace. Now, I am tired and wish to rest a while."

Elizabeth returned Jane's smile and bent to kiss her cheek. "Good. I'll clear away the tea things. Do you require anything else?"

"No, no. You have fussed over me long enough for one afternoon- go and find some other employment that pleases you."

Elizabeth laughed a little and began to smooth the bedclothes around her sister's shoulders. "It seems to me that you have done most of the fussing, dearest Jane."

The latter smiled. "Well, perhaps I have, and no doubt I owe my fatigue to the overexertion. Someone must help you see reason, Lizzy! But I have promised my silence on the subject and will say no more. I daresay I'll feel much better after having rested."

"Yes. I'll stay indoors should you have need of me. I suppose you may simply send a maid in search of me should that be the case."

"Thank you, Lizzy. You have been very good."

By way of answering, Elizabeth placed an affectionate kiss on her sister's forehead, and seeing that she was likely to sleep peacefully for the next few hours, silently slipped from the room.

That same afternoon, Darcy sat reclining in one of the library's armchairs by the fire, accompanying his tea with a book as was his custom in the country- at least when staying with Bingley and his sisters. The habit provided a reasonable excuse for avoiding another hour other than those absolutely necessary in Miss Bingley's company, which, in Darcy's mind, was a truly noble cause. In addition to this previous advantage, Darcy's attachment to literature generally put Miss Bingley out of her depth where conversation was concerned, and the gentleman liked to think that the more reading he did, the less she would be able to get away with. Potentially, should this happy cycle continue, within a few years he would not be obliged to speak to her at all.

To own the truth, however, Darcy's thoughts were not so much in regards to the page which lay open in front of him as they were to the very great pleasure a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow. The eyes which inspired such reflections, of course, were Miss Elizabeth Bennet's. He smiled warmly to himself as he remembered their conversation that morning, and looked forward to what would come of this new confidence between them. His only concern was that perhaps he had stressed the notion of friendship too heavily, and thereby unintentionally led her to believe this was all he cared to have exist between them. He could not yet determine whether this had been wise or a blunder, but time, and her behavior, would certainly tell.

Darcy could not deny to himself now that his dearest hope was for the new intimacy of friendship to swiftly lead to the intimacy of marriage, but there were still significant impediments, her family being the largest. He would surely be the happiest of men if it were possible to effectively blot out the shrieking raptures of Mrs. Bennet and the wild giggles of the Misses Lydia and Kitty. But with Longbourn three miles away, no engagements in Meryton for the next week, and Elizabeth as much to himself as he was ever likely to have her, Darcy considered his odds of successful forgetfulness relatively high.

But all this would be nothing if Elizabeth's trust was not his, and he respected her too much to regard their friendship as a mere means to win her. He knew her mind was too clever and too independent for such schemes. He was therefore resolved to treat her as he would his dear sister, and hope the best would come of it.

Darcy was recalled to his surroundings by the sound of someone crossing the library from its entrance, which was hidden from his sight by several tall bookshelves. He could tell from the light quickness of the step that his company was a woman, and in a moment, when she began to hum to herself a tune he vaguely recollected hearing in The Marriage of Figaro , he knew that the object of his previous reflections had stepped out of his fancy and into Bingley's library.

A moment later she appeared from behind the shelves, still humming to herself as she perused their contents, her back to him. Darcy fought for a second between the desire to speak to her and the desire to merely watch her in unobserved silence, but propriety and respect for her soon swayed his decision toward the former option. Smiling, he remarked to her, "I hope you are not so unhappy in the affairs of love as that song would suggest, Miss Bennet."

She turned, surprised but not startled, and seeing him in the armchair she readily returned his friendly smile. "There is no love worth having, sir, for which one does not endure a little unhappiness."

"And what moves you to say so, madam?"

Her customary mirth flashed quickly in her gaze and lit her countenance as she observed shrewdly, "Because we are all very fickle creatures, and a love untested is a precarious love indeed."

He smiled. "I see you are keen to play the philosopher."

She laughed. "It is a love of hearing my own 'wisdom' that moves me so, and that love, I think, whether happy or no, is the one love which never fades with sadness or trouble."

He laughed with her. "I think you speak for all your race, Miss Bennet." He stood, as decorum commanded, approached her at the bookshelf whereby she stood, and extended his hand companionably to her. She took it with a warm smile. "And how are you this afternoon, my dear friend?" he asked. "I have not seen you since we entered the house together this morning."

"I do very well, Mr. Darcy. I have been with my sister all day, and now that sweet Jane is resting, I find I have a few hours at least in which to do as I please."

"Then I am glad your steps directed you here. How does your good sister? Is she at all improved since she was taken to bed?"

"Yes, I am happy to say I think she is quite improved. She was well enough to sit up and take tea with me just an hour ago, and this morning I came upon her reading in bed. I daresay she will recover in time to return home within a day or two."

Though he truly wished Miss Jane Bennet a safe and speedy recovery to health, this news did not please Darcy so well as it did her sister. A day or two? Perhaps Bingley could be persuaded to keep them longer, in deference to poor Miss Bennet's natural reluctance to travel in her weak condition. Never mind it was only three miles of very good road. And of course Miss Bingley's protestations would have to be silenced. . .

". . . do you not think so, sir?"

". . . hmm, what?"

Elizabeth laughed lightly and smiled up at him. "I seem to have lost my audience. Of what, may I ask, were you thinking, Mr. Darcy? It had better be something very profound indeed, else I shall not be at all inclined to forgive your negligence."

"It was concern for your sister that distracted me, madam. Are you quite sure she will be well enough to be removed in two days? I was given to understand she was very ill indeed."

To his surprise, his companion once more received his comment with laugher. "Have you determined to oppose Miss Bingley's wishes again, sir? I can see every time I enter a room which she inhabits that she craves a reasonable excuse to be rid of me! She will be very unhappy with you, sir, if you work to undo her treasured plans."

"Let her plot. I find myself exceedingly indifferent to her schemes."

Elizabeth smiled. "Well, despite my protestations, I must agree with you, my friend. I know very well that my sister Jane is a great deal better off recovering here than at Longbourn."

Darcy raised an eyebrow, surprised to hear it. "Indeed?"

"Indeed. The current displeasure of Miss Bingley is nothing, compared to that of my mother had Jane been taken home, and consequently missed the opportunity to. . ." She blushed and stopped abruptly. "No, I should be quite wrong to say that."

Darcy smiled teasingly at her. "But you have intrigued me now, Miss Bennet, and cannot leave your remark at that."

Her lips twisted in a shrewd, half smile, unwilling to give in to him. Rather, she said pointedly, "My mother, sir, bless her heart, is not a sensible creature."

Darcy folded his arms, unconvinced. "Come, come, my dear Miss Bennet! You do not expect me to be content with that, do you?"

She returned his inquiry with a pert smile, and promptly walked past him in the direction of the armchair he had vacated. "What is it you've been reading, Mr. Darcy?" she asked by way of changing the subject. She picked up the volume he had laid aside and positioned herself leaning against the arm of the chair.

Seeing there was little use in dissuading her, Darcy rattled off a title. "Shakespeare's Comedies."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "An interesting choice for you, I daresay."

He regarded her with mock gravity. "And what makes you say that, Miss Bennet?"

She laughed. "Merely because they seem too frivolous for your tastes, Mr. Darcy. If someone else had told me that your were reading Shakespeare, I should have guessed it would be Hamlet and questions of mortality which occupied your hours- but certainly not young women dressed as boys to gain a lover's favor."

He could not help but smile a little at her teasing. "And what, pray, would you say if I told you I was completing the famed Darcy edition of the Comedies? Is that scholarly enough for you?"

She paused a moment, then recollection dawned on her and she smiled. "I see you are a man of great ambitions, sir. Not just Twelfth Night but all the Comedies have fallen under your critical eye? Very impressive, I must say."

He shrugged as if to dismiss the "accomplishment" and moved to join her at the hearth. "A trifle, I assure you."

She smiled and then turned thoughtful. "But now I reflect on it, sir, I think that even were you not engaged in such a scholarly pursuit, your time would not be completely wasted upon the Comedies."

"And why is that?"

"Why they are all about the highest of human emotions, sir! And love, I think you'll agree, is nearly always better than death, for all Hamlet's soliloquizing."

He was sorely tempted to kiss her pert, smiling lips at that very moment, but refrained. Instead he restricted himself to commenting feelingly, "You are very wise, sweet lady."

She laughed merrily, completely unaware of his thoughts. "And you, sir, are a fibber."

This remark effectively broke the train of his previous reflections. "I beg your pardon?"

Laughingly, she lifted his book from the seat of the armchair and held it before him.

"I think you'll find it was Wordsworth, and not Shakespeare with whose work you were occupied, Mr. Darcy. Should I be concerned with the strength of your scholarship? I must say, I cannot wait to read your editions. They should be enlightening, to say the least."

The Netherfield party had just despaired of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's coming down to dine with them and gone into dinner without her, when the same young lady appeared in their midst, apologizing for her tardiness, and took her seat between Mr. and Mrs. Hurst at the foot of the table, as far away from Mr. Darcy as Miss Bingley could possibly manage for her.

"Pray excuse me. My poor sister's headache returned, and I was obliged to hurry down to the kitchen and fetch her a cup of tea."

Miss Bingley laughed derisively, pleased with this evidence of her guest's lack of good breeding. "We do have upstairs maids for that sort of thing, Miss Bennet," she observed, smiling pointedly at Mr. Darcy, as if to share a good joke at Elizabeth's expense.

But the latter was not out of her depth. "Yes, thank you, Miss Bingley. I was aware of that. But it seems they were all otherwise engaged this evening, for when I applied to one of them to accomplish my errand, she told me all the upstairs maids were needed in the mistress' rooms, helping her prepare to go down to dinner."

Miss Bingley's smile promptly slid off her face, and sitting as tall and dignified in her chair as she possibly could, she honored Miss Eliza with a cold glare. She then proceeded to ignore her guest by engaging Mrs. Hurst, who was almost equally affronted, in conversation. Mr. Darcy had instantly covered his mouth with his napkin after the remark and coughed politely behind it, though anyone might have seen from the expression in his glance at Elizabeth that he was quite amused. Mr. Bingley smiled good-naturedly from his place at the head of the table, rather unsure of what exactly had transpired but eager that everyone should emerge from it in good humor, and Mr. Hurst tapped his empty glass rather violently and called for more wine.

Elizabeth herself sat silently at her place, trying to avoid Darcy's eye lest they expose themselves to ridicule. She had hoped to pass a relatively quiet evening, without much conflict between herself and Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst, but it seemed she would have done better to stay upstairs with Jane had she desired it so. Ah, well. It was her own fault for letting the pert remark slip, and it was too late to retreat now.

Mr. Bingley was her savior, asking his customary questions after Jane's health and improvement. "I hope the headache you spoke of just now does not mean your sister's recovery has been set back at all, Miss Bennet."

"Oh, I think not, sir. Jane is quite strong, and a headache is not likely to mean anything serious. I am convinced she is quite steadily on the mend. But I must ask you, Mr. Bingley, would you mind if my mother was sent for to see her tomorrow? Then we may determine when it is best for us to return to Longbourn."

"Of course, Miss Bennet. Your good mother shall be sent for directly tomorrow morning."

Darcy, who had been silently observing the two as they spoke, now entered the conversation. "Then you are determined to leave us, Miss Bennet."

"We could not trespass on Mr. Bingley and his sister's kindness indefinitely, sir."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Bingley. "You provide us with some excellent variety, Miss Bennet, and we are delighted to have you, and will be delighted still more when your fair sister is well enough to join us!"

Elizabeth smiled gratefully at her host and replied, "You are too kind, Mr. Bingley. But I wonder, does not the change of scene to Netherfield provide you with sufficient variety?"

Darcy replied to this. "Bingley is never satisfied, Miss Bennet. He has the most mutable tastes in the world."

"Do you indeed, sir?"

Bingley laughed. "Well, I'll admit to a certain amount of restlessness. But I'll not have Darcy leading you to think I'm a shifting rake, Miss Bennet. He would have you believe I am the soul of inconstancy."

Elizabeth smiled and turned to Darcy. "This is a heavy charge indeed. Can you defend yourself, Mr. Darcy?"

"Inconstancy is a broad word, and may suggest many things. You would agree, would you not, madam, that in some things it is good to be inconstant."

Her mouth twisted in amusement. "I suppose you mean dreadful things like thievery, murder, piracy. . ."

He smiled. "Dear Miss Bennet! As such every young woman on earth may be considered guilty, for they thieve men's hearts, murder their good sense, and pirate their wills!"

Elizabeth laughed merrily. "And young men are not equally capable of doing the same for we ladies? For shame, sir, you are very hard upon our sex. And inconstant too, for you have yet to defend yourself against the charge laid at your door! Has he not, Mr. Bingley?"

The latter, who had begun to feel himself in over his head in the conversation, merely smiled when applied to and exclaimed enthusiastically, "Dashed right, Miss Bennet! You ought to appease her, Darcy!"

"Very well. My dear friend Bingley, Miss Bennet, is astonishingly fickle about sporting, never knows whether he'd like to attend the theater or the opera, can't decided without his valet whether to wear his blue waistcoat or the green one, must rely upon his sisters to determine the length of any visit to town, never has the patience for chess, deplores attending long lectures, and has never managed to successfully pay my aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh the vast amounts of attention she fancies she requires. But save for these few failings, he is the best and most generous of men, and I dare say I shall never be sorry to be known as his friend."

Bingley laughed heartily, and slapped Darcy fondly on the shoulder. "Good man, Darcy! And I will add, though at times you can be horribly somber and wretchedly dull in a large party, there isn't a chap I had rather drag about the Town and the country in search of my own contentment!"

Elizabeth regarded the two gentlemen with a smile, happy that the previous aura of discomfort created by Miss Bingley had been replaced with friendly easiness, at least between herself, her host, and Mr. Darcy. The two sisters, she then noticed, appeared to be engaged in an increasing argument over who was the owner of a certain gown they had in mind, and Mr. Hurst was now well on his way to achieving that drunken stupor for which he aspired every evening. Elizabeth smiled to herself. For all their airs and grandeur, the Netherfield party was not so very different from those at Longbourn. She made a mental note to acquaint her father with the reflection when she and Jane returned home. He would be sure to enjoy it.

With the ladies retired to the drawing room for coffee and Hurst slumped over in his seat in a drink-induced slumber, Bingley slid his chair at the head of table round to face Darcy's and poured his friend a glass of port. Bingley, though at times a little thick where the subtler things of life were concerned, was not completely insensible of his friend's growing taste for certain company, and after the evidences of this evening he was most anxious to learn to what extent Darcy favored Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who was, in Bingley's estimation, second only to her elder sister in agreeableness, beauty, and good-humor.

But alas, Mr. Bingley lacked the subtlety of manner which would have best assisted him in questioning the typically reserved Darcy on such a delicate matter, and therefore he began his inquiries with, "So, old man, just when do you intend to take your uncommonly pretty 'great friend' from the summer back to Derbyshire with you as your wife?"

Darcy set down his glass and eyed his friend without appreciation for his remark. "I do not know of what you are talking, Bingley, but it sounds dangerously similar to nonsense."

"Oh come, Darcy! I hope you do not think me such an idiot as to fail to notice the obvious deference you show this particular Miss Bennet! You cannot think me such a simpleton, I'm sure!"

"You mistake me, Bingley. Of course I admire Miss Bennet a great deal, but as I said to you before, we are simply good friends."

Bingley looked unconvinced, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms critically. "I think your mention of nonsense just now might be better applied to your own remarks, Darcy. Good friends, man?! As if it were possible for a man and a woman to be friends!"

Darcy was quick to protest. "And why should they not be? Just because you have never managed to befriend a woman without making love to her in a ballroom does not mean it is impossible for any other man to enjoy the former without lapsing into the latter, Bingley."

"I will pretend I did not hear that remark for your sake, sir," asserted Bingley, "and will proceed to prove my point. As soon as a woman believes herself to be favored by a gentleman, even if, as you say, he feels nothing but a friendly regard for her, she is instantly determined to make as much of it as she can, and to become the envy of her entire female acquaintance. Therefore, after this sort of thing is allowed to continue, the poor man may very well feel obliged to fall in love with her, but by that time she has tired of him, and is content to bestow her smiles on someone else. And that is why men and women can never be friends."

Darcy laughed. "What an intolerable pessimist you have become, Bingley! I'm sure I've never heard such melancholy musings proceed from your lips. I hope you do not fancy yourself crossed in love? Oh please, old friend, do spare me that."

Bingley smiled sheepishly. "I only wish I had the opportunity to be so. But I think. . ." he turned thoughtful a moment, and Darcy wondered apprehensively if he was contemplating the young woman resting in the sickroom upstairs. "I think I very well may be, if given the proper inducement. . ."

Darcy was uneasy at the thought of Bingley's forming an imprudent attachment, which in his mind consisted of an attachment for anyone save Georgiana, who he was almost sure harbored tender feelings for Bingley, and therefore turned serious and cautioned his friend. "Be careful, Bingley. There are many a potential fortune hunter in our midst, and I would not have you fall prey to one of them, especially when the possibility of a far more suitable match is quite decidedly in your circle."

Bingley shook off his reverie and smiled cheerfully. "Of course, of course. You know I would never do anything rash, Darcy."

Darcy raised his eyebrows and viewed his friend skeptically. "Why is it that I am plagued with a total lack of confidence in that statement?"

Bingley laughed. "Then I shall simply have to prove myself. If you will be sure to guide me, that is. In my opinion, your judgment is impeccable, old man. And let me assure you, my dear fellow, that there is scarcely anything for you to worry about in the person of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is loveliness itself, and about as likely to be a fortune hunter as Caroline is to elope with the coachman."

Darcy laughed. "Thank you for your assurances, Bingley. They are keenly felt. But as my intentions towards Miss Bennet at present are as blameless and brotherly as are my intentions towards Georgiana, those assurances fall on relatively deaf ears."

"Relatively, eh? You might as well declare you will marry the girl tomorrow, Darcy! Propose sooner rather than later, so that we may have Caroline's weeping and wailing now and be done with them!"

"Oh, you fancy yourself very clever, my friend, but I shall not give way. Let Miss Bingley save her tears, or shed them over the coachman if she will, but I will not give her cause for them."

Bingley looked skeptical. "I find it uncommonly hard to believe you, old man."

Darcy smiled, not about to entrust his talkative friend with information he still wondered at himself. No, until his mind was firmly made up, he would not give Bingley means to ruin his chances with an ill-timed, however unintentional, slip of the tongue. "Shall we join the ladies?"

Bingley scowled at being excluded from his friend's confidence, but pushed back his chair and stood in compliance, replacing the port on the sideboard with rather more clinking than was absolutely necessary. Darcy rose too, and the noise occasioned by the movement of both gentlemen roused the slumbering Hurst, who then sat up violently and drunkenly declared, "Hmm, hmm, yes! Damn tedious waste of an evening!"

The next morning, as Mr. Bingley had promised, Mrs. Bennet was duly sent for, and ushered into the sickroom with her two youngest daughters to determine the health of the patient. However, it was despite Elizabeth's declarations of her elder sister's improvement and Jane's own assurances that she was beginning to feel quite herself again that Mrs. Bennet found her daughter still a great deal too ill to be moved for at least the next three or four days, and requested to dear Mr. Bingley that they might trespass a little longer on his kindness. This, of course, was settled on immediately by Mr. Bingley, who was eager to do the eldest and prettiest Miss Bennet any service, and without reference to the sour looks adopted by his own sisters upon hearing of it. He even bore with equanimity all Mrs. Bennet's chatter and declarations of gratitude, as well as Miss Lydia's clamoring for a ball, and when the three Bennet women were finally persuaded to go by the fourth who was to stay, he was the only one of the remaining party who was still in tolerably good humor.

The next two days passed for Elizabeth without anything particular occurring. She spent a good part of them with Jane, but when she was not required she was always sought out by Darcy, who had taken to waiting for her on the landing of the staircase, pretending to be occupied with a book. This amused Elizabeth, but his desire to be in her company pleased her, and by way of a series of walks about the grounds and conversations, usually conducted in the library, she felt that not only had their friendship strengthened, but she knew and liked him better for it. His manners were easy and almost brotherly, and Elizabeth began to feel herself more content with him than with anyone, despite the difficulty which loving him presented. But she schooled herself not to think of it, and took comfort in the knowledge that friendly regard was better than no regard at all. And if at times she was haunted by the memory of his words or his looks during their more intimate moments in Derbyshire, she chased them away with flashes of merriment, and made sure to let her wit silence her heart.

Dearest Elizabeth,

How lonely I am in ______ Street without my brother or Mr. Bingley to keep me company! I hope you are enjoying their presence in Hertfordshire, for I am quite desolate in their absence. But as I wrote to you before, no gentleman was ever so kind as Mr. Bingley upon their departure, for he kissed my hand and told me he hoped we should meet again very soon. I hope we shall.

How I long to see you! It seems an age since we were all at Pemberley, and I have grown very tired of London. I believe I am very much like my dear brother when it comes to the Ton, for I despise large crowds and cannot bear the constant noise of carriages and conversation outside my windows.

But I will bear it as best I can, hoping to prove myself worthy enough in my studies to merit the return home to Derbyshire. Indeed, I believe we all think it the dearest place in the world! Mr. Bingley always jokes that he should buy Pemberley from my brother if he ever offered it, but now it seems he has settled on Hertfordshire. If only I could secure an invitation to Netherfield! I shall write to my brother of it, and beg that he would put it into Mr. Bingley's mind. I would be more than willing to endure all Miss Bingley's pleasantries if it meant I should be amongst those I love best again!

I was very glad to learn that you found Mr. Bingley as agreeable as I do. I think him the kindest and best gentleman in the world, save for my dear brother, and I am sure your acquaintance with him will continue to be a most agreeable one. He was very thoughtful to give me a very handsome pot of tulips before he and my brother went away, direct from Holland he said, and I am determined to have them planted at Pemberley as soon as I return. Was that not generous of him?

Mrs. Annesley has now called me twice to return to the pianoforte, and so I must go. Give my regards to Mr. Bingley when next you see him, and of course to my dear brother, who has already had them once before from the letter I posted yesterday. I send this and all my warmest affection to you, dearest Elizabeth, remaining your devoted friend,

G. Darcy

Elizabeth sighed as she folded Georgiana's letter and fingered its edges absently. She looked thoughtfully out over Netherfield's grounds from her place on a garden bench near the house, and tried to organize the plethora of notions which had entered her head upon reading the letter. It was clear that her young friend felt strongly where Mr. Bingley was concerned, and that something must be done about it. Whether it was merely a girlish fancy or a deeply rooted regard she entertained for him, the letter made it impossible to tell, but as Mr. Bingley's attachment to Jane increased, Elizabeth hoped for her friend's sake that her devotion to the same gentleman was simply the result of his friendly and agreeable manners, and his being one of the few young men in her acquaintance. It was perfectly natural for a young, impressionable, and inexperienced girl of sixteen to feel a preference for such a good-humored, generous young gentleman, who besides his other amiable qualities was her beloved brother's close friend. Such a preference would naturally pass with time and experience on Georgiana's part, and therefore Mr. Bingley would be perfectly free to pursue Jane without concern for wounding his friend's sister's heart. Unless, of course, Georgiana's feelings ran deeper than was to be expected.

Disliking to reflect so on the matter, Elizabeth resolved to think no more of it unless it became obvious that Georgiana's attachment to Mr. Bingley was indeed a devoted one. And of course, she would have to speak to Darcy on the matter- as Georgiana's brother and guardian he should naturally be informed of her suspicions, if indeed he did not share them already. Elizabeth wondered how he viewed the matter. He had always seemed anxious to avoid the subject whenever it was likely to enter a conversation between them, and Elizabeth hoped it was not because he had seen his friend's attachment to her sister and disapproved of it. Ah well- there was no point in fretting over the matter until the gentleman himself was applied to. . .

"Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth looked up to see the man himself standing before her. She shielded her eyes from the rays of the sun, just beginning to set behind him, and smiled up at her visitor.

"Mr. Darcy."

"I am afraid I am interrupting your solitary reverie."

"You are indeed," she replied, smiling still, "but it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome."

"I should be sorry indeed if it were. But as I have shown my remorse and you your charity, might I now persuade you to take a turn with me about the grounds?"

Elizabeth laughed. "I suppose I may be, if only to prove the depth of my Christian forgiveness." He extended his hand to her with a smile and she took it, standing from her seat on the bench, and fell into step beside him. They walked together for a few minutes without speaking, a companionable silence settling comfortably between them. For her part, Elizabeth was glad of it. She had begun to learn that Darcy's silences were a sort of compliment- for though she had seen him often enough in company to know that he was a quiet, reserved man in a crowd, she knew that in private conversation his silence also conveyed his trust. When he spoke, it was for a purpose, and Elizabeth, who despised small talk, found that this suited her, and was perfectly content to say nothing as long as he wished it.

After a few moments, Darcy saw fit to speak again and asserted, "So, my friend, you are to leave us tomorrow."

Elizabeth smiled sadly, watching their feet as they cut across the grass. "Yes. Jane is quite well enough to be moved now, and we cannot impose upon dear Mr. Bingley's kindness a moment longer. His sisters, I believe wouldn't hear of it."

Darcy smiled. "You do realize, of course, that in returning to Longbourn you leave me to fend for myself against Miss Bingley?"

Elizabeth laughed. "I do think you are capable of fending her off for yourself, sir. A few silent glares from you do more to silence her than all my pert remarks, which tend only to incite her further. No, no, I am in no doubt of your being perfectly able to do quite a thorough job of defending yourself without my assistance."

"Cruel woman. You leave me no ally!"

"Not so, sir! I am sure you may enlist Mr. Hurst's aid if need be. He has nothing better to do, it seems, but to drink too much and then to slumber, and save for his belching and his swearing, I dare say he is a very good sort of man. . ."

Darcy laughed. "I see you are determined to show me no mercy!"

"Only because I see you do not require it. Besides, this evening my sister is to dine with us, and Miss Bingley will be too much occupied with fawning over her to pay you or me any mind."

"Indeed? I must say, this is excellent news. You must extend my gratitude to your kind sister for her intervention. It is greatly appreciated, I assure you."

"Yes, I can see that. I very much wonder, Mr. Darcy, being the free man that you are, why you do not leave Hertfordshire if you find the company so tiresome?"

"Ah, but Miss Bennet, you quite misunderstand me. In fact, I must say that there are many inducements for me to stay, inducements which quite outweigh the detractions of doing so."

"Do they indeed? That is fortunate for you, sir."

"I consider myself a very fortunate man, and have no intention of running from an otherwise advantageous situation merely because of a bit of feminine squabbling."

Elizabeth laughed. "Is that what you've determined to call it, sir?"

He smiled rather sheepishly. "To own the truth, it was really the first word that came into my head."

She smiled pertly up at him and replied, "With such words as this at your disposal, Mr. Darcy, I really am anxious to read those editions of Shakespeare's Comedies you promised me. There are a great many 'feminine squabbles', as you call them, to discuss in those works."

"Teasing woman! I should never have made the jest to you in the first place!"

"It is a human hardship that our transgressions often come back to haunt us. But you may be glad, sir, that I have not yet mentioned the name Wordsworth. . ."

"Pray, say no more! I have done with literary witticisms on your account, madam, and I beg you would not torture me on the grounds of previous sins. I may yet change my mind and look forward to your departure. . ."

"Hateful man! That is unfair. Gentlemen never like to be bested by a lady, and I see that you, for all your great reading and polish, are no different. But there is no cause for cruelty, sir!"

Darcy laughed. "Enough! I have done! Let us shake hands, dear friend, and say no more of the matter!"

Elizabeth eyed him skeptically. "You are in earnest?"

"Indeed."

"You admit you were in the wrong?"

"Utterly and completely."

"Then I suppose I must forgive you." She extended her hand to him, and once in his, rather than shaking it, he brought it to his lips. Then he smiled at her and affectionately pressed her hand. For a moment she feigned a pouting discontentment, but at the sight of his continued good humor, she laughed merrily and tucked her arm through his as they continued on their way.

After another few moments of silence, Elizabeth asked, "Have you any idea how long Mr. Bingley intends to stay?"

Darcy thought a moment. "I could not say. He is very pleased with Netherfield and with Hertfordshire in general, and I think it likely he should stay at least until after Christmas."

"Will you return to Town then, to spend the holiday with Georgiana?"

"Yes. I hope that we may return from thence to Pemberley, but I have yet to make arrangements with my steward."

Elizabeth smiled. "Pemberley at Christmas. It sounds divine to me. I must image the grounds are very beautiful in the winter, all covered with snow. . ."

Darcy returned her smile. "They are indeed. I have spent seven and twenty winters at Pemberley, and they all still surprise me. You greatly appreciate natural beauty, I know, and would love to see it. Perhaps when Georgiana returns to Pemberley you might be afforded the chance to visit her. She would like that, I am sure."

At the continued mention of Georgiana, Elizabeth felt that now perhaps would be as good a time as any to broach the subject with Darcy that she had been pondering before he happened upon her. "I received a letter from your sister today, sir. It was forwarded to me from Longbourn."

"Did you indeed? It was not, by chance, the same letter with which you were occupied when I met you just now by the house?"

"It was. She sends her regards to you, which I am sure you have already received in a letter of your own, and asks me to convey the same to Mr. Bingley."

Darcy looked surprised, but not displeased at all. "Does she?"

"Yes."

"Bingley has always been a great favorite with Georgiana. He does not condescend to her as his sisters do, and as you know, is always eager to be in good spirits and see others the same."

"I wonder, sir, forgive me, if you do not, perhaps, underestimate the strength of your sister's attachment to him. . ."

At this, Darcy became alert. He had long been hoping that Georgiana would form an attachment to his friend, that he might have the joy of seeing her happily and suitably matched in life with a man who, if not entirely sensible, was amiable and generous, and surrounded by those who would guide him wisely, namely Darcy himself. But how could Elizabeth know this? Had Georgiana confided her hopes to her?

"Has my sister made you her confidante, then, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth colored slightly and shook her head. "Not exactly. The letter I received today was full of Mr. Bingley's praises, and it is not the only one I have received that was so. At first I thought perhaps the smallness of her social circle caused her to dwell upon the few individuals in it which she found most agreeable, but now, even after you and Mr. Bingley have left her in London to sojourn here, she is still full of him. You are a reasonable man, sir. Have I been right to judge the matter so?"

Darcy began to see the difficulty. Of course Elizabeth saw that her own sister was admired by Bingley, and naturally she wished to further so advantageous a match for her sister. It did her credit to wish that Georgiana may not be hurt by it, but to his own surprise Darcy felt himself growing rather angry with her that despite all her regard for his sister, she had chosen Miss Jane over Georgiana's prior claim.

But his companion had asked him for an answer, and he gave it her with grave civility. "You certainly have good cause to reach the conclusion you have, Miss Bennet.

Elizabeth heard the edge in his tone and felt her heart sink. She had seen his disdain once before and did not care to bring it upon herself. "I can hear in your voice that you are displeased with what I have said, sir. What troubles you?"

Darcy sighed. "Miss Bennet, please let us not discuss the matter, for I fear it will not reflect favorably on either of us. No doubt things will sort themselves out as they should without our interference."

Elizabeth slid her hand out from under his arm and stopped her progress to face him. "Sir, I cannot agree with you. Surely you must see that either your sister or mine must be warned against setting her hopes too high. I would not have either lady disappointed when I hold some small power to prevent it."

"Of course, and your feelings do you credit, madam. But I would not meddle in an affair which does not concern me."

At this, Elizabeth was stunned and she replied heatedly, "Does not concern you? Surely your own sister's happiness is cause enough to induce you to act!"

His temper rising, Darcy returned indignantly, "I do not find myself doubting much the outcome of this affair, madam. Kindly do me the honor of releasing me from this discussion."

But Elizabeth would not be persuaded into silence. "But Mr. Darcy, for Georgiana's sake. . ."

It was then that his reserve snapped. "Please, madam! I beg you would speak no more of it!"

He had been harsher than he meant to be, cruel, in fact, and Darcy silently brought curses down upon himself when he saw her grow pale and silent. It was a thick, awful silence, in which they regarded each other as if they where not known to one another, for indeed both felt in that horrid moment that they had become complete strangers. Thinking for a moment that tears had welled up in her eyes, unable to bear the wounded expression on her face, he turned away, but when he met her glance again the expression in her eyes was cool and guarded. "What an infernal idiot I've been!" he thought to himself. "Wretched temper! To ruin everything with one careless, hateful slip!"

"I see, sir, that I have displeased you. Pray pardon me. I will not speak of the matter again." Her voice was dull and quiet but very hard, and so foreign to his ears that it almost frightened him. How to make amends?

"No, no. You must pardon me. I was unforgivable just now, and harder than I should have been. Please, Miss Bennet. I was rough and stopped you ungraciously. You must know that I respect your opinion enough to always hear it, whether I agree or no."

Elizabeth sighed, trying to suppress the tears that had arisen without her bidding them. "I think perhaps that you were right just a moment ago, sir. Discussion of this subject between us will not reflect favorably on either, and so I will leave it at that, and act as I see fit."

Darcy saw that he must be content with that. "Very well. But have I your forgiveness?" He took her hand again and held in firmly between his own. "Will you pardon my harshness and my stupidity, Elizabeth?"

She caught her breath, and tearing again at the sight of his genuine repentance, she managed a smile and a nod. Relieved, he kissed her hand fervently and returned her arm to its previous position through his, and continued their walk.

"I see I am a brute, for now I've upset you. Here," he reached into his pocket and retrieved the handkerchief. "Take this and my assurances I'll never be such a beast again."

She laughed quietly in spite of herself and wiped her eyes. "Thank you. I'm sorry I provoked such a silly display. We both have reason to regret our words."

He smiled. "Then we have agreed to disagree amicably?"

She looked up at him and returned his smile. "Indeed. I can't think of another person with whom I could manage it, but I think we may get along excessively well in spite of our difference of opinion, my friend."

"I am only glad to hear you call me so. Your friendship has been the most important of my life."

He had not intended to say as much, but in his relief the words had almost slipped out without his knowing it. Elizabeth colored and looked away, but she did so smiling, and Darcy was almost tempted to declare himself and propose to her then and there. But no, it wouldn't do now, when their truce was so delicate and they were both upset over what had passed a minute ago. No, better to wait until she and the elder Miss Bennet where safely returned to Longbourn- and Bingley could be persuaded to redirect his budding affections.

For her own part, Elizabeth could scarcely believe what she heard. First he had called her by her Christian name, and now it sounded as if he was on the point of confessing something. Dare she hope. . .? But she could not be sure until he had made an open profession. Better to be wary than to suffer so cruel a disappointment, and there were indeed still many obstacles to prevent the match, even if he loved her. She had suspected, of course, in spite of all his brotherly attentions, that he might indeed be in love with her, but she had not allowed herself to place her trust in fleeting looks across the library or whilst they were out walking. No, she must let his behavior be the model for her own, and if her heart fluttered in expectation a little more often then it had the afternoon before, it was only the high emotion of this encounter that made it so.

After a few minutes of companionable but not entirely comfortable silence, in which both were too wrapped in their thoughts for the other to speak much or coherently, Darcy suggested, as the hour was growing late, that they return to the house to dress for dinner. "You shall have to be quick, Miss Bennet, for I dare say if you are not Miss Bingley will have demanded the attention of all the upstairs maids before our arrival!"

Elizabeth smiled. "I think we may already be too late to prevent that, Mr. Darcy. But lead me on, in any case, and I shall do my best to rally my spirits tolerably for the challenge ahead."

Darcy smiled from his place at the window as he watched his friend bid the Misses Bennet a prolonged farewell in the drive. His friend certainly delighted in pleasing the ladies, and it was apparent by their smiles and occasional laughter that he did.

Darcy himself had paid his respects in the hall, and before that had taken leave of Miss Elizabeth Bennet privately in the library. He had observed every propriety, of course, but was beginning to find it more and more difficult to do so. Her teasing smile had been especially provoking, but he had held firm, and was rewarded by being permitted to kiss her hand and bid "Miss Elizabeth" instead of "Miss Bennet" farewell. With such he would have to content himself.

As he watched Bingley hand Elizabeth into the carriage, he thought back on the days they had spent so much in each other's company. This new declaration of devoted friendship had its charms, for he had felt that she was now easier in his company, but consequently more irresistible to him than ever before. And how much more wonderful she seemed now, even than those blissful days in Derbyshire! With the assurance of his friendship she became wonderfully easy and affable when they were together, almost as if she had feared after the Lucas' gathering that he wished to give up or ignore their acquaintance. And there were those glorious moments, when walking along a wooded path or reading together silently in the library when she would look up at him and catch his glance quite suddenly, and in that moment, he felt almost certain that she loved him. Yes, they had been happy days indeed.

There was only one consideration to spoil these blissful reflections, and it struck him as odd that it should be Georgiana. The ghastly row of yesterday afternoon had been a nightmare, but Elizabeth had seemed to forgive him quite completely, though she had become rather quieter after the ordeal. The problem, however, which had fueled the argument still remained without a resolution. While Darcy wished to see his sister safely wed to his friend, who would certainly be able to do a great deal in mending a girlish heart broken by the disappointment inflicted by the careless hands of George Wickham, Elizabeth must be determined to have Bingley for a brother-in-law. And to Darcy's chagrin, she had good reason to hope it might be so. It was quite evident now after Miss Jane had dined with them the evening before that Bingley was quite taken with Elizabeth's elder sister, but though Darcy admired and respected the lady, he could not approve of the match, even to please the woman he still hoped one day to make his wife.

Darcy's objections not only rose from his hopes for Georgiana and his distaste for the society of Mrs. Bennet and her youngest daughters, but also from the fact that Miss Jane was quite reserved and, for all Darcy knew, perhaps more interested in Bingley's fortune than his heart. But he hoped that time would mend the difficulty, and Bingley would come to see reason while Miss Jane devoted her sweet smiles to another more suitable recipient. If only Elizabeth could be persuaded to forget the whole vexing matter!

Mr. Bennet's carriage containing his two eldest daughters was now completely out of sight. Smiling to himself, Darcy replaced his unpleasant reflections with the memory of Elizabeth's last teasing smile and witty observation.

"Until we meet again, dear sir. Pray devote your time in the interim to finishing your editions, for I am an anxious critic and will not put up with all your Wordsworthian delays for long."

As the carriage departed the Netherfield grounds and lumbered down the road to Longbourn, Elizabeth reached for her sister's hand and smiled. Jane was yet to completely recover, but she had been quite well enough to endure the journey between Netherfield and her home for almost two days, and the healthy pink glow was beginning to return to her cheek. For herself, Jane, who never complained, declared that she was feeling much improved, and quite ready to be removed as soon as may be, so as not to trouble Miss Bingley's kind hospitality any longer.

And of Mr. Bingley? Elizabeth knew hardly anything of the progress of her sister's feelings for the gentleman, as Jane had been a great deal too ill to talk much on that subject or any other, but Elizabeth knew from the earnest inquiries after Jane's health made to her every evening at dinner and the fond farewell her sister had received in Netherfield's front drive that Mr. Bingley was well on his way to falling in love with her.

The situation continued to worry Elizabeth. Yesterday's wretched row with Darcy had only made things worse, for now she was without her only possible ally in the matter, and unsure how to proceed on her own. Of course they had quite forgiven each other and were content to behave as if the disagreement had never taken place, but Elizabeth could not be satisfied with this as a resolution to the problem which had inspired the argument. She had wondered privately if she had better write to Georgiana of the gentleman's forming an attachment to her sister, but had decided against it. Darcy might discover that she had done so and become angry with her for having taken such a liberty, and above all things, she wished to keep peace with him.

As so often happened, when Elizabeth's thoughts had fixed themselves on Darcy, everything else was forgot. She reflected back over the past few days spent almost exclusively in his company, and despite her worries for Georgiana and her sister and the painful memory of yesterday afternoon, she could not help but smile a little. She found herself truly glad of his company and friendship, in spite of their difficulties. Miss Bingley was, of course, wild with envy, and consequently became increasingly unpleasant to Elizabeth, but she needn't have worried herself. The strengthening friendship between Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet was simply that- friendship.

As Elizabeth reviewed their conversations and his behavior, it seemed to her that their acquaintance had taken on a different character now than it had assumed in Derbyshire. Their meeting in the summer had been too much like a fairy story, her love for him had arisen so quickly, that it had been almost as if she had awakened from a vivid dream when she returned to Hertfordshire. But now she had seen him amongst company, felt him to be a member of the real world, even argued with him, and could acknowledge to herself that he was possessed of some small faults. Now, far away from the nearly surreal beauty of the northern country and the perfections of Pemberley, lovely and sequestered as it was, their friendship had taken hold as a confidence between two people with a mutual respect and regard for one another, and not merely the product of being thrown together in a beautiful place. Elizabeth had the pleasure of reflecting that, now she knew him better, she liked him even more than she had before, when he had seemed to be truly without a flaw. Unfortunately, the knowledge that he was human and that he was quite partial to her company only accentuated the problem of loving him.

Elizabeth sighed. But was it such a problem? Why should she not expect his addresses? He had certainly made his preference for her company known, and every moment spent with him had only served to convince her more and more that she would never feel for another gentleman the same devoted love she had for him. It had been delightful and painful all at once to sit with him in the library in the morning and to walk out with him in the afternoon. Oh when would he speak and end all her misery?

It was then that she felt Jane press her hand, and Elizabeth turned toward her to find her sister smiling compassionately at her.

"Of what are you thinking, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth smiled a little sadly and covered Jane's hand with both her own. "I am thinking that I am a very silly creature, and not sensible at all."

Jane's sweet smile came as a reproof. "You know perfectly well that you are quite clever, dearest, and I'll not hear another word against you."

Elizabeth laughed. "You are in the right, as usual, dear Jane. And I suppose I have heard myself abused enough by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to refrain from adding my own voice to the chorus."

"Oh, but Lizzy! I am sure that Caroline Bingley would never. . ."

"Ah, but you suppose wrongly, Jane. She is quite adamant in convincing the whole world of my bad qualities. But I will spare you the particulars. Suffice it to say, I am very glad that you are on the mend and that we are returning home."

Jane's smile began to take on a teasing light. "And what of a certain gentleman we leave behind us? Are you not sorry to part with him?"

Elizabeth would not be out done. Feigning a heartbroken passion, she heaved a sigh and proclaimed melodramatically, "Oh! Dearest Jane! You have found out about my devoted amour for the dashing, devilishly handsome Mr. Hurst! Oh! I am sure I shall break my heart with tears over him!"

Jane laughed. "Stop it, Lizzy! You know very well whom I mean!"

But it was no use. The time of sisterly confidence was ended and the rest of the journey home to Longbourn was spent in peals of girlish laughter.

Part Two, Chapter 4

Posted on Monday, 26 May 2003

"Well, well, Lizzy," addressed Mr. Bennet to his second daughter, seated across the desk in his study, "what think you of our verbose cousin Mr. Collins?"

Elizabeth laughed and smiled playfully at her father. "I think I may already ascertain your opinion of him, Papa. Is he every bit as ridiculous as you hoped?"

Mr. Bennet's glance twinkled with amusement behind his spectacles. "Oh, I find his oddities quite admirable, and enjoy them immensely."

Elizabeth laughed merrily once more. "When you asked him last night whether his compliments to the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter proceeded from the impulse of the moment or were the result of previous study, I thought I should have burst out laughing!"

Smiling in satisfaction at the memory of his witticism, Mr. Bennet folded his hands and leaned back in his chair. "I seem to remember your having formed an acquaintance with this same lady in the summer, Lizzy. Pray, is she as magnanimous and condescending and we may suppose from Mr. Collins' enthusiastic reports?"

"I believe I may say with confidence, sir, that even Mr. Collins does not exaggerate on that point. Lady Catherine is a miracle of snobbish self-importance."

Mr. Bennet, an avid connoisseur of human folly, was pleased to hear it and chuckled good-humoredly. "Excellent, my dear! I hope we shall hear much more from our absurd cousin on the subject before his stay at Longbourn is out. I do worry though, that such a man is to be the next master of this house. He cannot be a reasonable soul, though I suppose he is clever enough to realize that the comfort of his own situation depends heavily on the good Lady Catherine's smug knowledge of her own superiority. But let us hope he may take to himself a sensible wife, and that Longbourn may be spared the inconvenience of an imprudent manager."

Elizabeth sighed. "Indeed- and I would add to that hope, that we may be assured the sensible wife does not turn out to be myself or one of my sisters, as my dear mother has so clearly designed."

Mr. Bennet smiled smugly. "You needn't worry for Lydia, Mary, or Kitty, my dear. They are three of the silliest girls in all England, and I daresay they are safe from being transformed into Mr. Collins' sensible wife. Though I suppose he and Mary might do very well together, if given the chance of it. Did you see her hang upon his every word last evening? Yes, I daresay our Mary would make an eager audience for all our cousin's pompous philosophizing, and would have quite a bit of her own to add. I think perhaps the rest of us may very well be obliged to give up their acquaintance entirely, or else be hounded to death by Fordyce's sermons!"

By the end of this assertion, Elizabeth's concern had dissolved into peals of laughter. She shook her head at her father in playful reproach. "Dear Papa, you are incorrigible! Poor Mary. . . Poor Mr. Collins!"

As if bid by her pronouncement of his name, the very gentleman appeared in the doorway of Mr. Bennet's study not a moment later, having knocked and requested to enter by Elizabeth's father. Upon seeing her rather ridiculous cousin standing before her, Elizabeth was hard pressed to contain her laughter, but managed it tolerably. He had a sort of silly, self-satisfied grin plastered on his rather greasy countenance, and gesturing toward her in a way which Elizabeth could only suppose was an attempt at gallantry, he began, "I have come to request the company of my fair cousin Elizabeth on a walk to Meryton. The other young ladies have consented, and now I lack only your society, my dear cousin, to make me completely happy."

Elizabeth, though displeased with the idea, forced herself to smile at Mr. Collins. She was not foolish enough to ignore the position of this man as her father's heir and was therefore determined, for her family's sake if not for his own, to be kind to him. Thinking as much, she resolved herself to a less pleasant afternoon than she had hoped for. "I should be delighted to accept such a solicitous offer, sir. Let me run upstairs and fetch my things, and I'll be with you and the others in a moment."

Mr. Collins beamed in a way not entirely pleasant to behold. "Excellent. You are all sweetness and generosity, fairest cousin."

Elizabeth smiled half-heartedly to hide her aversion for him and hurried from the room before he could attempt to take hold of her hand. At the door, she caught a last glimpse of the amusement in her father's looks from his place behind the desk, betraying his immense enjoyment of this last exchange, and as she made her way down the hall, his voice was heard to say, "Now, Mr. Collins, you must tell me more about the bounty and beneficence of the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh. . ."

". . . and I'll venture to assert, cousin, that even such a clever young lady as yourself shall not be able to guess how many excellent windows grace the frontal exterior of Rosings Park!"

Elizabeth, who had at first listened to Mr. Collins' rambling with quiet amusement, now received his continued prattling with no small amount of vexation, and therefore replied shortly, "Indeed, I cannot."

Mr. Collins, oblivious to her annoyance, was quick to seize the opportunity to astonish his audience with further praise of his patroness' estate. "Why there are fully sixty-four! Sixty-four, to be exact, and all brought up especially from London."

"Indeed? They must be very elegant windows, sir."

"Yes, to be sure, Cousin Elizabeth. Your perception does you credit. And a finer house to put them in you could not image, yes I'm sure you could not. Lady Catherine takes great pains to have everything arranged with the utmost elegance and care, and certainly Rosings Park is a great testament to her genius. I remember, just last week it was, that she advised me most benevolently on the placement of some. . . "

Elizabeth managed to successfully bar her cousin's raptures from her thoughts, merely contributing a faint murmur of agreement whenever he paused for breath. She hoped it would be possible to continue to keep her acquaintance with Lady Catherine a secret from him whilst he was her father's guest, else she might never be rid of him. Poor, prattling fool! She felt almost sorry for him. Almost.

After what seemed an eternity to Elizabeth, their party, comprised of herself and Mr. Collins, as well as Jane, Lydia, and Kitty, arrived at Meryton. Her youngest sisters immediately dashed off to look at some cloth in a shop window and to make their presence in town quite obvious to any officer of the militia in their acquaintance that happened to be passing by. While Jane and Elizabeth still stood conversing with their cousin, it was made apparent by Lydia and Kitty's simultaneous shrieks of delight that they had indeed spotted a red coat, and when cries of "Denny, Denny! Over here! Pray come and amuse us!" were subsequently heard, it was obvious whom they had spotted.

Exchanging a look which spoke of their mutual concern, Jane and Elizabeth immediately joined their sisters in hopes of curbing their enthusiasm for handsome young officers, dragging a panting Mr. Collins in their wake.

Mr. Denny reached the youngest Bennet girls at roughly the same moment their sisters and cousin did, sparing Elizabeth and Jane any worry for what imprudent things Kitty and Lydia might have uttered in their absence. The usual civilities were exchanged, as well as the introduction of Mr. Collins. But to the girls' surprise and delight, there was another introduction which was Mr. Denny's to effect, for with him had come another gentlemen, dressed as a civilian, who was quickly observed by all the ladies present to be a very handsome young gentleman indeed. The young man was Mr. Denny's friend, a Mr. Wickham, who was soon to become a fellow officer of the regiment quartered at Meryton. Kitty then made a pert remark to her younger sister that he would be dressed in regimentals, a comment to which both girls thought necessary to respond with giggling.

Despite her slight embarrassment over the forwardness of her younger sisters, Elizabeth soon found herself growing quite pleased with Mr. Wickham's manners and address. He had an open, easy countenance, and in his speech conveyed himself as a bright and educated young man possessed of an excellent knack for conversation. She was further pleased when he accepted with grace and modesty the rather forward invitation from Lydia to their aunt Phillips' for supper and cards that evening. It would be vastly agreeable to have someone more lively and intelligent to converse with than Mr. Collins, and as a certain gentleman from Netherfield was not likely to be in attendance. . .

As if beaconed by her thoughts, it was at that moment that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy chose to appear on horseback, returning from a ride it was to be supposed, and seeing the party of their acquaintance gathered, they rode up to greet the Misses Bennet.

Mr. Bingley, who dismounted immediately at the sight of Jane Bennet, was all smiles, especially when Miss Jane offered her hand and one of her becoming blushes which transformed her already lovely face into what Bingley deemed a vision. "How fortunate we should meet you all!" he declared, grinning from ear to ear. "We were just on our way to Longbourn to call. I say, dear Miss Bennet, you are still in the best of health after your deplorable fit of illness, I hope?"

Smiling sweetly, Jane assured her admirer that she was indeed completely recovered. She then introduced him to Mr. Collins, who bowed profusely and paid Mr. Bingley all sorts of compliments that could hardly be called flattering in their enthusiasm. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and smiled in amusement at her cousin's folly, then turned to Darcy, still mounted, to share the joke. But the look she encountered on his countenance was far from amusement. Her friend had turned quite pale, and seemed to be staring at one of the members of the party gathered. Elizabeth tried to catch his attention, but was powerless to do so, and as she watched, Darcy's color turned from the pallor of surprise to a decidedly angry flush.

Confused and pained by Darcy's obvious discontent, Elizabeth followed his glance, only to learned with alarm that it was directed at none other than Mr. Wickham, who had gone quite pale himself. Elizabeth's confusion only increased at this discovery. How could this be? They had met Mr. Wickham not ten minutes ago, and it would surely be a tremendous coincidence if Darcy had an acquaintance with him already. But it seemed impossible to conclude otherwise. Yet why did they regard each other so coldly? With a small flush of fear, Elizabeth realized she had never seen Darcy look so very angry. But Mr. Wickham had proved himself to be such an amiable and agreeable young man just now- what possible quarrel could so fair minded and generous a man as Mr. Darcy have with him?

Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow quite warm in her agitation. Longing to speak with Darcy, she ventured to catch his eye again. When she returned her glance to him, she found he had already fixed his attention upon her, and with surprise Elizabeth realized he was regarding her with what could only be deemed a sort of fierce protectiveness. Sensing her momentary power over his sensibilities, she tried to implore him to some sort of explanation with her eyes, to plead with him to dismount and to come speak with her, but the next moment, with a slight parting nod for herself, he turned his horse and rode away.

Elizabeth, disappointed and strangely melancholy, turned her attention reluctantly back to the party gathered to find Mr. Wickham staring at her. She was taken by surprise at first, but was soon put at ease by the prompt appearance of his kindly smile. Smiling back, Elizabeth determined not to pass judgment on such an agreeable gentleman until she was able to speak to Darcy in private and receive an explanation for the awkward moment which had just transpired. After all, it may be nothing. Perhaps he had simply mistaken Mr. Wickham for someone else.

The evening at Mrs. Phillip's progressed pleasantly enough, for the young people were very merry and the old ones were too full of food and drink to care much how their children saw fit to amuse themselves, or at what decibels. The Misses Lydia and Kitty Bennet certainly benefited from this arrangement, for with their already indulgent mama pleasantly stuffed with her sister's fine bit of pork and rather too much wine than was entirely good for a woman of such delicate nerves, they were free to do as they pleased, and to include any handsome young officers they wished in the exercise. Mr. Wickham, of course, very becoming in his newly donned regimentals, was a great favorite with all the young ladies, and it was with no small amount of fuss between them that he was passed about among the girls and their card tables, Lydia and Kitty never far behind.

Elizabeth spent a large part of the evening taking pains to avoid Mr. Collins, who was eager to recommend himself and his connections by frequent mention of the splendors of Rosings Park and its owner. At one point he nearly insulted his hostess by suggesting her parlor reminded him of a small summer breakfast room in that great estate, but was spared mortification when that lady's eldest niece informed her aunt that they were to understand Rosings was very grand indeed. Elizabeth, greatly bored by his prattling, was thoroughly relieved when he was persuaded to join her Aunt Philips in a game of whist, thus releasing her to pursue the society of more agreeable company.

She was sitting in an armchair by the fire when Mr. Wickham, escaped from the admiring throng, met her glance, smiled warmly, and crossed the room to speak with her. Elizabeth, who had been burning with curiosity since the encounter with Darcy that afternoon, was glad of the opportunity to learn more of this seemingly fine young gentleman who had caused such distemper in her friend.

"Mr. Wickham," she addressed him cordially as he approached. "Good evening to you, sir."

"And to you, Miss Bennet."

"I do hope our little gathering for cards and conversation pleases you."

Mr. Wickham smiled as he assumed the seat next to her. "Indeed, madam. I must confess myself very obliged to your younger sisters for extending to me so advantageous an invitation upon my first arrival in Hertfordshire. I feel myself quite at ease already."

Elizabeth returned his smile. "I am glad to hear it, though I am afraid your ease is bought at a high price."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I speak of my youngest sisters' enthusiasm, sir. Surely you've noticed they have scarce spent two minutes together away from your side the entire evening?"

Mr. Wickham laughed pleasantly. "Yes, perhaps I have. But I shall be very unkind, and hope that they will stay away a little longer, so that I may become further acquainted with their charming elder sister."

Elizabeth colored faintly but could not resist a smile at the compliment. "On the contrary, sir, it is very generous of you to hope as much."

They talked awhile on various commonplace subjects, Elizabeth's curiosity mounting all the while. But how to introduce the matter of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy? Surely there must be a way without sounding indelicate- but how to go about it?

To her relief, Mr. Wickham, after a brief inquiry as to the nature of the distance between Netherfield and Meryton, brought up the subject himself.

"Have you known Mr. Darcy long?"

Elizabeth, sensing it best to conceal the extent of her acquaintance with the latter gentleman, replied simply, "I met him in the summer, while touring Derbyshire."

"Did you indeed? That is surprising. His estate there, as I'm sure you know, is quite a great one. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth felt a faint blush creep once more unbidden into her cheek. "We are fairly well acquainted, yes."

"I hope you'll not think me impertinent if I ask you what your opinion of him is?"

"Not at all. I esteem him as a very gentlemanly and admirable man. He showed us great kindness and hospitality in Derbyshire."

Mr. Wickham seemed surprised when she had asserted as much. "Indeed? And what does the rest of Hertfordshire think of him?"

At this, Elizabeth began to feel vaguely uneasy. "I do not believe we are of quite the same opinion. Though the general consensus is that he is a gentleman worthy of respect, I do believe some fancy him rather- proud."

This seemed to be rather more what Mr. Wickham had expected to hear. He leaned forward slightly and asked, "And who, do you think, has been the better judge of character on his behalf?"

His question confused Elizabeth, but she felt it brought Mr. Wickham's own opinion of Mr. Darcy nearer the conversation, and so was purposely vague. "I hardly know, sir. . ."

As she had hoped, Mr. Wickham was quick to seize the opportunity she had presented him. "Miss Bennet, forgive my evasions. I can see that you are a clever, sympathetic woman, and I feel I must speak plainly with you, and reveal the matter to which all these questions tend. I cannot pretend to be sorry that Mr. Darcy or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world at large sees him only as he chooses to be seen."

This last remark and its insinuation made Elizabeth decidedly uncomfortable. "What exactly are you saying, Mr. Wickham?"

His looks very earnest and grave, the gentleman asked quietly, "I wonder, Miss Bennet, would you allow me, or do I ask to much, to tell you the nature of my own acquaintance with Mr. Darcy?"

Presented with an offer of the information she had been longing to hear all afternoon, Elizabeth scarcely knew if she welcomed it now, for she felt from the direction their conversation had turned that it would surely not reflect kindly upon Darcy. But all the same, she knew she must have whatever knowledge of him she could attain if her feelings for him were to be grounded in reality.

"I am willing to hear whatever it is you have to say to me, Mr. Wickham," she answered her companion quietly.

The gentleman seemed grateful for her compliance. "Thank you, Miss Bennet, you are very good." Dropping his voice he remarked, "I think you must have noticed the cold manner of greeting between myself and Mr. Darcy this morning, madam."

"I confess I did. It puzzled me."

"Let me enlighten you. Would it surprise you to hear, Miss Bennet, that he and I have been acquainted since childhood?"

Elizabeth was astonished. "Very much, sir."

"Yet it is so. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had. My own father was his steward, and when he died I was left to his care as his godson. The late Mr. Darcy bequeathed to me the next presentation of the best living in his gift, for he was excessively attached to me, and I'm sure I shall never be able to do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."

At this revelation, Elizabeth felt herself turn sick. "Do you mean to suggest, sir, that Mr. Darcy refused to honor his father's wishes? But how can this be? Could you not seek legal reparation for the disregard of the late Mr. Darcy's will?"

"I was powerless to do so. There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from the law. A man of honor could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it, saying I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance and imprudence of both action and character. Yet I believe I may safely assert I have done nothing to merit such a rejection, save speaking rather too warmly my opinion of his dishonesty to his face. But the matter was already decided, for his hatred of myself, largely due, one must conclude, to a jealousy for his father's attentions, would not be swayed to any other course of action."

Elizabeth had begun to feel uncharacteristically faint. It could not, it must not be true! And yet, Mr. Wickham had given her no significant reason to doubt the validity of his accusations. There must be some gross mistake!

"I must confess myself greatly astonished and alarmed, sir. I make no scruple in mentioning to you that I find it hard to reconcile your account of Mr. Darcy with the man I had the pleasure of calling a friend in Derbyshire."

This did not seem to perturb Mr. Wickham, who replied promptly, "As I have said, he may please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversable companion if he thinks it worth his while. His pride never deserts him- but he is well capable of being liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honorable, even agreeable when he thinks it necessary."

Elizabeth's head was spinning with this new blow to her confidence. She could not believe her own ears. Surely he did not mean to imply that Mr. Darcy had feigned friendship and regard for her simply because it suited him to do so? But what could be his motive for counterfeiting such an attachment? Sickening, she realized the possibilities were too awful for contemplation. No, it could not be true!

She was about to excuse herself from Mr. Wickham and flee to the comfort that could only be found at Jane's side when her companion began afresh. "If you were in Derbyshire this past summer, I daresay you made the acquaintance of his sister Miss Darcy as well."

Not wishing to encourage his slanders further, sorry that she ever encouraged him in the first place, Elizabeth replied shortly, "Indeed."

"And how did you like her?"

"Pray, Mr. Wickham, you must excuse. . ."

"I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But, as I'm sure you'll agree, she is too much like her brother- very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. . ."

Elizabeth stood. To speak thus of dear Georgiana convinced her that Mr. Wickham was either grossly mistaken or in some manner deceitful. At any rate, his company, which she had fancied welcome to her only this afternoon, was distressing, and she wished for no more of it.

"You must forgive me, sir. The fire has grown too warm for me, and I must remove to the window."

Mr. Wickham, apparently oblivious to her discomfort, rose as well and offered his arm. "Of course, let me escort you."

"I beg you would not trouble yourself."

"It is no trouble, rather a pleasure."

"Sir, I. . ."

Elizabeth had never expected to be rescued from an awkward social situation by her wild youngest sister, but at that very moment, Lydia bounded up and demanded that "Wickham" come and have a dance with her. The gentleman could do naught but accept, and was dragged away to the forming set by Elizabeth's sister, curls bouncing and laughing merrily at her good luck to have caught the handsomest officer in the room.

Elizabeth watched them go with a sigh of relief, glad to be free of them both. But when the remembrance of the conversation she had so narrowly escaped reentered her mind, she felt a cold sadness grip her heart. She longed for some reassurance that Mr. Wickham, whether intentionally or by mistake, had not spoken the truth, but such was not available to her. How little one might credit first impressions! Even so, she was glad that Mr. Darcy was not in attendance that night, for she could not have faced him at such a moment, though she was desperate for him to clear himself of any wrong doing. Oh! Where was Jane! Surely she would return Elizabeth to herself and calm her anxious thoughts.

How she passed the next hour or so, Elizabeth could not completely recall afterwards, so agitated were her reflections, but grateful she was when the party at last broke up and she was safely situated in the carriage bound for Longbourn, where Jane's confidence and reassurances might be sought and given.

"My poor, dear Lizzy! I had thought you appeared upset after speaking with Mr. Wickham, and now I can well see why. How distressed you must have been to hear such things!"

Sitting together in their nightgowns before the fire in Jane's bedroom, Elizabeth had at last been able to unburden her heart to her sister. The tale had not been uninterrupted by tears pricking at Elizabeth's eyes or pauses in which she struggled to regain her voice, and Jane's heartfelt sympathy had been hers throughout the endeavor to relate the events of the evening.

"Yes. I was keenly agitated and alarmed, with nothing to be done about it. I could not credit what I was hearing, and yet I was powerless to refute it! Oh Jane, what am I to do?"

Jane took hold of both her sister's hands and pressed them reassuringly. "Now, Lizzy, do anything but jump to conclusions. It is very possible that Mr. Wickham too is the victim of some terrible mistake. Perhaps it was not within Mr. Darcy's power to bestow the living on him, and in the interest of sparing another party from blame, he accepted the responsibility for it himself and endured Mr. Wickham's disappointment. You must speak to Mr. Darcy before you assume too much. You have his confidence, and are, I'm sure, a dear friend- he will not withhold from you anything he deems fit to relate."

Elizabeth sighed. "Yes, I suppose you are right. I suppose I have let the matter vex me too much. After all, I'm sure there must be some obvious explanation to the whole affair that does not discredit either gentleman."

"I'm sure there is. Mr. Wickham seems too agreeable and good natured a gentleman to spread falsehoods."

Elizabeth smiled sadly. "And Mr. Darcy? Is he too agreeable and good natured a gentleman to be capable of them?"

Jane would not be outdone. "Indeed. Your friend is, perhaps, rather proud and reserved, but I see nothing save that to reproach him with, and neither does anybody else. There is no sin in silence, Lizzy."

"Well, let us hope he does not see fit to be silent with me. I should be very sorry to lose his confidence over an ill-timed question, for I have no idea what his opinion of Mr. Wickham is, save for the evidence of what I saw in his looks this afternoon."

"You cannot know until you ask him. Have courage, Lizzy. Has Mr. Darcy ever disappointed you before?"

Elizabeth was silent, her sister's words recalling to mind her argument with Darcy at Netherfield over what was to be done about Georgiana's apparent affection for Bingley. She hoped that at least in this instance he would not see fit to leave matters as they stood, for if he chose to be silent, she was sure the conflict between her feelings for him and the temptation to believe Wickham's slanders would drive her mad.

But Jane, as usual, was right. Nothing could be done until she was afforded the opportunity to speak with him alone. She hoped it would come soon.

Elizabeth rose from her chair by the fire and placed an affectionate kiss on her sister's forehead. "Goodnight, dearest Jane. I knew you would recall me to sense."

Jane pressed her sister's hands again. "Dear Lizzy. I'm sure I have said nothing that your own excellent mind has not already told you. Your other thoughts were simply too confused and upset before to hear the sense you have had from me. Now, go to bed and think no more of a matter which will only distress you."

"I wish I could silence such reflections so easily. But I will try, if only to please you."

"That is something I suppose. Goodnight, dearest."

"Goodnight Jane. I daresay your dreams shall be more pleasant than mine."

Darcy paused in his determined pacing about his rooms at Netherfield and came to a halt at the window. Leaning an arm up against the pane, he stared moodily out at the signs of the early morning manifesting themselves on the grounds, and yet he saw nothing. He thoughts at the moment were divided between three locales: his house in Town, Longbourn, and the regimental quarters at Meryton where lately resided the hateful man who was only too capable of destroying Darcy's interests at both the previous residences. Clearly, something must be done at once.

Darcy sighed in frustration and ran his hands roughly through his hair. How was it that Wickham had acquired such a vexing knack for coming back to haunt him just as he thought everything to be alright again? Only four short months ago he had nearly caused disaster at Ramsgate, and as it was, Darcy had not escaped the situation with his brotherly feelings or his pocket book unbruised. And now, with Elizabeth's delicate affections at stake, Wickham chose to rear his ugly head again.

But what could he do? Darcy scarcely liked to contemplate what dreadful falsehoods Wickham might be capable of pouring into Elizabeth's mind, but how might he protect her from his lies? He could always tell her the truth, he realized, but the pain of what had happened at Ramsgate was still too fresh, and the hardening of heart that had been the result of nearly seven-and-twenty years' acquaintance with Wickham made Darcy's pride reluctant to divulge such deep feelings of resentment to anyone, even Elizabeth, who in many ways was now his dearest confidante. And yet, was there any other way?

Struggling between his conflicting thoughts, Darcy recommenced his pacing about the room. He would never forgive himself if Elizabeth was taken in by Wickham's deceit, still less if it divided her from him. Feeling ill, he realized how close he had come to losing Georgiana to his adversary in the summer and how devastated he should be if he lost Elizabeth. Wickham may have already been presented an opportunity to challenge her trust- perhaps she was even now ruing that she had ever placed her confidence in him, hoping never to see him again, despising him for dishonesty and cruelty towards her. . .

"This is madness," he said aloud, stopping suddenly. "I will surely go mad if I continue in this manner," he thought. Seeing his coat lying on a nearby chair, he was immediately seized with the desire to walk out, hoping the exercise would clear his mind. Nothing, after all, could be done until he was afforded the opportunity to speak with Elizabeth privately, and torturing himself over the possibilities would only weaken his readiness to handle the situation when the time came.

Snatching up the coat, Darcy hurried from the room, bounded down the hallway, and took the stairs two at a time. At the foot of them, he met Miss Bingley, who immediately smiled at him in what she seemed to fancy a very fashionable, accomplished manner.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy. What a great hurry you seem to be in, sir! I hope it was not on my account that you rushed down to breakfast?"

Darcy, in no mood for either pleasantries or witticisms, replied shortly, "No indeed. Please excuse me," and pushing past her left an affronted Miss Bingley to stare discontentedly after him.

Elizabeth jerked the bonnet from atop her dark curls and tilted her head back to let the morning sun fall on her face as she walked. It was still remarkably warm for mid October, and the inducement to walk out before breakfast had been too tempting to forgo, especially when her mother was in the middle of another nervous attack and Mr. Collins seemed determined to monopolize her every moment. Irritated and feeling a headache coming on, Elizabeth knew the fresh air and exercise would be sufficient to cure her, as well as give her time for solitary reflection.

The events of the previous evening, though still in the forefront of her thoughts, had lost something of their alarming reality after the wise counsel of Jane and a reasonably good night's sleep. Elizabeth's resolve to withhold her judgment of both Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy until the latter could be spoken to privately was a small source of consolation, and she eagerly awaited the opportunity to speak with her friend. Surely he would not deny her an explanation, especially if she made known to him that Mr. Wickham was under the impression Georgiana was of a rather bad character. She knew Darcy to be a reserved man, but hoped that their friendship, and perhaps (dare she hope) deeper feelings for herself, might prompt him to be explicit.

Lost in her thoughts as she was, Elizabeth was quite startled when the feeling of someone's arm roughly brushing against her own recalled her to the present. She spun round to see who had passed her, only to find Darcy, the very object of her previous reflections, doing the same. Seeing him stare back at her in surprise, Elizabeth was suddenly struck by the humor of their both being so involved in their own thoughts as to completely escape noticing the other, especially in the open stretch of meadow in which they stood.

Laughing a little, despite the serious nature of her musings before, Elizabeth greeted him cordially. "Good morning, sir. This is a pleasant surprise. I had not thought anyone else would be walking this way at this hour- but I'm happy to be wrong."

Darcy, who had recovered from the rude awakening from his unpleasant reflections, was now experiencing the immense relief that came with seeing in Elizabeth's friendly manner that Wickham had not yet given her reason to despise him. As such, he was more than willing to return her greeting with the same warmth, gratefully taking her offered hand in his.

"Good morning to you, Miss Bennet. How fortunate to have met you."

She smiled. "It appears, Mr. Darcy, that neither one of us were prepared to meet anyone just now. I daresay you were as lost in thought as I."

"Indeed, madam- but, as a very wise lady once said to me, it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome."

Her smile grew. "I should be sorry indeed if it were."

By way of answering, he took the hand that still rested comfortably in his own and tucked it beneath his arm. "For my part, I had no particular destination in mind when I set out this morning, so I hope you will not object if I ask to accompany you to yours?"

"Of course not. I had no specific spot in mind, either, but I would be very glad of your company." He smiled and motioned for them to continue in the direction she had been heading before meeting him.

Walking arm in arm with him now, Elizabeth wondered how so courteous and kind a gentleman, with whom she felt so at ease, could possibly be capable of the abominable things Mr. Wickham had accused him of. It was simply incredible! He was all goodness and earnestness, and surely to feign friendship and confidence with her was beyond him. She studied his face intently, trying to discern some trace of dishonesty or uneasiness in his countenance, but found only the contemplative, sincere look his features assumed when he was silent. Satisfied and in no small way relieved, Elizabeth brought her free hand to rest on his elbow in friendly affection. She had been wrong to readily doubt all the good she knew of Darcy upon the surprise of hearing him so abused by Mr. Wickham, and now it only remain to learn for what purpose the latter gentleman, if indeed he could be called so, had seen fit to discredit her friend to her.

Meanwhile Darcy's relief had increased tenfold when she had complied so willingly to continue her walk with him, and even more so when he felt her hand come to rest companionably on his arm. Grateful for this sign of her continued regard, he clasped her arm tighter to his side. His imagination had run away with him earlier upon leaving the great house, and he had tortured himself with all sorts of horrid scenarios in which she pronounced her thorough abhorrence of him after being poisoned with Wickham's lies. But it had all come to nothing, and here she was, miraculously enough, walking quietly by his side and as wonderful as ever she was. The desire was strong to stop mid stride and beg her then and there to consent to be his wife, but he knew that the Wickham matter must be addressed before any agreement of that nature was decided between them. But how to broach the subject, and how much to tell?

But Elizabeth beat him to it. "There is something, I think," she began quietly, "that you and I must speak about."

Darcy, knowing to what she referred, answered simply, "Yes, I know."

His response seemed to surprise her a little. "You do?"

He smiled ruefully. "I know you witnessed the manner of greeting between myself and Mr. Wickham yesterday afternoon in Meryton, and I knew that you would be wanting an explanation from me."

Elizabeth watched their feet as they walked. "You know me well, sir. You aren't displeased?"

"No, no. Naturally, you've every right to be curious."

She smiled in self-derision. "No I haven't, not really. But I was puzzled yesterday afternoon- and now I find myself even more so."

"Now?" Darcy's initial dread began to come back to him. "Has something transpired since?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. Schooling herself to be calm and dispassionate, she related to Darcy the details of her second encounter with Mr. Wickham and the nature of his accusations against him. Darcy listened quietly, without interrupting, but Elizabeth could tell from the firm set of his jaw and the way the muscles in his arm tensed beneath her hand that he was angry.

Finishing the story, she felt compelled to offer all the solace she could. "As you can imagine, sir, these things upset me a great deal to hear, and of course, after my head had cleared I could credit none of them."

Darcy was silent for a long moment, which seemed to stretch on indefinitely in Elizabeth's mind, but at last he spoke. "And what, may I ask, is your opinion of Mr. Wickham?"

"Upon first meeting him in Meryton I thought him very agreeable, and when we met last evening at my Aunt Phillips' card party I had every expectation to think well of him. . ."

"And now?" he asked flatly.

Elizabeth knitted her brows. "Now I cannot help but question my initial impression of him. It distressed me very much to hear you, who I know to be an honorable and generous friend and gentleman, so abused, and I wondered what motivation, good or ill, had moved him to do it. But I resolved to think nothing of him until I had heard from you."

Darcy seemed relieved. "God bless you for that."

Elizabeth met his glance. "I could not do less. You may have recognized that I saw the cold manner in which you and Wickham met, but I noticed how you looked at me afterward, and I knew I could not betray your confidence by unquestioningly accepting Mr. Wickham's information for the truth. No, I respect you too much for that."

Darcy smiled sadly and pressed her hand. Perhaps she would not so respect him when she knew what an unvigilant guardian he had made for his own sister, her dear friend, in letting her be taken in by his old enemy, a man who sought nothing but her fortune. No, he could not bear to tell her how wrong he had been, how foolish. Perhaps in time, perhaps when Wickham was finally got rid of, but now was too soon. He trusted her confidentiality, but did not wish to bruise her fragile regard for him with tales of his own stupidity. She would know soon enough, when he could be quite sure of her heart.

"Madam, I believe that some explanation is due you."

As if she had heard his reflections, Elizabeth replied, "I will accept whatever it is you see fit to tell me, Mr. Darcy."

Pausing to gather his thoughts, he allowed them to walk on in silence for a few moments, and at length, Darcy began.

"My acquaintance with Mr. Wickham, as he has told you already, began in childhood. His late father was my father's steward, and we often played together as boys. But over time, while I was being schooled to be the next master of a great estate and to apply myself to my studies, Wickham was hardly encouraged to dedicate himself to anything but his own pleasure, and his character soon developed into that of a wild, self-seeking young man. Though his father was an excellent gentleman of sound principles and conduct, his son could not be induced to take after him. It is not my wish to discuss at length the particulars of a most painful history, but sufficed to say, Miss Bennet, Mr. Wickham is not an honorable man, nor is he one to be trusted."

Elizabeth waited for him to continue, but here he stopped, and said no more. As they walked on, she could not help but feel slightly disappointed. Darcy had scarcely told her anything she had not already heard from Mr. Wickham, and it seemed that all the two gentlemen could do was attempt to discredit the character of the other. Elizabeth wished Darcy would be more explicit, for though she was desperate to believe him over Wickham, she could not completely satisfy herself upon so little information. She did not doubt that her friend told her the truth, but she wondered at what it was he had kept guarded from her. But Darcy had said the history was a painful one, and so she would not press him. Still, it hurt a little that he had not seen fit to confide in her further. Did he not trust her? She hoped fervently that it was not so.

Darcy saw that his revelation had made her uneasy and wondered if she would believe him, though he had said so little. Perhaps he ought to go on- it would be simple now to pour out the rest to her sympathetic, angelic heart, and undoubtedly a great relief to, for he had not confided his feelings to anyone after the tortures of Ramsgate- but once more pride held him back. Why should Elizabeth sooth his injured sentiments or forgive him for his lapse of care for Georgiana? Her affection for him upon hearing the tale would surely vanish, for why should she regard a man who had let his own sister be manipulated by such as Wickham? Foolish, foolish complacence! Why had he not taken more care to see she was properly looked after?

Seeing that Darcy's countenance had taken on a stormy quality, Elizabeth surmised he was at war with himself, and though she did not know for what purpose, she did not like to see him so perturbed. "You must not make yourself so uneasy, sir. I know it pains you to speak of these things, and they are unpleasant reflections for myself as well. Let us therefore abandon the subject."

Darcy's smile seemed weary but nonetheless showed his gratitude to her, and pausing their progress he brought her hand to his lips by way of answering her kindness. Elizabeth met his glance and held it with imploring eyes, trying despite her words to move him to speak further of the matter that she might be completely reassured. But his silence remained and she saw that he was clearly determined to say no more. She sighed and smiled sadly up at him. Perhaps he would soon feel easy enough to offer the rest of the history. She must be patient and not abuse his trust.

Watching the emotions flicker across her face, seeing that she was clearly dissatisfied with the scant information he had provided her but determined not to press him, Darcy felt almost willing to tell her the rest. Moved by her concern, he dared to let his palm rest upon her cheek, gently tracing her skin with his thumb. The expression in her eyes softened, and a little sigh escaped her lips.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

She looked puzzled a moment. "For what?"

He smiled. "I hardly know. For everything, I suppose."

She lifted her hand to her cheek and covered his own, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Then you are very welcome, sir."

Continued In Next Section