Beginning, Section III, Next Section

Chapter 16

Posted on May 26, 2009

That Elizabeth worried with increasing frequency about Jane over the next few weeks can well be imagined, as there still remained no sign of Mr Bingley's return. She did all she could to help her friend and frequently offered Jane an escape from Longbourn where, she heard, Mrs Bennet frequently lamented the gentleman's absence and abused him for using her daughter ill. As time went on Elizabeth really began to think that Mr Bingley was being kept in town as a result of the joint effort of his sisters and his friend, little credit such a thought was to his suitability as a lover.

When Miss Bingley's letter did finally arrive, Elizabeth was unhappily proved right; it was clear that there were no plans to return, and all hope was lost. She tried her best to console her friend, her feelings divided between concern for Jane and resentment against all the others. She still did not believe anything that Caroline had to say about Miss Darcy, convinced that Mr Bingley was really fond of Jane, whatever his sister might say. She was angry, however, when she thought of how easily he had allowed himself to be persuaded. The easiness of temper, the affability that she had admired him for was now a source of contempt; that he had lacked proper resolution and was a slave to the whims of his designing relations and friends was abundantly clear, and the fact that he had sacrificed not only his own happiness, but her dear friends as well, could not be forgiven.

At first Jane did not speak of her feelings, but the pain which the letter had caused her was made very clear when, as she and Elizabeth were taking a turn about the garden, she exclaimed,

"Oh! That my mother had more command over herself; she can have no idea of the pain she gives me by continually mentioning him. But I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall all be as we were before."

Elizabeth looked at her friend with incredulous solicitude but said nothing.

"You doubt me," cried Jane, slightly colouring; "indeed you have no reason. I will simply remember him as the most amiable man of my acquaintance, that is all."

"My dear Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you are too good. I do not know how you are so good. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you deserve."

Jane tried to argue and disclaim but Elizabeth was convinced, "No, Jane, I am in earnest. The example set by you only highlights my own failings all the more. Whilst you see the good in everybody I stand here now knowing that there are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. Indeed the more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense."

She was speaking of course of Mr Darcy as well as Charlotte; she was not insensible to the kindness he had shown her in coming to her aid at the ball, but the knowledge of his true character was never far from her mind. There was also the fact that he had left the neighbourhood without even bothering to say goodbye to her father- such an easy dismissal was to Elizabeth further proof of his arrogance and pride. Jane however was as of yet ignorant of Mr Darcy's true character and attempted to comfort Elizabeth by saying,

"My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these; they will ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference of situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins's respectability, and Charlotte's prudent, steady character. Remember that she is one of a large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be ready to believe, for every body's sake, that she may feel something like regard and esteem for my cousin."

"To oblige you, I would try to believe almost anything," Elizabeth replied with a weak smile, "but no one else could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her than I already do. My dear Jane, I am sorry if I cause you offence, but Mr. Collins is a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man and though she is my friend, I cannot defend her actions. I cannot, even for her sake, resign myself to the match."

"I think your language is too strong in speaking of both," Jane cautioned, "and I hope that you will be convinced of it by seeing them happy together."

"Yes," Elizabeth sighed eventually, deciding now was not the time to question the inherent goodness of people which Jane still somehow managed to believe in. "Perhaps you are right. I hope that you are."

In the end, Elizabeth turned to the one person she had always been able to share all her thoughts with, without fear of recrimination or displeasure. Emily listened as she lamented first Charlotte's unfortunate betrothal and then the situation Jane now found herself in.

"You are convinced his sisters influenced him?" Emily questioned when Elizabeth had related all the particulars to her.

"Yes, utterly convinced, though I do not for a moment doubt that they acted in conjunction with his friend."

"Why would they seek to influence him though? Surely they must have seen his happiness with Jane, his attachment to her; to try and secure another woman for him would be pointless, surely?"

"Do you really think they cared first and foremost about his happiness?" Elizabeth replied sceptically, "I could easily believe them to be more concerned with his increasing his wealth and consequence than with his happiness."

"Unless of course he does have feelings for Miss Darcy," Emily pointed out, "which they would no doubt be aware of, knowing him so much better than we do."

"Emily," Elizabeth scoffed, "Do you really think that Mr Darcy would allow a man meant for his sister to bestow such attentions on Jane, under his very nose? And can you believe Mr Bingley capable of purposely misleading not one lady, but two?"

"No, perhaps not," Emily admitted with a smile.

"I only wish I could somehow help Jane," Elizabeth said with a sigh after a moment, "she never has any peace at home, with Mrs Bennet lamenting the loss of Mr Bingley on one side, and Mr Bennet laughing over the event on the other."

"What has he said now?" Emily asked with a note of exasperation, not at all approving of Mr. Bennet's parenting style.

"He said, and I quote," Elizabeth replied, "I congratulate her. Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions." He then went on to say that it was about time I found somehow who could jilt me credibly, though he couldn't think of the right man for the job."

Emily shook her head but was soon struck by a sudden thought and said, "I heard a strange story from Mrs Long the other day, of Mr Wickham's dealings with Mr Darcy."

"Really?" Elizabeth replied cautiously, avoiding her friend's perceptive gaze. It was to no avail.

"He told you of it, that night at the Phillips', didn't he?" Emily guessed and Elizabeth nodded.

"I must apologize for the way I spoke to you that evening Emily, it was uncalled for."

"I suppose it must have been quite a shock to you, to hear such a story of Mr Darcy," Emily commented. She was not quite sure what to make of Mr Wickham and so was trying to keep an open mind. Her young friend, she noted, however, seemed utterly convinced by the tale and a good deal affected by it.

"Yes, it was," Elizabeth admitted, "more so because I felt that I should have thought him capable of such behaviour but did not. Indeed," she reflected with a twist of her lips, "I admit now to being almost completely taken in by both of the Netherfield gentlemen."

"And what do you have to accuse Mr Bingley of Lizzy?"

"Of weak resolve. I had thought better of him; indeed I still find it hard to believe that a man so in love could have been made to forget everything so quickly, were it not for the efforts of his friends."

"You are convinced then," Emily ventured gently, "that he was in love?"

"Oh Emily, yes!" Elizabeth replied. "It was so obvious to see and every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three ladies by not asking them to dance, and I spoke to him twice myself without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?"

"Yes," Emily laughed, "though I have not heard it called that before. My only hope is that Jane does not suffer too much, though I know her disposition does not make it likely that she will recover soon."

"I know," Elizabeth agreed sadly, "although I have heard that she plans to return with the Gardiners to town after Christmas; hopefully a change of scenery and a break from home will help her feel better."

"Perhaps she may see Mr Bingley there, were he to call on her," Emily hopefully suggested but Elizabeth made light work of such a hope.

"Whilst he is in the custody of his friend? I think not Emily. Mr. Darcy would never allow him to call on Jane in such a part of London; he may perhaps have heard of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would never willingly venture there himself and it is quite obvious that Mr. Bingley never stirs without him."

"I had a letter from my sister yesterday," Emily commented after a slight pause in the conversation, "she writes that she is somewhat nervous about her forthcoming confinement and asks that I come and stay with her when the time comes; it is not for months yet, but she would have my answer now."

"Will you go?"

"Yes," Emily replied before she added, "and I was wondering whether you would like to come with me?"

"Surely I would be in the way," Elizabeth argued even as she thought how nice it would be to see the Gregory's again. She had always been fond of Emily's younger sister, Julia, and also got on very well with her kind and unassuming husband, James. The couple lived in Kent and had not been to Hertfordshire for two years at least.

"Not at all," Emily assured her, "I know Julia would welcome female companionship as she awaits the birth of their child, and having you there would undoubtedly help distract James from his worry, which, Julia tells me, is quite substantial."

Elizabeth smiled at the thought of the young couple, one of the few she knew who loved one another as they ought, and was very nearly persuaded to accept Emily's offer.

"I think that it would also be good for you Lizzy," Emily added, seeing that Elizabeth needed a little more encouragement, "I have said before that you have been too long in one place. Kent is a beautiful county and Hunsford is a charming village; I can see you being very happy there."

"Very well," Elizabeth conceded happily, "I will ask my father for permission tonight."

Chapter 17

"Promise you will write as soon as you arrive Lizzy; I shall not rest easy until I know you are safe."

Elizabeth smiled lovingly and pressed a kiss to her father's cheek; they were stood before the front steps of the house, taking leave of one another as Elizabeth prepared to make her journey into Kent with Emily.

"I promise father; I shall write to you very often of my stay, so often in fact that you will soon beg me to cease all correspondence."

"You tease me Lizzy," her father replied, "But I shall miss you whilst you are gone and will impatiently await each and every letter."

"Then I will indeed make sure to send you many," Elizabeth replied, trying not to get emotional. She too would miss her father but she longed to make this trip; she needed some time away from Hertfordshire to clear her mind.

"I will take good care of her Michael," Emily promised her father and he smiled at his old friend.

"I know you will my dear Mrs Burrows." He hugged Elizabeth once more before declaring with a smile, "Very well, be off with you now."

Elizabeth climbed into the carriage and waved goodbye to her father; she and Emily chatted happily for a few miles but soon lapsed into silence. The last few months had been quiet and very little had happened besides the eventual marriage of Mr Collins and Charlotte Lucas; Elizabeth's enjoyment of the season had been somewhat marred, however, by the news she had received from Jane in London. She had visited and been visited in return by Miss Bingley and was now unhappily convinced that she had been entirely deceived when it came to the lady in question. That Mr Bingley knew of Jane's presence in town, but did not visit her, was a fact which further increased Elizabeth's disappointment in him, and she stopped hoping for his eventual return, thinking that her friend was better off without him.

Mr Wickham had remained in Meryton, much to the delight of the female population, and his initial attempts to woo her had provided Elizabeth with an almost endless source of amusement- he was charming and amiable and very nice to look at, it was true, but as she had to Emily, he was far to cheerful and irreverent for her taste. He lacked the substance necessary to secure her regard, and whilst he could talk very agreeably about everything and nothing, she knew that she preferred a man well informed and possessing opinions on more than just the weather! Eventually Mr Wickham seemed to realise that it was a lost cause and singled out Miss Mary King for his attentions instead, almost immediately after she inherited ten thousand pounds from a distant relation. Elizabeth knew very well that handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as the plain, but his blatancy in this case was nevertheless somewhat laughable and in the end she was somewhat less enamoured with him than the rest of the neighbourhood. She liked him well enough to enjoy his company whenever they were together but was glad that he generally left her alone because he made her think of another gentleman they both knew. The tale of his dealings with Mr Wickham had slowly begun to spread around the neighbourhood but as of yet had not been shared with her father.

The rest of the neighbourhood had gone about their lives as they usually did, enjoying the Christmas season whilst wishing that spring would come soon. Elizabeth and her father had had a quiet holiday, as always, whiling away the dark winter days in the library or over the chess board. She had left her father in good spirits, pleased that he seemed not to have noticed the change in hers, unaware that he was equally pleased that she had not noticed his slowly declining health. He would share any news he had with her when she returned, as for now he wished her to enjoy this time away, knowing that it would do her good.

The journey to Kent was a pleasant one for both Elizabeth and Emily, so happy in one another's company, and they were soon admiring the scenery around them as they drew nearer to their destination. The road to Hunsford bordered what appeared to be a large estate and Elizabeth, who had never been here before, enquired as to whether her suspicions were correct.

"Indeed my dear; that is Rosings Park, the home of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Anne de Bourgh. My sister and brother have been invited to tea once or twice by her ladyship, but otherwise they have very little to do with the family."

"I should like very much to view the grounds," Elizabeth commented, her excitement almost palpable as woods and hills rolled past their window. "Do you think her ladyship would mind?"

"I am sure she would not, as long as you made certain to steer clear of the house itself."

"Oh, I have no intention of intruding," Elizabeth replied cheekily, "I care nothing for bricks and mortar when compared to the beauties of nature itself."

They soon arrived in Hunsford and Elizabeth was instantly charmed by the quiet and peaceful village, so in contrast to the often bustling nature of Meryton. The Gregory's both stood on the front steps of their house, awaiting the arrival of their guests, and Elizabeth was welcomed so warmly with such expressions of pleasure that she almost felt herself to be a member of the family. Julia had the healthy glow of all expectant mothers about her, and James seemed torn between the nervousness and excitement felt by all soon-to-be fathers, and Elizabeth could not help but smile as she quietly observed them. Time spent in the company of such people, in such a place, would surely be very agreeable, and she felt her spirits begin to rise.

Elizabeth's hopeful suspicions were soon proved to be correct; she spent the first few days becoming reacquainted with the Gregory's, sharing her news and attentively listening to theirs, and was reminded anew why she liked them so well. James Gregory was a gentleman of Mr Bennet's level and the house itself was only a fraction smaller than Longbourn. He had been introduced to his future wife through a mutual acquaintance whilst on a visit to town and their subsequent marriage came as a surprise to no-one. He and Julia were perfectly suited to one another and their happiness together was great; so great, in fact, that a four year wait for their first child had not served to diminish it. They awaited the arrival of their child with eager impatience though and Elizabeth was utterly charmed by the picture of domestic felicity they presented.

Having restrained herself for four whole days, the joy with which Elizabeth finally sprang forth into the surrounding countryside can easily be imagined. She set off right after breakfast and was gone so long that, were she anyone else, her friends would have been worried about her. She appeared again just before supper, her smile so bright that Emily laughed happily upon seeing her.

"Lizzy! You remind me so much of how you were as a little girl when you smile like that."

Elizabeth laughed and after exchanging a few words with her hosts, excused herself to go freshen up. Her hair was in disarray, her pelisse had long ago been removed and was clutched carelessly in her hand and her dress was damp from walking in the long grass; she could not have been happier!

When she joined her companions for dinner she was so full of rapture for the countryside around them that the three of them just sat back and let her talk. She finally exhausted herself and they took their turn to monopolise the conversation; the rest of the meal was spent teasing Lizzy mercilessly!

About three weeks into their stay, Emily was sat with her sister in the parlour when she espied Elizabeth disappearing into the park for another walk. She smiled to herself and breathed a sigh of relief; her sister saw all this and commented,

"She seems very happy here."

"Yes," Emily replied, turning to her sister as she added, "A fact which I am very grateful for."

"I remember when you accepted the invitation that you mentioned that she did not seem herself," Julia noted, "Was she so out of spirits?"

"Oh yes," Emily replied; she told her sister of the day they had first met Mr Wickham, the first time Elizabeth had ever cried because of her mother.

"She was a wicked woman," Julia muttered darkly, "And poor Elizabeth, to have to bear the shame of it all now. It is alright for her father, he has lived his life; Elizabeth's is only just beginning."

"I know," Emily sighed, "And yet I wonder what will become of her. Very few men would be willing to overlook such an unfortunate connection, but Elizabeth could never be happy with a man she did not respect and esteem and who did not esteem and respect her in return."

"Perhaps it is not completely hopeless," Julia mused, "she has the advantage of not having to marry a man of means; her dowry is large enough to allow her to marry a man of little or no fortune, should she chose to."

"Yes, but," Emily pointed out cynically, "most men of little or no fortune would only marry her for her dowry; either that or they would be seeking to join the higher circles, something which a marriage to Elizabeth would not help them to do."

"I do not know why we are worrying about this now," Julia stated after a pause. "She is not yet one and twenty and, from what you have told me, has never shown any interest in marrying."

"Until now," Emily said to herself; she suspected that there was more to the Mr Darcy situation than Elizabeth had admitted to her. She hoped, however, that Elizabeth's improved spirits meant that she had forgotten all about him.

Elizabeth, not content with acquainting herself with every inch of the woods and park, was soon exploring the village of Hunsford as well. She had been introduced to all of the Gregory's neighbours at one point or another and if they thought it odd how often she was out walking, they chose not to mention it. Her letters to her father and Jane were full of her discoveries, of her favourite walks and the new friends she was making, and their tone clearly conveyed her happiness. For indeed she was happier here than she had been in a long time; happy in her freedom and anonymity, knowing that for the first time in years she was not being judged.

One day as she was out walking along the stream that separated the village from the park, she heard the sound of laughter. Coming closer she spied four children, three boys and a little girl, all of varying ages, playing together on the opposite bank. They had a length of rope and were attempting to fashion a swing by attaching it to a low hanging branch; unfortunately however none of them were quite tall enough to reach. Elizabeth, charmed by the scene, sat down on the grass and watched with increasing amusement as the children devised a number of schemes to in a bid to accomplish their goal. She laughed aloud when, after about half an hour of trying, two of the boys toppled together into the stream; the elder one had boosted the other up onto his shoulders but had lost his footing, sending them both into the water. Taking pity on them, she crossed the stream further up via some well placed rocks and approached the group.

"Did you hurt yourselves?" She asked the two boys as they climbed out of the water and tried to wring themselves out.

"No miss," the elder one replied politely but the younger boy protested,

"You hurt me when you landed on my leg, Steven!"

"I'm sorry Jason; you were heavier than I expected," Steven replied honestly and Elizabeth smiled to herself, suddenly deciding that she would have to share this story with her father.

"Who are you miss?" The little girl asked boldly; she had a shock of blonde hair that was so curly Elizabeth could easily imagine the poor girl's mother despairing over it.

"My name is Elizabeth, though you may call me Lizzy," Elizabeth told them with a bright smile. "And who are you?"

"I'm Kate; this is Peter and Steven and Jason."

"Well I'm very happy to meet you all," Elizabeth told them, dropping into a playful curtsey that made Jason and Peter grin.

"Now," Elizabeth said briskly, "would you like me to help you with your swing?"

"Would you?!" Steven asked eagerly and Elizabeth smiled as she held out her hand for the rope.

"Of course," she replied and she was soon sat watching the four of them attempt to swing across the stream, laughing as, one by one, they failed.

"Elizabeth," James called out as she passed by the open door to his study the next afternoon.

"Yes James?" She replied, backtracking and joining him.

"I heard a strange thing in the village today," he commented lightly, his eyes dancing with laughter as Elizabeth tried to look innocent as she replied,

"Oh?"

"Indeed; something about a young lady helping the three Morris boys make a swing by the stream. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Elizabeth replied with a shake of her head, her lips twitching.

"No?" James queried with an arched brow.

Elizabeth smiled widely as she replied, "No; there was definitely a little girl with the three boys I helped."

James laughed at her cheeky reply, "Yes, Kate Wilson. She's always out running about with those boys."

"Good for her," Elizabeth joked; she sobered slightly as she asked, "They didn't get in trouble, did they?"

"No more than usual," James assured her. "Although I almost caused myself a bit of trouble when I laughed as Mrs Dean related the story to me; she was highly disapproving and couldn't understand what I found so amusing. Of course she didn't know that the mysterious young lady was my houseguest," he added with another chuckle.

"Was it so very obvious that it was me?" Elizabeth teased; they both knew it was something of a rhetorical question and shared a conspiratorial smile.

"Where are you off to today?" James asked, eyeing her bonnet that was waiting to be put on.

Elizabeth blushed as she admitted, "I'm meeting the children on the green; they asked if I would join them to play and I said I would."

The sound of James' laughter followed her out of the house as Elizabeth went to meet her new friends.

"Look out Lizzy!"

Elizabeth laughed as she let Kate catch her; the little girl pulled off the blindfold and smiled up at her,

"Got you Lizzy."

"Yes, you did," Elizabeth replied with a smile. They were playing Blind Man's Bluff and the little girl, being quite a bit smaller than the boys, had been at a disadvantage and Elizabeth had taken pity on her. She knelt down so that Kate could tie the blindfold over her eyes and when she was sure it wasn't going to slip, stood up and allowed Steven to spin her round in circles; he leapt away as he shouted,

"Go!"

Elizabeth laughed as she swayed slightly, dizzy and disorientated, trying to guess were the other three were by the sound of their laughter. She quickly moved in one direction, laughing when one of the boys yelped and (she supposed) quickly jumped out of the way. She moved again, almost losing her balance and laughing as she righted herself. The children had gone quiet and Elizabeth smiled at their cleverness; she slowly walked forward as she playfully mused,

"Oh dear, I wonder where the children are?"

There was a telltale giggle off to her right and Elizabeth spun in that direction; her outstretched hand connected with a solid, warm object that was far too tall to be one of the boys. Curious, Elizabeth used her other hand to pull up the blindfold.

She found herself staring into the unmistakeable blue eyes of Mr Darcy.

Chapter 18

When she recovered from her shock, Elizabeth realised her hand was still lying against his chest and, blushing furiously, she quickly removed the offending limb and hid it behind her back. She pulled off the blindfold and twisted it about her fingers in an agitated manner.

"It's your turn sir." Jason happily called and Darcy smiled as he replied,

"Another time, perhaps."

He turned back to Elizabeth and quietly told her, "It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Casterton."

"And you, sir," Elizabeth forced herself to reply, hating the slight quiver in her voice. "I did not expect to see you here."

"My cousin and I are visiting my aunt," he replied, adding when she looked at him blankly, "Lady Catherine."

"Oh," Elizabeth breathed; she had heard much about Lady Catherine, and none of the reports were favourably.

"Are you here visiting friends?"

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, "Emily, Mrs Burrows, her sister and brother live here."

He nodded and they fell into an awkward silence. Kate came forward and tugged on her dress,

"Can we play now Lizzy, please?"

Elizabeth wished to say yes, but she knew it would be rude to just dismiss Mr Darcy like that. She smiled apologetically as she replied,

"I have to go home now, but I promise I will come and play with you again soon."

Jason and Peter protested but their elder brother shushed them and they eventually let Elizabeth go. It was only as she began to walk in the direction of the house that she realised that another gentleman was stood nearby with his and Mr Darcy's horses. He was a short, stocky man, not really very handsome, but his face seemed open and friendly. He smiled at her as she and Mr Darcy approached.

"I have not played that game in years; it always was a favourite of mine."

Elizabeth smiled at such an opener as Mr Darcy introduced them,

"Miss Casterton, my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Cousin, Miss Casterton."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Casterton," Colonel Fitzwilliam told her, bowing gracefully.

"And you too, Colonel," Elizabeth replied, actually meaning it this time. "Are you enjoying your stay so far?"

"I daresay it has been pleasant enough so far," the Colonel joked, "but then we have only been here for two days."

"Would you like to come in?" Elizabeth felt compelled to ask, "Mr Gregory is out at present but Mrs Gregory and Mrs Burrows are both within."

"It would be happy to make their acquaintance," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied happily, "though I would not wish to intrude."

"It is no trouble," Elizabeth assured him; he may not have been handsome, but his manner and address were very pleasing and Elizabeth felt that she could quite like him. "Mrs Burrows I'm sure will be pleased to make Mr Darcy's acquaintance once more."

She glanced at the gentleman to see how he bore this comment, knowing as she did that he and Emily had exchanged only a handful of words with one another throughout his entire stay in Hertfordshire; he remained silent and unmoved, as always.

The two men followed Elizabeth to the house and the three of them entered the parlour together; the sisters were sat happily talking and were somewhat surprised by the appearance of Elizabeth with two such gentleman in tow. Mr Darcy paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Emily and then Elizabeth introduced the men to Julia; she could not rise to welcome them but expressed her pleasure in making their acquaintance.

Colonel Fitzwilliam took the seat offered him and entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, talking to all of them very pleasantly; but his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and garden to Mrs Gregory, sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to enquire as to the health of Elizabeth's father; thinking he was merely being polite, she answered him in the usual way.

"He is very well."

He frowned slightly but said nothing more and the two gentlemen departed not long after.

"Well," Julia exclaimed when they were alone once more, "What a charming man Colonel Fitzwilliam is!"

"Yes, indeed," Emily replied absently, for she was too busy watching Elizabeth to pay much attention.

Noticing her friend's troubled expression, Emily gently suggested, "Why do you not go for a quick walk, Lizzy? It is a lovely day again; you should make the most of it whilst the weather holds."

"Yes," Elizabeth breathed, seeming to come back from far away, "Yes, I think I will. You do not mind?"

Neither of the sisters had any objection and Elizabeth was soon on her way; once she was sure that Elizabeth was out of earshot, Julia turned to her sister and asked,

"Why did you encourage her to go out so suddenly?"

"Mr Darcy was the gentleman staying at Netherfield with his friend Mr Bingley," Emily replied; she had divulged most, but not all, of the story to her sister and Julia immediately understood.

"Oh my! I thought Lizzy seemed a little quieter than usual. How unfortunate, that he should come here when she is seeking to escape all that...mess her mother caused!"

"Yes, quite unfortunate," Emily muttered, thinking that Julia did not know just how unfortunate it was.

Elizabeth kept up a brisk pace as she headed for her favourite spot in the park, a small glade away from the more manicured areas where nature had been allowed to take over. She tried to make sense of her jumbled thoughts but was not having much success; that Mr Darcy was here of all places was such a cruel twist of fate that she could have laughed at her misfortune, had not that same misfortune made her feel like crying. Why did he have to come? Was there nowhere she could hide that the past would not find her? Would she always live in the shadow of her mother?

Reaching the glade, Elizabeth flopped onto the grass and began pulling agitatedly at the daisies surrounding her. She was tormented, it was true, but she was also angry; she had no desire to spend any time in his company anymore, not now she knew his true nature. Time spent with the Gregory's had also only served to exacerbate his deficiencies, to impress upon her all the more how little he was to be admired. She thought of Jane, of her dejection, and she became even angrier, sure as she was that Mr Darcy had somehow had a hand in her friend's misery. Her only hope was that she would not have to spend much time in his company; they had had nothing to do with the occupants of Rosings so far and there was no reason to suspect that that would change soon.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had been suitably impressed with the three ladies and chatted happily about the new acquaintance as he and Darcy rode back to Rosings. Darcy waited for his cousin to ask the inevitable question, completely unsurprised when the Colonel finally commented,

"Casterton seems like a familiar name; do we know them?"

"You will no doubt be familiar with the name Baroness Courtney, though I suspect you did not know the woman personally," Darcy replied heavily; his cousin stopped suddenly and Darcy cursed inwardly, feeling like a bastard.

"You're jesting with me," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied, stunned. When Darcy didn't reply he questioned with disbelief, "That is the daughter of Lady Viola?"

"Yes, though I daresay she would not like being referred to as such," Darcy replied; he elaborated when his cousin looked at him strangely, "She and her father have tried to cut all ties with the past and have effectively disowned the woman."

"Pity that they cannot disown the scandal," Richard shrewdly pointed out. "And you met them whilst staying with Bingley? What does he have to say about it?"

"Very little," Darcy replied honestly as they carried on their way to Rosings, "His sisters were scandalised, naturally, but Bingley just accepted things as they were."

"I am not surprised; your friend likes everyone he meets," Richard pointed out with a smile and Darcy nodded, not trusting his voice. In truth he envied Charles his freedom.

"Well, well, well," Richard mused thoughtfully after a long silence. "Baroness Courtney. Who'd have thought it."

"Our aunt should not hear of this," Darcy warned him and Richard let out a sudden bark of laughter.

"Good god, no! She would chase the poor girl from the neighbourhood herself! No, I daresay we should spare Miss Casterton that particular experience; she seems quite a charming young lady and it wouldn't do to see her embarrassed."

Darcy nodded again and was relieved when his cousin began to speak of other things.

Chapter 19

Posted on May 30, 2009

Elizabeth did not see either Mr Darcy or the Colonel again for over a week and was not sorry for it; she was perfectly happy in the company of her friends and refused to spend her time here fretting over how she could avoid a certain gentleman. Julia remained well and began her confinement with very little fuss, James allayed his nervousness by repeatedly going over the provisions made for the child, whether boy or girl, and Elizabeth did her best to distract him in between her rambling walks of the park; all in all they were a very cheerful group as they awaited the new arrival.

When the Colonel and Mr Darcy did eventually come again, they arrived as Elizabeth was sat practicing at the piano; after greeting Emily and herself Colonel Fitzwilliam asked that she play something for them and that he be allowed to turn the pages. Elizabeth consented and soon began to play; Mr Darcy, who had been sat near Emily, stood and moved with purpose towards the piano, stationing himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing and when she had concluded her song turned to him with an arch smile and said,

"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? But I will not be alarmed; my courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."

"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own."

Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself and said to Colonel Fitzwilliam,

"Your cousin will teach you not to believe a word I say! But how unlucky I am to meet a person so well able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit."

There was a slight pause after she said this and Elizabeth smiled knowingly at the look that passed between the cousins; clearly Colonel Fitzwilliam had heard or had been told about her mother. She wondered whether Mr Darcy had been the one to enlighten his cousin and plastered a fake smile onto her face as she added,

"It is very impolitic too, for it provokes me to retaliate and say things about you that will shock your relations."

"I am not afraid of you," he replied with a smile, enjoying their banter, having greatly missed her vivacity whilst away from Hertfordshire.

"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel Fitzwilliam with a laughing look in Darcy's direction, "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers."

"Then you shall hear it," Elizabeth replied archly. "The first time I met your cousin was at a ball, and even though gentlemen were scarce and more than one young lady was obliged to sit down for want of a partner, he only danced four dances the entire night."

Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled as Darcy tried to defend himself by saying,

"I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party."

"And nobody can ever be introduced at ball," Elizabeth replied sharply, unimpressed. Rather he admit that he had thought the company beneath him than come up with such poor excuses.

"I fear I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers," Darcy admitted honestly and was somewhat taken back when Miss Casterton laughed. It was not her happy, usual laugh, but quite cynical and cold, more Miss Bingley-esque than he liked.

"Yes, I would have to agree with you on that point," she replied pointedly, her eyes mocking him, "You certainly did a very poor job of recommending yourself to one young lady in particular."

"Oh really?" Colonel Fitzwilliam inquired with great curiosity, "What did he do?"

"He thought her only tolerable," she replied airily, turning to the Colonel, "and not handsome enough to tempt him and was careless enough to say so within her hearing."

"Darcy!" Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed with mock dismay as his cousin shifted uncomfortably, "How could you?"

"I have no excuse for what I said then, except that I was uncomfortable and out of sorts," Darcy replied seriously, his eyes on Miss Casterton. He looked down at his hands as he honestly admitted, "I felt very awkward. I have never been comfortable in large groups of people, especially when most of those present are strangers to me, and I have not the talent some people possess of being able to converse easily with those I have never met before."

"I do not play this instrument so well as I should wish to, Mr Darcy," Elizabeth said, running her hands over the keys before looking back up at him, "but I have always supposed that to be my own fault, because I would not take the trouble of practising. At least I am honestly enough to admit however that I do need to practice," she added pointedly, convinced that he saw nothing wrong with his behaviour and thus saw no reason to change it.

Darcy smiled weakly and said, "I believe you have employed your time much better Miss Casterton; no one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers."

They were interrupted then by the arrival of James and Elizabeth was quite happy to be left alone once more. She fell into conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, trying to control her simmering temper; the more time she spent in Mr Darcy's company the less she thought of him and she was sure that her dislike was beginning to show. Emily had undoubtedly noticed it, judging by the warning glances she kept sending her way, and Elizabeth resolved that she would simply put him out of her head for fear of saying something she really shouldn't.

Despite all his resolutions, Darcy found that he could not stay away. He had been amazed to hear from his aunt that a Miss Casterton was staying in the neighbourhood and had set out the very next day to see whether it was the Miss Casterton; the sight of her on the green, laughing and smiling, and the touch of her hand so innocently on his chest...the memory of it had haunted him ever since and he had finally succumbed to the desire to see her once more, accompanying his cousin on his visit. And now he was on his way to see her yet again, unable to help himself.

As he approached the Gregory's house he was again seized by a fit of frustration at his own lack of resolve when it came to Miss Casterton and very nearly turned away; he was not that frustrated however and was soon presenting himself to the man of the house. James was without a doubt surprised by the visit, though he told himself that if the Colonel was allowed to visit them alone without arousing suspicion, so must Mr Darcy be. The two men talked for a little while before James led Darcy to the parlour where Elizabeth was sitting by herself writing to Jane; she was even more surprised than James had been and was grateful for the chance to compose herself as James said,

"Emily is keeping my wife company currently; you will have to make do with just Lizzy and me."

Mr Darcy apologised for the intrusion but James assured him it was not necessary; the two men sat down and after Elizabeth enquired after the other inhabitants at Rosings, they all lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. It was broken by the appearance of a maid requesting James' presence upstairs; he went away directly and Elizabeth was left to think of something to say. She noticed her letter was still lying on the desk and reached to cover it up; Darcy noticed the action and asked,

"Are you writing to your father?"

"No," Elizabeth replied, "To Jane. She has been in London these three months past; have you happened to see her there?" She asked, watching him closely.

He shifted in his chair and replied that he had not had the pleasure and they became silent once more. She cast about for another subject and, feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty departure, she observed,

"You all left Netherfield very suddenly, Mr. Darcy. I must confess my father was quite surprised to see you go, having understood that Mr Bingley meant to return from town within a few days. Miss Bingley did think to write to Jane," she added with a bite in her voice that completely belayed her smiling countenance, "and explain it all to her, but it was still something of a surprise. Mr Bingley and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?"

"Perfectly so, I thank you," Darcy replied awkwardly. He had felt bad for not taking leave of Lord Casterton but a clean break had seemed the best idea at the time. How little difference it would make only became clear as the weeks dragged by and the memory of her continued to haunt him.

"From what Miss Bingley says, I understand that Mr Bingley does not mean to come back to Netherfield. If that is indeed the case," she added, "he would perhaps do well to give the place up entirely; no doubt that would be better for everyone concerned."

"I should not be surprised if he were to give it up, as soon as any eligible purchase offers."

Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his friend for fear of losing her temper and left it up to him to introduce another topic if he wished to have any conversation. He took the hint and soon began with,

"This seems a very comfortable house. I heard from my aunt that Mr Gregory has done much to improve it since he inherited from his father; there is not much that goes on in the neighbourhood that she does not know about, I'm afraid."

Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself as she replied, "I believe he has tried very hard to improve it, especially so since his marriage; he now has someone to make the improvements for, after all."

Darcy smiled as he commented, "Mr Gregory appears very fortunate in his choice of wife."

"Yes, indeed; they are one of the few couples of my acquaintance who married for love rather than money or status and they are perfectly well matched, unlike some other people I may mention," she muttered in an undertone, wondering how Charlotte was faring now that she was Mrs Collins. Mr Darcy was looking at her curiously so she felt compelled to explain, "My friend, Charlotte Lucas, recently married Mr Collins and I am not certain I consider her marrying him as the wisest thing she has ever done. I am told she is perfectly happy, however," she added in a bid to appear more cheerful, "and in a prudential light I suppose it is certainly a good match for her."

"Mr Collins hails from _____?" Darcy questioned, adding when she nodded, "It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends."

He was trying to look on the bright side, sensing how disappointed with the match Miss Casterton was, but Elizabeth looked at him askance as she replied,

"An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles."

"And what is fifty miles of good road?" He argued back, "Little more than half a day's journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance."

"I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family."

"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Willoughby, I suppose, would appear far."

As he spoke there was a sort of smile, which Elizabeth fancied she understood; he must have known that she rarely ventured beyond Hertfordshire, for obvious reasons, and was no doubt amused by the naivety he attributed her opinions to.

"Perhaps it would," she snapped coldly, "but some of us have not the luxury of travelling wherever our fancy takes us."

Mr Darcy was obviously affected by her intemperate reply but did his best to hide his feelings; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and, glancing over it, said, in a colder voice,

"Are you pleased with Kent?"

A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side calm and concise, and soon put an end to by the entrance of Emily. The tête-à-tête surprised her, as did the cold silence between Elizabeth and their guest. Mr Darcy stayed but a few minutes to talk with her before taking his leave, glancing at Elizabeth with a pained expression a moment before he disappeared through the door. Once he was gone Elizabeth hung her head, somewhat ashamed of her outburst.

"Did you quarrel?" Emily asked, coming straight to the point.

"Not quite," Elizabeth admitted, "though I did speak to him in anger. I will have to apologise to him."

She sounded as though she were dreading the prospect and, not for the first time, Emily wondered what was going on between her young friend and the enigmatic Mr Darcy.

Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam visited them almost daily for the next two weeks, and whilst it was plain to them all that the Colonel came because he had pleasure in their society, it was more difficult to understand why Mr Darcy came too. He spoke very rarely and when he did it seemed something of an effort, and in the end most of his time was spent looking at Elizabeth with an earnest and steadfast gaze whilst she talked with his cousin. And she and the Colonel did talk a great deal, for he was a charming companion, similar in some respects to Mr Wickham, although his manners did lack the practiced polish that Elizabeth had disliked about the other gentleman's. She liked him very well indeed and was oblivious to the turmoil her obvious admiration caused his cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam for his part also enjoyed her company and was happy to take advantage of the fact that such an agreeable young woman was within such an easy distance of Rosings, knowing of course that once they left the acquaintance would be forgotten.

Emily during this time watched Mr Darcy quite closely, determined to try and make him out. That he looked at Elizabeth a great deal was true, but his eyes gave nothing away and his behaviour seemed no different to how it had been in Hertfordshire. According to his cousin however, who laughed at the change, Mr Darcy was not his usual self and Emily began to suspect that it really was because of Elizabeth. She did not share her suspicions with anyone, however, because she knew no good would come of it; Elizabeth was clearly not in love with Mr Darcy, and no amount of money or an estate in Derbyshire was going to change that fact.

A few days later, the blessed event which had brought Elizabeth and Emily to Kent took place. Much as Emily had suspected, Elizabeth was a great help when it came to James, somehow managing to keep him calm (and downstairs) whilst Julia laboured to bring the first of the next generation of Gregory's into the world. All was soon over and Elizabeth watched with tears in her eyes as the two new parents smiled over their tiny baby boy. Benjamin Gregory had been a little impatient to come into the world and was subsequently quite small, but judging by the strength of his cries, he was nonetheless perfectly healthy.

Sitting downstairs together in the parlour, giving James and Julia some privacy, Elizabeth held Emily's hand and smiled at the proud aunt's dazed expression.

"I can't believe my baby sister has had a baby."

Elizabeth laughed lightly at her tone and Emily smiled at her own silliness, "It's just that I can remember holding Julia in my arms, and now she has a babe all of her own."

Emily and her late husband had never had children but Elizabeth knew that she would make a wonderful aunt; she said as much to Emily and her friend smiled and wiped away her tears of happiness.

"Oh, I must write to our aunt; and you must write to your father, and Jane too."

"Yes Emily, I will," Elizabeth promised her before adding, "but I think that the announcements can wait until tomorrow. He isn't going anywhere," she teased and Emily smiled.

As the hour was already quite late, they opted to have trays in their rooms before retiring for the night, although not before spending some more time with little Benjamin. Julia was resting and James took the opportunity to embrace Emily and Elizabeth, thanking them for all they had done.

"I cannot believe it," he whispered dazedly and Elizabeth smiled, knowing that they would all need time to become accustomed to their happiness, "He is perfect. I am the luckiest of men."

Elizabeth wished him a good night and went to her room; lying in bed, she smiled up at the ceiling as she thought over the events of the day, happy indeed at such an outcome, unable to think of anyone more deserving than Julia and James. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to have a child of her own one day, to have her husband look on her with such loving devotion and declare himself the luckiest of men, but she pushed such thoughts aside and rolled onto her side, telling herself to go to sleep. It was pointless to think of such things, she knew, but she still could not stop the single tear of regret sliding down her cheek and onto her pillow.

Chapter 20

"Good morning, Miss Casterton."

Darcy watched as Elizabeth (as she had long been in his mind) suddenly sat up, blushing furiously. She had been lying in the long grass beneath a large oak tree, her eyes closed and an entirely contented smile gracing her lips, and Darcy had taken a moment to savour the picture she presented before finally making his presence known to her.

"Good morning sir," she replied, reaching up and patting her hair; some grass clung to it and Darcy itched to walk over and remove the offending blades for her.

"I have heard that congratulations are in order," he stated with a smile, "Please extend my felicitations to the Gregory's."

"I will, thank you," she replied, glancing up at him with a slight puzzled look.

"I am told it was a son?" He questioned as Elizabeth got to her feet and put her bonnet back on. She nodded and then said,

"Yes, Benjamin."

"And is he healthy? I confess my aunt had much to say about what should be done if he were not," he teased, unable to help himself. He was rewarded with a smile that Elizabeth tried to hide as she replied,

"He is very healthy. He was earlier than expected but seems no worse off for it. Julia declares that he is the image of his father, though I think it a little early to tell."

Darcy could tell that she was extremely happy for her friends and once more extended his congratulations. He asked to accompany her back to the house and they walked in companionable silence until Elizabeth informed him that this part of the park was a favourite haunt of hers. He was pleased that she had offered such information, thinking that she hoped to see him there again. They lapsed again into silence until she hesitatingly began with,

"Mr Darcy, there is something I have been meaning to say to you." She looked up at him as she added, "Please allow me to apologise for my rudeness to you that morning two weeks ago; my words were intemperate, and I regret having caused you any discomfort."

"It is already forgotten," he assured her quietly; he had set out to let her behaviour guide what his own should be, and he was very pleased with how the morning had gone. That she had apologised to him and that she desired to see him again were surely very good signs indeed!

Darcy met Elizabeth quite a few times over the next week, somehow managing to time his walks just right so as to meet her during hers, happy with his success. It occurred to him that they were spending a lot of time outside together and, remembering her earlier assertion that courtship was better suited to the outdoors, very nearly shared the observation with her, knowing it would probably make her smile.

She seemed to have overcome some of her awkwardness towards him and though she was not as chatty as she had been in Hertfordshire, he nonetheless enjoyed their time together. He spoke to her of general things, interspersed with other more pertinent enquiries; did she like it here in Kent, was she missing her father very much, what was her opinion on the Gregory's happiness, would she really like to be always at Willoughby? She answered his questions with a slightly puzzled expression but her answers did not dissuade him; indeed he was convinced that, with a little more time, all that he wished for might soon be his. For he had resolved that he did not care for her reputation, sure that a marriage to him would go some way towards redeeming it and that she would be happy to leave Hertfordshire and her neighbours behind in favour of a life with him.

Annoyed at having met Mr Darcy almost every day that week, Elizabeth purposefully headed for a part of the park that she never normally walked in. She could not understand why they kept meeting, cursing her ill luck. All she desired was peaceful solitude and instead she was made to endure stilted conversation and some very strange questions. It was most frustrating!

Applauding her success in having avoided Mr Darcy for that day, Elizabeth pulled out Jane's last letter from her pocket and began to re-read it, focusing on some passages which proved that Jane was still in low spirits. She was surprised from her occupation by the appearance of Colonel Fitzwilliam and she quickly tucked the letter away as she smiled her greeting,

"I did not know that you ever walked this way."

"I have been making a tour of the Park," he replied, "as I generally do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Gregory's. Are you going much farther?"

"No, I was to take that turn up ahead."

Accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the house together.

"I understand that you leave Kent on Saturday?" She said, trying to set aside her worry over Jane so that they could have a conversation.

"As long as Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases."

"I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy," she observed, not all together kindly.

"He likes to have his own way very well," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. "But so do we all. He simply has the advantage of being rich enough to afford the luxury. I, on the other hand," he teased playfully, "am a younger son, you know, and must be inured to self-denial and dependence."

"In my opinion, the younger son of an Earl can know very little of either," Elizabeth replied with a smile, "Truly, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? Have you ever been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"

"Perhaps not," he admitted candidly before adding, "But in matters of greater weight I do suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like."

Elizabeth almost felt sorry for him and subsequently replied, "Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do."

Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled at her astute observation as he confessed, "Our habits do tend to make us too dependent; I daresay there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money."

"And pray, what is the usual price of an Earl's younger son?" Elizabeth inquired with an arched brow, "Unless the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above thirty thousand pounds."

He laughed outright at her impertinence and she permitted herself a light laugh too. They walked on a little further before he eventually commented,

"Were Darcy not my cousin, and such a good fellow, I daresay I would envy him his riches, for he does not have to care about such things when choosing his wife."

"Maybe not," Elizabeth observed, "but money is only one part of the equation; I have fortune enough even for you Colonel, but I think we both know that all the money in the world could never buy me a good husband. Not," she added meaningfully, "that I am interested in procuring myself such a personage at this time."

He smiled at her honesty, not arguing with what they knew to be true, and they let the subject drop; it was the first time that she had made such an obvious allusion to her mother, having always suspected that he knew of the scandal, and she was grateful to him for not making an issue out of it. She also found that she could understand his pragmatic attitude towards marriage and began to think that she had been too harsh with her friend Mrs Collins.

They walked on in silence as Elizabeth toyed with the idea of asking the Colonel about Mr Bingley, on the off chance that he would prove more willing to divulge information on that score than Mr Darcy had been.

"Do you know Mr Bingley?" She finally asked. "I thought I heard you say that you did."

"I know him a little; he is a pleasant gentleman-like man and a great friend of Darcy's."

"Oh yes," said Elizabeth drily, unable to help herself. "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him."

"Yes, I really believe Darcy does take very good care of him," the Colonel agreed with a smile, "Indeed, from something that he told me during our journey here, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him."

"Really?" Elizabeth enquired with what she hoped sounded only like polite interest.

"Oh yes," the Colonel averred, "for Darcy congratulates himself on having lately saved his friend from a most imprudent marriage."

Elizabeth somehow managed to keep her voice from shaking as she asked, "Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?"

"I understand that there were some very strong objections to the lady."

Elizabeth knew that he of course referred to her dear friend, however unknowingly, and she was filled with indignation. She barely managed to rein in her temper as she all but demanded,

"By what right did Mr Darcy have to interfere?"

"You think his interference officious?" Colonel Fitzwilliam summarised and Elizabeth nodded vigorously,

"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide what would make his friend happy." She noted her companions surprise and, recollecting herself, added, "But as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case."

"That is not an unnatural surmise," he replied before joking, "But it is lessening the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly."

She tried to reply in kind but she was so angry, so upset in fact that it took all her effort not to let her companion see it. She pleaded a headache and they walked the rest of the journey in silence; he left her at the gate with wishes that she felt better soon and she watched him until he disappeared around the bend before striking out into the woods once more. She was too agitated to return to the house, knowing that her obvious distress would attract questions that she did not wish to answer.

She had always supposed that Mr Darcy had had a hand in separating Mr Bingley and Jane, but she had always believed Miss Bingley as the true culprit; she now knew, however, that he was the one responsible, that it was his pride and caprice that were the cause of all that Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined every hope of happiness, had hurt the most affectionate, generous heart in the world and had then boasted about it to his cousin!

There were some very strong objections against the lady.

Those had been Colonel Fitzwilliam's words and Elizabeth knew that these strong objections most likely were having one uncle who was a country attorney, another who was in business in London and a stupid mother and ridiculous sisters. To Jane herself there could be no objection, she was loveliness itself, but clearly there were more important considerations when Mr Darcy was deciding whom his friend were to marry! Oh, such pride! Such abominable pride!

Elizabeth reached her little haven, collapsing onto the grass and making no attempt to stem the flow of tears that such news occasioned. She pulled out Jane's last letter, noting once more the lack of cheerfulness and despising Mr Darcy all the more for shamefully boasting over causing her dearest friend such misery. The knowledge of his interference would have been bad enough, but it was knowing how close Jane had been to happiness that truly caused Elizabeth pain; to think that were it not for Mr Darcy, her dearest friend would likely be happily married by now was a thought which caused her much agitation indeed!

Realising that she had given herself a headache, Elizabeth wiped her eyes and endeavoured to compose herself. She lay back on the grass, staring up at the green canopy above her, letting the few rays that broke the leaves warm her and soothe her spirits. She did not know how long she lay there, lost in her own thoughts, but she was rudely brought back to her senses by the appearance of the one person she least wished to see.

She spotted him out of the corner of her eye and quickly rolled to her feet, intending to leave him standing there without a word. He stepped forward, however, and said,

"Miss Casterton, are you well?"

"Perfectly!" She snapped back at him, feeling tears spring to her eyes once more. She turned her back on him as she heard him say,

"Please, Miss Casterton, you are distressed; can I not...?"

"Leave me alone!" She cried, spinning on her heel to face him. She was surprised by how close he was to her and took a step back.

"Elizabeth, I..."

The sound of her hand connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the silence that followed as Elizabeth glared at him, her chest heaving and her eyes blazing with indignation.

"How dare you! Who do you think you are, that I would allow such familiarity?"

Darcy was so surprised by his slip, and by her reaction to it, that it took him several moments to recover. "I, forgive me Miss Casterton, I," he cleared his throat, "Please, forgive me, I meant no offense; I can see that you are distressed and simply wished to comfort you."

"Comfort me?" Elizabeth repeated, still angry at him for his presumption in using her given name, "And what right do you think you have to comfort me, sir?"

"I have no right," he admitted honestly, "but as your friend I..."

"My friend!?" Elizabeth exclaimed in disbelief before saying in a derisive tone, "You flatter yourself Mr Darcy; you are not and never will be my friend. I can hardly bear to be in the same room as you; I do not even like you!"

"You don't?" He asked with disbelief that unfortunately came across as arrogance.

"No!" Elizabeth shouted, "How could I after everything you have done, after you so easily cast me and my father aside for fear of being tainted by the association? And how," she added angrily, working herself into a fine temper, "could I ever be friends with the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of my most beloved friend?"

As she said this, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she continued.

"Nothing you say can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You cannot deny that you have been the principal means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind."

She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.

"Can you deny that you have done it?" she repeated.

With assumed tranquillity he then replied, "I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from yours, or that I rejoice in my success. My efforts on his behalf have been more successful than the ones I have made on my own," he muttered to himself and Elizabeth, who heard every word, did not understand his meaning, too caught up in finally giving voice to her own feelings.

"But it is not merely this affair," she continued, "on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided when I heard Mr. Wickham's story of your dealings with him."

"You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns," said Darcy in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.

"Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?" Elizabeth countered with feeling as Darcy contemptuously replied,

"His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed."

"And of your infliction," cried Elizabeth with energy. "You have reduced him to his present state of poverty by denying him what you know was designed for him, and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule. And you expect me to be your friend?!" She shouted with cruel incredulity. "I would be ashamed to call a man capable of such callousness my friend!"

"And this," cried Darcy suddenly as he turned and paced across the opening, "is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed!"

Her barbs were hitting their mark with ruthless accuracy but Darcy's anger and indignation were numbing the pain he would later feel.

"Your feelings I must say are very clear; so clear, in fact that I wonder why I did not perceive them before. But perhaps," he added, stopping in his walk and turning towards her, "these offences would not seem so grievous, might indeed have been overlooked, had I concealed the misgivings I had about forming a connection with your family and flattered you regardless."

Elizabeth knew that in the past his attentions to her had almost made her overlook his treatment of her friends and her anger at herself fuelled her anger at him.

"But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence; I would never wilfully deceive anyone in that way. Nor am I ashamed of the way I acted; it was rational and just given the circumstances. Could you expect me to rejoice at such a connection? To congratulate myself on my friendship with a family that is ashamed to show its face in polite society?"

"You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy," she angrily retorted, "if you suppose that the way you behaved in Hertfordshire affected me in any other way than it spared me the regret I might have felt at being deprived of your friendship , had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner."

She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued,

"As it is I do not regret the lost connection at all; my family's shame in this instance has been a blessing as it has served to spare me the torment of your company!"

Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on.

"For a long time now I have been impressed with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others and it has been many months that I have felt that you are the last man in the world whom I would ever wish to count amongst my friends."

"You have said quite enough, madam." He replied and Elizabeth, despite of her anger, could sense how hard it was for him to appear composed, "I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been." She looked at him sharply when he said this and he bowed hastily, "Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness."

And with these words he hastily left her alone.

Chapter 21

Posted on June 2, 2009

The frenzy of emotions their conversation left Darcy in was almost overwhelming and, upon reaching Rosings, he shut himself away in his room for the rest of the day. He paced about in angry indignation, unable to believe that he had been subjected to such treatment, such abuse! How dare she? Once his anger cooled, however, more troubling and painful thoughts intruded. She did not even like him; it was humiliating, shocking, and Darcy tried to deny the truth of her words. There was no escaping it though; she had openly admitted to not liking him. What had she said?

You are the last man in the world whom I would ever wish to count amongst my friends

He dropped into the nearest chair, stunned. He was in love with her, had been in love with her for months, and she could barely stand the sight of him. He had been on the verge of offering for her for god's sake; how humiliating that would have been in light of her dislike! Had he really been so completely blind? Had she never liked him? Was it all in his head?

My opinion of you was decided when I heard Mr. Wickham's story of your dealings with him

As he thought back to what she had said in defence of that man he felt his anger rise once more and struck by a sudden idea he strode over to his writing desk, determined to defend himself on that score and make her see how wrong she was!

For her part Elizabeth was no less affected than Darcy, though for entirely different reasons. Since her mother's death she had never argued with anyone in such a way and it took her a long time to regain even a semblance of composure. She was angry with him, it was true, but she was also angry at herself for hurling such a torrent of abuse at him; what had happened to her self control? She shouldn't have shouted at him like that, even if he did deserve it; and she was utterly convinced that he did deserve it, especially so in light of what he had said with regards to her family, Jane and Mr Wickham. His pride would no doubt come to his rescue, she told herself, and he would soon dismiss everything she had said, forgetting about her entirely. What had he meant though, she wondered, when he said that he was ashamed of his own feelings in light of hers...?

Eventually Elizabeth realised the time and recollected herself enough as to return to the house for dinner, managing to appear tolerably cheerful and unaffected; she still decided to retire early however, wishing to avoid any questions that her thoughtfulness might incur.

When she awoke the next morning Elizabeth was not very much rested and her spirits were somewhat affected by all that had happened the day before; a night spent thinking it all over had done nothing to quiet her mind and she still could not believe the gall of the man, thinking that she would simply overlook all his offenses so long as he made a point of flattering her! She was honest enough to admit that in the past that had very nearly been the case, but considering all that was against him now she liked to think that she would not be led into making the same mistake again! Pushing aside such thoughts for the moment she eventually rose and, after forcing herself to have some breakfast, escaped for some air and exercise.

She was stood admiring the view of the valley below when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman out of the corner of her eye and began to retreat, instinctively knowing it was he. Darcy, however, stepped forward and pronounced her name. She had turned away, but on hearing herself called she turned back towards him again. He had by that time reached her and, holding out a letter, which she instinctively took, said with a look of haughty composure,

"I have been walking the grove for sometime in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading this letter?"

And then, with a slight bow, he turned again and was soon out of sight.

With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Elizabeth opened the letter, and, to her still increasing wonder, perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter paper, written quite through, in a very close hand. She found herself a place to sit and began to read, noting that it was dated from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morning:

To Miss Casterton,

Two charges of a very different nature were yesterday laid at my door and my character, being what it is, demands that I answer them. The first mentioned was that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I detached Mr. Bingley from your friend; and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the prospects of Mr. Wickham. Though these charges are by no means of equal magnitude, I feel that they must both be addressed and if, in the following account of my actions, I relate anything which offends you, I can only say that I am sorry.

I had not been long in Hertfordshire before I realised that Bingley admired your friend; it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield, however, that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment. My friend is often in love, but as I watched him I could perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond anything I had ever witnessed in him before. When Sir William Lucas accidentally acquainted me with the fact that Bingley's attentions to your friend had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage, I was, I admit, somewhat concerned for him. My friend's feelings were clear, but though Miss Bennet received his attentions with pleasure, I did not detect any symptoms of peculiar regard and the serenity of her countenance was such that it convinced me that her heart was not likely to be easily touched. My belief in her indifference, however, was not solely based upon my impartial conviction; your father himself told me that you had been upset to learn that a close friend was willing to marry for convenience alone, and I assumed that he was referring to Miss Bennet. I now know that he was undoubtedly referring to Mrs Collins, nee Lucas, and I regret having inflicted pain on your friend through my error; your undoubtedly superior knowledge of her feelings convinces me that I made a mistake in believing that your friend did not care for mine.

I will not insult you, however, by denying that, besides the belief that Miss Bennet did not share my friend's feelings, there were other reasons for me to object to their marriage; the situation of her family, though leaving much to be desired, was nothing in comparison to the total want of propriety so frequently displayed by her mother, her three younger sisters and even occasionally her father. I do not wish to cause you pain by saying this, knowing how close you are to the Bennet's and Miss Bennet in particular, but please know that I completely exclude Miss Bennet herself from this assessment; she deserves no share of the censure bestowed upon her family.

After the ball I was determined to save my friend from a most unhappy connection. He left for London the next day and there I set about pointing out to my friend the certain evils of his choice; to his credit, the argument that carried the most weight was my belief in your friend's indifference. Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgment than on his own; to convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was no very difficult point and to persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There is, however, one aspect of the whole business on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; that is I concealed from Mr Bingley the knowledge of Miss Bennet being in town. Miss Bingley told me of her visit and this concealment was perhaps beneath me; it was done however and it was done for the best.

At this point Elizabeth took a break from reading for fear of tearing the letter into shreds in frustration. She could not believe that her father had inadvertently played a part in this mess, or that Mr Darcy had been as impartial as he seemed to believe. His account of the real objections to the match simply made her angry and she could not, at this time, do him the justice of admitting that she herself had often pitied Jane her unfortunate relations. The contempt that she herself felt towards her own mother for ruining their family's reputation and the curse of shameful relations were also forgotten in her agitation.

She got up and paced about for a few moments, trying to overcome the affect his words were having upon her. When she finally sat down to finish the letter it was with little inkling of the upheaval the next part would cause. She read with increasing horror the tale of his connection with Mr Wickham, not for a moment questioning the truth of it all, her tears splashing onto the page as his anguish seemed to transfer from him, through his words, to her. She was embarrassed at his suggestion that she harboured any tender feelings for the other man, touched that he was worried about causing her pain even after she had championed that monsters cause. She remembered the affection with which he had spoken about his sister on the hill that morning so long ago, ashamed of herself for wilfully forgetting what she already knew in favour of Mr Wickham's lies. There was still one final paragraph for her to read, however, before the recriminations could truly begin.

I am aware, having related this story to you, that my behaviour to you and your father in Hertfordshire will no doubt strike you as pure hypocrisy, my own family having only narrowly avoided a scandal. But I never, in the whole course of our acquaintance, ever believed you or your father deserving of any blame, or of the censure you were made to endure. A paltry defence it may be, but I have admired you from the very first and my reservations never concerned you or your father personally. Indeed I have long regretted not furthering our acquaintance, though it is clear to me now that this is a regret that I alone share.

Though a part of her wished to deny it Elizabeth was aware that, whilst he had tried to avoid them because of the scandal, he had never seemed to resent either her or her father for what her mother had done. Others, like Miss Bingley, had taken great delight in scorning and insulting them, as though it was their fault, but he had never done that. It was a very fine distinction and probably wouldn't stand up to much scrutiny, but she was aware of the difference nonetheless. She was also uncomfortably aware of the fact that she had not been entirely truthful with him yesterday; there had been times when she had regretted not furthering their acquaintance, before she allowed her anger and bitterness to get the better of her.

Reading through the part of the letter pertaining to his sister and Mr Wickham once more, Elizabeth was astounded by her own stupidity. She had liked Mr Wickham, it was true, but she had always thought him somewhat lacking, that he gave the appearance of being something more than he was; and yet, she had believed every word he had told her! She was struck by the impropriety of his telling such a story to a stranger and was ashamed to realise that her willingness to believe him stemmed from her disappointment; she had been hurt by the withdrawal of Mr Darcy's attentions, despite her best efforts to be unaffected, and she had been looking for an excuse to think ill of him. He had unwittingly become the focus of a lifetime of bitterness and anger and her cheeks flushed with shame as she remembered the cruel things she had said to him yesterday.

And Mr Wickham's attentions to Miss King! Elizabeth could have cried with shame when she remembered how she had laughed over his pursuit of the girl, thinking him shameless when in truth he was hatefully mercenary, willing to grasp at anything. She truly did cry, however, when she thought of her willingness to believe Mr Darcy capable of such villainy; his manners were proud, it was true, but she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance, seen anything that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust; anything that spoke him of irreligious or immoral habits. That among his own connections he was esteemed and valued, and that he was such close friends with a man as amiable as Mr Bingley, were further evidence of her stupidity and she was absolutely ashamed of herself. She knew that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd!

"How despicably have I acted!" she cried to the quiet woods around her, "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love I could not have been more wretchedly blind! Till this moment, I never knew myself."

She read again the parts pertaining to Bingley and Jane, no longer blinded by her prejudice, finally able to do justice to his words. He declared himself to have been totally unsuspicious of her friend's attachment, especially so in light of her father's comment, and she could not help remembering what Charlotte's opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Jane, who did have an air of constant complacency that hid any deeper feelings from all but those who knew her well. When she came to that part of the letter in which the Bennet family were mentioned, her sense of shame was severe. It was not the justice of the charge which struck her most forcibly, or the fact that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest relations; it was the fact that she herself had often thought ill of the Bennet's for such behaviour whilst holding him in contempt for the very same offence! Such hypocrisy and, she added with brutal honesty, such a superior attitude towards those who had never been anything but kind to her were sins almost equal to the ones she had accused him of, and she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before. Whose house is of glass, must not throw stones at another, she thought bleakly with a shake of her head, going back to her letter.

Sat alone in the woods, she studied every sentence of Mr Darcy's letter, her feelings towards the writer fluctuating wildly. When she remembered some of the things he had said to her she was filled with indignation, but when she considered how unjustly she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against herself. She felt all the shame of having misjudged him so utterly and completely when it came to Wickham and was understandably affected. Amidst all of this, however, she was still aware of the issue of his pride and his interference with regards to Jane and Bingley, as well as the fact that he had cared more for his family's reputation than he had about her or her father, knowing that she could never truly care for him because of those things.

Now that Mr Bingley had been restored to all her former good opinion by Mr Darcy's explanation, Elizabeth was all the more aware of what Jane had lost and this was another subject which caused her much distress. His affection had been sincere all along, and his conduct cleared of all blame, although his confidence in the judgement of his friend could perhaps be questioned. To know that it was Jane's family that had deprived her of happiness was a harsh truth and it weighed heavily on Elizabeth's mind. Added to this was the truth of her own behaviour and it may be easily believed that the happy spirits which Elizabeth had recovered since coming to Kent were now so much affected as to make it almost impossible for her to appear tolerably cheerful. Indeed, as she finally realised the lateness of the hour and began the journey home, she wondered how she would ever manage to keep all these secrets to herself.

Chapter 22

"Oh for God's sake, Darce," Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed in exasperation, "What the devil is wrong with you?"

Though he was sorely tempted, Darcy knew that shouting at his cousin wouldn't solve anything and forced himself to simply reply,

"I don't know what you mean."

"Like hell you don't," Richard countered, "You came back Wednesday afternoon with a face like a thundercloud and spent the rest of the day hiding away in your room, you disappeared yesterday morning without a word to anyone, this morning I had to practically blackmail you into coming with me to take leave of the Gregory's and their guests and you didn't even hear the question I asked you just now, did you?"

Darcy looked away and Richard shook his head as he asked again, "What's going on?"

"It's nothing," Darcy replied, adding when his cousin looked about to protest, "Nothing that concerns you."

"Perhaps it will help to unburden yourself for a change," Richard suggested optimistically but Darcy merely looked at him sceptically.

"Fine, suit yourself," Richard huffed with irritation, giving up. His cousin had always been a frustratingly private man and he knew there was little point in trying to force confidences from him.

Unbeknownst to the cousins as they rode the rest of the way to the Gregory's house in silence, Elizabeth was sat within, staring at the letter which had just arrived for her by express. Her hands shook as she read through the hurriedly written missive once more, disbelief overriding all other reaction for the moment,

Dearest Elizabeth,

I am wary of alarming you, but I must write and tell you that your father has been taken ill. Doctor Jones has seen him and though he is not in any immediate danger your father has asked that you come home; I suggest that you return earlier than you had originally planned. I will of course remain with him until then.

Yours,

Thomas Bennet.

"Oh! Where, where is Emily?" Elizabeth suddenly cried to the empty room.

The contents of Mr Bennet's letter had finally registered on her and a sickening wave of dread washed over her, propelling her into a flurry of agitated activity. She tossed aside the letter, darting from her seat and out of the room, ready to run across the green to the house where James and Emily were visiting with some friends, not wanting to lose another moment of precious time. She rushed out of the house and almost collided with Mr Darcy who had just dismounted and was about to ask to be announced; her pale face and impetuous manner made him start, and before he could recover himself enough to speak, she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by her father's situation, hastily exclaimed,

"I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Emily and James this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not a moment to lose."

"Good God! What is the matter?" Darcy cried with more feeling than politeness; then recollecting himself, "I will not detain you a minute, but let me or my cousin go after Mrs Burrows and Mr Gregory. You are not well enough; you cannot go yourself."

Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her, and she felt how little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped forward and willingly volunteered himself and Elizabeth commissioned him, though in so breathless an accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch her friends from the house across the way. He was gone in a moment, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy alone; her terrified worry overrode all other considerations and Elizabeth forgot to be awkward in his company. Darcy was not insensible to the discomfort of being once more in her presence but she seemed so distressed that he could think of nothing else; she allowed him to escort her back inside to the parlour and sat down, unable to support herself, and looked so miserably ill that it was impossible for Darcy to leave her, or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration,

"Let me call for Mrs Gregory."

"No," Elizabeth protested, "No, there is no need for that; she needs her rest."

Darcy reluctantly accepted her decision and said instead, "Is there nothing you could take, to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill."

"No, I thank you," Elizabeth replied, endeavouring to recover herself. "There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Willoughby."

She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only take the seat beside her and say something indistinctly of his concern, observing her in compassionate silence. At length, she spoke again.

"I have just this morning received an express from Mr Bennet; my father has been taken ill and he asks that I come home early. Mr Bennet says that he is not in immediate danger but I am still worried that..."

She could not go on and dissolved into tears once more; Darcy wanted nothing more than to be able to take her in his arms. He knew, of course, that she would spurn such a gesture but Darcy could not help wishing, as she endeavoured for composure, her beautiful face pale with worry, that he could offer her some form of comfort, paltry though it may have been. Her distress cut through his anger and he found that he cared nothing for the cruel things she had said to him, for the affront to his pride she had dealt him by dismissing him so decidedly; he cared only that her father would be well, so that she would be happy again. Unable to bear her tears he leant forward and said in a tone of tender compassion,

"I am certain that if the situation truly were very serious Mr Bennet would have told you so; that he sent a letter only asking that you come home early, rather than as soon as possible suggests that the situation is not as bad as it could be."

"Yes," Elizabeth breathed, trying to believe him, clinging to the hope such words afforded her, "Yes, I am sure that Mr Bennet would have been honest; my father would have tried to spare my feelings but Mr Bennet is nothing if not forthright."

They both smiled weakly before lapsing into silence, Elizabeth taking several deep breaths in order to regain her composure; as the silence between them lengthened and Elizabeth did not again look his way Darcy became conscious of their situation and fidgeted uncomfortably with his cuff. When he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall he stood up and in a tone that was compassionate but restrained said,

"I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern. Would to heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part, that might offer consolation to such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks."

Before Elizabeth could reply, before she could contradict him and tell him that he had offered her some consolation the door was opened and in rushed Emily; in the midst of her hurried and tearful explanation to her friend Elizabeth heard the Colonel and Mr Darcy quietly excusing themselves and looked towards the door. Mr Darcy caught her eye and held it for a long moment before finally disappearing; Elizabeth was surprised by the slight twinge of regret she felt at the realisation that she would likely never see him again.

As soon as the two cousins departed Emily and James set about making the arrangements for the trip back to Hertfordshire; Elizabeth tried to help but she was so consumed by worry that she did more harm than good. Emily eventually left her with Julia and little Benjamin as a distraction until their things were packed and the carriage ready. They set off soon after and as the miles rolled past Elizabeth found herself feeling almost numb, insensible to everything else but her urgent need to be home. Emily sat by her side attempting to comfort her but knew that Elizabeth would not be easy until she had seen her father; she prayed that Michael was not as ill as the poor girl evidently feared.

They changed horses at Bromley and were soon travelling the roads into Hertfordshire. The afternoon was drawing to a close but the light was still good so there was no danger in their pressing on. As familiar scenery began to pass by the window Elizabeth seemed to rouse herself and began toying with her handkerchief in an agitated manner, willing the carriage to go faster. At last they came to the outskirts of Meryton, the town passing by in a blur as they turned onto the road that would take them to Willoughby. Emily could see that Elizabeth was coiled as tightly as a spring, ready to leap from the carriage as soon as she could and she released her hand and moved out of the way. Elizabeth glanced at her absently and Emily smiled encouragingly at her, silently praying that all would be well; the carriage rolled onto the drive and as soon as she deemed it safe, Elizabeth threw open the door, jumping down and hitching up her skirts so that she could run up the front steps. Hall, their poor butler, was quite alarmed by her sudden appearance, backing himself against the wall as she burst through the front door and ran past him towards the stairs; she paid him no heed, knowing that Emily would apologise to him for her. She tripped twice in her haste to climb the stairs, knocking her knee painfully, and grew increasingly frustrated at the added delay; she had to get to him!

Finally reaching the landing she ran towards her father's room, not even thinking to knock before she opened the door; she stopped short a few steps into the room, her chest heaving with the effort of her flight from the carriage, her eyes fixed on the bed.

All three occupants of the room jumped at her dramatic entrance but her father was the first to speak; he smiled and playfully chided her,

"Goodness Lizzy, what's all this?! I thought you grew out of running in the hallways years ago!"

There was a moment of silence as Elizabeth took in the sight of her father looking a little pale but otherwise quite well. The pain and worry of the day suddenly caught up with her and with a sob she rushed towards the bed, throwing herself into his arms and clinging to him like a little girl awakened from a terrible nightmare. Her father held her close as Mr Bennet and Dr Jones exchanged a silent glance and discreetly left father and daughter alone. Lord Casterton laid his cheek atop of Elizabeth's head and gently soothed her.

"There, there, Lizzy, everything is alright. Shh, there's no need to cry."

"Oh papa," Elizabeth mumbled into his neck, tears streaming down her face, "I was so scared! I thought that you...that you were..." she stuttered and stumbled over the words, falling silent as she burrowed further into his embrace, clutching his dressing gown in her fists.

"I am well my dear," her father assured her thickly, tortured by her distress, "I promise, I will not leave you so soon."

"I could not bear it if anything happened to you," Elizabeth whispered, clenching her eyes shut and trying to block out the thought of life without him. "I need you."

"As I need you Elizabeth," her father replied; he took hold of her shoulders and gently moved her away from him. He tenderly wiped her tears away as he said, "Please do not cry sweetheart; I am sorry I worried you so horribly but all is well now."

"You would not lie to me?" Elizabeth questioned, laying a hand against his cheek, "I do not want to be kept in the dark any longer."

"I promise I will tell you everything and you may even ask Dr Jones for his opinion too," her father replied and Elizabeth managed a wobbly smile. She breathed deeply, briefly shutting her eyes and willing herself to calm down, focusing on the fact that all her worst fears had not been realised. She finally opened her eyes once more and her father smiled at her with affectionate pride,

"That's my girl. Now, dry your eyes; I have much to tell you."

"I have much to tell you too father," Elizabeth admitted, relieved beyond words that her one true confidant, her sole companion in life had not been taken from her.

"Oh really?" Her father replied, sounding intrigued. "Do tell."

"Father!" Elizabeth chided with a shake of her head, smiling at his teasing, "You promised to tell me everything and I will not let you rest until I know it all."

"Oh very well," her father replied with a theatrical sigh; he sobered though as he took her hand and gently told her, "It is my heart, Elizabeth. It does not seem very serious at the moment," he added when her face paled and her grip on his hand tightened painfully, "but from now on I will have to be more careful; I am not as young as I used to be and Dr Jones tells me it is time to slow down."

Elizabeth nodded though inwardly she could not help but think that they already led a very quiet, peaceful life; her father went on,

"I will have to change my diet and make a point of walking a little everyday; I am sure you'll help me with that, won't you my dear?"

"Anything father," Elizabeth promised him, "I'll do anything you need; I just want you to be well."

"And I will be," her father replied, sounding quite confident. "Though I am afraid that we will both have to accept the fact that I will not be around forever," he added quietly, watching her carefully.

"I don't want to," Elizabeth admitted pitifully, tears springing to her eyes, "I want to be selfish and keep you with me."

"Then we are both selfish," her father confessed with a sad smile, his own eyes full of tears, "for I have no wish to leave you either. It is in God's hands, however," he added, sniffing and trying to regain his composure, "and we will have to trust him not to separate us anytime soon."

Elizabeth nodded and wiped her eyes; she looked up at her father and quietly asked, "How long have you known you were ill?"

Her father sighed and eventually admitted, "I have known for some months now, though it is only recently that I became truly concerned."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and turned her face away; it hurt to know that her father had kept the truth from her for so long, but the knowledge that she hadn't noticed her father suffering before her very eyes was particularly painful. If he had been taken from her, she would have had no-one to blame but herself.

"Elizabeth," her father intoned firmly, turning her face towards him; he waited for her to open her eyes before telling her, "You are not to blame yourself; I purposely kept you in the dark for fear of alarming you. I should have realised that the shock of finding out the truth would be infinitely more painful for you. I promise to be completely honest with you from now on."

"Thank you," Elizabeth whispered.

They looked at one another for a long moment until her father spotted the tell tale wobble of her bottom lip; he smiled sympathetically and opened his arms. Elizabeth willingly cuddled up to him, emotionally exhausted by all that had happened. Her father held her in silence, rubbing her back and stroking her hair in soothing motions, waiting until she was all cried out. They then sat together in companionable silence until he remembered,

"You said that you had something to tell me?"

Elizabeth hesitated a moment before finally saying, "It is not important; it can wait."

"Very well," her father replied, not questioning her decision, for which Elizabeth was grateful; she doubted they would ever meet Mr Darcy again and there were more important things for her to worry about now.

"I love you sweetheart," her father whispered, pressing a kiss atop her head.

Elizabeth sighed and closed her eyes, "I love you too papa."

Chapter 23

A short while later when she left her father to rest, Elizabeth emerged from her father's room to find Mr Bennet patiently waiting in a chair against the opposite wall; he stood and she stepped forward, embracing him. He was momentarily surprised by such an action and awkwardly patted her back, looking at her in question when she finally stepped back.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him," Elizabeth said. "Of both of us," she amended with a smile and Mr Bennet nodded.

"You're welcome Lizzy; we're both old fools but your father is my oldest friend and I would do anything for him."

"I know," Elizabeth replied; she shook her head and looked down as she admitted, "I have always known of your steadfast support and yet I believe this is the first time I have ever thought to thank you for it; I have been very ungrateful."

"Now, now, Lizzy," Mr Bennet chided, "it is far too late in the day for such introspection. Know however that I need no thanks, that it is a pleasure to count you and your father amongst my closest friends. And I know," he added when she looked about to argue, "that were the tables turned you would show me and all of my family the same consideration."

Elizabeth did not argue with such a belief but still felt that she had been remiss in her role as friend to the Bennet family, with the exception of Jane. Thoughts of her friend prompted her to ask,

"Has Jane returned from London?"

"She is due home on Wednesday," Mr Bennet replied before teasing, "I will send her to you the moment she returns."

"Perhaps not the very moment," Elizabeth contradicted with a smile, thinking how wonderful it would be to see her dear friend again, wondering how much, if anything, she should share with Jane about Mr Bingley.

"Come, we must go down to Mrs Burrows; I sent Dr Jones ahead of me but she will no doubt need your reassurance as well," Mr Bennet said, offering her his arm.

"I would have your and Dr Jones' reassurance that my father is going to be well," Elizabeth admitted, studying Mr Bennet's face as they walked. "I believe that he believes he is in no danger now, but I want to know if he is just trying to be optimistic for my sake. I am not a child," she declared firmly as they reached the bottom of the stairs, "and I would know everything, however painful the truth may be."

"Then come with me and speak to Dr Jones; he is much better able to answer these questions, I'm sure," Mr Bennet suggested and they went to the parlour where Dr Jones, Emily and, to Elizabeth's surprise and displeasure, her uncle Robert were all waiting.

"How is he Elizabeth?" Emily asked as soon as the door was closed behind her and Mr Bennet.

"He is resting now but seems much his old self, though perhaps a little pale and tired," Elizabeth replied honestly; she took the seat beside Emily as Mr Bennet asked Dr Jones to explain the situation to her.

"Did your father tell you that it is his heart that is the source of his problem?" He asked, continuing on when Elizabeth nodded, "I know you most undoubtedly be worried to hear such but I believe that the truth of the situation is not as bad as you fear, Miss Elizabeth, though perhaps not as good as you hope; there is no escaping the fact that your father has been weakened by this episode, that his heart is quite weak and that he will never fully recover his strength. That does not mean, however, that there are not measures that will help aid his recovery; exercise, a better diet, a more relaxed lifestyle, that sort of thing. He will have to remain abed at least a week, if not more, and after that he will have to take things very slowly, one step at a time; this is absolutely imperative Miss Elizabeth, he must not overdo," Dr Jones said sternly, looking at her firmly over the rim of his glasses.

"He won't," Elizabeth vowed, "I will tie him to the bed myself if I have to."

"I thought so," Dr Jones replied with an approving smile. "I have no doubt that you will take very good care of him."

"I will," Elizabeth assured him; she was about to ask for more advice when her uncle suddenly made his presence known as he stepped forward and abruptly, without even the appearance of concern, asked,

"Will he die?"

It was clear to them all that Robert was thinking of his own future rather than his brother's and Dr Jones looked at him coldly as Mr Bennet clenched his fists, Emily gasped with affront and Elizabeth went white with anger and very slowly stood up, her eyes spitting fire at her uncle.

"No, I do not believe so," Dr Jones replied eventually. "As long as he is careful there is reason to hope that he will live for many years yet."

Robert nodded, only then seeming to sense the blatant hostility emanating from the other occupants of the room; he raised his chin in defiance as Elizabeth advanced towards him.

"Does that answer satisfy you Robert?" She spat angrily, "Do you think you can afford to wait a few more years to get your hands on his fortune? Or would you like to go upstairs to his chamber now and finish him off!?"

Mr Bennet had stepped forward to intervene, realising that Elizabeth's anger was getting out of control but he was too late to prevent her slapping her uncle across the face with all her might; his head snapped to the side as she shouted at him,

"You disgusting, heartless, callous, worthless excuse for a human being! How dare you? HOW DARE YOU?"

"Why you...!" Robert hissed, taking a half step towards her, fists balled at his sides; he stopped cold when Elizabeth, her voice suddenly deadly calm, threatened,

"One more step Robert and I swear to God I will tell my father everything; I think we both know what will happen then." Her uncle suddenly looked very wary as she added, "If the allowance you're always complaining about means anything to you, I suggest that you get out of this house now before I throw you out myself."

Mr Bennet, Dr Jones and Emily all shared looks of uncomprehending surprise as Robert turned on his heel and left the room without another word; Elizabeth stood rigidly staring at the door for a long moment before all the tension appeared to leave her in one big rush and she sat down heavily on the nearest chair. Emily hurried over to her side and took her hand, stroking it comfortingly,

"Oh Elizabeth, you poor dear; please, do not distress yourself any further this day. You have had quite an ordeal already."

"I am quite well Emily," Elizabeth replied, managing a tired smile, "though perhaps a little worn. I apologise that you had to witness that."

"Think nothing of it," Dr Jones assured her; Elizabeth smiled at the kindly physician before slowly coming to her feet.

"I believe I will go and sit with my father once more," she pronounced; she turned to Emily as she added, "You are welcome to stay here tonight if you wish to see my father tomorrow."

Emily accepted the invitation and watched Elizabeth go, her brow furrowed with worry; she was surprised when Mr Bennet suddenly followed Elizabeth out of the room, wondering whether he knew what Elizabeth had meant about telling her father the truth.

"Elizabeth," Mr Bennet called quietly; she halted on the stairs and turned to look down at him. Not quite sure what to say, or what he wanted to say, whether his awful suspicions were correct, he opened and closed his mouth a few times before Elizabeth smiled sadly and took pity on him.

"You know as well, don't you?" She guessed, "About Robert and my mother."

"Yes," he admitted, climbing the steps to be closer to her so that they would not be overheard, "But I did not know that you were aware of it."

"She told me herself," Elizabeth replied, her voice sounding distant and quite unlike her, "the day she died. We were arguing and I told her that I would not let her shame my father by bringing her lover here to Willoughby; she just laughed and said, "Your father? You may be a Casterton my little Lizzy, but I am afraid you do not belong to Michael Casterton." I can still hear that laugh even now; it was so cruel and bitter."

"How does Robert know that you know about their affair?" Mr Bennet replied after a moment of remorseful silence; that Elizabeth should learn of such a thing, and in such a way!

"I told him," Elizabeth admitted, shaking her head. "I did not mean to but we were arguing, as usual, and it just came out. I never told him that my mother thought I was his child, however; the thought of it sickens me."

"You are your father's daughter Elizabeth," Mr Bennet told her firmly, surprised when Elizabeth smiled quite calmly as she replied,

"I know. It does not matter to me whether I am truly his child because he is the only father I have ever known; the only father I could ever have wanted and I love him, as he loves me."

"I...I hope you do not resent me for having kept the truth from your father?" Mr Bennet asked tentatively, the weight of the secret he'd carried with him for twenty years pressing down on him.

"No, I never could," Elizabeth assured him, "she caused him enough pain; there was no need to add to it by acknowledging Robert's betrayal to him. But how did you come to know of it?"

"I saw them together," Mr Bennet admitted quietly and Elizabeth placed her hand on his arm with empathy. "I never told anyone of it. I could not bear to hurt him any further."

"Thank you," Elizabeth whispered; she leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "For everything."

Mr Bennet caught her hand as she pulled back and was about to turn and continue up the stairs.

"He never cared, Elizabeth," he said. "He never cared whether or not you were his daughter, he loved you regardless. He told me that himself."

"I know," Elizabeth assured him quietly and Mr Bennet eventually let her go, watching until she disappeared around the corner.

Elizabeth took several deep breaths to calm her still racing heartbeat, hoping that Robert would be too wary of her to return to Willoughby in the near future. The conversation with Mr Bennet had unsettled her; she had forced down the knowledge of her possible illegitimacy to the darkest part of her soul and wished for it to stay there, so speaking of it was still quite painful. Upon reaching her father's chamber, however, and seeing him lying there, sleeping quite peacefully, she felt a quiet feeling of security wash over her. She had meant what she had said to Mr Bennet; she loved her father and knew that he loved her also, and as long as they had one another, she could be happy.

As she sat beside him, gently taking his hand, Elizabeth promised herself that from now on she would try harder to be happy with her life, to be the young woman her father believed her to be, a daughter he was proud of. She had always struggled with her bitterness and anger, but she could sense that it was beginning to take control of her and would destroy her if she let it. She needed to accept the past for what it was and focus instead on all the good things that God had given her- her father, Jane, Emily, Mr Bennet, her home, her health. She knew that she was a better person than she had been the past few months and was determined to not let her mother ruin her life; no longer would Viola Casterton haunt her every step! She was going to start afresh and cast aside her bitterness and anger once and for all.

The first few weeks back in London were some of the most tormented of Darcy's life. His family, particularly Richard and dear Georgiana, worried about his sombre and depressed air, wondering what could have affected such a change, though when pressed he would admit nothing. He spent his time as he usually did, working, going to his club, attending balls and soirees; throughout it all Elizabeth was never far from his mind. He kept an eye on the papers for any notice of Lord Casterton, relieved when nothing appeared; he could not stop himself wondering how they were, how she was now that she was back home at Willoughby. He did so against his will, or at least against the will of the angry, proud part of his nature that resented her for how she had treated him in Kent. Eventually however, as time passed, other feelings besides anger and affront began to intrude.

On dark night in his library, several glasses of brandy softening his anger but sharpening his remorse, Darcy realised that he had never truly loved her as she deserved; he had admired her, it was true, captivated by her lively mind and manners, but since discovering her family's reputation his "love" had been tainted by his belief of her unsuitability. He had cared more for their respective families' standings than he had about whether or not he even deserved her; learning of her dislike in such a way seemed in that moment a punishment that he deserved. Christ, what a fool he had been, he thought angrily, sloshing more drink into his glass. What material considerations would really have mattered when compared to the gift of her affections? The house he now sat in, the dark, empty library; did such things really make him happy? And did the knowledge that his name remained "untarnished" offer him any comfort when lying alone in his bed at night?! Marriage to a wonderful, beautiful, worthy woman; that was a mark against the Darcy name that he would gladly have borne, the ton and their opinions be damned! How could his reputation have meant more to him than her? How did he not realise that the gift of her hand would have been worth more to him than his standing in society? That happiness and love were priceless?

Clutching his head in his hands, Darcy shut his eyes, trying to shut out the bitter recriminations assaulting him; thoughts of how happy he could have been were it not for his stupidity did nothing to improve his already bleak mood, left him desolate and confused and he almost gave way to his despair; the one thought that saved him, however, was that it was not completely hopeless. Perhaps it was a drunken hope that would be forgotten by the morning, but in that moment he truly believed that he could still endeavour to become a man worthy of her, a man capable of pleasing a woman worthy of being pleased; he could accept rather than angrily dismiss her criticisms in the hope of becoming a better man, one she could actually like, if not love. Even in his pitiful state he was not naive enough to believe that it would be the work of a moment, that the habits of a lifetime could simply be thrown off without any effort, but he was determined to do it, for her and for himself. He would always love her and he would prove himself worthy of his dearest Elizabeth if it were the last thing he did, even though he knew she would never be his. He only hoped that come morning he would remember his vow and have the strength to act upon it; perhaps that would serve as the first test as to whether or not he could ever be worthy of her, he thought drunkenly before succumbing to the effects of the alcohol and falling asleep in his chair.