Beginning, Next Section

Part One

Posted on Tuesday, 14 February 2006

"I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she will never play really well, unless she practises more; and though Mrs. Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the piano forte in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house."

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 31

"Are you certain it is no trouble?"

"Quite so, Miss Bennet. Lady Catherine has instructed me to make the instrument available to you for one hour each day, should you desire it."

"I would not wish to inconvenience you or to intrude upon your privacy."

"That will not be the case. I am to accompany Miss de Bourgh in her phaeton this moment. We shall be from the house for the next two hours at least. There will be no inconvenience at all."

"Then I thank you."

Mrs. Jenkinson nodded her acknowledgment, and Elizabeth entered the room as the elder lady's footsteps faded into silence.

‘She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved.'

Mr. Collins's words of the previous day echoed in Elizabeth's head as she examined her surroundings. Indeed, there was no useless finery, no ostentatious display in this part of the house. Everywhere she turned, her eyes rested upon a dull grey. The simple, utilitarian furnishings promised significantly less comfort than their more luxurious counterparts in the main drawing room.

She stood still for a time, having the leisure to wonder at her being where she was. A shrill voice drifted up the stairwell and into the corridor and soon halted her contemplation. Her ladyship, no doubt, was instructing Mrs. Jenkinson on the proper way to position Miss de Bourgh's garment about her, or some equally inconsequential matter; the words themselves were indistinct but the tone was as commanding as ever.

"Be sure to place it sufficiently high about the neck and shoulders." Elizabeth whispered her mockery to the empty chamber. "Fasten it securely, but not so restricting as to impede the proper movement of the head. Miss de Bourgh must retain her ability at all times to offer a superior, condescending nod to the occasional villager as she passes by him." She snorted, grateful to be only in Mrs. Jenkinson's room and not in her position as well, where she might be subjected to such superciliousness every day. Between the Mistress of Rosings Park and the Master of Hunsford Parsonage, Elizabeth had had her fill of pronouncements. Respect and civility she tendered willingly, but reverence for Lady Catherine or her opinions was beyond Elizabeth's desire and ability to feign.

She fingered the rough fabric draping the windows. If not for the extensive, expertly manicured grounds revealed by drawing the curtains aside, she might have fancied herself elsewhere: Guilford House, before Mrs. Long's most recent improvements; a rarely used apartment in her Aunt Philips's home; perhaps even the Parsonage, although, to be fair, Charlotte's modest guest quarters effected a more welcoming impression, fitted up as they were with comfortable trappings in cheerful hues.

Her thoughts turned from Charlotte to that other permanent resident of Hunsford Parsonage. Thankfully, Mr. Bennet was in tolerable health, for the grasping Mr. Collins no doubt would hasten to claim Longbourn the very moment he heard otherwise. If that terrible moment were to come too soon---she hoped it would not take place for many, many years yet---Elizabeth might find herself in a similar situation to that of Miss de Bourgh's companion: relegated to four drab walls in another woman's house; compelled, at her employer's whim, to share her pianoforte with visiting ladies of no great talent.

Not one hour ago, she had sat in the dining parlour of the Parsonage, ill tempered and desperate to escape her cousin's irksome society. Luckily, she had recollected Lady Catherine's offer and informed Mr. Collins of her intent to depart for Rosings directly. Just as she had expected, he hurried her on her way. He could not approve of any scheme of Lady Catherine's rapidly enough.

She would benefit from the practice. It was true that she did not perform as well as she wished and slightly mortifying that Lady Catherine had not hesitated to point out her deficiencies in company. The primary inducement to seek out Mrs. Jenkinson, however, had been that an hour-long, solitary music lesson seemed a heavenly alternative to bearing with Mr. Collins for any length of time.

The previous evening, the man had not waited for the carriage to pull away from Rosings before lecturing her on the impropriety of monopolising the attention of Lady Catherine's nephews. Mr. Collins renewed the subject this morning, insinuating that Elizabeth entertained presumptuous aspirations of marrying far above her station. How laughable! She had made the acquaintance of the Colonel only the previous week. He had to mean the Colonel. As for Mr. Darcy, the notion was ridiculous in the extreme.

From his copious words and bitter tone, it was all too clear that Mr. Collins still resented her refusal in November. She understood that he thought her foolish for spurning his marriage proposal. He was entitled to his opinion on the matter, but to hint repeatedly at such a thing now that he had chosen another, and in Charlotte's presence, too! How imprudent, embarrassing and entirely unreasonable! "Charlotte is the foolish one for connecting herself with such a man." Her good friend may have cast her lot with Mr. Collins, but she would not subject herself unnecessarily to his company.

And this was the gentleman who was to inherit Longbourn. The idea of Charlotte's husband walking into her childhood abode as its owner, of anyone displacing her family, struck her as both unnatural and overwhelming. If Lady Catherine maintained successful control of Rosings, why might not Mrs. Bennet manage Longbourn if she were to survive her husband? Why must the result of some ancient quarrel, whose initiator was laid to rest long ago, determine the manner in which she and her sisters were to live? Elizabeth suddenly found herself in surprising sympathy with her mother. Before this, Mrs. Bennet's confusion over the nature of entails had inspired frustration and, occasionally, amusement. Being at a great distance from home, however, with the opportunity to see more of the world, gave Elizabeth a fresh perspective on her own fate. Of course, it would have helped matters if...in truth, all might be very different, indeed, were Mr. Collins a man she could admire and respect...but, alas, that was not to be.

At length, she crossed the worn carpet and sat down at the instrument. Ignoring the pile of music at her side, she began to play from memory one of several pieces she had taught herself in recent years. Halfway through the selection, she paused in wonder, with her fingers suspended over the keys. Not one note had sounded amiss. The rich, bright tone surpassed that of the pianoforte she and Mary shared at home. "I do believe I would find my sister's most pedantic efforts much more tolerable on this jewel of an instrument..."

She continued her playing, though with a different song now, bobbing her head in time with the reel. At first she grimaced at every note her impatient fingers misplayed, but by the end she was unable to keep a smile from her face. This was just the sort of music Kitty and Lydia favoured---youthful, lively, spirited---especially when the company of a redcoat was to be had. It was not made for regrets and melancholy.

Melody after melody filled the room as Elizabeth recovered her natural good humour. Sometimes she sang, sometimes not. For her final piece she chose an old favourite: a lullaby, not quite the fashionable choice to perform at country assemblies, but she had no audience now, and she was fond of it, for it displayed her voice to advantage.

She repeated the refrain at the end, humming this time instead of articulating the words. She looked around the room and somehow did not falter at the sight of a familiar form in the doorway. He had his eyes closed and, by the look of it, was enjoying her performance, but she could not be certain from this distance. His head rested against the doorframe. He had never appeared so at ease in her presence before. Was she lulling him to sleep with her singing?

She returned her gaze to the instrument and finished the song, then waited a few moments before glancing at the doorway again. It was empty, as if the man had been merely a vision. She had not heard him walking to or from the room. Perhaps he meant to observe her discreetly. Did he even realise she had seen him there?

Alone once more, she stretched her arms high above her head. The time away from her cousin had proven restorative, and now she felt weary of sitting and anticipated the walk across the lane to the Parsonage.

She met the gentleman on the stair.

"Good day, Miss Bennet."

"Good day, Mr. Darcy."

"I was not aware that you were to visit Rosings this afternoon."

She thought he looked as though he wished to say more. When he did not continue, she told him, "I have been practicing in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. I found I could not refuse your aunt's kind invitation." She waited for him to divulge the fact that he knew this, that he had watched her play only minutes ago, but he merely coloured a little, as he had the previous evening at Lady Catherine's words. "I hope I did not disturb you." She wondered whether he had found her flawed performance distracting.

"Not at all."

Then she saw it. She was careful to observe him; even so, she nearly missed it. His stance softened with that same ease she had seen earlier, and his face filled with...tenderness, really, she determined---a trait completely at odds with her knowledge of his character. Just as quickly, his expression reverted to its former inscrutability.

"I should get back to the Parsonage now. Charlotte expects me to return for tea." She searched his face in her confusion.

He stared back at her, saying nothing until the silence grew awkward. "Have a pleasant walk, Miss Bennet."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy."

"Oh, Eliza! That is lovely work, but I do believe you will run out of that colour before you are quite through. I am sorry I have nothing of a similar shade to give you."

"This had no chance of being perfect anyway, Charlotte." She held up the cloth and eyed the short length of floss dangling from it, sighing at how little attention she had been paying to the work before her. "I am sure a different colour will do as well, and if not, I shall complete it some other time."

Elizabeth sat with Maria and Charlotte in the latter's favourite parlour. Embroidery was not her preferred form of employment, but she had read, walked, practiced music, dined, and discussed both the weather and poultry already, so there was little left from which to choose.

She wished to answer Jane's most recent letter, but she had nothing to write that might raise her sister's spirits. That feat could only be accomplished by Mr. Bingley's return to Netherfield, and until that occurred her family must be content with a less cheerful Jane Bennet.

"I still cannot believe how grand Rosings is, Charlotte!" Maria's grip loosened on her sewing as she spoke. "I have seen nothing to compare to it, except Netherfield, which is not half so impressive. Miss Bingley did prepare the ballroom very well in November, I will say, yet I cannot help but think that a ball at Rosings would be ten times grander. Do you not agree?" She turned her bright eyes towards Elizabeth. "Would Mr. Darcy ask you to dance again, Eliza? He could not be always paired with Miss de Bourgh. Even if they were positively engaged, it would not be proper. But he does not dance much, as I recall, and is none too amiable, either, for all that he's so handsome and rich. But the Colonel would ask you to dance, I'm sure, and perhaps he would ask me as well."

A wistful look spread over Maria's face, and Elizabeth smiled despite her exasperation. Dance with Mr. Darcy again? Never! Not that he would ever ask. She saw no reason why he should approach her at all, and shuffled uncomfortably in her seat as she recalled his presence in Mrs. Jenkinson's doorway. Just as she had firmly decided that neither of them would take pleasure in standing up together for a set or two in the Rosings ballroom, she recalled his expression on the stair. "But that signifies nothing, surely," she murmured. "He is still the most hateful man."

"What were you saying, Eliza?"

Elizabeth blushed when she saw Charlotte looking at her. "Oh, I just recalled something. It is of no consequence." Charlotte nodded knowingly, much to her chagrin, but, thankfully, said no more on the subject and instead discussed with Maria her plan to walk into the village the following morning and call on some of the cottagers.

Sleep did not come easily to Elizabeth but at length it did come, although it was not to last through the night. Some hours before dawn, she awakened from a dream in which she sat, dressed all in grey, on the edge of the bed in Mrs. Jenkinson's room and sang her favourite lullaby to a little boy. He was beautiful. She ran her hands through his hair as he rested with his cheek pressed against the pillow. The last note faded and he broke the silence with a voice too deep for any lad. "No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can think any thing wanting." He turned, no longer a boy, and looked upon her with a familiar tender expression...

She sat up, fully awake, and stared into the dark. Much as she endeavoured to prevent it, her thoughts strayed towards Rosings and remained fixed upon one of its inhabitants well after the sun had risen.

Part Two

Posted on Monday, 20 February 2006

Elizabeth sat alone at breakfast. Though she had risen early, she had left her room very late. Charlotte and Maria were gone to the village as planned, and she did not expect them home before afternoon tea. Mr. Collins was shut up in his study, presumably writing a sermon.

She considered whether to go again to Rosings. The novelty of a long practice, as well as the fine sound of the instrument, held an attraction for her. Still, she hesitated. Remnants of the dream persisted, and she wished to avoid meeting with Mr. Darcy if at all possible. If she went to Mrs. Jenkinson's room again, would he come stealthily to watch her as he had before?

A commotion arose at the front of the house. It was Mr. Collins's "Lady Catherine is here!" that decided the matter for Elizabeth; in her current state, she had not the fortitude to bear with her cousin and the great Lady together. She slipped around the corner and retrieved her bonnet as Mr. Collins bolted out the front door to greet his patroness. Then she made her way to the back of the house as quietly as she could and walked out of doors and across the lane, taking care to stay far from the dining parlour windows. Before she had settled on a particular destination, her feet carried her up the steps to Rosings and through the entrance. She considered turning back but decided to stay. The house was pleasant enough when Lady Catherine was not in it. Her ladyship likely would remain at the Parsonage for an hour, and from there perhaps proceed to the village to seek out Charlotte for the pleasure of advising her on how best to carry out her charitable work.

Elizabeth engaged Mrs. Jenkinson in conversation as they walked to the pianoforte.

"Her ladyship had it imported from the continent several years ago." Mrs. Jenkinson appeared delighted with her guest's praise of the instrument and eagerly answered her inquiries. "There was, apparently, a misunderstanding. Lady Catherine expected a much larger, grander instrument, one fit to replace the pianoforte in the drawing room." There was such animation in her features, as if she were honoured to be asked for an explanation. "She wanted it returned immediately, but Miss de Bourgh requested that it be brought here instead. She---Miss de Bourgh, that is---recalled that I had no instrument, and kindly suggested that it might allow me to prepare for those occasions when my playing is required. Unfortunately, Miss de Bourgh is often unwell and rarely desirous of lingering in the drawing room to hear music, and as I must attend her, of course, this does not get very much use." She sighed and trailed her hand along the edge of the piano.

Elizabeth had never heard so many words from this woman before, and it pleased her. She was even more curious now. "Shall I hear you play before I leave Kent?"

Mrs. Jenkinson started, as if she had been asked something quite shocking. "I am sure I do not know, Miss Bennet. I cannot tarry here much longer. Miss de Bourgh is going out again in the phaeton."

Elizabeth thanked Mrs. Jenkinson and, watching her leave, tried in vain not to think of the next person she was likely to meet before leaving Rosings. But surely he would not come a second time...would he?

Why him? Why not the Colonel instead? She knew of one good reason for that, at least. If Colonel Fitzwilliam sought her out now, as Mr. Darcy had done, would it not show particular interest? Surely the son of an earl, especially a younger son in need of a wealthy bride, would not wish to court a dowerless country gentlewoman. His friendly attention to her was unlikely to become more than that.

"At least he does not look upon me only to criticise, as his cousin does." Yet, Mr. Darcy had not criticised her the previous day or questioned her right to be there. Perhaps he had come to ensure that his aunt's advice was properly heeded, or her playing had been too loud and had distracted him from his business concerns. Though he did not seem displeased in any way; quite the contrary, in fact...Had he been anyone else, she would think that he...

She perused the selection of music at her side in an effort to push that thought out of her head.

Elizabeth wondered at her dubious talent for drawing the attention of men who either repulsed her or could ill afford an attachment to her. Most heartily did she wish herself in possession of a fortune such as that which Mary King had; ten thousand pounds would be of no little comfort, for at least she would have the means to support herself should the worst occur. Or the best. She thought wistfully of Mr. Wickham and let her fingers fall into place.

She began with somber pieces. One song in particular she played over and over, earnestly attempting to improve her execution, until she grew sick of the sound. When at last she abandoned it, the tone of the instrument again worked its magic, and again her anxieties melted away until her fingers drew happier music from the keys.

She saved the lullaby for last. This time she heard the footsteps but refused to look up. As she hummed the final note, she heard him retreating. She tiptoed to the doorway and saw him disappear down the hall. Why had such a great, proud man gone out of his way to listen to a child's song? It must have been the song that compelled him, for he thought little of the songstress, surely... She blushed at the memory of the little boy and full-grown man of whom she had dreamt the previous night and shuddered at the notion of the dream recurring. The sudden heat in her cheeks compelled her to seek the fresh air of the Park.

This time when she met Mr. Darcy on the stair, she did not stop straightaway. In her haste, she brushed past him on the landing and took a false step. Only his quickness to grasp her arm kept her from stumbling.

"Miss Bennet? Miss Bennet, are you well?"

She realised how uncivil and how agitated she must appear. "I...I apologise, Mr. Darcy. I was not attending."

He walked to the step below her and observed her intently, clearly concerned. "You look as though some creature is hard on your heels. Though I can scarce imagine what might be fierce enough to intimidate such a courageous young woman as yourself." His slight smile did not diminish the intensity of his stare.

Was he teasing her? She shifted her arm and he released it. "I am only hurrying out to enjoy the beauties of Rosings Park, nothing more."

"It is a lovely day, and the weather is perfect for walking out." He seemed to be deliberating. "Will you allow me to escort you?" he said at last, offering his arm.

"Thank you, but it is not necessary. I am quite well." The last thing she needed was to walk back to the Parsonage on the arm of Mr. Darcy.

"Then at least allow me the pleasure...er, um, comfort of seeing you to the door," he said with some awkwardness. He linked her arm in his without waiting for an answer, and they began the descent.

Thinking it would be rude to reclaim her arm now, but having nothing to say to him, Elizabeth walked on in silence. Darcy turned to her as they neared the base of the stairwell. "Did you enjoy your practice today, Miss Bennet?"

He must know, as he had observed it for himself; nonetheless, she answered him. "Very much. I find myself grateful to Lady Catherine for the suggestion. Mrs. Jenkinson's pianoforte has a pleasing sound, not at all inferior to the grand instrument there." She gestured in the direction of the drawing room.

"I quite agree."

"Do you?" She turned to look straight into his eyes. "So you have heard it for yourself, then? Have you also been admonished to improve upon your skills by making use of that particular instrument?" She watched him, tempted to laugh as his expression registered surprise and embarrassment before he turned away. "I am astonished that your aunt has banished her favourite nephew to the servants' quarters. Perhaps she does not approve of gentlemen performers." She wondered how he would acquit himself now that he had been discovered.

"I...I...er, hm...Well, I have heard that..." He stammered and blushed as they stood in the hall and, when he dared to meet her eyes again, quietly asked, "So you saw me, then?"

She restrained her smile. "Yesterday, I did. Just now, I heard you coming and going." She would not dare admit that she had rushed to the door to catch a glimpse of him.

"And I congratulated myself on being so quiet." He sighed. "I never meant to disturb you."

"You did nothing of the sort," she lied. If dreaming of the man you were determined to hate was not disturbing, she did not know what was.

"Your playing was lovely."

"I cannot agree with you there, but I did enjoy myself."

"You should not think so meanly of your abilities." He leaned closer to her ear so as not to be overheard by a passing servant. "Everyone is not as...critical an observer as my aunt."

"I must go." The look in his eyes and his nearness disconcerted her, and she wished herself away.

"Then I shall not detain you further. Good afternoon, Miss Bennet."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy." As she left him, she could hear the faint humming of a certain lullaby.

Part Three

Posted on Monday, 27 February 2006

Upon her return from Rosings, Elizabeth resolved to remain at the Parsonage all of the following day and enjoy the company of her friends. Her encounters with Mr. Darcy unsettled her, and she had no wish to repeat them.

Events conspired against her, however. That evening, Colonel Fitzwilliam called at the Parsonage as he had done several times before. The Colonel sat by her and the two of them conversed with an animation that drew a steady glare from Mr. Collins. Charlotte chatted in a desultory manner with Maria, unable to mask her discomfort. Elizabeth wondered if she would be forced to display incivility towards an amiable man in order to pacify a curmudgeon. She hoped it would not come to that.

Thankfully, the Colonel's visit did not last long, and Elizabeth retired early to her room. At breakfast she learned that a night's rest had been insufficient to relieve her cousin's mind; he once again lectured her and accused her of employing her arts and allurements to draw in the unsuspecting Colonel. The rest of the morning he refused to speak to her directly but talked of her to Charlotte and Maria as if she were not present. The moment Charlotte went out to work in her garden, Elizabeth slipped out of doors as well, feeling that she could not escape the house soon enough.

Elizabeth surveyed what fraction of the sixty-four windows could be viewed from her position on the front lawn of Rosings. She laughed at her newfound appreciation for the estate and wondered whether she might be developing a preference for grand houses.

She saw movement in one of the windows: the silhouette of a man stepping back, the drawing of a curtain. Whether it was Mr. Darcy she could not tell from where she stood, but the possibility deterred her from further consideration of practicing her music. She turned and walked back down the wide stone steps and into the shrubbery beyond.

She was heading in no particular direction when a man approached her. She hoped Mr. Darcy had not spied her from the window and set out to meet her. Her apprehension soon gave way to relief at the welcome sight of Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"I have been making a tour of the Park, as I do every year. Shall I escort you back to the Parsonage? I am going there myself, as it turns out."

"I...had not..."

"I received an express today." He continued without acknowledging her halting reply. "My leave is cut short. I must travel to London tomorrow and rejoin my regiment shortly thereafter." He smiled ruefully as her countenance fell. "I am sorry not to have the opportunity to improve our acquaintance, Miss Bennet."

"As am I, Colonel Fitzwilliam." Just her luck; the only amiable gentleman in the vicinity was now leaving. She had a sudden, happy thought. "Will your cousin return to town with you?"

"No, indeed. My aunt insists that he remain at Rosings at least a fortnight. She is quite immovable on that point. Darcy humours her, but on the fifteenth day, he is back in London before noon, without fail." His broad smile made him appear almost handsome. "Lady Catherine is less concerned with my plans, however, and the demands of my profession take precedence, at any rate."

"Then I do hope you enjoy the remainder of your stay."

The Colonel offered his arm and led her in the direction of the Parsonage. Elizabeth halted him, having no wish to hurry back into the presence of her cousin or to arrive in the sole company of Colonel Fitzwilliam and hear Mr. Collins's strictures on the subject. "Actually, Colonel, I would prefer to walk a little longer in this garden, if it is not any trouble."

"None at all. But do you wish to go into the house, then?"

"No; I should like to remain here."

They walked along the path and spoke little until Elizabeth introduced a certain subject.

"Does Miss Darcy often accompany you to Kent?"

"Yes, but this year we thought it wise to allow her to remain in London." At Elizabeth's questioning look, he explained, "My cousin and I share guardianship of Miss Darcy."

"Oh." Elizabeth wondered how long Mr. Darcy's parents had been deceased. Just then it occurred to her that the Colonel, as cousin to the Darcys, might be in the position to confirm or deny Miss Bingley's conjectures regarding her brother and Miss Darcy. "I understand that your charge has been much in company with one of my Hertfordshire neighbours, and that he and Miss Darcy are quite attached to one another." Not that she believed Miss Bingley's assertions for a moment, but she wanted to discover what Miss Darcy's feelings were, if she could. She was surprised to see the Colonel's expression darken.

"The scoundrel! So he has loosened his tongue since Darcy left the county, eh? He will pay dearly for this!"

Elizabeth heard his quiet, heated words, though she could not imagine what had inspired them.

The Colonel rapidly regained his composure. "I am deeply sorry for my outburst, Miss Bennet. Your information quite took me by surprise." He paused, as if considering his words carefully, then he looked to her, resolute. "I hate to importune you, but I must know what he has told you. It is of great import, I assure you, or I never would presume...Pray, tell me, what exactly did George Wickham say?"

"Mr. Wickham?" What had he to do with it? And why was the Colonel so disturbed? "All Wickham ever said about Miss Darcy was that she was fond of him in her youth but had grown very proud, like her brother." She caught herself and looked up at the Colonel, wondering whether he had heard her incautious mumbling. "I do not follow your meaning, Colonel. When I spoke of my neighbour, I referred to Mr. Bingley, not Mr. Wickham. Miss Bingley twice wrote to my sister Jane predicting an alliance between Miss Darcy and her brother."

"Bingley?" He sounded as though he either did not believe her or did not understand whom she meant.

"Yes, Mr. Charles Bingley, Mr. Darcy's friend."

The Colonel was visibly relieved and a little embarrassed. "Oh! Now, that is another matter entirely." His face took on a firmness that belied his light tone, and he looked every bit the soldier as he said, "Would you be so good as to forget we had this misunderstanding, Miss Bennet?" It was not a request.

"Certainly, Colonel. Let us speak of it no more." The man looked so severe, she had no choice but to oblige him, no matter how perplexed she was that Mr. Wickham's name should be raised during a conversation about Miss Darcy and marriage prospects.

"I thank you. And in return for your kindness, I shall tell you this: I have never known Georgiana to claim more than a brotherly affection for Mr. Bingley." His demeanor regained that ease and amiability which she had been accustomed to find in him. "As for Bingley, poor chap, it is my understanding that his inclinations lie with a young lady who, unfortunately, neither loves nor deserves him."

It was Elizabeth's turn to be shocked. She could well imagine where Colonel Fitzwilliam had received his intelligence of Mr. Bingley's ‘inclinations' and she silently cursed the source of the Colonel's information. How dare he! ‘Neither loves nor deserves him'! She was too angry to respond.

"Miss Bennet?" The Colonel gently called Elizabeth out of her reverie. "I do believe I shall escort you back after all. You appear to be unwell." She did not protest, and they walked slowly to the Parsonage.

Mr. Collins glowered at Elizabeth when she entered the house on Colonel Fitzwilliam's arm. He relented somewhat as the Colonel explained that Miss Bennet had taken ill, and after seeing his guest out, he allowed Elizabeth to retire to her room without recrimination.

Elizabeth was still in her room when she heard the ring at the door signaling the Colonel's return. He had promised Mr. Collins that he would call again in the evening to take leave of them all. Charlotte convinced her easily enough to come down and say her farewells, but when she saw that Mr. Darcy had accompanied him, she heartily wished she had stayed in bed. She spoke amicably to the Colonel, but she ignored Mr. Darcy when she could, and was coldly civil to him when she could not.

The next few days brought no invitations to dine at Rosings. Elizabeth, however, went thither each afternoon and practiced most diligently in Mrs. Jenkinson's room, with that most obliging lady's consent, and showed, unbeknownst to herself, slight improvement. The piano's rich voice soothed her anger and frustration over Jane's disappointment. She never looked up at the doorway, though she knew Mr. Darcy was there each time. He had ceased his silent approaches now that there was no need for disguise of any sort. Each day when she met him on the stair, she gave no more than a cursory greeting before leaving the house. Mr. Darcy called at the Parsonage each evening, which was highly unusual behaviour for him, but she kept to her room and refused to see him.

On Sunday, Lady Catherine again invited the Collinses and their guests to Rosings for tea. Elizabeth would have been content to spend the afternoon scowling at Mr. Darcy and ignoring him by turns. Unfortunately, Lady Catherine often demanded her attention, and even asked her to entertain them.

"Mrs. Jenkinson informs me that you have been eager to improve your proficiency at the pianoforte and have practiced several times on the instrument in her room. Let us hear what you have been able to accomplish in just one week."

Elizabeth complied with the request and played with fervour and, for her, uncommon accuracy. Polite applause ensued. All enjoyed the performance; even Miss de Bourgh truly appeared pleased by it.

"Eliza, I always love to hear you play, but that was especially delightful."

"Thank you, Charlotte."

Mr. Collins grudgingly echoed his wife's words. Lady Catherine then launched into a discourse on the benefits of constant practice. When she had said more than enough to satisfy all parties, the carriage was called and Elizabeth once again allowed her thoughts free rein, imagining all manner of scenarios in which Jane wasted away from a broken heart and Mr. Darcy was made very sorry for what he had done.

The following day, Elizabeth resumed her music practice. Mr. Darcy---it could have been none other---appeared at Mrs. Jenkinson's door earlier than was his habit, and instead of remaining at the threshold, he strode into the room.

Elizabeth heard the door close behind him. She stopped playing but did not turn her head. "I do not recall inviting you in." It was useless to try to contain her hostility now that she was presented with the object of it.

"I was not aware that I needed to ask your permission." He moved quickly towards her.

"Perhaps you do not. As the future Master of Rosings Park, I suppose you might take certain liberties."

"What?" He looked at her in consternation. "Please, spare me that nonsense. I came here to talk of something of a most serious nature. The last several days I have desired to speak to you, but you would not see me at the Parsonage and you always manage to leave Rosings before I have an opportunity to---"

"I doubt you can have anything to say that I wish to hear. Why did you close the door? Surely you know it is improper for us to be shut in here alone together."

"If you are concerned for your reputation, you need not be. This is the last place where rumours would be tolerated." He smirked. "Lady Catherine can ill afford to have my name linked with that of any woman other than my cousin Anne, if her plans are to come to fruition."

"Then you are to marry your cousin."

"Lady Catherine wants me to marry my cousin. There is a great difference. But, as I said before, I did not come here to discuss the vain wishes of my aunt. I came to talk to you about a mutual acquaintance."

"Mr. Bingley!" Though he had closed the door, she was careful not to raise her voice overly much. "Ah, your very persuadable friend! Yes, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"That is not---"

"I have thought of little else for days now, and I have dwelt on Jane's heartache far longer. Pray tell, what did she ever do to you to deserve your censure and cruelty?" Her anger drove her on before he could answer. "She ‘neither loves nor deserves him'---those were the words I heard, and I could not believe my ears! It must assuage your conscience a little to plead ignorance of Jane's true feelings while enumerating your objections, which I imagine are only that she has one uncle who is a country attorney and another who is in trade in London."

She lost patience with him for not making the slightest effort to explain himself even while remaining vaguely aware of the fact that she had interrupted his every attempt. "Is it true, then? Did you persuade Mr. Bingley to abandon Jane? Can you deny it?"

"I have no wish to deny it."

She closed her eyes against her building fury. "And to think I was prepared to lay the principal fault at Miss Bingley's feet, especially after she treated Jane so abominably in town." She suddenly recalled Mr. Darcy's confusion during their first conversation after his arrival in Kent. "I suppose you knew all along that my sister has been in Gracechurch Street since January."

He said nothing; his eyes only widened and he looked uneasy.

"I wonder if Mr. Bingley is aware of it."

He turned his face from her.

Elizabeth knew Miss Bingley would never willingly reveal Jane's whereabouts to her brother, and now Mr. Darcy had all but admitted to conspiring to keep that information from his friend. Her strong dislike of him was blossoming into hatred.

"I daresay you congratulate yourself on saving your friend from what you must consider a most imprudent marriage, and why? Because my mother and uncles are not sufficiently grand for your tastes? Because Longbourn has not the income of Pemberley? It is horrid enough that your pride, your arrogance..."

"My arrogance? What---"

"...and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others have brought misery to both my sister and your friend. But then to boast about your contemptible actions to others! How could you?" She noted his shocked, reddened face and supposed people rarely spoke to him in this manner.

"How could I not advise my friend against a union with a woman of no connections and no fortune to speak of, with so few relations of sense and breeding? A handsome face and pleasant manners might be found anywhere. It was clear to me that she could offer him nothing, not even tender feelings."

His words made her wince at first. It was one thing for her to say the Bennets were not grand enough to suit the likes of Mr. Darcy but quite another to hear him confirm that opinion. She struggled to remain focused on the subject at hand. It was too important to allow her anger, no matter how justified, to obscure it. "I will not even inquire how you dare insult my family to my face. After all, Jane's connections or fortune can be of no importance to you. It is Mr. Bingley's opinion that matters in this case, and he never appeared displeased with anything about her! And what you say of ‘tender feelings' has no bearing, for Jane loves him. Have you heard nothing I have said today? My longsuffering sister has loved him all this time! Such an inconstant man does not deserve her."

"Miss Bennet certainly displayed no evidence of love."

Her hands formed tight fists. "What evidence do you require?" How she could refrain from screaming she did not know, but she managed to keep her voice at a respectable level. "And who are you to require it?" His gall, his callousness was shocking. She could not help but feel some disappointment that such a clever mind was hampered by a complete lack of human feeling. What could he possibly know of love? "I should have expected as much from the man who threw off his childhood friend and denied his own father's wishes."

"What do you know of my father, or any of my private affairs? And what right has any person so wholly unconnected to my family to inquire?" He smirked again. How she hated the look on his face. "Considering that the source of your intelligence on the matter is anything but forthright and disinterested, I would venture to say that you know nothing at all."

"I do know this, Mr. Darcy: you have proven, over and over, the accuracy of my initial impression of you, and I despise you as much as you despise me. Please, leave me in peace." She was not usually one to be so uncivil, but what he had done was unfair. This place, this humble room had become her refuge, and he had spoilt it. Jane was rendered miserable, and Wickham made poor, by his hand; yet he was unrepentant. She would not say any more, but neither would she shrink from the challenge in his eyes. She waited in silence for him to go.

In the midst of her anger, she could not help but notice that he looked very like the image in her dream. That was when she realised his expression had changed. Had he taken her words to heart? She could not imagine he would deign to apologise, or that any explanation he could offer would appease her.

"Is that what you truly think, Miss Bennet? That I despise you?"

The question surprised her, but, thankfully, he did not wait for an answer. He turned, took several steps and stopped. Five steps, she counted, a fair way to the door, certainly, for such a tall man. Why did he not go? As if her unspoken thought prompted him to action, she heard the steps continue. To her astonishment, the sound grew louder, instead of fainter, as he moved; in another moment, she could hear him breathing. She refused to turn. There was no more to say, and he had been dismissed; sooner or later he would see this and leave her.

"I do not hate you, Elizabeth. Even if I wanted to, I could not."

She felt him draw out a loose curl at the nape of her neck. He twisted it around his finger before tucking it back into place. Her mouth opened soundlessly in disbelief as the proud, staid Master of Pemberley toyed with her hair.

"Good day, Miss Bennet." The gentleman's voice was barely recognisable in its hoarseness.

By the time she composed herself enough to turn around, he had left the room.

She had been mistaken. Charlotte, and even Mr. Collins, had been nearer the truth. Elizabeth could deny it no longer, despite her anger. Whether Mr. Darcy's behaviour was born of an ardent love or merely of the impulse of the moment she could not say with any certainty, but in no possible way could she interpret his actions as stemming from dislike.

Posted on Monday, 6 March 2006

Part Four

"I am glad to see that you are well, Miss Bennet, and not confined to your room. I have not had the pleasure of your company on my last few visits here."

Elizabeth did not favour him with an answer.

He shifted in his seat while continuing to look at her. "I have had a letter from Bingley."

This news piqued her interest. "Is he well?"

"He is in health. He mentioned a...peculiar situation. As it involves Longbourn and, specifically, your father, I thought to take the opportunity to speak with you on his behalf."

Charlotte immediately invented some business in the kitchen which she had to oversee personally, and she pressed Maria to assist her.

Elizabeth's silent reproaches were ignored by her friend. She quickly found herself alone with Mr. Darcy.

"Do not be alarmed, Miss Bennet. I shall be the soul of propriety."

"Of course; I expect nothing less. I trust you will not so much as touch a hair on my head." She was well satisfied with his resulting blush, and it went a long way towards relieving some of her lingering anger at him.

"Shall we go there?" He indicated a desk in the corner. "I would like you to see the letter for yourself."

"If you wish, though I cannot imagine what difficulty can exist between Mr. Bingley and my father, or what I can do to assist him."

Elizabeth sat while Mr. Darcy stood at her side and spread the letter out before her. At first glance, she immediately recalled a certain conversation that took place at Netherfield. "Miss Bingley did not exaggerate when she described her brother's penmanship. It is indeed difficult to make out this scrawl." She leaned over the paper and examined each line. Her persistence paid off. She gathered from the letter several things that surprised her.

Mr. Darcy must have broached the subject of Jane with the gentleman. The missive clearly was a reply to one of Mr. Darcy's own. Furthermore, it appeared that Mr. Bingley was not so easily led as Elizabeth had believed. Yes, he had stayed in London for the winter, as he had promised his sisters he would do, but he had not forgotten Jane at all. He had trusted Caroline to convey their decision to Jane by letter. That may have been an unwise choice, but it was a reasonable one, as he could not write to Jane himself. He likely knew nothing of Miss Bingley's insinuations regarding the nature of his acquaintance with Miss Darcy.

Elizabeth reluctantly allowed her resentment to give way, for although Mr. Bingley had considered his friend's and his sisters' opinions, those opinions had not materially altered his own. He had determined to wait several weeks to prove to himself that this attraction was no passing fancy, as so often had been the case with him. Now fixed in his choice, he had decided to write to Mr. Bennet of his intentions---a decisive step, to be sure---and if his words, smudges and blots were to be believed, her father had not responded. This was the crux of the matter. Jane's proximity to him, whether in Gracechurch Street or in Hertfordshire, was of little importance if he was denied permission to court her.

"As you see, he believes Mr. Bennet does not look upon him with favour." She heard Mr. Darcy's voice as she read the last lines of the letter. "Are you familiar with your father's opinion? Does he object to Mr. Bingley as a suitor for Miss Bennet?"

"No, I am sure he does not, although I see why Mr. Bingley believes the opposite. He wrote to Longbourn weeks ago. My father is a dilatory correspondent at best, but such a delay is unusual, even for him." She perused the papers again and smiled as a notion occurred to her. "Mr. Darcy, do you think Mr. Bingley's letter to my father may have had a similar appearance to this one?"

"If you are asking me if his writing is always that untidy, the answer is yes."

"Then I believe I know what happened. Papa, while eager to receive letters, has little tolerance for struggling to make them out. If he unfolded the first page and saw this," she held up the paper, "he would just as soon have tossed it into the fire as not. I doubt he bothered to read the signature. He would see an unfamiliar hand and illegible script and decide the person did not care to make himself understood, and thus did not deserve his consideration." She smiled. "That is, if the letter did not go astray. Based on what I see here, there is a good chance that Mr. Bingley wrote the direction rather ill, and the envelope sits unopened on a Mr. Barnet's desk somewhere in Herefordshire."

Mr. Darcy laughed at her explanation. "I am relieved. I shall advise my friend to be very careful with his next letter, or, better yet, to forego writing and ride to Longbourn to call on your father instead. Bingley makes a far better impression in person than in print."

"Shall you write to your friend very soon?" Elizabeth felt the stirrings of hope for her sister.

"No, I shall tell him myself tomorrow, or the following day at the latest."

"You are to leave Kent?"

"I am for London in the morning. I have put off my departure once already."

He gathered up the pages of Mr. Bingley's letter and replaced them with a sealed envelope addressed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

"Mr. Darcy, I---" She looked at him, apprehensive.

He lowered his voice. "Would you do me the honour of reading it?"

After their argument, Elizabeth had been certain that she never wanted to see Mr. Darcy again. She had purposely stayed away from Rosings ever since. There was still so much unresolved between them, she knew, but she had not desired resolution, only escape.

He, on the other hand, had delayed his departure from Kent, something he never did, according to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had written to Mr. Bingley attempting to correct his error regarding Jane. And he had written to her as well. It was only fair that she read what he had to communicate. She looked again at her name on the envelope and noted the steady, neat lines and curves of his writing. Already this missive promised to be much more intelligible than Mr. Bingley's.

She grinned despite herself and took the letter. "I suppose I can do that much."

"Thank you."

They were more silent than not during the next several minutes. Elizabeth, curious as she was, could not open the letter just yet. She attempted to converse on lighter topics with little success, for it appeared that Mr. Darcy, unlike herself, had not taken the trouble of practicing and still was little inclined to parlour conversation. Perhaps it was that, or the nature of their previous discussion. More likely it was the lingering effect of his declaration in Mrs. Jenkinson's room that inhibited them.

Perhaps all that Mr. Darcy wished to say to her was written in the letter.

The return of Charlotte and Maria to the parlour was very welcome, for if they could not all talk, they could all eat, and the repast proved delicious enough to lend credence to Charlotte's eagerness to supervise its preparation.

Part Five

Charlotte dropped her book onto her lap. "Eliza? Can you not sleep? Is there anything I can get for you?"

Elizabeth slid down into a seat across from Charlotte. "He will be gone tomorrow."

Charlotte favoured her with a tired smile. "And this news keeps you from your precious slumber?"

The twinkle in Charlotte's eye and her immediate understanding of who he was---though she knew it required little effort to puzzle out---made Elizabeth feel that they had somehow instantly regained much of the intimacy that had been lacking in their friendship since Charlotte's engagement and marriage. "I spoke my thoughts aloud again, did I? No, the fact that he is leaving has not kept me awake; rather, it is everything else. Charlotte, what are you doing down here?"

"I cannot rest comfortably just now. It appears that supper did not agree with me." She clasped her hands together. "Or with another, who is, unfortunately, too young to tell me precisely which part of the meal he found objectionable." She caressed her midsection and looked shyly at Elizabeth. "I was always told that women took ill in the morning in cases like these. It was that way with my own mother."

"Charlotte!" Elizabeth was up in an instant to embrace and congratulate her friend, her joy checked only by the notion that the child possessed a most unfortunate father. But having such a mother might atone for it. "Are you certain?"

"I am, though I have told no one yet. I wish to wait a month or two before allowing the news to go all around Hunsford and Meryton. I have not even told Maria. She is horrid at keeping secrets."

Elizabeth sat down again, and the two women lapsed into an easy silence. Charlotte picked up her book and marked her place before putting it on the table with an unsteady hand. "I thank you, Eliza, for your sincere good wishes. I do value them, especially in light of the circumstances."

"And what might those circumstances be? That someday there will be children by the name of Collins instead of Bennet running around Longbourn House? It was always to be so, as I have no brother."

"Eliza, you know very well it is a subject I dare not mention. I should not even have alluded to it."

"Charlotte, you were my friend first, long before..." She waved her arm in a dismissive gesture.

"But still..."

"You know I could never hold the consequences of the entail against you. I am not my mother." Their simultaneous smiles eased the tension. "If a Bennet cannot inherit our family home, it could be in no better hands than those of my dearest friend."

"That is kind of you to say, but there is something that I must discuss with you." Charlotte sighed. "I know you possess a generous heart, Eliza, and I am glad of it. However, my children and I will not be the only ones to...settle in Hertfordshire some faraway day." Charlotte fidgeted in her seat. "My husband's conduct of late has been inexcusable. I must apologise to you for it, as it is clear that he never will. I have tried in vain to make him reasonable, but he refuses to hear my opinion. It is very wrong of him to cast aspersions upon your character for any reason. You are his own relation, and you have done nothing to deserve such treatment."

Elizabeth had formed a playful reply, but she saw that her friend truly was troubled by Mr. Collins's behaviour. "I shall not argue with you, Charlotte. I am not pleased that my cousin thinks I sought to entrap a respectable gentleman with my ‘arts and allurements', as he is fond of saying. And yet...I find that he is right, in a way. It was never my intention, but I do seem to have drawn someone in all the same. Although it is very likely that nothing will come of it."

"But you think it possible that something may come of it?"

"I do not know. No, that is not entirely true." She did not know before he called her by name and caressed her hair and declared he could never hate her. And wrote to her, most kindly, to put her on her guard concerning their mutual acquaintance, concluding the letter with a charity she did not deserve after the harsh words she had flung at him. She spoke decisively. "Yes. Possible, but not probable."

"Do you not trust the gentleman to be constant in his affections?"

"It is my own mind that is undecided on the matter. I don't love him, Charlotte. I do not yet know if I can like him. Besides, he has not declared himself, and he may never do so." He had only revealed his feelings, not his intentions.

"It would be a splendid match, you know."

"For one of us, perhaps." They were talking of something that may never be, something Elizabeth never expected to consider.

"For each of you. It will be to the advantage of both. He is your equal, and you know it. He certainly knows it. Eliza, you simply will have to grow accustomed to losing half of your arguments instead of none."

Elizabeth laughed. "How apt. I will have you know, it was an argument that started all this."

"Truly? I cannot imagine how. After all, the whole of Meryton is aware that you have admired Mr. Darcy for his tall form and handsome face, not to mention his superior manners, from the very beginning of your acquaintance."

They both laughed until Elizabeth recalled the contents of her letter. "There is something rather serious that I discovered today. At first I did not know what to make of it, but after thinking on it for several hours, I have to take Mr. Darcy's word over Mr. Wickham's."

"You talked of Mr. Wickham? I had thought you were discussing Mr. Bingley."

"We did not exactly talk of Mr. Wickham."

"Then how...That paper in your hand...Mr. Darcy wrote to you?"

"Shh! Please do not tell your husband. I myself shall not breathe a word of it, or he will throw me out of the Parsonage well before my planned departure on Saturday next."

"He must mean to marry you, Eliza! Why else would he break with propriety in such a way? My, my; Lady Catherine will be most seriously displeased."

"I believe his purpose in writing was less romantic. He sought to warn me that Mr. Wickham is not the hapless victim that he claimed to be. I will show you part of what he says. Here." She handed Charlotte a page of the letter and indicated the relevant portion.

Charlotte read it and handed it back to her. "Remarkable. And all this time Mr. Wickham had us believing he was treated unfairly. The Darcys were more than generous to him, both father and son."

"Very true." It was good to speak of it to someone. She had resigned herself to waiting until she was in Gracechurch Street with Jane again, but tonight it seemed natural to talk of this to Charlotte. "But do you think I should make Mr. Wickham's character known among our acquaintance? I wonder if Mary King has discovered his true nature, or if she is about to lose her ten thousand pounds to the gaming tables."

"Did Mr. Darcy give you leave to speak of it publicly?"

"No; neither did he forbid it, not this much, at least. There are other, more insidious charges against Mr. Wickham which I am not at liberty to relate, and there I must and will keep his confidence. I wonder if these lesser faults are enough to change the minds of all those ladies who have fallen for a handsome face. And it is a very handsome face, at that."

"Do you still favour Mr. Wickham?"

"I can hardly do so now, can I? Truly, I do not believe he touched my heart very deeply, though I admit I was pleased with his attentions."

"He is a very charming fellow." Charlotte thought for a moment. "Have you any objection to my sharing this news with Maria?"

"Why? Was she half in love with him, too? Kitty and Lydia certainly were."

"No more than most, but I have other reasons. I shall not tell her everything, just enough so that she will write to my mother, or Miss Long, or perhaps even Miss Swarthmore, who is an intimate friend of Miss King, and tell her that some of Lady Catherine's family have accused Mr. Wickham of less-than-gentlemanlike behaviour. No one will know that it is you who told me, or Mr. Darcy who told you. Maria will assume that my information came from Colonel Fitzwilliam or even from Lady Catherine herself."

"That might be wise. I should hate to see Miss King suffer for her choice."

They sat in silence for some minutes.

Elizabeth yawned. "Are you well enough to retire now, Charlotte?"

"I believe so." She and Elizabeth walked to the door. "I still think it would be a splendid match, Eliza."

Elizabeth only smiled, and the two friends parted company at the top of the stairs.

Part Six

Posted on Monday, 13 March 2006

"Lady Catherine feels so dull as to be very desirous of our company today."

Mr. Collins had walked early to Rosings with the intention of seeing Mr. Darcy off, and he returned as the others were finishing their breakfast. "Mr. Darcy's carriage departed at sunrise. Such a pity that I did not have the opportunity to speak with him before he left, but I am certain Lady Catherine will convey my apologies by post. My dear, we must hurry ourselves! Maria, Miss Elizabeth, you are to come as well. We must console Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh for the loss of their relation's society. They expect us at any moment."

Within the hour, the four of them were seated in the drawing room at Rosings, listening to Lady Catherine expound on the pleasures of this most recent visit from her nephew. Colonel Fitzwilliam's brief stay seemed entirely forgotten by her.

"He remained with us several days longer than usual," said Lady Catherine, referring to Mr. Darcy, "and was sorry to leave us at last. His attachment to Rosings certainly increases."

Mr. Collins appeared ready to interject his usual allusion to Mr. Darcy's attachment to his cousin, when Elizabeth forestalled him.

"And did you see much of him, then, in these last few days?"

"No; strange you should inquire, Miss Bennet. I did not see him as frequently as I had hoped. He dined with us, of course, but he spent much of his time above stairs, writing letters of business, I understand. He works too hard for such a young man. If he had a steward like my Matheson, he might have more leisure for visiting. It is unfortunate that Mr. Wickham died when he did; he was an excellent steward to Mr. Darcy's father. If the son, young George Wickham, had not turned out so wild, he could have taken his father's place, but that scalawag might be capable of bankrupting even an estate as grand as Pemberley."

Charlotte and Elizabeth looked at each other with widened eyes and suppressed smiles. It seemed Maria now had plenty of gossip to carry back to Meryton, and her quiet gasp confirmed her interest.

Elizabeth trusted Mr. Darcy even more now that his account had been corroborated by his aunt's words. Wanting to test whether or not the aunt's opinion only mirrored that of the nephew, she boldly ventured, "Lady Catherine, it must be a great comfort that your nephew confides in you regarding his business affairs." Elizabeth hoped that her ladyship had grown accustomed to her impertinent ways and would not take offence.

Far from resenting the comment, Lady Catherine responded to it eagerly. "Darcy? He tells me almost nothing. He values his privacy, a trait which shall serve him well when..." Her voice trailed off as she favoured her daughter with a fond glance. "Yes, he is most discreet. I took it upon myself to inquire about those closely associated with Pemberley when last I was in Derbyshire." She turned back to Elizabeth. "I journeyed there for the reading of the elder Mr. Darcy's will. I anticipated becoming Georgiana's guardian, of course. It would have been for the best. Anne and Georgiana might have grown quite as close as sisters these five years." She smiled briefly. "I was quite put out to find that responsibility left to Darcy and Fitzwilliam."

Lady Catherine raised her head even higher. "Even more shocking, I found that my brother had bequeathed young Wickham one thousand pounds! I could not imagine what had obliged him to do so---the boy is merely the son of a servant---so I inquired all about Lambton to find out as much as I possibly could. There was not a soul to whom I spoke who held him in any esteem there, and there were several who had good reason to dislike him---debts, debaucheries...oh, the rumours! I shall not pollute your ears with them. Darcy has done well to distance himself from George Wickham. I still find it deplorable that my brother meant to foist that man upon his neighbors and tenants as their parson. One's reputation is of the utmost importance in that profession."

Mr. Collins humbly concurred and expressed his gratitude to Lady Catherine for her patronage. Elizabeth took the opportunity to dwell upon all she had heard. She was indebted, for once, to Lady Catherine's propensity to meddle in the business of others, though she credited her ladyship with slightly more selfish motives than those of simple familial duty in her particular attention to the financial affairs of Pemberley. After all, one thousand pounds given to Wickham was one thousand less for the future Mrs. Anne Darcy.

As Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine talked on, Miss de Bourgh displayed signs of fatigue, which were noted by the others, and after Mrs. Collins gave a few gentle hints to her husband, the party rose to leave. All afternoon, Mr. Collins, Mrs. Collins, Elizabeth and Maria spoke of little else than Lady Catherine and her surprising revelations.

Mr. Collins's behaviour to Elizabeth improved in proportion to her lack of potential suitors; thus, the latter's final week in Hunsford was far more pleasant than the previous two. Charlotte did not raise the subject again---further apology would have been absurd, as she herself was not to blame---but it was apparent she felt much more at ease now that her husband once again behaved civilly towards both their guests.

Invitations to Rosings were as frequent as before the gentlemen's visit. Two days before Elizabeth and Maria were scheduled to leave Kent, the last of these invitations was issued and accepted. Elizabeth performed again at Lady Catherine's request and was privileged to hear that her ladyship's opinion of her abilities had risen. Such good fortune did not shield her from criticism, however.

"Miss Bennet, I understand that you have not been to Mrs. Jenkinson's room very frequently of late."

"That is correct, your ladyship. I have been somewhat busy at the Parsonage, attending Mrs. Collins and preparing for my departure on Saturday." Charlotte had taken ill several days that week, and Elizabeth, being the only one who knew her true condition, had spent a great portion of her time nursing her friend and seeing to her comfort. The others were under the impression that Mrs. Collins had eaten something peculiar, and the Collinses had endured lengthy lectures on adjusting their daily menus.

"That is all very well, but on no account should you neglect your practicing. You see that even a small amount has enhanced your performance." Her face brightened with a condescending smile. "When you return home, you will instruct your father to engage a music master. There is no reason you should not continue to improve yourself. Your talent should not be wasted. With your father's estate entailed, you cannot have much in the way of a dowry, so you must be careful to make the most of every accomplishment. If Mr. Bennet requires a recommendation, have him write to Mr. Collins and I will happily provide him with the names of one or two persons in London who might suit."

"Thank you, your ladyship."

"Now, if you stay another month entire, I shall take you to London myself in the Barouche and introduce you to Georgiana's former teacher."

Elizabeth tactfully talked her way out of imposing on Charlotte for another month simply to ride to town in luxury. She did, however, accept her ladyship's final invitation to practice before leaving the country, and she excused herself to do so while Lady Catherine directed Maria in the proper method of packing her gowns.

Mrs. Jenkinson stopped her before she exited the room. "I am glad you are going up again, Miss Bennet. I believe you left something in the room."

"I did?"

"Yes, by the pianoforte. It is a packet of some sort with your name on it. I took it to be newly purchased sheet music."

"Oh; yes, that." Elizabeth gave her what she hoped passed for a genuine look of understanding. "Thank you. I had quite forgotten it. And thank you again for the use of your room and your instrument."

"You are very welcome."

Elizabeth had not been in the room since that day, and she was certain she had left nothing behind. What was this packet Mrs. Jenkinson had seen? Her feet fairly flew up the stairs as she wondered what she would discover. She reached the room and closed the door behind her.

The wrapping indeed had her name on it: simply ‘Elizabeth Bennet' this time, without the ‘Miss'. She recognised the handwriting immediately. "Is he mad? What if someone else had opened this? What if his aunt had seen it?" She peeked inside. It was indeed music, and looked innocent enough, until she found the unaddressed letter tucked inside one of the folded sheets. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are a heedless, reckless man! What am I to do with you?"

His previous letter, grave and painstakingly thorough, spanned several pages and detailed Wickham's history with the Darcy family: old Mr. Darcy's support of his godson at school; the legacy of one thousand pounds; Wickham's refusal to take orders and his subsequent request for, and acceptance of, three thousand pounds in lieu of the living he was promised; Wickham's repeated attempts to claim the living at Kympton once his money ran out; and the worst of it all---the reprehensible scheme to elope with young Miss Darcy last summer in order to gain her fortune of thirty thousand pounds.

This letter, unlike the other, consisted of a single page, and was all lightness and exuberance.

Dearest,

I beg you to forgive my presumption in writing to you yet again. Having flouted propriety once in this manner, I could not resist the temptation to repeat the offence. Please accept the enclosed selections as my thanks for the privilege of hearing you play and sing. I hope to relive that pleasure as soon as may be, and as often as you will permit it. Will you promise to indulge me if I should happen to meet with you again in ---shire?

Your Devoted Servant

Are you now convinced that I am far from despising you?

Elizabeth's fingers shook. She folded the letter and hid it on her person. "I do not believe it. I do not believe it!" She paced the room, trying to sort through her anger, confusion, and this irrefutable evidence of Mr. Darcy's feelings. How could he risk a scandal by leaving this package and this letter where anyone might see? True, he had not addressed the letter, nor had he penned her name or his. He had hidden it well in a package clearly marked for her, in the room of a servant. He had been careful, in his way. But, oh! She did not share his confidence in their safety. She was relieved that Mrs. Jenkinson had not shown the parcel to Lady Catherine or her daughter. Had she done so, they would have drawn their own conclusions, and Elizabeth had no doubt she would now be leaving Kent in disgrace.

Recalling that she had come to play, she sat down again, lest someone should seek her out and inquire about the lack of music coming from the room. Then she recalled that the only person who ever sought her out before was no longer in residence. None of it mattered, as her unsteady fingers refused to cooperate in any case.

Anxious to be doing something, she examined her gift and selected a piece at random. She recognised it as the same one that had concealed the letter.

It was a song of love.

The music did not appear overly difficult. Nevertheless, she slowly returned it to its place, gathered the papers together, and walked back to the drawing room.

Part Seven

Posted on Monday, 20 March 2006

Elizabeth listened patiently to Maria ramble on about Mr. Wickham and Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lady Catherine and Rosings and... "Miss de Bourgh has such an inheritance to look forward to. I do so envy her! I shall never forget Rosings. We dined there nine times! How much I shall have to tell Father and Mother and all our friends!" Her soft voice and the clattering of the horses' hooves and carriage wheels together formed a strangely pleasing rhythm. "I hope Charlotte will invite me to Hunsford again in the autumn."

"I am sure she will. She will be glad of your assistance, I imagine."

"Assistance?"

"Company," Elizabeth corrected, recalling that Maria did not yet know she was to become an aunt. "I know she was very pleased to have you with her these six weeks. She told me so more than once."

Maria blushed and smiled and appeared at a loss for words on hearing of her sister's compliment.

Elizabeth turned to the window. ‘I shall never forget Rosings, either,' was her unspoken thought. However, the image in her head was not of grand dinners or of opulent furnishings but of bright eyes, haunting in their intensity, two sparks of life---even of beauty---in that colourless patch that was the room of Miss de Bourgh's companion.

She recalled the sound of his voice as he touched her. She imagined him saying the words he had penned in his last letter, saying those words to her. "Dearest," she whispered, and Maria looked up, but the latter appeared to dismiss it from her mind immediately when Elizabeth said nothing further.

"He has called here, in Gracechurch Street!" Jane whispered in her sister's ear as the two women embraced in greeting. "Only yesterday, or I would have written you word. Oh, Lizzy!" Elizabeth tightened her hold on her sister at this joyous news.

"Girls, come! I know you are pleased to see one another again, but do come and sit down. Let us not make Miss Lucas stand there in the entryway." Mrs. Gardiner ushered her nieces and Maria into the drawing room of her London home. "Now, tell me: how was the journey from Hunsford? And how did you leave your friend Mrs. Collins?"

Elizabeth answered her aunt's questions cheerfully and listened with great pleasure as Mrs. Gardiner next recounted Mr. Bingley's visit, which had occurred the previous day. Jane's constant smiles were a balm to her; Elizabeth felt a little less regret for every saucy speech she had directed at Mr. Darcy in Kent if her words had resulted in her sister being so happily situated.

Miss Lucas was shown to her room by the housekeeper, and Mrs. Gardiner took a moment to speak with her nieces alone. "It pains me to speak ill of any friend of yours, my dears, but I must say that Mr. Bingley's amiable manners far surpassed those of his sister. Was there such a marked difference between them in Hertfordshire?"

"Yes." "Not always." Elizabeth and Jane did not agree on Caroline Bingley, even now.

"Miss Bingley was never as open or as cheerful as her brother," Jane continued, "but she was very kind to me while she resided at Netherfield."

"Lizzy, I can see from the expression on your face that you do not share Jane's opinion." Mrs. Gardiner smiled. "However, we shall not argue that point." She patted Jane's arm. "It is clear the brother considers you a valued acquaintance, and the sister, both sisters, will have to come to terms with that."

Elizabeth smiled her encouragement to Jane. "Shall we see Mr. Bingley again before we leave for Hertfordshire, do you think?"

"I shall be quite offended if we do not!" Mrs. Gardiner answered in her haughtiest tone. "He accepted my invitation to tea this afternoon. Mr. Bingley knows better than to slight a Gardiner." The three ladies broke into barely dignified laughter.

Elizabeth observed that Mr. Bingley did indeed know better than to slight a Gardiner, or a Bennet, for that matter; he came to Gracechurch Street that day and every day thereafter while their party remained in town. His company was most welcome, primarily for Jane's sake, but Elizabeth had always enjoyed his pleasant conversation in Hertfordshire and she was glad of the few moments he could spare from the demands of his courtship to speak with her.

There was one thing she happily would have done without, however: Mr. Bingley had the disturbing habit of mentioning the name of his friend several times in the course of their conversations. Frequently when he did this, he looked pointedly at her just as she was attempting to conceal her reaction. She wondered just how much Mr. Darcy had confided in Mr. Bingley of what had occurred in Kent.

Elizabeth's last evening in London arrived all too soon. The trunks were packed, the sights seen, calls made and trinkets purchased; if only Jane were to return home engaged to Mr. Bingley, their mother would be prodigiously pleased. As the evening progressed, circumstances appeared to favour Mrs. Bennet's wishes for her eldest child more and more.

Elizabeth smiled to herself. She had just overheard their guest ask her sister for a private interview on the morrow. Jane had consented, of course, and had risen to consult with her aunt. They were to return to Longbourn the next morning; she suspected they now would be leaving town no earlier than noon.

"I understand that I have you to thank for my good fortune, my dear Miss Eliza." Mr. Bingley appeared at her side, as he sometimes did when Jane was not immediately available. "Darcy paid me a visit on the day he returned from Kent and imparted to me some very useful information. I am grateful that he took it upon himself to canvass your opinion."

There it was again: Darcy. Elizabeth ignored her inconvenient flutterings as well as she could and fixed on the part of the gentleman's speech that allowed her to answer with composure. "Although I had a good deal of sympathy for your position, Mr. Bingley, I believe I thought only of Jane. My sister is very dear to me."

"How can she not be? She is the dearest creature in the world."

"I see we are of like mind. I am glad of it."

"Truly, Miss Eliza?" He smiled and leaned in to whisper, "Tomorrow, Jane and I..." He nodded towards the place where he and Jane had been sitting. "I imagine you heard enough to know what I am trying to tell you. I am a very happy man, you may be sure." He leaned closer. "I hope you do not think me impertinent when I say that anyone would be delighted to have you as a sister." His smile broadened and his eyes had a look of mischief about them. "And I daresay that once Miss Darcy makes your acquaintance, she will be of the same opinion."

Luckily, Jane chose that moment to return to her former place, drawing Mr. Bingley's attention away and allowing Elizabeth to blush to the roots of her hair in relative privacy.

"So it appears I shall be traveling to Longbourn with an engaged woman."

"Oh, Lizzy! If I could just see you as happy!"

"I have had my chances and squandered them all, as well you know. Let us see if I can recount them now. There was that scrawny youth Mama insisted I dance with at my very first assembly." The sisters grimaced at the remembrance. "Then I was favoured with the fleeting attentions of a few of the local young men, none of whom considered themselves wealthy enough to choose a bride without some dowry or property to her name. And let us not forget Mr. Kildare with his wandering eyes."

"Papa never liked him."

"Neither did I, but Mama would not allow me to refuse his attentions entirely."

"I could not think well of him when I discovered that he was attempting to court two ladies at once."

"There were actually three of us unfortunate souls, if not more, or so Charlotte told me at the time, though she would not say how she came by that knowledge. And speaking of Charlotte, my crowning achievement was the refusal of the most eligible offer I am ever likely to receive. For, as the man himself said, upon my initial -- or was it the second refusal, or the third? I cannot recall; I had never before been obliged to say ‘no' so often in a single conversation. ‘It is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made to you.' For some reason, of all the words that our cousin said to me that morning, those are the ones that stayed in my head."

"You poor dear! Was he so very rude? Had I been in your place, I should not have known where to look."

"I am sure I looked only at the nearest door."

Jane laughed. "I had quite forgotten how...determined Mr. Collins had been in his pursuit of you."

"You have had much more pleasant things with which to fill your head, Jane! Besides, you have not just spent over a month in his company. Had I not done so, he hardly would bear mentioning. Our mother, however, has not yet forgotten him, I'll wager, nor has she forgiven me. Tomorrow I shall hear again of her inability to provide for a willful spinster once our father is gone."

"Mother will have her opinion. You could not have been happy with our cousin, so there is an end of it." To one who did not know Jane well she might have appeared impassive, but Elizabeth could see that her sister was not pleased. "Twenty is still young. You are hardly a spinster."

"You would not be the best judge of that. You are two and twenty and not married yet, no matter how fervently Mr. Bingley is striving to alter that circumstance."

"Lizzy!" Jane swallowed her laughter at her sister's impertinence.

"Do not worry for me. I am quite resigned to my fate. As I have said, I threw away my best chance at happiness. Why, at this very moment, had I chosen it, I would be residing but a short walk away from the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the palatial splendour that is Rosings. To dine in the company of the revered---and largely silent---Miss Anne de Bourgh twice weekly! Oh, sister! Can there be any greater felicity?"

"You are incorrigible!"

"Yes."

They giggled like schoolgirls until Jane's face took on a serious expression. "Lizzy, there is something I feel I must discuss with you. Bingley has told me a little about Mr. Darcy and---"

"Oh, no! Not you, too! Please, Jane."

"But he---"

"No more about Mr. Darcy tonight!" Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her, surprised at her strength of feeling on the matter, but the statement had the desired effect so she did not trouble herself.

Jane sighed. "Very well, Lizzy. I suppose it is nothing that cannot keep."

"Thank you, Jane."

Their earlier laughter had spilled out into the hall, and soon they heard footsteps and the rattling of a doorknob.

"Matthew! You must go back to bed." Jane rose to escort him.

"No, Jane. Allow me. You have had months with the darlings. Let me spoil Matty a little before I go home."

In the children's room, not only Matthew, but his younger brother as well, stared at her with wide-awake eyes. The smallest one grasped the edge of the bed linen and sucked on his fingers while his brother begged Elizabeth for everything from treats from the kitchen to a walk outdoors, without success. Finally he yawned and crawled under the covers. "Will you sing for us?" He settled his head on the pillow.

She nodded as she tucked in her young cousins and began with the first tune that came to mind. After singing but half of the verse, she fell silent. A little voice brought her back from her thoughts.

"Cousin Lizzy, why are you crying?"

"Am I?" She had not observed it. She touched her cheeks; they were dry.

"Your eyes are shiny. Are you unhappy? Is that why you stopped?"

"No, no. I am sorry. I'm afraid I cannot do it justice tonight, is all. Sleep well."

Part Eight

Posted on Tuesday, 28 March 2006

The bustle of a London morning always roused Elizabeth earlier than she was accustomed to awakening at Longbourn. Just now, she appeared to be rising with the sun. Her restless night had left her tired. Still, she was pleased to be going home after having been away so long. She would see her uncle and aunt again soon enough. The planned trip to the Lakes promised a multitude of pleasures.

Across the room, Jane slept on, her peaceful expression barely discernible in the first light of day.

Not wishing to disturb anyone so early, Elizabeth dressed herself in a comfortable gown fit for traveling. Her skin still smelled of lavender from her bath. She was glad the scent had outlasted the night; it calmed her now. She had wearied her mind and body dwelling on a certain gentleman. "I had best be prepared for whatever Mr. Bingley says to me today about his friend. I must and will meet it with equanimity."

Even in her agitated state, she had much for which to be grateful. She had prevented Jane from pursuing the subject of Mr. Darcy the night before. She had had the pleasure of seeing her sister courted by a worthy gentleman away from the curious eyes of their Meryton neighbours.

And though he had no prospects and rightly should not have been included in a list of any import, she nevertheless was thankful to have avoided the mention of Mr. Wickham's name among her former suitors. Under other circumstances she might have divulged to Jane the whole of her new understanding of Wickham's history, including those parts of Mr. Darcy's account that the latter wished to keep private. However, her sister had been so happy, so overflowing with joy from the moment they met, that she shrank from the thought of spoiling that joy with such unpleasantness as she could have related. Once again she felt relief at the return of ease and intimacy to her conversations with Charlotte. At least she had already unburdened herself to one friend; she could thus spare Jane without causing herself undue suffering.

As she began to brush her hair, her sister awoke.

"Good morning."

Jane acknowledged her with a smile. "I shall do that for you." She got out of bed and took the brush from Elizabeth's hand. The two ladies had much practice in the art, Jane more so, with four younger sisters upon whom to hone her skill. "I would have you look your best."

"It will be a momentous day for you, sister."

"It will be a delightful day for us both, I hope."

Several minutes later, Elizabeth, well pleased with the results, thanked Jane and left her to her own preparations. She then embarked on her habitual tour of the house, something she undertook whenever she was to leave Gracechurch Street, perhaps as an attempt to fix in her memory all the pleasant times spent there. She walked quietly along the corridors so as not to awaken her cousins, descended the stairs, and ended her circuit in the breakfast room where she awaited the others. Her aunt soon joined her.

"Lizzy! Good morning. I had not thought to see you so early. You look different somehow."

"Is it my hair, perhaps?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Jane's handiwork."

"Truly? It is very becoming."

"I thank you on her behalf as well as mine. She really is quite proficient. I must say I was surprised that she should dedicate so much time to the task today, of all days. But that is the way with her, always thinking of others."

Mrs. Gardiner only smiled.

Mr. Gardiner entered the room not long after his wife. "I have much work to do," he said while filling his plate. "However, I shall return before noon to see the girls off. You must give me a full report on all that I miss." Husband and wife shared a significant look which Elizabeth assumed had much to do with Jane's imminent engagement, until they jointly trained their gazes on her.

She glanced from one to the other as the two shared yet another knowing look.

"It will be a day to remember." Her uncle ignored her questioning eyes.

As did her aunt. "Of that I have no doubt."

"Shall we walk to the bookseller's?"

Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet led the way, followed by Miss Lucas, Miss Darcy, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth. The latter would have given anything to be anywhere else as she turned her eyes away from the insistent stare of her tall companion.

She acknowledged that it would have been the height of rudeness to decline the company of Miss Darcy when her brother had gone to such trouble to introduce her---bringing Miss Georgiana Darcy of Pemberley to this part of London surely was an unusual event. Furthermore, she was needed both to serve as chaperone and to ensure that her sister and Mr. Bingley had their precious moment alone. Finally, she conceded that even a man as clever as Mr. Darcy could not engage in too much mischief in the company of all these people and likely would not act unbecomingly in the presence of a much younger sister.

All these reasons, along with her aunt's whispered encouragement, conspired to keep her placing one foot in front of the other.

Miss Darcy and Miss Lucas chatted amiably together. Elizabeth smiled as she watched their progress. A similarity in age and disposition had mutually recommended the two girls in the Gardiners' drawing room. Miss Lucas tended to shyness when not in the exclusive company of her intimate friends, and her gentle inquisitiveness, so far from intimidating, seemed to put the equally reticent Miss Darcy at ease. Elizabeth laughed to herself at the thought that Maria, ever conscious of rank and superiority since her father's ascension to the knighthood, might well have felt intimidated herself by Miss Darcy's presence on account of the latter's fine clothes, elegant manners, or even her connection to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

The rhythmic step of the gentleman at her side echoed in her ears. She glanced up. He was still looking at her, not that she had doubted it.

"What is it, Mr. Darcy?" she inquired when she could tolerate his silent observation no longer.

"What is what, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Why do you stare so? Is anything out of place?" She lifted a hand to the nape of her neck as if to set aright any stray locks and amused herself with watching his expression change from one of embarrassment to one of determination.

"Quite the contrary. Your hair is lovely. I do not think I have seen it in that style before."

"I am collecting a great many compliments for my sister this morning." At his confused expression, she said "It is Jane who is responsible for any improvement in my appearance today. She wanted me to look my best. I had no idea at the time that we would be in company with more than just Mr. Bingley." She would not have him think that she had taken special care on his account.

Mr. Darcy touched her arm to slow their progress until the others were several paces ahead. "Your sister is very kind to me."

Elizabeth did not wish to answer that. Instead, she commented on his sister. "It has been a pleasure to make the acquaintance of Miss Darcy." The young girl had proven such a sweet creature that she detested Wickham all the more for his deviousness.

"I am certain she would say the same of you all. She seems comfortable conversing with Miss Lucas, and Mrs. Gardiner has made her, has made us both, very welcome. Shall we see your uncle today, do you think?"

His interest in her relations surprised her in light of his previously expressed opinion on the level of sense and breeding of some of the Bennets and their connections. Clearly, he must have been impressed by her aunt during this first brief meeting if he now wished to meet her uncle as well. That Mr. Darcy desired to be introduced to any member of her family could only make Elizabeth proud. That much, if not all, of the credit for this unlikely circumstance must rightly be given to the particular family members involved, for whom she knew there was no need to blush, kept her pride under good regulation.

They managed to keep up a steady conversation until they reached the shop. Miss Darcy stepped inside with Miss Lucas directly behind her. Jane and Mr. Bingley moved quickly from one display to the next; soon Mr. Bingley picked up a book seemingly at random---a novel---and walked up to the proprietor to make his purchase.

Elizabeth recalled her purpose. "Mr. Darcy, your friend's business is rapidly concluded, I see. Do you mind if I stay a little longer? I feel I have hardly had time to view the selection here."

Mr. Darcy readily agreed. Miss Darcy and Miss Lucas were in no hurry; oblivious to the others, they were occupied with looking over a large volume.

Elizabeth went over to her sister and spoke to her discreetly. "Jane, if Mr. Bingley is ready to leave, do not linger on our account. Mr. Darcy has agreed to stay behind and escort us back to my aunt's. We shall not be long."

Jane nodded. The unsteadiness of her smile betrayed her nervousness as she departed with her suitor.

Elizabeth silently wished her sister luck and made her way back to where Mr. Darcy stood. Only upon approaching him and noting his sly grin did she wonder why she had not simply remained where she was; after all, there were just as many books in one part of the shop as in the other.

"You seem...well satisfied." It was nearly impossible to restrain her tongue while he looked so smug. Her eyes darted about; it appeared no one else had taken notice of her speech.

He leaned over her shoulder as if she were obstructing his view. An observer might have believed him far more interested in perusing the titles before his eyes than in pursuing any conversation. His voice was low and steady as he said, "I hope I shall always be well satisfied to see you return to me."

So he had realised as well that she had, rather unnecessarily, come to his side; whether by choice or by instinct, she knew not, nor whether it even mattered, now she was here.

"What am I to say to that?" she mumbled before she could stop herself.

"Whatever you like. I enjoy hearing you talk."

"I thought it was only my singing that pleased you," she replied, thinking of his provocative note. She had no excuse for her flirting beyond her own unease with the current circumstances, and possibly the temptation of saying things that ought not be overheard, and thus ought not be uttered, in a public place.

He hesitated before answering, "I have pleasure in many things."

That sounded so familiar, very like something she would say, or perhaps had said. She did not have the chance to search her memory, however. Mr. Darcy brushed against her as he reached for a book and the brief contact jolted her into action. "We must return to my aunt's. Aunt Gardiner will not be pleased if I leave Jane alone for long." She walked over to the other ladies. "Maria, Miss Darcy, have you found anything of interest?"

Miss Darcy admitted that although she loved to shop, she rarely made any purchases while out with her brother, for he was forever giving her gifts. As if to prove the veracity of her words, Mr. Darcy approached and asked if he might buy whatever had taken Georgiana's fancy. "That one there, the one you and Miss Lucas were reading together. Shall I get it for you?"

"No, Fitzwilliam, but thank you all the same." Miss Darcy smiled at her brother and then at Elizabeth.

"Shall we return, then?" Elizabeth was anxious to see how her sister fared.

All but Mr. Darcy turned to go; he decided to follow Mr. Bingley's example and acquire something for himself. The transaction was soon completed and the foursome walked back to Gracechurch Street, this time with Miss Lucas and Miss Darcy following behind Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.

As Elizabeth thought they must have some conversation, she began it. She had an obligation to discharge, and now was as good a time as any. "Miss Darcy tells me you often buy her gifts."

"I enjoy doing what I can to make her happy."

"I have not yet thanked you for mine---my gift."

He seemed to be in a sudden hurry, and then she realised he once again was putting some distance between them and their companions. Perhaps he did not wish Miss Darcy to know the extent of his generosity towards ladies who were not family. As she continued, she was grateful for it. "And I thank you as well for the other...for what came before," she pressed on in spite of the awkwardness she felt, "for telling me the truth of Mr.---" she looked behind her, "of him." She refused to mention Mr. Wickham's name in Miss Darcy's company.

Mr. Darcy gave her a solemn nod. "Say no more of it." His look was not one of reproach and she was glad, for she knew not how she would have borne it had it been so.

"Did you like the music?" He seemed as eager as she to move on to a more pleasant topic. "Although I was almost certain you would return to the room and see it, I am glad to have confirmation that the package is not still at Rosings." They leaned towards each other now, not wishing to be heard by the young ladies following them.

"You took quite a risk. It would not have done for your aunt to have discovered it."

"Not at all." He grinned at her. "Did you...examine everything carefully? I was sure you had, back there at the shop."

Elizabeth blushed. Was it so obvious that she was warming to him? She cursed her wayward feet and her flirting and every impulse that brought her that much closer to being in danger. He was waiting for an answer. "Even had I not ‘examined everything carefully', as you say, Mr. Bingley's pointed comments would have enlightened me as to your...views on the subject." He was looking at her and she could see that he fully understood her meaning.

He glanced back at his sister and Maria and then slipped his hand into a pocket, probing for something. "What exactly did Bingley say of me?"

She averted her eyes. "You would find the details tedious, I'm sure." She was surprised to hear his quiet laugh. "I am glad you are amused. I certainly did not feel like laughing when he persisted in bringing your name into almost every conversation."

"It appears not to have done too much harm. You are walking with me now, and quite companionably, I must say." He held his new book in both hands and looked from it to her and back again.

In their silence they could distinguish the quiet, animated voices of the girls behind them. Elizabeth saw a familiar figure ahead. "There is Jane." Her sister stepped fully into view, her arm resting on her companion's and her smile as bright as Elizabeth had ever seen it. "And so it is done." She caught Mr. Darcy's eye and detected in his expression not the slightest hint of disapprobation. If anything, he appeared wistful. As they approached the couple, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again.

Jane's happiness was evident, as was Mr. Bingley's, but as Mr. Bennet's consent had yet to be obtained, and as they all were standing in a public thoroughfare, congratulations and inquiries would have to wait. Elizabeth smiled and turned to Mr. Darcy just as he offered her his arm for the remainder of their walk. She complied without quite knowing what she did but soon felt the full consequences of her distraction.

With each step she grew more conscious of her companion: his height; the firmness of his arm; the superior quality of his coat; his handsome profile---almost as handsome as Wickham's; his energy; how his eyes brightened when he looked upon her, how that brightness warmed her. On previous occasions in his company, the primary sensation he stirred in her had been anger, and sometimes shock. Now, she realised her anger had fled long ago and the only shock she experienced was due to her growing admiration, for admiration she must call it, of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Mr. Gardiner returned to the house in good time. He and Mr. Darcy did meet, and Elizabeth was not surprised that each man appeared pleased with what he saw in the other. They did not have long to become acquainted, however. The trip to Meryton loomed, and as those at home must not be kept waiting or made anxious by any unnecessary delay, the guests began to stir themselves. Mr. Darcy cited business and Miss Darcy lessons to claim their afternoon hours; even Mr. Bingley grew restless and looked as though he wished to invite himself along on the carriage ride to Meryton whenever Jane talked of going.

In the midst of leave-taking, Mr. Darcy, somewhat agitated, stood before Elizabeth in such a way as to obstruct her view of the others. Instead of the usual farewell, he said to her, "You have not yet inquired about my purchase," and pressed his new book into her hands. Their attention was immediately diverted by her aunt, and soon everyone crowded around the drawing room door.

Elizabeth had no time to object and hardly any time to consider what Mr. Darcy had done before the guests departed. She followed them out, intending to return the book to its owner, and as she held the volume she felt---and then saw---a piece of paper protruding from the pages. Realisation dawned and she called out, "Would you say this text warrants careful examination, Mr. Darcy?"

He was handing his sister into the carriage but had looked up immediately at the sound of her voice. "Yes. I would." She could see she had his full attention.

"Then I shall endeavour to follow your recommendation as soon as may be."

"Thank you." His astonishment melted into a brilliant smile that held her in its thrall until he disappeared into the carriage. Elizabeth entered the house in a haze of confused though not unpleasant feelings.

"Lizzy, I thought that was Mr. Darcy's book."

"Oh?" She had not noticed her uncle standing there and wondered what he had heard of their exchange.

"Is that all the reply I am to expect?" Uncle Gardiner's look was too penetrating by half. "I see. He was kind enough to carry it for you, then."

"I shall pack it away with my things." Half afraid her uncle might follow on her heels, she scurried up the stairs to her room and locked herself in. She freed the letter from its hiding place and sat upon the bed to read it.

The courage that brings my pen to paper fails me when I envision your response. Thus I shall promise myself to give you this letter only if I believe you would welcome it. There---now I have the freedom to write what I will, knowing that if I do not meet with your approval I shall destroy this page and any that follow. If I am fortunate enough to receive your smiles and not your censure, you may think what you like of all you read here, though I hope you will not think ill of me for writing to you again. I am coming to enjoy the practice and would be loath to give it up.

Before I continue, dearest, forgive me for not addressing you properly. I mean no disrespect and only seek to safeguard your reputation and power to determine your own course. Until such time as I know you would not be averse to having your name closely associated with mine I shall not use that name, but do not imagine it is ever far from my thoughts.

I hope you will like Miss---. She looks forward to meeting you. She does not have many friends and is not yet out. If you can coax more than a few words from her---she is quite shy---you are certain to get on well together. I have a firm belief in your success, for who can resist you?

There is so much I want to ask you, and there is so much I want to say. Are you often away from home? Would it trouble you greatly to be settled far from ---shire? I hope you enjoyed your stay in the country. Your friend has a comfortable house, but I anticipate that during future visits you will have the benefit of more spacious apartments. Such a visit is not likely to take place very soon, I fear. There are those in my family who will not look kindly upon a nearer connection between us. I am confident that most will have too much sense to continue in their disapprobation for very long, but one in particular, I am certain you know which one, will be bitterly disappointed in my choice and will not hesitate to make that disappointment known.

Perhaps I have said too much already, but I shall not start afresh. These words are no more than what I might say to you in person, given time and opportunity. You know enough of me to believe me capable of every presumption that might offend and insult, and yet I pray you are not offended by what I write.

Do you think you could come to care for me a little, enough to answer me just as I would wish? I am certain my mouth shall form the words, most likely when they are least expected. I look at you and my thoughts tumble about in my head; all sense deserts me and only sensibility remains. And yet, I believe my love for you is as rational and reasonable as any man's love for a woman can be. Sitting here in my study, with all the comforts familiarity can give, I cannot guess what inane or inappropriate thing I shall have said to you by the time you read this letter, or whether I shall have been able to put two words of sense together without them tripping over my tongue. I hope the latter but despair it will only be the former, and again I beg your forbearance.

It is late, and we shall meet again in the morning, for good or ill. Yet I am sanguine; should you reject my overtures tomorrow, I shall not despair. Your presence can only ever do me good. I conclude with best wishes for your happiness from

Your Devoted Servant and Ardent Admirer

"Lizzy?" There was a knock and then another call, "Lizzy! Are you well?"

"I am well, Jane."

"I heard you cry out."

"I am well. I shall be out directly." Elizabeth picked up the letter and hurriedly placed it with the others. "I have got quite a collection now, but this last---a man of his consequence, seriously contemplating an alliance with me!" She pressed her hands to her face. "Fitzwilliam, how ever can you love me? I have given you nothing but trouble, yet you write of me as if I were an angel." She fetched the book and placed it inside her trunk. "My presence can only ever do you good! You would turn my head with that sentiment alone."

"Lizzy, are you speaking to me?"

"No, Jane." She was mortified at the thought of her sister hearing her and thankful for the sturdy door between them. She stood still a moment to regain her composure, recalled Mr. Darcy's parting smile and grew flustered once more.

Even Jane's soothing presence and the kind solicitude of her aunt and uncle could not calm her completely. In the carriage, neither of her companions succeeded in drawing her into conversation of any substance. Her mind would not latch onto anything that was said. She could think only of her letter.

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