Posted on: 2010-12-11

Chapter 34 – The Talk of the Town

Conversation was the order of the day throughout Meryton and its environs the morning Mr. Bennet's oldest daughters were to leave Netherfield. Many of the discussions involved those same women, and in particular, the younger of the two beauties. The talk was mostly routine gossip, but some were seriously trying to understand the past of the neighbourhood's mysterious heiress with just a hint of sadness.

Mary Bennet and her father were up before the rest of the family. They ate breakfast together and then retired to Mr. Bennet's study. Once the door was closed, Mary asked her father if he expected a reply to the letter they had sent the day before to Mr. Gardiner. They had stretched the truth by indicating that Mr. Darcy seemed to know Elizabeth from her time in Derbyshire.

"I do not know what to think. Your uncle is a very principled man of business and scrupulously moral in his personal life. I am certain he would not have allowed anything bad to happen to our Lizzy… yet Mr. Darcy definitely knows something. Your uncle would have to be privy to any connection between them. Unfortunately, I think he will reply to our letter in his usual noncommittal way, and we will know nothing more than we did after our interview with Mr. Darcy. Perhaps, if we go to London to buy clothes for your wedding, we can arrange a private conference with my brother and use the same tactics on him as we did on Mr. Darcy… Ask him unexpected questions that will lower his defences and watch his reaction."

"Papa, since you do not mind the appellation, I can only say that is a diabolically clever plan. Although, do you not fear Uncle will think it suspicious that you came along on a shopping trip?"

Mary was successful in making her father laugh. Her smug satisfaction at accomplishing such a feat was soon replaced by a thoughtful look. "I am hoping once I am established at Hunsford to find out information about Mr. Darcy and his late wife that could shed some light on Elizabeth's mystery. I plan to listen very carefully, since William's patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is both Mr. Darcy's aunt and his mother-in-law. Lizzy seems to know nothing about the connection. I have watched her when Lady Catherine's name is mentioned. She has never reacted to it the way she did to Mr. Darcy's after the assembly. Make certain you do not mention the relationship to her. Mr. Collins has been warned, and Mr. Darcy seemed to want to keep the knowledge secret the night of the assembly."

"Mary. I promise I will guard that bit of information with my life. You need to make certain your mother does not learn. That is definitely a connection she would enjoy bragging about to all of Meryton... even though presently she is enjoying denouncing Mr. Darcy's arrogance to the populace." Mr. Bennet also sipped and pondered for a few minutes while he examined their quest. "I want to get to the bottom of this mystery, but every day I become more and more concerned we will uncover something that should remain hidden. Making her unhappier than she is now is the last thing I want to have happen. You and I both know Lizzy is a very good young woman."

"Papa what do you make of Mr. Darcy being unnerved by Lizzy's reaction to Rousseau's Confessions?"

"That was the most troubling revelation of our discussion with him. I hope his reaction was totally unrelated to Lizzy, but somehow, I fear it was not. His daughter sounded a great deal like Elizabeth at five. I would challenge him to a duel, if I found he had seduced her. What kind of woman was Mrs. Darcy to allow him to bring his natural child into their home? The Duke of Devonshire did that. Maybe those of the highest circles do such things, but that does not explain why your uncle would not tell me of such a violation with that kind of devastating result."

Mary got a frightened look on her face. "She has been in the same house with him for days. She was avoiding him, and then Jane got ill. He had better not hurt her." Her next musing was said with a half-hearted chuckle. "I would kill him if he did, and I have better eyesight than you and could do more damage. Do you think Mr. Collins would lose his living if I was hanged for killing his patroness's son-in-law?"

Even though her statement was said in humour, Mr. Bennet could not laugh.

Mr. Darcy waited for Miss Elizabeth in the breakfast room. He hoped she would not change her mind about going out with him. He needed to ask her some additional questions, and there was never any privacy with Miss Bingley around. Luckily, Charles' sisters were not early risers like he and Miss Elizabeth, so he hoped they could walk without being joined by anyone else.

He had spent some time before he fell asleep thinking about what she told him about her encounter with Edmund. He could not say he understood her fear, but he was convinced she truly felt it. She was left with fear while Georgiana was left with a lack of confidence. Both were left with sadness. He did not understand Georgiana's sadness any more than he understood Miss Elizabeth's fear. To him the natural emotion for Georgiana would have been anger. Wickham did not care about her… he only wanted her money. Miss Elizabeth seemed both angry and fearful. Anne had revealed that Edmund had told Miss Elizabeth they were of different spheres, and he could not marry her. He had always assumed that was the source of her anger, but it did not explain why she had been so adamant marriage was not a solution for her being with child. He did not understand either of these women. Why could not women be more like men?

Anne had told him that their first time together was "very unpleasant" and she had cried out in pain. Why would this reaction, which he had heard was quite common to women. cause Miss Elizabeth to be afraid? Did she not know what to expect? Of course she had not known--she had only been fifteen and had never been away from home. It must have been as in the song she sang… "he wittily, prettily talked her down… perhaps he had teased her and pleased her." Beyond that, she probably knew nothing… women were usually told what to expect as they were preparing to marry. Damn his cousin! She had been too young to understand what he was going to do and what she was allowing to happen. She and Georgiana shared that in common. Their age had sheltered them from so many harsh realities, and they became easy prey for the unscrupulous. Still, he did not understand why she was afraid that if a man touched her "the same thing would happen."

Just as he was turning over her revelation for the tenth time, she walked into the breakfast room. She favoured him with a weak smile. Pouring tea and choosing a muffin occupied her for a few minutes. Her attention was only on her plate and cup as she sat and began eating and drinking. He noticed the trembling of her hand as she sipped her tea. When finished, she finally lifted her eyes to his. This time he saw apprehension and uncertainty.

In response to his query as to whether she was ready for their walk, she put on her pelisse, bonnet, scarf and gloves without a word. In silence, he put on his greatcoat, beaver hat and gloves. As they set out, he let Miss Elizabeth lead the way, for she knew the estate better than he. No arm was offered, and they both walked with their hands clasped behind their backs.

When they were a respectable distance from the house, he asked her the question that had been bothering him since his meeting with Mr. Bennet, "Miss Elizabeth, your father told me you found it unconscionable that Rousseau had put his five illegitimate children in orphanages. Do you equate what you did with his actions? I promise you, her life is nothing like being in an orphanage."

Elizabeth looked up at Mr. Darcy and sighed sweetly. "I know, Mr. Darcy. I am sure she has a wonderful life, but I have always felt like Faust. I did not go to your townhouse that day to sell my baby; I was childishly angry and wanted reparations. My uncle and I have discussed that day, and both of us now agree it was unwise to have demanded the money. He had enough to take care of another child and to provide for his sister--my mother--when my father dies. The only thing I really wanted was revenge, but Mrs. Darcy thwarted my quest. She was both Portia to my Shylock and Mephistopheles to my Faust. She found a way to deny me my pound of flesh, and she made me an offer I could not refuse… twenty-three thousand pounds. Only in the broadest interpretation am I like Rousseau, but I still fear for my soul."

So much became clarified with her statement. This was the source of her sadness. He had it in his power to end her exile from her daughter, but he was unsure she would agree if he proposed... and then there were the difficulties of both her family and his.

They walked in silence for quite a while. His most pressing need was to ask about the ball, but he was afraid of her answer on that subject as well.

"Mr. Darcy I think it is time we turned around. My father is sending the carriage for us shortly before noon. I need to make sure everything is packed."

"Miss Elizabeth, have you thought any more about coming to the ball? I hope I have proven to you that it is safe to be around me. We have spent time together at Oakham Mount at dawn, in the library alone past midnight and today on this long walk. Nothing improper has happened. I would never hurt you."

She smiled up at him and said, "Describe what waltzing is like. You are right that one of my main concerns with accepting your offer is the fact I would have to touch several men in the course of a set. Exactly how is this risqué and revolutionary dance performed?"

"May I show you?"

She searched his eyes and answered warily, "I suppose. You will promise me if I become uncomfortable, that you will desist immediately?"

He nodded yes. "I need you to remove your bonnet." He noticed her hands shook as she untied the ribbons and hung the bonnet from a limb. Her entire body continued to tremble, so he captured her gaze as he stepped close and whispered, "I put my hand on your waist… like this. You put your hand on my arm… here. If you were taller, you would put your hand on my shoulder, but that is too much of a stretch for you to be comfortable. Our other hands touch lightly with your fingers resting on my palm, just so. Please remember, that just as today, we will be wearing gloves. Once in this position, we just whirl around in time to the music. My hand on your waist will be your guide. I will look down and smile at you, breathe in your lovely lavender scent and as we whirl, we will become as one to the world."

The lush sound of his voice as he whispered his instructions had ended her trembling. She kept her eyes fixed on his as they twirled for a few moments. He hummed a tune she had never heard before. For the first time in their acquaintance, she noticed how delightful he smelled. An intense feeling of longing like those emotions she had recently been battling influenced her decision.

When they stopped, she smiled and said, "That was lovely. I agree to waltz with you; but Mr. Darcy, you must be prepared for gossip. I am used to it, but you should not be alarmed at what you might hear. Most of the talk will just be country chatter and with very little basis in truth, but even so, it can sometimes be painful and do great damage. You and I are particularly vulnerable.

Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet made the most of her last morning at Netherfield. The day before, the two of them had set the date of the ball for November 26. He secured the first set for his ball, as well as the one before dinner. Jane asked his permission to invite her friend Becky Trent, Sir Walter's daughter, to come for the ball. He agreed and told her of his secret plans for a waltz to be the last dance.

"Miss Bennet, would you think it too forward, if I asked you for that dance as well? It is the last dance, and as you now know, I am forced to leave for London on business the next day. It would mean so much to me if dancing a waltz with you was my last memory of my time at Netherfield--while I am away from Hertfordshire."

Only Bingley saw the joy that lit up her face at his suggestion. Only Bingley heard her breathless, "Oh, I would be honoured to waltz with you, but I do not know how."

"As long as you trust me as your partner and follow my lead, you will conduct yourself admirably. You do know it is quite controversial? I must put my hand on your waist."

Jane said with an uncharacteristically rapturous expression, "How delightfully risqué!"

"I think Darcy came up with the idea because he hopes to convince your sister to dance the waltz with him. I have never seen him as taken by any woman before. He tries to hide his feelings behind his mask, but it is quite obvious to anyone who knows him well and is paying attention. I know my sister Caroline has noticed."

Jane looked thoughtful at Mr. Bingley's supposition. "I don't think your sister has anything to fear, and unfortunately, I doubt he will be successful. Lizzy is resolute in her refusal to dance with men. She says it is because she does not intend to marry and therefore feels it pointless to attend. My observations lead me to believe a different truth. It appears, she is apprehensive of being touched. I think she harbours some great fear, but I have never been able to persuade her to confide in me."

"One thing that is very odd about Darcy's attraction to your sister is that she bears a striking resemblance to his daughter. Their hair and eyes are similar, but what is even more noticeable to me is that when Miss Elizabeth engages in conversation, she has a similar impertinence to Bethany."

"Did you ever meet Mrs. Darcy?"

"No, she was already deceased when I made his acquaintance." Mr. Bingley laughed at the memory of their meeting. "In fact that is how we met. Bethany came up to me in a park and told me her mother was dead. She thought I was an angel and might know her."

Jane chuckled, and Mr. Bingley was intrigued by how her eyes sparkled. "Now that sounds more like my sister, Lydia. She was always approaching strangers as a child, and even though we continue to caution her, she still does. I think that forwardness is imprinted in her character. Do you think, perhaps, Lizzy looks like his wife?"

"No, I saw a portrait of Mrs. Darcy at Pemberley, but I did not observe much in common. However, there is a painting of a young girl reading he acquired just before I met him that looks remarkably like your sister. He keeps it in his study and looks at it quite often while he works."

Jane looked thoughtful at his revelation. She would have to probe Lizzy for any information of a prior acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She returned her gaze to Mr. Bingley and said, "I feel we are intruding on Mr. Darcy and Lizzy's privacy, and that makes me feel somewhat disloyal. In fairness, we should not talk about them without knowing what truly exists between the two, and they should be the ones to tell us."

"I agree. Darcy has been the most reliable friend to me for several years. I need his help with things I plan to accomplish in my life. My sisters think I should just be a man of fashion without responsibilities. They would prefer me to have an estate for the status, not because I should endeavour to make something of it. Darcy has called me feckless, because I have not been as serious as he from such a young age, but I do not want to go through the world being thought of as capricious.

Mr. Bingley's confession captured Jane's attention. For the first time in their acquaintance, he reminded her of Tom, and she felt a shiver of pleasure.

The two spent the entire morning talking of their lives, hopes and dreams. She told him about her plans for her business, and she told him about the tenants at Netherfield. He was in awe that it was she who visited them for Sir Walter in his absence. He assumed it was the steward who did that task. She explained to him that the steward, Mr. Richards, settled all the disputes, but she visited them and listened to their concerns. She said she had been visiting them for nearly ten years, and she knew all their names and the ages of all their children. She offered to introduce him. He had noticed that the staff at Netherfield treated her with a respect and reverence that was unusual for someone not of the house. He would have to ask the housekeeper, Mrs. Richards what it meant.

They made an engagement to ride together the next morning.

The two new recruits who had accepted commissions in Colonel Forster's militia unit had returned from town with Captain Carter, and promptly settled into their new quarters. Mr. Denny and Mr. Sanderson were now acquainting Mr. Wickham and Mr. Travis with the camp. Very soon, the conversation settled on diversions to be had in the neighbourhood, and an appeal from the two for descriptions of the young unmarried women. It was determined that the amusements were of the standard variety, and they were told of several young ladies who were quite lovely. Both men were warned to be aware that one female who was both pretty and young was the colonel's sister-in-law. Mr. Denny then told them that her name was Maria Lucas, and she visited the camp often with her best friend. The friend was one of five sisters who were considered the most beautiful young women in the county. Two of the sisters had recently been spoken for, but that left three, and in Sanderson's opinion, it was the three fairest who remained.

Mr. Wickham expressed an interest in the Bennet sisters, and his ears pricked up when he heard one described as an heiress. Neither Mr. Denny nor Mr. Sanderson knew the exact amount, but they did divulge that gossip had it that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had declared she had no plans to marry. They also repeated the oft-told story that the money she inherited could have involved remuneration from a man. Another rumour, which was unsubstantiated by any firm evidence, was that Miss Elizabeth had established dowries for her sisters. The other heiress in the neighbourhood was a Miss King. Unlike her counterpart, it was known for a fact she had inherited ten thousand pounds. She was not a great beauty, but tolerable if you could abide freckles. Mr. Wickham was determined to meet these two heiresses and put his substantial charm in play. Miss Elizabeth's determination never to marry was a challenge he might enjoy.

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were late coming down for breakfast, and found themselves alone. The only person in the house whose location they knew for sure was Mr. Hurst. He had over indulged in both food and drink the night before, and was still in bed.

"Louisa, we must develop a strategy to dissuade Charles from thinking Miss Bennet a proper match, and we must persuade Mr. Darcy to aid us with our plan. He has been entirely too attentive to Miss Eliza, and even though I do not believe it to be a serious attraction, I want to ensure neither Charles nor Mr Darcy ever returns to Hertfordshire."

"I agree, Caroline, Mr. Darcy is the one who can convince Charles to give up his intentions of purchasing Netherfield. We should encourage him to look for estates in the north."

"I noticed that the staff here at Netherfield treats Miss Bennet with a familiarity that is unusual," said Miss Bingley with a conspiratorial look toward her sister. "Millie has been making inquiries for me. She was attached to the son of Sir Walter Trent since practically infancy. The whole neighbourhood assumed they would marry, and she would become the mistress of Netherfield. Of course, as you know, he died at fifteen."

Miss Bingley sipped her tea as she plotted. "Yes, and I found out one other bit of information that helps our case. Do you remember, Mrs. Bennet talked about an heir to a baronetcy who jilted Miss Bennet? That was Sir Walter's nephew, George Trent. I met him in London several years ago. He is quite good-looking, and well connected, but not very wealthy. I think Mrs. Bennet believed he would inherit the estate as well as the title. Her mother is determined she become mistress here, and it seems she pushed her daughter to try to win Mr. Trent's affections. However, he was in desperate need of money, so he married a young woman with plenty."

"So, am I correct, you are proposing to persuade Charles that she is indifferent to him and only wants this estate?"

"Yes, precisely. In addition, Mr. Darcy and Miss Eliza have some prior acquaintance, and it is annoying that he is paying such a great deal of attention toward her. However, I do not believe his feelings are entirely amicable. They seem to enjoy witty repartee and teasing each other--but there also seems to be animosity between the two on occasion. According to Millie, the gossip about her has not changed at all in five years." Miss Bingley shuddered at her next words. "Five years ago, he was married and she would have been fifteen."

"Caroline, do not worry about that impertinent country upstart who has announced to the world she refuses to marry. Our mission is to ensure Charles leaves Hertfordshire and never comes back. If he never comes back, Mr. Darcy will never return. We need to be prepared at every turn to convince Charles that his "angel" is not so heavenly in her motives, and more importantly, intervene if he tries to communicate with her in the future."

On the other side of the path leading to the militia camp, Lydia Bennet and Maria Lucas saw Captain Carter talking with a young man whom neither had ever seen before. The attention of the two young women was soon caught by this man. He had a most gentlemanlike appearance, and they were both struck by his air and manner of carrying himself. They whispered to each other about who he could be, and determined to find out. The pretence of telling Captain Carter of the ball that was to be held at Netherfield, was their reason for crossing. Captain Carter addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham. Mr. Wickham was one of two newly commissioned officers in their corps.

The two young women looked approvingly at the new recruit. Lydia felt he only wanted regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour… he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and a very pleasing address. In addition, he was tall, and he exhibited a happy readiness for conversation.

His smile seemed to indicate an unassuming pleasantness when he said, "Miss Lucas, Miss Bennet, I am honoured to make your acquaintance. Do you visit the camp often?"

"Mr. Wickham, my sister is the wife of your colonel. My friend and I visit her several times a week."

"Miss Bennet, I understand you are one of five sisters. Do they often visit the camp?"

"My sister Elizabeth does quite often. She is a close friend of Mrs. Forster, and she is godmother to one of her children." Lydia noticed a very slight smile of satisfaction at the information about her sister. Over the past few years, she had become adept at discerning those new acquaintances that appeared eager to learn more about Lizzy. She was not sure whether his smile indicated such a hunger for knowledge about the mysterious heiress, or whether he was just anxious to meet another Bennet beauty.

Captain Carter asked, "Miss Lydia, pray tell us about the ball at Netherfield. When is it?"

Lydia's face lit up with excitement, and her words came tumbling out. "My sister, Jane, sent a note to me just before I left. She and Mr. Bingley decided on November 26, last evening. They were both concerned I would be offended that they decided the date without me. You see, Mr. Bingley had promised me I could have that honour as soon as my sister Jane was well. He made that promise when I went with my mother to visit my sister who has been staying at Netherfield recuperating from a cold. However, as it turns out, he needs to leave for London on the 27th,, and Mr. Darcy needs to leave for Pemberley that same day, so he and my sister chose the 26th. They were quite sweet, and worried that I would feel hurt that I did not get to choose the date." Lydia finally drew a breath and looked at Maria, and they both giggled. Lydia continued with her explanation, "I do not care about the date; I just hope it is magnificent. This will be my first fancy ball, and I am quite beside myself with excitement. Mr. Bingley's sister will make the arrangements. She is very elegant, and I am certain the other members of the party, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Darcy will lend their expertise of balls in London to make this a most delightful affair. I hope we have ice cream."

Lydia was too involved in telling her glorious news to notice that Mr. Wickham had stiffened a bit at the mention of Mr. Darcy. He said quite nonchalantly, "Mr. Darcy of Pemberley is staying in this neighbourhood?"

"Oh yes, he has been here for almost a month. I first thought him very proud and disagreeable, but when I observed him recently at Netherfield, he seemed more at ease, and he seemed just a little taken with my sister Elizabeth." Lydia giggled again at the thought. "You remember, Captain Carter, he had insulted her, sight unseen, at the assembly. He made a point, however, to apologize to my whole family, and now he does not seem to be able to take his eyes off her."

Maria wanted her part in talking to this handsome recruit, so she said, "Mr. Darcy is cousin to one of my Brother Forster's best friends. Colonel Fitzwilliam is nothing like his cousin. He is quite humorous and most lively. Do you know Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Wickham?"

This time Lydia did observe Mr. Wickham's momentary look of concern at the mention of Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Wickham's face was back to his pleasant demeanour when he replied, "Yes I grew up with Mr. Darcy at Pemberley. I have known Colonel Fitzwilliam since we were boys, and I have remained a very close friend of his brother, the Viscount Wolfbridge. Miss Lydia, your sister must be an unusual young woman to have attracted the attention of Mr. Darcy."

They continued to converse pleasantly for several more minutes. Lydia, who appeared silly to many new acquaintances, was actually quite astute at judging their characters. She had listened carefully over the years to her older sisters. She noticed several times during their seemingly inane conversation, Mr. Wickham turned the conversation back to Elizabeth. She was sure she had uncovered a fortune hunter, and could not wait to tell her sister.

In parting, Lydia told Mr. Wickham that some of the officers were to dine with her Aunt and Uncle Philips the next day. She smiled disarmingly and told him she would have her uncle call on him to extend an invitation. "My aunt will have a nice comfortable game of lottery tickets, and a bit of hot supper afterwards."

Lydia Bennet embraced her sisters, Jane and Elizabeth when she returned from visiting Charlotte. Longbourn had been unpleasant without them. Mrs. Bennet was much more "nervous" without Jane about. Her oldest sister knew best how to calm her mother. Her sister, Mrs. Philips, had also caught a cold, and Mrs. Bennet had been denied her daily dose of Meryton gossip while her sister had been under the weather.

Mary and Mr. Bennet had shut themselves up in his study every day, and every morning, Kitty insisted she had to go to the brickworks to paint tiles.

Lydia had been left alone with her mother for much of her sisters' absence. Each day her mother had prattled on about how she was sure Jane was close to an understanding with Mr. Bingley. Lydia heard numerous times that the oldest Bennet daughter had been destined since birth to be the mistress of Netherfield. Her mother could not conceal her pleasure at the prospect of increased status in the neighbourhood once that event transpired. The youngest Bennet daughter hoped her mother was right, and Mr. Bingley was falling in love with Jane.

That morning, Lydia had been free to go to the militia camp with Maria because finally her aunt Philips was much improved. Mrs Bennet was anxious for her sister to come so she could tell her of Jane's expectations. Even though her sisters were coming home shortly after noon, Lydia had felt the need to flee the house. Lizzy would forgive her not being at Longbourn to greet her sisters when they returned--as soon as she told her about her new acquaintance. Her sister would laugh when she learned he knew Mr. Darcy, his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and the Colonel's brother, the Viscount… La de dah!

Posted on: 2010-12-15

Chapter 35 – By the Pricking of her Thumbs

Elizabeth had always found the officers of the militia in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were present at her aunt and uncle's house the next evening. Her first impression of Mr. Wickham was that he appeared far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk.

Every female's eyes sought him out when he first arrived, but Elizabeth was the woman by whom he seated himself. She was both bemused and wary of the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation with her. His subjects were nothing profound, but his approach to the probability of a cold winter was reminiscent of the skill Lord Wolfbridge had displayed for similar mundane topics. The comparison caused her apprehension to grow, but her determination to find out what he was about increased as well. After a while, she felt it prudent not be seen as too eager to monopolize his attention and left to spend time with Charlotte and Colonel Forster.

When the company divided itself for games, he was received with studied delight between Elizabeth and Lydia at a table not engaged in any particular diversion. Lizzy and Lydia had devised a plan for just such a possibility. The youngest Bennet daughter would engross him first, for she was already known by him to be a most determined talker. With this ploy, Elizabeth would appear nonchalant to the man who claimed to be a friend of the inhabitant of her nightmares. Lydia would then leave, declaring a fondness for lottery tickets, and move to the next table.

Her youngest sister did not know everything of Lizzy's need to understand Mr Wickham's motives. She only knew her sister agreed with her that he could be a fortune hunter, but she wondered if there was something more. When Lydia had been describing her meeting with the militia's newest recruits, Elizabeth's sudden paleness at Lord Wolfbridge's name had piqued her curiosity.

After Lydia's departure, Lizzy prepared to hear Mr. Wickham. She began the conversation knowing she dare not mention either Mr. Darcy or his despicable cousin for fear of exposing her mission. Luckily, her curiosity was soon relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and after receiving her answer, asked with some hesitancy how long Mr Darcy had been staying there.

"Just over three weeks," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand."

"Yes," replied Wickham; "his estate there is a noble one… a clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information about that man than myself, for I have been connected with his family from my infancy. My father was the steward for the estate."

Elizabeth gave her addressee a look of genuine surprise. She found it odd that Lord Wolfbridge had one so beneath him as a friend.

Wickham's eyes revealed a hint of his own mission. "Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth decided to play to what she perceived was his prejudice. "As much as I ever wish to be. I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I found him often disagreeable."

"I have no right to give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to his being agreeable or otherwise. It is impossible for me to be impartial based on how long and how well I have known him. I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish most of his acquaintances."

Elizabeth feared she had gone too far. She did not think it appropriate that she extend an unfavourable opinion of Mr Darcy, but she desperately needed to know what this man knew. She said with a look of feigned mortification, "Upon my word, I have offended you. I did not realize you were so close to the gentleman."

"Do not be sorry," said Wickham with a most endearing smile on his face. "I have a similar opinion of the man to yours, but with him, I suspect we are a minority among those who have dealings with him. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners."

His words left Elizabeth more comfortable in continuing her deceit. "I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an unsociable man."

Wickham nodded his head in agreement. "I wonder, whether he is likely to be in this country much longer."

"I do not know for certain, but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield." Elizabeth chuckled inwardly at the precise truth of her statement. She had not heard of his plans to leave the day after the ball, until Jane told her after they returned to Longbourn. Mr Darcy, who despised disguise in women, would probably be appalled at her tactics. "I hope your plans in favour of the militia will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood."

"Oh! No… it is not for me to be driven away by Mr Darcy. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him. When I am around him, I often harbour a desire to proclaim to all the world… a sense of very great ill-usage. His father, the late Mr Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and his cousin, the Viscount Wolfbridge, is to this day, the truest friend I have. I can never be in company with this Mr Darcy without a thousand tender recollections of our youth. However, his behaviour to me lately has been scandalous, but I believe I could forgive him anything and everything, except his disappointing my hopes and disgracing the memory of his father."

Elizabeth forced herself not to react to the mention of the man who had so brutally changed the course of her life. She listened for what her companion would say next with her heart pounding in her chest. Her frustration grew when next Mr Wickham began to speak on more general topics. He expressed pleasure with all that he had seen since arriving in the neighbourhood. "It was the prospect of constant good society which was my chief inducement to enter this militia regiment. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me by his account of their present quarters, and the excellent company to be found in Meryton."

His last statement increased her apprehension. Had he been directed to Meryton by the Viscount? Was this a plot by Wickham and Lord Wolfbridge to expose her and force her to relinquish her 'ill-gotten' gains?

"Society, I own, is necessary to me. My spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it my best choice. The church ought to have been my profession. I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now."

Elizabeth relaxed a bit. It seemed he was more fixed on discrediting Mr Darcy than soliciting information about Elizabeth. She said with fake horror on her face, "Indeed!"

"Yes, the late Mr Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done so. However, when the living fell vacant, Mr Darcy gave it to someone else."

"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth. She was genuinely surprised at Mr Wickham's revelation. "How could that be? Why did you not seek legal redress?" Once over her initial surprise, she concluded that Mr Darcy certainly knew best. No one who considered Lord Wolfbridge to be his 'truest' friend, should be a clergyman.

Mr Wickham continued with his tale of woe. "There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from the law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr Darcy chose to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by my conduct. I cannot accuse myself of having done anything that should cause me to lose it. I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of him too freely. I recall nothing worse. The truth is, we are very different sort of men, and he hates me."

Elizabeth thought to herself. Yes, Mr Darcy is a good man, and I am quite certain you are not. A good man does not speak so openly to a recent acquaintance to discredit another. To Mr Wickham, she said, "This is quite shocking!" Elizabeth then said something she was unsure was wise, but did so in order to make this man conclude he had an ally in her. Her eyes darted around to ensure her words were private before she said, "He deserves to be publicly disgraced."

"Some time or other he will be, but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."

His words encouraged her to believe she had encountered a very slippery character. Mr Wickham had just spent the last quarter hour attempting to publicly disgrace Mr Darcy to her, and was now proclaiming he could never do such a thing because of admiration for his father. However, she decided to continue to encourage his tale. "But what can have been his motive? What can have induced him to behave so cruelly?"

"A thorough, determined dislike of me… a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. His father's particular attachment to me irritated him. He had not a character to bear the sort of competition I presented or the sort of preference which was often given me by both his father and his cousin."

Elizabeth felt guilt for what she was about to say. Once again, she determined no one could hear their conversation. "I had not thought Mr Darcy as bad as this. Though we sparred often during our time together at Netherfield, I had not thought him to be so very cruel. There was one day when he was boasting of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful."

Mr Wickham smiled at his success. His beaming satisfaction caused Elizabeth to momentarily lose assurance of how she should proceed. After a moment of sipping her tea, she determined it was time to escalate her endeavour. "To treat in such a manner the godson, the favourite of his father, the friend of his cousin!" She almost choked on the last but continued, "A young man too, like you, who had been his own companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!"

"Yes, the greatest part of our youth was spent together. We lived in the same house, shared the same amusements, and both our fathers made us objects of their parental care. My father began life in the profession to which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit. He gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. His service made him an intimate and confidential friend to his employer who often acknowledged himself to be under the greatest obligations to his steward's active role in the administration of his estate. Before my father's death, Mr Darcy senior gave him a promise of providing for me. I am convinced he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to my father as of affection for me."

"How strange! " cried Elizabeth. Despite her goal of learning the nature of this man's association with Lord Wolfbridge, she had become engrossed in learning the details of his grievance against Mr Darcy. She was struck by the inconsistency of his story and suddenly felt she must point it out. Her need was probably ill conceived, but she could not help herself. Mr Wickham just seemed to ooze deceit, and she was beginning to think he might believe her entirely too gullible. "I wonder that the very conceit I have observed in this Mr Darcy did not force him to be just in his dealing with you? His pride of his reputation should have caused him to worry about being perceived as dishonest."

Mr Wickham smiled again--this time at her checking him. "You are correct. Almost all his actions may be traced to that aspect of his character. I would even say, pride has often been his best friend, but we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger impulses even than his arrogance."

"Can such abominable pride as his ever done him good?"

"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous… to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants and relieve the poor."

His reference to giving money freely sent chills of fear through her. She held her breath as she waited to hear what he would say next.

"Family pride has always been very important to him. He is very proud of his father's reputation and has lived his life in such a way to ensure he does not appear to disgrace his family.

Wickham had emphasized the word 'appear' and Elizabeth's mind wandered to her own history with Mr Darcy. Was this another possible hint that he knew of their conspiracy?

When she was pulled back to his words, she realized he was still intent on smearing Darcy's good name to her. "Above all, he endeavours to not degenerate from the popular conceptions of his family, or lose the influence of the Darcy name. He has also brotherly pride, and that makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister. I am sure you will hear him generally described as the most attentive and best of brothers."

Elizabeth remembered the sweet young girl she met that day in the bookstore in Lambton. Thinking a change of topic would offer a brief respite from his vindictiveness toward Mr Darcy, she asked, "What sort of a woman is Miss Darcy?"

He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy, but she is too much like her brother… very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me. I devoted hours and hours to her amusement." Wickham's face betrayed some annoyance at the memory. He reined in his emotions as he continued his description. "She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and highly accomplished. Her cousin and I were recently remembering the lively little girl she used to be. He fears that unless someone pulls her away from her brother's control, she will become as arrogant and disagreeable as he. My impression is that she has already succumbed to his influence."

Elizabeth could feel tears forming. Jamie had written her that Miss Darcy had remembered to ask whether his cousin had a girl or a boy. Mrs. Reynolds had described her very differently from Mr Wickham. She was not proud, and his revelation about her convinced Elizabeth this man was a snake. She had a strong sense from his words that he had tried to hurt Miss Darcy and been thwarted. His calling her proud sounded like sour grapes. Once she felt fully composed, she began to ask some very provocative questions that she knew were probably not prudent. "What have you heard of his husbandly pride and his fatherly pride?"

"He married for convenience and an heir--not to mention the considerable wealth his wife brought to their marriage. While she was still alive, he was very careful to make sure none ever heard of any indiscretions."

She was shocked by Wickhams's innuendo. This disclosure was not something she had expected to hear. A query popped out inappropriately. "Were there indiscretions?"

Darcy's critic was obviously pleased with her curiosity. "I know nothing of substance, but I have heard rumours in that regard. It is said that he spent time with a very young woman, a girl actually, who tickled his fancy. His circle rarely honours their vows. It is not even considered immoral among their kind. Now, of course, he has the best of circumstances. He has his wife's property, he has an heir and is free to find pleasure wherever he desires now that Mrs. Darcy has passed on."

Elizabeth was sickened by Wickham's disclosure. She studied the lieutenant to determine whether he was alluding to her time spent at Pemberley. The only thing she concluded was that Mr Wickham did not exhibit a strong sense of moral outrage for dalliances whether a man was married or not. Instead he seemed to be evaluating why she had such an improper need to know about this aspect of Darcy's life. Throwing off this unpleasant topic, she steeled herself for her next question. "What of his children? I understand he has two. He seems very proud of them."

"Yes, he has a daughter and a son. I understand he talks of them incessantly. His cousin says he has become quite a bore on the subject. His pride causes him to tell of their accomplishments wherever he goes. No other children have ever been as perfect. Lord Wolfbridge thinks it quite humorous that his cousin's daughter, in particular, seems to him to be the smartest and prettiest child that ever was born."

Again his smirking innuendo unleashed an involuntary shiver in Elizabeth. She was now convinced Mr Wickham's motives with regard Mr Darcy were tied to her well being. With all the disguise she could muster, her next words were designed to introduce an entirely new topic. "I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr Bingley! How can he, who seems good-humour itself, be in a friendship with such a man? Do you know Mr Bingley?"

"No, I do not."

"He is a sweet-tempered, charming man. He cannot know what Mr. Darcy is."

"Probably not, but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want for abilities and can be a fine companion if he thinks it worth his while."

Elizabeth was tired of their discussion. His descriptions of Mr Darcy had unleashed a desire to think of that man not through the lieutenant's eyes, but through her own. Lucky for her, supper put an end to cards, and she gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions.

That night, she awoke from a nightmare as she did so many other nights. She was shaking and drenched in perspiration. The dream had been pleasant until the very last moment. She had been waltzing with Mr Darcy. She looked beautiful, and he had told her so. His dimples never left his face, as he smiled down at her, and even now, she could almost smell his delightful scent. They whirled around the room and ignored all the people staring at them. They only had eyes for each other. Suddenly she became dizzy from the whirling, and looked away for the briefest second. When she looked back, it was not Mr Darcy but Mr Wickham, and then the inevitable happened, the face above her became Lord Wolfbridge, with his malevolent smile of gleaming white teeth.

She determined she must tell Mr Darcy what Mr Wickham had said. He was the only one who could help her make sense of his accusations and innuendos. Perhaps at the ball, they could find a moment alone.

Posted on: 2010-12-18

Chapter 36 – Dancing with the Green-eyed Monster

Longbourn was a beehive of activity. Mrs Bennet was busily preparing for Christmas with Sir Walter, Becky and the Gardiners in attendance, to be followed by Mary's wedding. Currently, the additional anticipation of the Netherfield ball had made her quite giddy, and her "flutterings" threatened to overcome her on a daily basis. Mrs Bennet decreed that all of her daughters have new gowns made for the ball. After all, she had a reputation to uphold. She was the mother of the most beautiful young women in the neighbourhood, and the host of the ball had singled out her eldest for the first set… as well as the set before supper.

Jane did not confide in her mother or her sisters about the final dance with Mr. Bingley. Fear and superstition led her to hide her hopes. If her glimmer of expectation was extinguished, she was sure she could not survive her family's disappointment. When Becky arrived, she would request her friend to help discern the truth of Mr. Bingley's affections. She had wanted Tom's sister to attend the ball, observe them together, and determine his seriousness.

Elizabeth did confide in her sisters of her plans to attend the ball for the last dance, but asked them to conceal her decision from her mother. All her sisters, except Mary, were pleased she was making this attempt to spend time, and perhaps even enjoy herself in the company of a man. Mary was apprehensive that perhaps coercion was the reason for her acquiescence, and planned to tell her father of this development.

Cajoling from her sisters was not enough to persuade Lizzy to have a ball gown made. She was adamant in believing the expense too extravagant; despite Lydia's insistence she needed something new to wear. They went over possibilities if she was to borrow a gown from Kitty; but Lydia thought nothing suitable for her reclusive older sister. She insisted Lizzy show her what was in the trunk, where she had some items packed away from five years before. Lydia was hopeful, as this was the same trunk where Lizzy had found the red cape. Buried within was a green gown of the most beautiful silk she had ever seen. She quickly described alterations to Kitty, who sketched the result. Lydia was determined to make the gown over to show off her sister's lovely décolletage. The resulting design fashionably lowered the modest neckline, shortened the sleeves and embellished the watered silk with silver beading. They insisted Lizzy purchase additional beads to adorn her hair. The Celtic cross given to her by Mrs Wilder finished the ensemble.

Necessity forced Elizabeth to tell her father of her plan for the ball. She needed his help to ensure she arrived at the ball after all sets were over, but before the last dance. He decided it was time for a serious talk with his daughter. Ever since Mr. Darcy had arrived in Hertfordshire, she had been acting quite out of character… or at least the character she had established since her return from Derbyshire. Mr. Bennet walked to his study door and locked it. He did not want anyone, even Mary, interrupting their discussion.

Mr. Bennet stood before Elizabeth as she sat on the sofa. He put on his most stern face to deliver the speech he had been practicing ever since Mary had told him of Elizabeth's plan for the Netherfield Ball. It was a face he had not used with her since she ripped her gown climbing a tree at age twelve. "Lizzy, for five years, I have accepted your answer that nothing untoward happened to you when you were away from home; but I have never believed your assurance. A more diligent man would have pressed you to tell the truth. When you returned, and you and your uncle told me you had inherited "a certain sum" but did not have the courtesy to include me in the details--I felt humiliated by your deceit and disrespect."

Mr Bennet had hoped Lizzy would have opened up after this admission, but she sat stone-faced before him in silence. He knew he must push even harder if he was to get her to break. "I chose to do nothing, to be honest, because I had established a pattern of being a negligent parent; but also because I saw that you came back a changed person. You, my most joyful daughter, returned filled with sadness. My choices seemed to be to either lock you up for not honouring me, or believe in your essential goodness, and hope you would confide in me when you felt able. I am now asserting my right as your parent. It is one of God's commandments to honour your father."

"Papa, I told you... I was just sad because of the widow Thomas' death and…"

"Lizzy, I am not a fool. An elderly woman with whom you spent less than six months… You expect me to believe her death has caused you to be despondent all these years. No more lies! You live under my roof, and as your father, I could deprive you of all rights. You are going to tell me the truth, and you are going to tell me now."

Mr Bennet watched as Lizzy's determination to continue her deception crumbled in front of him. He was not expecting her to put her head in her hands and sob. This defeated young woman was neither his lost Lizzy nor the strong but unhappy one who had returned in her place. Mr Bennet sat down beside her on the sofa and enfolded her in his arms. When her tears were finally spent, she pulled away from him, and after a few hiccupping starts, began speaking. "Papa I have wanted to tell you, but my confession is scandalous, and will ruin my sisters' lives. No one will want to marry them with a sister such as me."

"Even though there has been much speculation in the neighbourhood rumour mill over the years; nothing has ever been confirmed about you being disgraced. Do you think I have no feelings for you or your sisters, and will rush out and spread your confession to all the gossips in Meryton?"

Elizabeth, who knew even her mother would not be so thoughtless, gave her father a slight smile and replied, "No"

"Tell me what happened to you. Did Mr Darcy convince you to have an affair, and you became with child? Is he raising your daughter?"

Elizabeth looked startled. How did he know about Bethany? "No, Papa. I did not have an affair with Mr Darcy, but he is raising my daughter. His cousin, the Viscount Wolfbridge, violated me. Mrs Darcy allowed him to be alone with me when I was at Darcy House for tea. Aunt Gardiner was not with us because Cousin Susan was sick. When Lord Wolfbridge came into the room where I was waiting for Mrs Darcy; I tried to leave, but I found he had locked the doors."

Mr. Bennet once again wrapped his daughter in his arms. His embrace caused her almost no revulsion, and she even felt a certain sense of security, reminiscent of the feelings she remembered from childhood. She told him all, except for details of Lord Wolfbridge's words and actions. She was sure she could never tell anyone all that had happened that day. She was not even sure she remembered, until things came to her in nightmares. As the story unfolded, he could not believe the depravity of the Viscount, the careless cruelty of Mrs Darcy, and he was amazed at the audacity of his daughter to demand six thousand pounds.

When she finished her melancholy tale, he let her go, and appeared thoughtful for a few minutes. Next, he looked at her with confidence and determination. "We need to talk about controlling any potential damage. Now that I know what happened, I can work to keep anyone else from ever knowing the truth. No one has ever gossiped about a child. Do you think Mr Darcy will ever reveal the true situation?"

"No, Papa, I believe he loves her very much. He will protect her at any cost."

Mr Bennet smiled. "Yes, I got that impression when he described her to me. She sounded so much like you, that it did not take much to jump to the conclusion I did."

Elizabeth again gave her father a very slight smile. "He used Perrault to teach her French. He thought your method ingenious."

Her father chuckled and said, "I hear she is a ferocious chess player." Soon he turned serious again. "What about Lord Wolfbridge? Will he ever reveal the truth?"

"I do not know. For years, I have worried about just that possibility. If the Viscount had been going to discredit me, surely, he would have done it when I first demanded money. By saying something now, he would expose Mr Darcy as well as himself. Their family seems to want to protect their indiscretions. They bought an heir, and even though Mr Darcy now has a son, I think the Earl of Elderton would find those facts humiliating, and would definitely not want the story circulating among his peers. Mr Darcy does not know all the details of what happened to me, but he knows some. I am convinced he disapproves of his cousin's behaviour, and would retaliate if he told about our conspiracy."

Lizzy tried to keep the pain she felt at her next admission from her face, but she was only partly successful. "I have never been able to persuade Mr Darcy that I am not mercenary, but he seems to have realized that his cousin took advantage of me. However, my fear is that Lord Wolfbridge is a braggart, and I am currently very concerned about his friend, Mr Wickham, who has recently joined the militia."

"Was that what you talked to the lieutenant about at your aunt and uncle's house party?"

"No, he mainly wanted to tell me how cruel his childhood friend had been to him. He said some things that were suspicious but nothing of substance. It is inconvenient that he and Mr Darcy are both here in Hertfordshire, and I wish he would not be attending the ball."

I will make some discreet inquiries and see what the man is about. I will enquire of Colonel Forster for some help with his history. I agree that Mr Wickham's main mission seems to be discrediting Mr Darcy. All of Meryton has heard his story." Mr. Bennet observed fear on his daughter's face at his plan. "Lizzy, I love you… I am your protector. We will conquer this."

"But Papa, I did not remain chaste, and I was very silly to be so filled with pride. I was just like Mama. I could not wait to come home and tell all of Meryton, that I had met a viscount, and he thought me pretty and clever."

"Lizzy, you were barely fifteen." For the third time he took her in his arms, and this time she relished the security. "A man of enormous consequence charmed a child, and then violated her. Lizzy you did not agree to even be alone with him."

Lizzy put her head on her father's chest. His knowing lightened her burden. They remained that way for a few moments. When she pulled away, her eyes found her father's and she said, "I still want to waltz with Mr Darcy."

"Why, child? I thought you were afraid of him."

"I was afraid my secret would be revealed. Now that you know, I feel much better having confessed... and knowing you will help me protect my sisters."

Mr. Bennet looked at his daughter with a scowl. "Lizzy, it is my job to protect your sisters. Why do you want to take such a chance with your reputation and waltz with him?"

"That day at Darcy House denied me the right to much of a life. I cannot marry, Papa. I could not honour all of my vows, and I would fear what would befall me if my husband were to find out why. Dancing has always been out of the question. Oh, but just once, I want to go to a ball... and dance with a man. Lydia has taken an old dress of mine to the dressmaker and told her how to make it over. It is going to be quite lovely. Kitty is going to fix my hair. I would like to feel beautiful. It is fitting that if I am to allow myself to attend this once, that the dance be revolutionary."

Mr. Bennet noticed that light shown from the gold flecks in her eyes. "I am brave enough to risk disapproval. Mr. Darcy showed me how to waltz." The look on her face was that long forgotten joy… the joy she had felt climbing trees, helping him catch beetles and winning at chess. "You whirl around and it feels like I imagine flying might be."

"What are Mr Darcy's intentions toward you?"

"This is not about intentions. Both of us have an odd attraction for each other. I think he likes my appearance, particularly my hair, but I also know he thinks me greedy. He sometimes enjoys my wit, and I have even made him laugh on occasion." She giggled at those memories. "You have met him, and know what an accomplishment that is. We enjoy verbal jousts, discussing books and politics. During my confinement, I had many discussions with him that reminded me of our conversations. I think he is very handsome when he smiles. Oh, and he smells delightful. He will not be making an offer of marriage, and if he did, I would not accept."

Mr Bennet agreed to allow Lizzy her one waltz. She would continue to be gossiped about, as she had for years, regardless of this risqué dance. He would come in the carriage to pick her up for the last dance at the Netherfield ball.

Being considered handsome by their acquaintances was the only characteristic Rebecca Trent shared with her father. However, she was handsome in a way that bore no resemblance to her father's appearance. Sir Walter, for his part, loved his only living child, but in truth, he thought her looks only tolerable. She had taken after her mother in both temperament and countenance.

Lady Trent had been an excellent woman… sensible and good-natured. Her marriage to Sir Walter Trent was the result of a youthful infatuation. The former Mary Osborne was the daughter of a gentleman from Shropshire. Her dowry of twenty thousand pounds and her status of gentleman's daughter could have made her desirable among men of the highest circles had she waited to be presented and attend the Season. Instead she met Sir Walter while visiting an aunt in Hertfordshire, and they were married six months later.

Once married, she was perhaps not the happiest being in the world, but she found enough in her duties, her friends, and especially her children, that she could claim at least some degree of domestic felicity.

Lady Trent was not at all indifferent to the idea of leaving her children at the ages of ten and thirteen. She wept for days when she knew what was to be her fate… not for herself but for her children. When she could weep no more, she drew Tom and Becky to her and spent her last days preparing them for what was to come. She encouraged them, particularly her son Tom, to help their father with the estate, and to seek counsel from her father, Squire Osborne. Her most difficult endeavour was to find a way to perpetuate her husband's dignity, but at the same time make sure her children realized at least some of his failings. She had spent many years trying to ensure Sir Walter did not ruin the family financially.

Her deathbed advice to Becky was to marry a sensible man. She feared her daughter's dowry might have to be diverted in favour of paying creditors, and would not be sufficient to give her a wide choice of partners. She encouraged her daughter to wait until she was at least twenty before she seriously began looking for a husband.

After Tom's death, the lot of protecting her father from himself fell to Becky. As her mother had done before her, she humoured her father, and often concealed his failings from the general population. In private, she counselled him to retrench, and finally five years earlier, with the help of her grandfather, Becky had persuaded him to lease Netherfield and move to Bath. He could be the very height of a fashionable gentleman for considerably less money in Bath. Becky, at sixteen, took on the responsibility of working with Mr Richards to attempt to increase the revenues of the estate, and force her father to live off the rent received from the lessees. She relied on her dearest friend, Jane Bennet, to be her eyes and ears at Netherfield while she resided in Bath. She trusted Mr Richards, but she knew Jane loved Netherfield as much as she.

Becky was of medium height, with a lovely figure, natural grace, warm brown eyes, and hair the same colour. Her features were delicate, but what distinguished her from most other young women was her seriousness. Her earnest demeanour and lack of frivolity turned many young men away. Becky loved Jane and Elizabeth Bennet as sisters, and spent time with them whenever possible. Five years ago, when she and her father removed to Bath, she had been miserable their first Christmas away. Both she and Sir Walter were of the same mind on the issue of spending the holiday season in Hertfordshire with their dear friends every year since. This year she arrived early for the unlikely occasion of attending a ball being given at her childhood home.

All five Bennet daughters, Rebecca Trent and Mr. Collins walked to Meryton two days before the ball. As they were crossing the main thoroughfare, Lydia saw a group of officers on the other side and called out to them. She quickly moved in their direction. Among the group was George Wickham, and his face became all smiles as he observed Miss Elizabeth crossing the road after her sister. Lizzy's intention had been to persuade Lydia to behave a little more seemly, when she noticed Mr. Wickham. She hid the dread she felt from him, and fixed him with a false smile. Cringing inwardly, she allowed him to take her gloved hand and kiss it in greeting.

Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley had arrived at Longbourn, only to be told by the housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, that all the young Bennet ladies had gone to Meryton. They rode in that direction, and arrived in town just as Lydia and Miss Elizabeth crossed the road toward the group of officers. Mr. Darcy watched in horror as he recognized the man kissing Miss Elizabeth's hand. He said not a word to Bingley, but turned his horse abruptly and rode off toward Netherfield.

Mr Darcy had slept little since he had seen Wickham kissing Miss Elizabeth's hand in front of almost the entire town of Meryton. Both their faces, wreathed with smiles for each other, came to him when he closed his eyes. He would insist she talk with him in private to explain her treacherous behaviour.

He awoke filled with anger, apprehension and anxiety the morning of the ball. He was unfortunate this morning. Usually it was only Charles and he at breakfast, but this day the entire household was assembled when he arrived.

Miss Bingley was full of local gossip about Miss Eliza and George Wickham. She inquired, and received confirmation that he was indeed the same George Wickham who was the son of Pemberley's former steward. The information gave the sisters a hearty laugh. Their speculation reached hilarious heights as they tittered over one Bennet sister marrying Pemberley's housekeeper's nephew and another who might perhaps marry the son of the late Mr Darcy's steward.

Miss Bingley opted not to tell Mr. Darcy of the rumours of his denial of Mr. Wickham a living. That information was nothing to her. Her goal was to become mistress of Pemberley, not to marry a man with scruples. She hoped her information would go a long way toward her goal of persuading her brother to abandon this estate and his angel in what she was sure was the most unfashionable corner of England.

Mr Darcy sat in stony silence as they chattered on about the vulgarity of the Bennets. He shared some of their views, but in no way found the revelations to be humorous.

Despite his misgivings, he dressed with care for their waltz. He had made a trip to London to have a new double-breasted tailcoat made in dark green wool. The new waistcoat of a paler green could just barely be seen over the collar of the jacket.

He arrived early for the ball, and was determined to minimize the novelty of their dance for onlookers by uncharacteristically joining each set during the evening. He solicited Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, all of Miss Elizabeth's sisters and Mrs. Forster for dances. He was introduced to Miss Rebecca Trent, and requested of her the set before supper. She had impressed him when introduced as a very serious and knowledgeable young woman with regards the running of Netherfield. He was certain they could find much to discuss as partners for the meal.

Lydia was perturbed she was not dancing with an officer during her turn with Mr Darcy. She wished he had not asked her, but most of all she wished that politeness allowed her to refuse. She had always been a bit intimidated by the severe man, and thought he seemed in a particularly foul mood tonight. She initiated no conversation until Mr Darcy insisted they must have some. The only thing she could think to comment upon was her admiration of his new jacket and waistcoat. She told him it would complement Lizzy's gown beautifully. The idea seemed to give her dour partner some fleeting pleasure. As soon as the set ended, she quickly curtsied, and practically ran in the direction of a group of officers.

Becky considered it most unlucky that she and Mr Darcy were seated next to Mrs Bennet at supper. She had wanted to have a quiet conversation with him to learn more of Mr Bingley. Mrs Bennet's sister and friends, Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long, were within easy conversation distance of her. For the first quarter hour, the conversation was mostly on the fineness of the food and the beauty of the decorations. The next topic of conversation was about the participants' clothing; which gown was adorned with especially exquisite lace and how the colour of certain gowns enhanced certain young ladies' complexions. Once again, they were in awe of Miss Bingley's gown, which they were certain was the latest the finest London modistes had to offer. Mrs Bennet in an attempt to bring Mr. Darcy into their conversation complimented him on the colour of his jacket and waistcoat. He accepted her compliment with grace, but wished the conversation would move on to something other than fashion. It did.

Mrs Bennet turned to her former neighbour and said, "Well Rebecca, it appears Jane may still become mistress of Netherfield. I have known since she was four it was her destiny."

Becky knew the topic was inappropriate in Mr Darcy's presence, and it made her mission of discerning Mr Bingley's feelings for Jane nigh impossible. She tried to end the topic by saying, "My father has not yet decided to sell Netherfield. Mr Bingley currently has a lease only."

"I am certain Mr Bingley will convince Sir Walter. With such an inducement as Jane to seal the agreement, how could he not. An offer is soon to be expected… for once again he favoured her by asking for two sets tonight, including the supper set. He is such a charming young man, and so rich, and once he purchases Netherfield, they will be situated just three miles from Longbourn." She gestured in the direction where the two were talking as they enjoyed supper. Mrs Bennet whispered to her cronies, "I have heard a rumour that the last dance is to be a waltz, and Mr Bingley has asked her for that dance as well."

The ladies all gasped. Mrs. Bennet turned to Darcy and asked, "Are you able to confirm that this scandalous event is to take place?"

Darcy was unsure what to say. It was, indeed, going to take place, and he had been instrumental in his friend's decision to take such daring action. Oh, what a disaster he had set in motion. He had simply wanted to dance with Elizabeth… it had seemed like such an enticing notion at the time. Believing she would never have agreed to any dance that required her to touch anyone but him had been his justification. Why was he so reckless around her? Over and over again, she caused him to do and say things that were most uncharacteristic. Now Bingley was totally besotted with her sister and had thought of nothing else the past few days but putting his hand on her waist. He had no choice but to tell Mrs. Bennet the truth.

"Yes, Madame, the last dance is indeed a waltz. I know it is shocking here in England, but in Vienna it has been popular for thirty years." He decided to gain some good will by telling the ladies of Richard's contention. He looked at Lady Lucas as he said, "My cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, who is a close friend of Colonel Forster, believes the waltz will change dancing as we know it. He and I learned to waltz in Vienna a few years back. This age is characterized by remarkable new inventions, extraordinary new ideas and delightful new diversions, and the waltz fits these times. It is a most invigorating endeavour, and I quite enjoy it, even though I am not often inclined to dance."

Mrs Bennet beamed at him as she spoke, "Oh Mr Darcy, it is, I know, a very scandalous thing to waltz, particularly for an unmarried woman. Mr Bingley is such a fine gentleman; and I am sure he is aware of the repercussions of his actions, and would not make such a request if he was not serious in his intentions. As her mother, I probably should object, but I also do not want to stand in the way of true love. I am such a lucky woman to very soon have three daughters so well situated. What an honour it will be to have one the mistress of Netherfield. Oh, and ladies, I know you observed at my sister Philips' party, Elizabeth, who swears she will never marry, appeared to be quite taken with Mr Wickham, as he was with her. They spent close to a half an hour conversing, all alone, about something quite engrossing."

She gave Mr Darcy an accusatory look. "Unfortunately that young man was called away on some business and is not in attendance tonight. Perhaps if he had been able to be present, my less-than-tolerable Lizzy might have made an exception and come here to dance. This new development has me hopeful of four being well situated. That would only leave my youngest; and she is, as we can all see, very popular with the officers." She directed her audience's attention down the table.

Darcy looked in the direction Mrs Bennet pointed and saw Lydia flirting outrageously with Mr Denny. She was allowing the young lieutenant to feed her ice cream. In disgust, he turned his attention back to her mother and listened as a new wave of delight for her girls' situations was proclaimed.

Nothing Becky could say had any influence on Mrs Bennet. She was determined to talk of her impending good fortune. Her main topic was how rich and important her daughter, Jane, would be. Becky could not help frequently glancing at Mr Darcy, and noticing that his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity. He had made a decision, and she was certain it did not bode well for Jane or Elizabeth.

Elizabeth saw Mr Darcy across the room and walked in his direction. The admiring glances from those assembled caused her to smile with both appreciation and the anticipation she felt for their dance. In her mind's eye, she envisioned their whirling bodies appearing as one. Even the quizzical looks at her presence did not deter her. Her hope was he would agree to a private discussion after their dance. It was becoming urgent she acquaint him with the story Mr Wickham was spreading. She had been relieved when the cunning lieutenant had disclosed he would not be in attendance tonight. This dance would be solely about enjoying herself with Mr Darcy. As she approached, she noticed her partner was not smiling, and instead had that haughty look of disapproval she had seen so often in the past.

Once beside him, he said, "Miss Elizabeth, I see you are ready for our waltz? I originally thought that your agreement to my request was an indication we had put some of our differences behind us. I was concerned, and even angered at times, by your fear of me; and I believed I had assured you of my honour with respect your person."

Elizabeth stared at him with great trepidation. She knew something had gone terribly wrong. "You did indeed, Mr Darcy. Are you questioning whether I still feel fear toward you?"

Mr Darcy narrowed his eyes, leaned toward her and gruffly whispered in her ear. "No, I am questioning whether you feel fear at all? I saw you in the middle of Meryton allowing Mr. Wickham to kiss your hand. Your coy smile, and his leer, painted a pretty picture for the world to see. Is that the way you treat all recent acquaintances?"

Elizabeth wanted to run from the room at his harshness, but as she looked around, she saw that the scrutiny of those at the ball had begun. The mysterious heiress who never attended assemblies or balls was here, about to waltz with the man who had the most money of all men present. She could think of no other alternative but to complete the dance. They assumed the position, and were waiting for the first bars of music. They were one of only about ten couples who were daring enough to dance the waltz. Elizabeth noticed that Jane and Mr Bingley were dancing for the third time, but was too uncomfortable with her own plight to feel any joy for her sister. Noting that she and Jane were the only unmarried women attempting this risqué dance, she had a fleeting fear for the repercussion for her sister. Mainly her mind was occupied with hope more would join the assemblage and lessen the attention she and Mr Darcy had already garnered.

"No, Mr Darcy, I allowed Mr. Wickham that privilege because I was trying to understand his intentions, and determined I might be better able to discern what he was about, if I did not appear suspicious. Perhaps after this dance we could go somewhere private and talk about Mr Wickham. I am concerned he knows something of my situation. He said he is a close friend of Lord Wolfbridge, and he was telling any who would listen about your unfair treatment."

He could feel her trembling and looked down. He noticed just how beautiful she looked, but he was determined neither to be moved by her appearance, nor to be taken in by her feigned distress. The dance started, and they began to whirl to the music. Suddenly, his face clouded even more and he spat out, "This is the dress you wore the day you demanded money."

One couple close by stared at them in response to his tone. Elizabeth prayed they had not heard his words over the music. She was close to tears, and tried desperately to think of something to say to calm his anger. Her dilemma was that she did not fully understand the source of his disapproval. In the quietest tone she said, "Mr Darcy, please tell me what I have done to offend you. Are you jealous of Mr Wickham?"

Darcy's face contorted into a sneer. "Of course not… you are nothing to me. You come here wearing the same dress… except, of course, you have had it altered to show off your assets. How much money have you and Wickham decided to take me for this time?"

Every bit of anger Elizabeth had ever felt toward his family came to her in a rush. She felt like the top of her head was about to explode, and she did not care who heard her words. This time she was guilty of drawing attention to them. Where a moment before she had been holding back tears, she now glared at him with glittering green eyes. "My assets… oh yes, as I remember you could not keep your eyes off them that day either. You were married, and yet you were eyeing a fifteen-year-old's bosom… how ungentlemanly of you."

Mr. Darcy stopped mid whirl, and she crashed against his body. He looked around to see if anyone had heard and then looked down at her, stricken with mortification. He realized they had probably not been heard, but had succeeded in causing everyone in the room to look in their direction. He started to dance again and whispered in her ear. "I was only noticing that your body was changing."

Elizabeth snorted, and then whispered back, but to him it sounded more like a hiss. "To be sure, Mr. Darcy. Everyone tells me you are a good man… so I am sure you would never do anything dishonourable. As she looked around, she suddenly realized just what a spectacle they were becoming and reined in her feelings. Her anger was replaced by a desperate desire to finish this dance and leave.

For the next few minutes, the room observed two stony faced individuals as far apart as her arms would allow, whirling about the room. He was looking at nothing, and she was forced to observe his chest. She noticed that the man, who habitually wore black, had donned a green waistcoat, the exact colour of her infamous dress, and a very dark green tailcoat. Lydia would think their ensembles looked lovely together. She wondered whether they should make her father listen to a description of his clothes. She let out a sort of strangled laugh, and he looked down at her. She put on her best false smile for him… the same one she had given Mr Wickham.

When the dance was over, she curtsied and turned to leave. She whirled back around and said with intense sarcasm, "I hope you enjoyed the lavender."

Unable to think what to say, he looked at the floor, and when he looked up again she was gone.

Posted on: 2010-12-22

Chapter 37 – The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

It was still a few minutes before dawn as Mr. Darcy climbed the path to Oakham Mount. As he approached the summit, the sound of a flute like instrument drifted down. Sleep had eluded him the entire night, as the image of a child-like Elizabeth, her face filled with condemnation, had swirled behind his closed eyelids. Nothing he could do would stop the eventual outcome that played over and over again. His eyes would be drawn to her green silk enrobed décolletage just before she proclaimed to all that he was not a gentleman. In desperation to escape another repeat of her accusation, he had risen to prepare for his departure to the safety of Pemberley and those who loved him.

The idea had come to him that she might be in her place of contemplation, and he could accomplish a few private words with her. An apology was due for his rudeness the night before. As he had dressed for the ball, he had been certain he could conduct himself honourably despite seeing Wickham kiss her hand. But at supper, Mrs Bennet had shattered his resolve as she chattered on endlessly about her hopes of marriage for all her daughters--including Elizabeth. Even at its least sinister, she was a fool to be taken in by a man with only his charm to recommend him. A surge of anger shot through him that he had been thwarted again by his childhood friend. Was this cursed emotion jealousy or could a plot be afoot? He would demand to know what they discussed during that long private conversation her mother had mentioned.

Caliban heard him first, and began to growl. Elizabeth stopped playing the tin whistle and instinctively tensed. When Caliban felt her stiffen, he changed his growl to a menacing bark. Despite the fiercest of dogs by her side, fear was always with her. At least now she had a weapon, and she definitely planned to use it if necessary. The sound became Mr Darcy, and she smiled with both satisfaction and relief. Their parting last night had been filled with rancour, and she was pleased she had a chance to speak with him before he left Hertfordshire. He needed to understand the true nature of her dealings with Mr Wickham; and she must tell him her father knew the circumstances of their conspiracy. Most of all, she hoped to prevent him returning to Derbyshire thinking even more ill of her than when he arrived.

When they were together at Netherfield, she had found it curious that his opinion of her was altered from what it had been when they first met. That night at the theatre, he had seemed to be drawn to her mind and her joy… now she could only discern for certain an appreciation for her bosom and hair. Sometimes he seemed to be attracted by her eyes and wit, but other times he seemed to turn away from them in disgust. As for joy, she had very little of that anymore. How ironic… for a few days, she had actually felt something like pleasure in anticipation of their waltz--of course her fragile happiness had been tempered by fear of Wickham. Her father's assurance that he would handle the lieutenant had allowed her to breathe easier as she prepared for her special night. As her erstwhile dancing partner approached, she saw he was not smiling. His dour countenance persuaded her to expect disapproval when she told him of her confession to her father.

Darcy had brought his own jug of tea and mug, as well as a blanket. After spreading his protection from the ground, he sat down and poured some tea before he spoke. "Miss Elizabeth, I was rude to you last evening. You had no desire to come to the ball, and I insisted you dance with me at least once before I left Netherfield. My actions have been inexcusably reckless with your reputation. I am not sure where my misplaced desire came from, but I assure you it will never happen again."

Mr. Darcy's clipped speech persuaded Elizabeth that he had not completely rid himself of the belief she had provoked his childish behaviour. She decided his rigid sense of propriety had dictated an apology. Hoping to diffuse his anger with some humour she said, "Mr. Darcy, you and I both know there has always been some odd form of fascination between the two of us which neither has any control over. It is, as you say, misplaced. Despite our best intentions of dismissing the other as not worthy of our concern, we always seem to gravitate toward 'reckless' interaction… In my case, it is a bit like the way I bothered my baby teeth as a child just before they came out. Even though it was painful, I was compelled to keep worrying the tooth with my tongue." She grinned and said, "Or perhaps it is not that at all; and we are instead the one documented case of Mesmer's theory of animal magnetism*1."

Elizabeth saw him struggling to hide his dimples from her. However, her irrepressible personality got the better of her. She refused to claim an easy victory, and once again perversely decided to puncture his bubble of propriety… he had come to her after all. Her grin changed to a sweet smile as she met his eyes. "The attraction is definitely useless in my case. We have begun raising horses on the estate, and Mr. Reynolds has taught me much about the subject. I am the female equivalent of a gelding." She continued to hold his gaze, but her smile became sardonic. "Any semblance of desire ended almost six years ago, but you should feel gratified you made it to my list of half a dozen men whose touch I can abide; and if you must know, I am not counting Mr. Wickham. What you saw… "

At the sound of Wickham's name, another surge of fury shot through him. He cut her off, and scowled, "Miss Elizabeth, you always say the most improper things. We should not be talking about this. What would people say if they knew we were having this discussion?"

The appearance of a teasing grin proclaimed she would not be intimidated. "I would think they would be more concerned we are here alone, with blankets, than worrying about the fact that we are talking about raising horses."

Mr. Darcy looked down at the blankets and visualized the implication of her remark. He suddenly pulled himself out of his reverie and gave her a stern look as he spoke. "We will never agree on the importance of correct behaviour. You seem to enjoy ridiculing the natural order of our society, and have a disdain for tradition and proper authority."

Elizabeth was trying to maintain her composure, but inside she thought he sounded like that pompous Edmund Burke*2, with his endless prattle about the value of time-honoured prejudices. She bit her tongue and looked out at the meadow as she said, "You are correct. I once was very concerned about behaving properly, but my concern was misplaced, much like my attraction to you. Since I returned from Derbyshire, I have refused to allow tradition's chains to bind me. My changed attitude worked to your advantage. I would never have waltzed with you. A strict adherence to society's rules would have made your request impossible."

She paused and turned over several wordings of what she wanted to convey before she said, "Life taught me that the whole fuss over propriety is about the appearance of correct behaviour, and not at all about caring, concern, compassion and most importantly Christian charity for other human beings."

She turned to him as she commented, "Mr. Darcy, you are an exception. People I admire think you a good man… I know I said that in derision last night, but I do believe them. I am convinced you care both about propriety and about your fellow human beings.

His face softened, and she brought back her sweet smile as she looked at him. Her strategy was to try to make him see her point of view without being confrontational. "I want to clear up the misunderstanding over Wickham, but first let us talk about my dress."

Wickham's name had the same reaction as before. An angry man is not a wise man. "Yes, Miss Elizabeth, do tell me why you chose to rub my nose in our past antagonisms."

Elizabeth realized just how difficult it would be to win him over. "Pray, why was I improper to come to the ball in an old green gown?"

He did not reply. She paused as she decided her best tactic was to once again inject some humour. "I know you well enough to be sure you did not judge me as hopelessly out of fashion, as I believe Caroline Bingley probably did." She was unsure whether she saw the hint of a smile at her words.

"I acquiesced to your request, even though I dislike being touched by men. I know you do not believe me, but it is the truth. I decided our friendship, and unfortunately, for one very brief moment, my attraction to you, was more important, and unwisely agreed to dance. By the time I arrived, I was actually looking forward to swirling about the room with you."

Elizabeth bit her lip in an attempt to stave off any evidence of the melancholy his words and actions last night had unleashed. "Instead of being happy to see me, you concluded I was in league with Wickham, and that wearing a dress with unpleasant memories for you, showed a selfish disdain on my part. I apologize, but you must believe me; I did not hurt you consciously. It is the only silk dress I own. I thought it a waste of money to have a new gown made when I plan never to attend a ball again. And I now believe, I should not have agreed to this one." Lizzy was unsuccessful at banishing a wistful look, and stopped speaking for a few seconds.

Finally she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Lydia saw the dress packed away in a trunk, and she and Kitty insisted on redesigning the gown because, as you probably remember, I was smaller when it was first made. I am surprised you recognized it." Darcy noticed Miss Elizabeth had closed her eyes in avoidance of his gaze.

"I am no longer as I was. I deduce from your reaction that you wanted to dance with me; but you wanted to ignore our previous history. You told me recently how much you deplore deceit in women. Is not your position somewhat hypocritical? She opened her eyes and looked at him as she said, "I thought Lydia made it look quite lovely. For the first time in many years, I allowed myself to feel pretty."

Lizzy turned her gaze out over the meadow. She could see smoke rising from some of the tenants' cottages, and envied what she thought was a simpler life. There was bitterness about her circumstances reflected in her voice as she continued. "I am sure you had to endure gossip about us, but I warned you it would happen. Rumour and innuendo have been my constant companions for many years; and all because I came home from a year's absence with some money."

Mr Darcy wished she would look at him. A part of him wanted to tell her she had looked beautiful, but another part had still not forgiven her for her perceived betrayal. Instead, he said, "I have no right to worry about gossip. I asked you to dance."

Elizabeth continued on with acrimony in her voice. "It is known in the neighbourhood that I never go to assemblies or balls. I came and danced with only you, and many saw there was animosity between us. Did you realize that your request had been ill conceived when you noticed my dress, or when you saw Wickham kissing my hand? Were you mortified when you realized all would notice you were dancing with a member of a family that is vulgar, and willing to let a daughter marry the nephew of your housekeeper? Or perhaps you had second thoughts about publicly partnering me. The most vicious rumours imply I could possibly be a woman who exchanges favours for money. Maybe you were frightened that my mother would get the wrong impression, and tell everyone you intended to marry me. What an unmitigated disaster that would be, because you are raising the proof I am wanton."

She turned her eyes from the meadow back to him. The lingering disapproval on his noble mien annoyed her.

Oddly, Mr. Darcy's voice was quiet and choked with emotion when he spoke. He was most troubled that she seemed to believe he thought her a whore, but they should not speak of such a topic. "Miss Elizabeth, I do not look down on your family because Miss Catherine is to marry Mr. Reynolds. He is an honourable man, and to whom he is related is of no concern to me." Mr. Darcy paused for a moment. Doubt that he might be falling for false words once again, forced him to make his voice calmer and stronger. "However, your family, or at least you, have proven to me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to be mercenary. We differ greatly on this point, because I do not believe you think what you did wrong. Your mother is both vulgar and greedy and your youngest sister is inappropriately familiar with the officers."

In accord with her strategy, Elizabeth calmed her anger before she spoke. "First let me defend my sister. She has only been out a month, and is very exuberant. Currently, her whole world is wearing pretty clothes, flirting and dancing. If you look a little deeper, you will see she is a very sensible girl, and the opposite of a fortune hunter. She has little regard for those of wealth and power. She told me just recently that she did not think she liked those of the ton because they were 'takers' while officers were 'givers.' She is of the opinion they make tremendous sacrifices for the rest of the populace."

Elizabeth could see he was considering her argument. She decided to press her advantage. "Despite her exuberance, her feet are firmly planted in reality. She saw through Mr Wickham within minutes, even with his fine looks and great charm. She told me he kept turning the conversation around to ask about me, and she quickly deduced he was after my inheritance. I am very proud of her ability to see his true nature." Believing now might be an opportune time to introduce her fears for Miss Darcy she added, "You have a sister, so you must know how difficult it is to make sure at that tender age they have the ability to sketch their acquaintances' characters accurately. I was not as mature as Lydia is in that regard when I was fifteen."

Darcy's suspicion that she had conspired with Wickham returned when she mentioned Miss Darcy. Fear that his sister's disgrace might become a topic for the gossips in Meryton caused him to act. He scowled at her and spoke quite loudly. "Leave my sister out of our discussion. You do not know her and have no right to speak of her character."

Caliban's growl at his harsh tone momentarily captured his attention. Elizabeth, who had been unprepared for Mr Darcy's reaction, looked away and composed herself. She was determined she would not let him know how much he had hurt her with his rebuke and decided to address his most important criticism.

Her tone was now barely concealed anger. "I have no agreement to do anything with Mr Wickham, but I am afraid of what he knows and is planning. You insist on thinking me mercenary, and you are correct, of course. As I told you before, I was wrong to ask for money that day at Darcy House. Your cousin and your wife robbed me of something most precious, and I childishly decided they should pay reparations; instead I was persuaded to sell my baby. I have used the money wisely, and in the process, I hope I have made my mother less covetous of other's good fortune."

He made no attempt to conceal the ire in his voice. He was certain he was being influenced by Miss Elizabeth's guile once again. All her family had made sure he knew how wisely she had used her 'inheritance.' Then there was the matter of how she had hinted at the sadness she felt at being denied having Bethany in her life. Now, she was playing on those emotions and blaming Anne for her loss. "Once again, I insist you leave my wife out of our discussion. She is not here to defend herself against your ridiculous accusations. However, I must point out you have failed in your attempt to make your mother less avaricious. She and your older sister were obvious in their intentions last night."

Elizabeth was tired of their conversation. She had failed. It was important for her peace of mind to at least respect Mr. Darcy. He was raising her child. If they continued to spar on these subjects, her animosity would only grow, and it would be the cause of more sleepless nights. All she wanted right now was to be away from him and rejoin her family… her loud, exuberant, mercenary, vulgar, but loving siblings and parents. It was obvious he was determined to think poorly of her and her family, and sometime during their conversation, she had lost her desire to convince him. Still, she could not resist one parting shot. With her sweet smile in place she said, "My older sister seems like a fortune hunter to you? Why? Did she act like Miss Bingley last night?"

His tone was gruff. "Let us agree to disagree. We are never going to be of one mind on this subject. I think I must be getting back. I am leaving for Pemberley today. I must be home for Bethany's birthday."

His words brought on a wave of the pesky longing she had been experiencing. "What are you giving her?"

He still continued to scowl at her. "A pony."

"You do remember that I left a present to be given to her one day? It is what my parents gave me on my fifth birthday."

He softened a bit as he said, "Who should I tell her gave her the present?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. "Tell her the truth… her mother left it for her. That expression will signify nothing. Is there anything else she has asked for?"

"She wants me to stop calling her Baby Duck."

Lizzy's longing exploded into overwhelming loss. She tried to remain composed as she said, "That is most appropriate. She is, after all, practically grown up. A name with baby in it is must be most offensive to her, even if said with love."

Darcy could see how uncomfortable she had become. The anger Miss Elizabeth had displayed a moment before was gone, as she struggled to hide her true emotions. Her sadness about Bethany seemed genuine, and he had been wrong to think her feelings were only displayed to influence him. Still, there was no future for the two of them. They were from different worlds. He rose and wrapped his jug and mug in his blanket. He bowed to her and said, "Miss Elizabeth, let us part and hope we do not encounter one another any time soon."

Elizabeth gave him a very tired smile. "That is my fondest wish as well, Mr Darcy."

He turned, and slowly walked down the path toward his horse. Their exchange left him troubled. Her mother had said she was enamoured of Wickham, but she had said he frightened her. He should have tried to determine what that meant. He had only gone about fifty feet when he heard Caliban barking and Miss Elizabeth quieting him.

"Hush, Caliban, he did not hurt me. I must… I must believe he is a good man. First he admires me… then he disapproves of me … he comes to Hertfordshire and suddenly he loves me… his cousin's devious friend makes an appearance and he decides he hates me. I was a fool to play Mr Darcy's insufferable game. I never wanted his love."

Her words filled him with anguish. He thought he might have heard her crying, but was not sure. Suddenly her voice was clear and strong as she said, "One thing for certain… Mrs Darcy did not confess as she promised." Caliban barked as though in agreement.

He heard her sigh and then nothing more, for she began to play her instrument again. The tune was the one he had heard her sing to Bethany. He continued on down the path until he was out of hearing distance. He did not know that she abruptly stopped playing and said, "Oh Caliban, I never told him what Mr. Wickham is saying, or that I am afraid for Miss Darcy."

*1 – In 1784, King Louis XVI appointed four members of the faculty of Medicine to investigate Dr. Franz Mesmer's theory of animal magnetism. Louis was asked to appoint five additional commissioners including Lavoisier, Dr. Guillotin and Ben Franklin. They concluded the theory had no merit. Dr. Mesmer's name is the root of the English verb "mesmerize."

*2 – Edmund Burke was the author of "Reflections on the Revolution in France." He condemned the French Revolution.

Posted on: 2010-12-25

Chapter 38 – Smoke Gets In Their Eyes

Elizabeth continued to play her Irish whistle. She attempted to look forward to the renewal of routine and normalcy Mr Darcy's absence would bring. Elizabeth shivered as a feeling of dread and the morning chill combined within her. In response, she wrapped the blanket around her for warmth. His disapproval toward her would probably mean he would encourage his friend to stay away as well. She had been so involved in her own anticipation of waltzing, that she had not paid proper attention to her sister's growing attachment. How would Jane's fragile spirit endure another disappointment?

Thoughts of her sister gave way to the belief she had an obligation to Miss Darcy. That sweet, motherless child had only her naïve, witless brother to confide in during her most vulnerable years. She doubted the rumours Wickham was spreading about Mr Darcy really mattered to him. Still, the need for revenge embodied in Wickham's idle talk made her realize how this charming fortune hunter could easily attempt to hurt Miss Darcy

Guilt she felt for not warning Miss Harding flooded back. It was her duty to advise Mr Darcy of her fears for his sister's sake. Let propriety be damned--she would write him a letter! The insufferable man already thought her guilty of depraved behaviour. Would one more piece of evidence cause him to treat Bethany any different?

Elizabeth became distracted as she sifted through the images of her daughter that had been revealed in the past weeks--her hair, playing chess with her father, speaking for her brother. To put an end to the bitter ache they evoked, she allowed a renewal of anger toward Mr Darcy and his disreputable family. How dare he judge her, her sisters or her mother for that matter? None in her family had ever done anything to hurt another.

Mrs Darcy had not confessed; and he refused to even listen to her attempt to tell him of her betrayal. Anne's precious memory was more important to him than Elizabeth's own living reputation. She would write a letter that only told him of her fears for Miss Darcy. Wickham's words against him were not worth her concern.

For Elizabeth, a keen awareness of her limited life was the chief outcome of his sojourn in Hertfordshire. He would go back to his lovely estate, and ride out with his beautiful children each morning. Collecting his first editions, paintings and orchids would occupy his leisure time, and all of Derbyshire would think him a good man. One day he would find another wife--perhaps while in London--perhaps at the theatre. Elizabeth took pleasure in the certainty that the new Mrs Darcy would be unable to make him laugh. A wife without a sense of humour, and perhaps even often cross, would do for him very well.

Jane would now join her in caring for their mother. Elizabeth would forever struggle to sleep and pray she did not dream, while Jane's heart would slowly turn to stone. All of Meryton would continue to whisper about the one sister's disappointments and the possible disgrace of the other.

She looked out over the meadow and saw Mr Darcy at full gallop, heading toward Netherfield. She prayed he would not hurt himself.

Mr. Darcy travelled at a dangerous pace across the meadow. As the speed of the horse beneath him increased, the confusion and remorse of a moment ago turned once again to ire. It was unclear at whom the anger was directed. He felt rage toward Wickham for coming between him and the woman who populated his dreams. He was furious with himself that he had not demanded an explanation of what she and his nemesis had talked about for such a long time. He was angry with her, because she had raised his sister and Anne to befuddle him, once again.

The whole town, including her mother, was gossiping about a possible attachment between this woman he had considered proposing to and the man who had sought to humiliate him at every turn. If she was gullible enough to marry the scoundrel, she would certainly live to regret her decision. Damn Wickham! How many more times would he try to come between him and those that were most precious to him?

He dug his heels into his horse with his next thought. Miss Elizabeth had implied he thought her a whore. She knew he did not believe such nonsense and was aware his cousin had tricked her. The accusation of his eyeing her bosom was just a ploy to turn his eye from her own guilt. He did not appreciate her insinuation he was dishonourable.

Yes, he was attracted to her, but he had always acted as a gentleman. Her figure, her beautiful hair… and oh yes, her toes leaped to mind. He did not like her eyes when they glittered like emeralds, but oh, how he loved them on those rare occasions when they were gleaming with the light of joy. The only solution was to return home and forget her. It was best he remember her as a compromised, country nobody, who had managed to persuade Anne to give her a ridiculous sum of money. That painful thought brought to mind his daughter's face, informing him of what she and Lewis wanted in a mother. She had sent him to Hertfordshire to enjoy himself and possibly find a wife. Instead, he would return with even more anger, and now an almost overwhelming sadness.

Why did she have to be the only woman of his acquaintance who could make him laugh? Even this morning, despite his anger, her concluding they were the one documented case of Mesmer's animal magnetism had almost caused him to chuckle aloud.

He needed to get out of this place and never come back; and it was his responsibility to make sure Charles did the same. Miss Bennet had been totally indifferent to his friend until the last few days. Then, her desperate need to claim her place as mistress of Netherfield had become obvious. Darcy's job as Bingley's friend was to keep him from being blinded by false affection.

As he slowed the horse upon approach to Netherfield, he remembered she had spoken of fear for what Wickham knew and was planning.

Breakfast at Longbourn that morning was a raucous affair. Everyone was talking over each other with regards the scandalous last dance. Mary and Mr. Collins voiced their disapproval that Mr. Bennet's two eldest daughters had participated in the risqué activity. Mr Bennet calmed his middle daughter and her betrothed by assuring them the scandal would be forgotten by the time they married, and he was sure the gossip from a most provincial part of Hertfordshire would not reach Kent.

Mrs. Bennet, however, was not to be quieted so easily. She was not at all perturbed that Jane had agreed, as she felt it was an indication of the intentions of Mr Bingley for him to have asked. However, she had been dumbfounded when she saw Elizabeth whirling about for all to see with Mr Darcy… and if that was not enough, everyone could see the animosity they felt for each other. She demanded an explanation as to what had possessed her daughter to make such a spectacle of herself.

"Mama, I have no excuse, except that it was a misplaced desire to dance a waltz once in my life. Mr Darcy suggested I might enjoy the activity. While we were dancing, he and I had a disagreement over Mr Wickham. As I am sure you have heard, they grew up together"

Thankfully for Elizabeth, John Reynolds added, "Mr Wickham is not highly regarded in Derbyshire. I am certain, Mrs Bennet that what appeared to be animosity was just Mr Darcy strongly warning Lizzy of the unsavoury nature of the lieutenant's behaviour."

Elizabeth smiled her appreciation at her friend. "That is correct, Mama. Mr Darcy was quite animated when he told me that Mr Wickham has a reputation for being a fortune hunter. I told Papa of his accusations." Lizzy looked to her father for help.

"Yes, Fanny, I have enlisted Sir William to visit Colonel Forster with me to inform him of Mr Wickham's dubious character. I also plan to visit Miss King's uncle to warn him."

Lydia chimed in with, "I knew what he was about when I first met him. All he wanted to talk about was Lizzy. I felt certain he had heard the rumours of her inheritance."

Mary requested a private conversation with her father. He had been expecting her to ask for an explanation of the changed nature of his relationship with Elizabeth.

"Papa, has Lizzy told you her mystery?"

"She has. Her explanation is very grave. It is necessary for me to closely guard her secret."

"Is Mr Darcy involved?"

"He is but not precisely in the way we speculated."

Mr Bennet looked very serious as he said, "I really must beseech you… if you love your sister, end your quest to find out what happened to her. You must take my word as head of this family that I have the situation under control. I appeal to your Christian charity to leave her be." Mr Bennet looked very stern as he said, "It is my responsibility to see to it that she is protected from everyone, including you."

Mary bristled under her father's stricture. "Papa, why, if she is so concerned about people finding out her secret, would she draw so much attention to herself by waltzing with Mr Darcy? Surely she knew that would inflame the gossip about her."

"This morning, I am certain Lizzy most heartily agrees with your assessment of her decision, but life is more than making perfect choices. Sometimes things, totally outside of our control, happen, that change the course of our lives, and one is forced to live with the consequences. Your sister mistakenly thought that by dancing with Mr Darcy, she could recapture a bit of joy."

This time his middle daughter looked perplexed. She started to say something more, but he stopped her with finality in his voice. "This is a special time in your life. Look to your own joy. You are soon to wed a good man, but you have challenges in front of you. Marriage requires many adjustments, you will be managing a home for the first time, and I doubt relating appropriately to Mr. Collins' patroness will be an easy endeavour."

Mr Darcy arrived back at Netherfield as Miss Bingley was informing her brother that she and Mr and Mrs Hurst were returning to London. They had no intention of remaining in Hertfordshire until he returned from his business. Netherfield and the neighbourhood were not of the quality they had imagined, and he should look for an estate in another part of England.

"Mr Darcy, I entreat you to encourage Charles to abandon his plans for Netherfield. I have heard that Miss Bennet used her allurements to attach herself to Sir Walter Trent's son. After his death, she tried the same thing with his nephew George Trent and, once again, she is luring Charles with the same goal in mind. She wants nothing, but to be the mistress of Netherfield."

Mr. Bingley looked at his sister with exasperation. "Caroline, Thomas Trent died when Miss Bennet was fourteen. What sort of allurements are you accusing her of using?"

"Charles, why else would Miss Bennet, an unmarried woman, agree to waltz with you, if it did not involve a motive of the most avaricious sort? You should ask yourself the same question with regard Miss Eliza, Mr Darcy. These two sisters are not to be trusted. They may appear more refined, but they are as vulgar as their mother."

Darcy chose not to confide his fears of Miss Bennet's insincerity to Charles until they were alone.

"Charles, I fear your sister may be correct. Miss Bennet's mother was in my presence at supper last evening. She talked incessantly about her daughter being settled as mistress of Netherfield. I do not believe your angel cares for you at all."

"Darcy, you are wrong. We have spent time riding together every day since she left Netherfield. Our admiration has grown steadily these past weeks. She and I want the same things, and if that means Netherfield, so be it."

Darcy gave his friend a scornful look. "You said the same thing about that young woman last year. You know the one--Julia somebody--who was at Lord Reston's ball. She too wanted the same things you did. The next thing that happened was we went to Pemberley and two weeks later we read of her engagement to the Viscount Haddonwood. He had obviously made her a better offer.

"I do not understand you, Darcy. You convince me to have a waltz so you can dance with her sister… who never goes to balls. She says yes, and Miss Bennet agrees to waltz with me. They do this despite how scandalous it is for unmarried women to engage in such an activity. Why would they do that if they did not care for us?"

Darcy was unsure what to say in reply. Finally he decided to truthfully confide some of his concerns about the Bennet sisters to his friend. "I believe Miss Elizabeth might have been plotting with Wickham to defraud me. It is possible that is why she agreed to waltz. You have heard me speak of how disreputable George Wickham is. My fear with regard her sister is that she was plotting with her mother to be the mistress of Netherfield. Soon after the wedding, you would be ignored as they went about the neighbourhood trumpeting their importance. Mrs Bennet said aloud that she was pleased you asked her daughter to waltz because it would make you indebted to her for putting her in such a risky position."

Charles Bingley argued with his friend for the better part of a half hour. Finally, worn down and with his confidence shaken; he agreed to remain in London until after the holiday season rather than returning immediately once his business was concluded. Darcy was twenty-eight, had been married, had two lovely children and was responsible for managing both Pemberley and Rosings. He decided to defer to his friend's greater experience and wisdom… but he did not think he truly agreed. In his heart, he knew the feelings he had for Jane Bennet were not the same as the ones he had experienced with Lillian Wingate, Annabelle Redesdale or Julia Jessup.

The morning following Mr Bingley's departure for London, Jane Bennet was still glowing. Her feelings for Charles--they had agreed to the familiar address as they waited for the waltz to begin--were very different from what she had experienced with George Trent. Mr Bingley wanted so many of the same things as she. What made her almost giddy with expectation was that he was not hesitant about telling her of his admiration, and his ease had encouraged her to be more open.

Just before noon a messenger from Netherfield brought a note for Jane. The young man had been instructed not to wait for a reply.

Netherfield

Caroline Bingley

Jane rushed to find Elizabeth and Becky. Lizzy had warned her earlier in the morning that his sisters, and possibly even Mr Darcy, might try to separate them. Jane had been entirely too filled with the remembrance of the way Charles had smiled at her during their waltz to take her seriously.

When Lizzy read the note, her anxiety that her history with Darcy might have played a role in this development resurfaced. Becky had told them last night of Mrs Bennet's talk of both Mr Bingley and Mr Wickham and her hopes for her daughters during supper. However, Elizabeth was not ready to dash her sister's hopes. Perhaps Mr Bingley was stronger willed than Miss Bingley's letter made him sound, and he would be able to stand up to both his sisters--and possibly even Mr Darcy.

"Jane, I know that her speculation about Georgiana Darcy to be entirely wishful thinking. Miss Bingley would like a connection with the Darcy family, and she would see an attachment between her brother and Miss Darcy as a favourable turn of events in her quest. However, I am quite certain his sister has neither interest in Mr Bingley, nor he in her. The entire time I was at Netherfield none spoke of any relationship between them--even though Miss Darcy was mentioned several times."

Becky tried to make her friend laugh. "Jane, if Mr Darcy desired a connection between Mr Bingley and his sister, he would have surely disclosed that information to your mother last night just to end her incessant talking."

Jane made an attempt to brighten. "I believe you both to be right, but I feel such dread that once again I will be abandoned."

Lizzy's eyes bore into her sister's. "Tom did not abandon you… he died. George Trent did what so many men do; he married for money. Even if the two of you had foolishly wed while blinded by infatuation, I am convinced you would have been miserable. He was not a man capable of loving deeply and forever. There is such a man for you… as sure as there is a god in heaven." She took her sister's hands and squeezed them for emphasis. "It may not be that Mr Bingley is the one, but you will find someone. You are entirely too good and too beautiful… do not settle, Jane!"

Elizabeth wrote late into the night to Mr Darcy. In the end, she decided to tell him of the accusations toward him by Mr. Wickham, as well as her fears for his sister. With regard to Mr Wickham, she would attempt to acquit herself of those charges. However, she decided not to tell him of Mrs Darcy's betrayal. Her decision reflected the hopelessness she felt in being able to change his opinion of her. The integrity of his family was too important to him to be able to see her right for revenge.

She also knew he needed to be informed of her own confession to her father. They had both been responsible for her father's suspicions--she by her avoidance of Mr Darcy, and he by his careless words during her father's interview. Neither had guarded their secret well, but instead indulged in reckless behaviour toward one another. She would tell him of the comfort she felt, and her father's plans to check Wickham.

Darcy's trip to Pemberley became the occasion for some much needed reflection. Like a Chinese puzzle box, he examined the intricate pieces that made the whole of Elizabeth Bennet. There was a key to unlock her that he never seemed to find. The further away from Hertfordshire, the more he was troubled by the things she had said when she did not know he was listening. What Anne should have confessed could be the piece he needed. He remembered how agitated Anne had been trying to tell him. Her guilt had seemed to consume her until she lapsed into unconsciousness. Had she threatened Miss Elizabeth with exposure if she did not relinquish the baby? They had been alone for almost an hour before Anne had secured her agreement. The pain in Miss Elizabeth's eyes at every mention of Bethany convinced him that must be it. Anne had mumbled something about being entitled. That was the way of their circle; they were… what had Miss Lydia said… takers?

Jealousy had, indeed, been the reason for his cruel behaviour, and his words were worthy of Othello… "You mean nothing to me." They had been killing words, and he was sure they had strangled any growing affection she may have felt for him. If he had not been so consumed by the green eyed monster, they could have had a discussion and cleared up what he was now convinced was a misunderstanding over Wickham.

When Darcy reached home, Georgiana, Bethany and Lewis were waiting for him on the front steps. The trio had obviously been watching for him. Georgiana's face was wreathed with smiles, Bethany was twirling and Lewis was jumping up and down and laughing. Despite the sadness mixed with self-loathing he felt, his greeting for his family was warm. It was truly marvellous to be home.

Still, by dinnertime, he was struggling to conceal the morose turn of his thoughts. Georgiana, on the other hand, was much improved. Only occasionally did she appear to be thinking of something sad. Lewis was the first to question him about a wife. He momentarily wished his son had remained inarticulate.

"Papa, did you find a wife?"

"No, Lewis, I did not."

"Why?"

"We are not all as lucky as you to fall in love with the first girl we meet."

Bethany picked up the conversation from her brother. "Did you meet some ladies?"

"Yes, but several were already spoken for."

"But not all?"

"No, there were a few that were available." He refused to lie to his children so he said, "I danced with some, but none were both available and what I wanted."

Bethany was entirely too smart for him. She said, "So you met one you wanted, but she was not available."

Georgiana had been watching her brother, and instinctively knew the source of the sadness she had observed in him since his return. She said softly to her brother, "I think Bethany is about to capture your king." To her niece, she said, "Bethany, you father is tired. Let us tell him about all we did in his absence. After dinner, you will play the Mozart variation, and the three of us can sing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little, Star for him."

"Oh, yes, Aunt Georgie… umm and you can play that whistle. Papa, Dr Jamie taught Aunt Georgie how to play, and he told us about Ireland. They fight and laugh there."

Fitzwilliam Darcy wondered exactly when Dr. Wilder had become Dr. Jamie.

Chapter 39– Celebration

Mrs. Reynolds had given him her letter early in the day, before the festivities for Bethany's birthday began, but he was not able to read it until his children had gone with the nurse to prepare for bed. He promised them he would be up to tuck them in, and then retired to his study. He sat at his desk and began to read. Several times as he pondered her words, he looked at the painting of the young girl reading.

Longbourn

Elizabeth Bennet

Bethany smiled broadly when her father entered. "Papa, thank you for my party. The ice cream and madeleines were scrumptious." Bethany giggled at her use of such a big word. Aunt Georgie taught me that word and Dr Jamie told me the name of those cakes I love." Bethany stood up in bed and twirled around. "I love being five, and I love my pony. I am going to name her Robin... like in the story book... You know, Robin Hood."

"But Bethany, Robin Hood was a male, and your pony is a female."

She was momentarily unsure of her decision, but soon got a big grin on her face. She put her hands on her hips and refused to back down. "I know, I know, but when I went to visit her in the stables... she goes right up to the big horses and steals their oats." Bethany laughed as she said, "She is very brave."

Bethany flung her arms around her father's neck and kissed him before she sat back down. He helped her beneath the covers and tucked the blanket under her chin. "Oh, and Papa, thank you for saying you will not call me Baby Duck anymore. I am soooo grown up now; and I do love my necklace. Dr Jamie said that black spot is a dead ant." Bethany looked up earnestly at her father and said, "Tell me about my mother. Did she love me?"

Darcy was as discomposed by her remark about not calling her Baby Duck as her mother had been. He felt tears sting his eyes, and once again he was filled with remorse for thinking the worst of her because of that damn Wickham.

"Papa, are you sad? Is it because she did not love me?"

"No, Bethany, she loved you very much. She felt very sad when she was forced to leave you."

"Yes, and I think God was mean to make her go."

"Bethany, you should not say such things." Her father felt the same way, but it was not God he thought mean, but himself.

After leaving his daughter, Fitzwilliam Darcy retired to his bedchamber. He read her letter two more times. Her concern for Georgiana was touching, and her father's resolve to ensure Wickham did not harm his daughters, or those of his neighbours filled Darcy with shame. He had known of the man's calumny, and had not said a word to any in Hertfordshire. Despite knowing Wickham was a fortune hunter, he had never once thought of protecting Miss Elizabeth or Miss King from his clutches. He had only thought of his need to keep his family's name from dishonour.

Living with the threat of exposure had been her life for more than five years. It was only right that she now had her father to protect and comfort her. Today had been her birthday too, and Mr Bennet had told him she refused to celebrate--and she acted as though it was the saddest day of the year. Why had he not taken the time to understand the words he was hearing in Hertfordshire? On this day five years ago, she had given him a most wonderful gift, and the money he had given her was nothing compared to the joy he felt when in Bethany's presence.

She had said she did not want him to 'love' her, but wanted him to 'respect' her. He realized too late, there was much about her to respect.

Elizabeth Bennet sat in solitude on the window seat in her room. It was almost midnight on the day she was born one and twenty years ago, and the day she had given birth five years ago. Her dislike of this day had caused her family to no longer attempt to wish her happiness. However, her father had deviated from her preference this year. When they were alone in his study, he had handed her a large package tied up with string. Inside were enough yards of amber silk, dark green velvet and blue and rose muslin to make four gowns.

"Elizabeth, you have denied yourself long enough. You are a lovely young woman, and your clothes should reflect your beauty. Make sure your new gowns are ready by December twentieth. Sir Walter is arriving that day, and we would not want you to be seen in his presence in less than the best. Every year he tells me you are looking more and more "shabby." This year I, myself, plan to outshine Walter. I am thinking of going to London with Mary, Kitty and your mother for the wedding clothes. While there I plan to have a tailcoat made in the finest dark green wool, and a waistcoat of a lighter green… about the colour of the dress you wore to the Netherfield ball. I have heard that is what all the fashionable, haughty gentlemen are wearing this season.

Elizabeth had laughed. "Oh, Papa, I should have confessed to you years ago. Already you have made me feel less anxious and safer... not to mention you have helped me find some humour in my macabre life. Unhappiness does, indeed, have comic aspects one should never underestimate."

Sir Walter Trent arrived at the home of his boyhood friend, Thomas Bennet, on the twentieth of December. His coach was the best money could rent, and to his daughter's chagrin, it was filled with boxes. Some were Christmas presents, but most were his wardrobe.

He had always gotten on famously with Mrs. Bennet. She had been the most beautiful young woman in the country, and had she the benefit of a London modiste, she would have been as fashionable as he. Everyone said she set the best table in all of Hertfordshire, and she would have done a great credit to him arranging the entertainments at Netherfield. She definitely had her priorities straight, but unfortunately she had been beneath him in status, and had only a five thousand pound dowry. Had he been less conscious of his position and his family's history, he would have married her instead of letting his untitled best friend have the honour. Both would have been much more satisfied with their marriages had they married the other's spouse, but Sir Walter's circumstances had demanded a more prudent and pecuniary approach to marriage.

Despite his own history, the master of Netherfield had encouraged his son in his pursuit of Miss Bennet. It was really wrong to call it pursuit. They had attached themselves to each other as children, and it was useless to try to tear them asunder. Jane would not have brought money to the marriage, but she was the most beautiful young woman Sir Walter had ever seen. She would have ensured their line remained handsome throughout the next several generations.

On Christmas morning, during a most splendid breakfast organized by the incomparable Fanny, Sir Walter answered Thomas Bennet's question about the status of Netherfield. Mr. Bennet had heard rumours around town that the staff was only those needed for maintenance, and that Mr Bingley did not plan to return. He asked for clarification.

"I have been assured the rent for Netherfield through next September from Mr Bingley, but I will be looking for another tenant after that. He is not even certain he will return to Hertfordshire before the end of the lease. I really should sell the estate and be done with it. I hate the idea of losing my ancestral home, but without a son, I do not see what difference it makes."

Jane Bennet heard his words and knew she had, indeed, been abandoned. There would be no next time for her. She cynically thought that it was time to forget about love and instead try to concentrate on using this curse of great beauty for other kinds of gain.

Catherine Bennet and John Reynolds stood up for Mary Bennet and William Collins. Mr. Collins had no family in attendance except the Bennets, and his acceptance into their inner circle had changed him. For the first time in his life, he knew he had honourable people he could count on to aid him with life's endeavours. His patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh stood out in stark contrast to this loving family. He had come to realize she cared little for him, but instead had found a most willing sycophant, always ready to listen to her advice on the most trivial subject.

As he stood at the altar, waiting for his bride, he felt shame he had allowed Lady Catherine to treat him with such distain. He had not become a clergyman to style his hair to please her, or make certain to plant bulbs for spring, at dawn on the morning after the first full moon in September. God's work had been his calling, and he had studied diligently for that end. His life's purpose was to give his flock the uplifting message of redemption through the gospel of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

The Longbourn chapel was festive with the evergreen boughs and berries of the season. Jane had forced some new bulb plants said to be imported from South America in the solarium. Several of the beautiful white, lily-like plants augmented the décor. The day was dark, with a hint of the possibility of snow and the massing of candles around the room gave it a Christmas Eve feel. Mary looked beautiful.

Her sisters, Jane and Elizabeth, watched the ceremony with tears in their eyes. This wedding marked the end of their time together as the five Bennet sisters. Soon Kitty would be leaving, and Lydia could not be far behind. Their tears of happiness mingled with tears of bitterness. Elizabeth reached for her sister's hand.

At bedtime on Twelfth Night, Fitzwilliam Darcy tucked his son in bed and wished him "Happy Birthday" one last time.

He proceeded to his daughter's room to kiss her good night. He noticed she seemed a bit subdued. "Bethany, what is the matter? Did you not enjoy Lew's birthday party?"

"I did, Papa, but it does not seem fair he got a pony at four, and I had to wait til five. Is it because he is a boy?"

"No, Bethie, it is because he is taller than you were at four. Also, do you not think it will be great fun for the three of us to ride together every morning?"

"Yes, but it still seems wrong. Am I very short?"

"No, of course not… I am sure you are going to be much taller than your mother."

"She was short?"

The words came out before he knew what he was saying. "Yes, she is quite petite."

"Is?"

"I mean was."

Bethany did not notice her father's troubled look. She had gone back to thinking of the two ponies. "I told Lew he had to name his pony Little John. If my pony is Robin--his pony must be Little John. What do you think, Papa?"

Bethany noticed her father had that sad, faraway look he often wore… especially since he had come back from Mr Bingley's. He said, "I think those are excellent names. We will have to wait until the weather is better to start riding each day. I am going to London next week, and I will meet you at your grandmother's for Easter."

Why can't we go with you?

"I have estate business to accomplish. I want you, Lew and Georgie to go to your grandmother's early."

"Oh, Papa, why cannot we go to Aunt Cassie's?"

Once again, his thoughts returned to her mother. Darcy knew his cousin was in residence at Elderton. A vision of Miss Elizabeth asking for his promise to prevent Bethany from even being alone with Edmund came to him. He could not ensure her request if he was not there to prevent it, and he was determined to never doubt her or disrespect her again. For the first time, he wondered why she had been so adamant. Did she fear something more sinister that the exposure of Bethany's parentage? He would question Richard about his brother when they were together in Kent.

"Grandmama says I talk too much, and she wants Millie to do something with my hair so it will lie flat."

Fitzwilliam looked horrified at the suggestion. "Bethany, you have the most beautiful hair. I must speak to Millie." His face changed from horror to fury. "The reason she says you talk too much is because she wants to be the only one who speaks."

Bethany stared at her father in disbelief. He had never been so disrespectful to her grandmother.

"I know it will not be very pleasant at Rosings, but Richard is coming with me. That should make you happy."

Bethany's smile lit the flecks of gold in her eyes. "Oh, goody, Cousin Richard. He always makes me laugh."