Beginning, Part Two, Section I, Next Section

Part Two, Chapter 1- One Month Later

Posted on August 20, 2009

"Michael Casterton!"

Lord Casterton jumped guilty in his chair and slowly turned towards the doorway where Elizabeth stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him accusingly.

"If you eat that I swear I will," she warned, not quite sure what she would do but knowing it would be bad. "Not another bite father."

Her father huffed and petulantly pushed away his breakfast plate, gazing longingly at the eggs and bacon that positively beckoned to him. Elizabeth came over to his side and swept the offending food away and her father scowled at her as he muttered,

"Tyrant."

"It's for your own good," Elizabeth retorted completely unperturbed by her father's ill humour. "As you well know."

"But Lizzy," her father argued, watching forlornly as she filled his plate with fresh fruit and the other "healthy" things Dr Jones had recommended he eat. "What harm would one plate of eggs and bacon do?"

"I have no desire to find out," Elizabeth replied succinctly; she filled her plate with the same food as her fathers and walked over to take the chair beside his. "Would you like some tea?" She asked blithely with a sweet smile; her father glared at her for a moment before finally accepting defeat, rolling his eyes and smiling helplessly.

"Yes please, my dear," he replied and began to eat his breakfast; Elizabeth smiling approvingly before filling his cup and tucking into her own healthy repast.

"Did you enjoy your walk this morning?" Her father asked and Elizabeth smiled as she replied,

"Yes, though from now on I believe I will have to make a point of staying a little closer to the house," she added pointedly and her father had the good grace to look a little ashamed of himself.

"How on earth did you even get Mrs Robinson to make you some eggs and bacon?" Elizabeth asked after a moment, "I know that she is even more determined than I that you eat well. Unless of course Mrs Robinson had nothing to do with it," she guessed, watching her father closely. He was trying to look innocent but his lips kept twitching suspiciously, as though he were trying to contain a smile.

"Confess papa, confess," Elizabeth cried playfully. "I will discover the truth eventually, you may as well tell me now; who was your partner in crime?"

"Never," her father replied with temerity, "I would never betray them; you cannot make me!"

Elizabeth laughed happily at this reply and her father chuckled to himself at their silliness; when they'd both sobered he laid his hand on her arm and quietly apologised,

"Forgive me for being such a cantankerous old fool, my dear; I really do appreciate all you have done for me this past month."

"I know father," Elizabeth assured him with a loving smile. "You still aren't allowed eggs and bacon though," she added firmly and her father laughed.

Later that day Elizabeth decided that she would walk to Longbourn; she had only been once or twice since her return to Hertfordshire as her time had been almost entirely devoted to her father. He seemed to be doing well, much to her immense relief, and Elizabeth felt that she owed the Bennets a visit, especially considering how many times Jane and her father had thought to visit Willoughby. Indeed, the whole family's concern for her father's and her own welfare was truly touching.

When she arrived at Longbourn she found the house in a state of minor uproar; she was led into the parlour where Jane, her mother and all her sisters were sitting, Mrs Bennet and Lydia laughing and speaking loudly so as to be heard over the other. Elizabeth had been trying to refrain from judging people too quickly, from judging them too harshly also, but she sighed inwardly as she admitted that she was no Jane Bennet; she had always found Lydia and her mother far too excitable and childish and she still did even now, though she made a point of reminding herself that Lydia was still very young. Perceiving Elizabeth's confusion Jane quietly explained to her the reason for all the commotion; her sister had been invited by Mrs Forster to join her and the regiment in Brighton in a fortnight's time. Elizabeth heard this explanation with equal parts dismay and worry; she had met the news of the militia's removal from Hertfordshire with relief and was pleased to learn from her father that Mr Bennet had no intention of allowing his family to follow them. Elizabeth feared, however, that this latest news would not bode well for the Bennets.

The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia called for everyone's congratulations, laughing and talking with more violence than ever; whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repining at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish.

"I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask me as well as Lydia," said she, "though I am not her particular friend. I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older."

Such was the behaviour of three of the six inhabitants of Longbourn; Elizabeth tried to be diverted by their behaviour and not pass judgement but she could not find any amusement or pleasure in any of it. She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy's objections and never had she before been so much disposed to pardon his interference in the views of his friend.

Good Heavens! Elizabeth thought with increasing worry. Brighton and a whole camp full of soldiers, when Lydia had been overset already by one poor regiment of militia, and the monthly balls of Meryton. And the possibility of time spent with a certain gentlemen; surely no good could come of this scheme!

Ever since her return, when she was not worrying about her father, Elizabeth had worried over what she should do about Mr Wickham; Mr Darcy had not given her permission to share the story of his sister with anyone and she was reluctant to speak of it, even with her father. The danger Wickham posed, however, could not be ignored; she had detected, when Lydia had recounted the story of his "escape" from Mary King, a worrying hint of jealously in the young girl and sat now in the Bennet's parlour listening to Lydia's effusions, Elizabeth decided that she needed to act. A plan began to take shape in her mind; she knew, however, that the first thing she must do was speak to Mr Bennet about this proposed trip to Brighton. Perhaps it was not her place to interfere, but she could not sit by and watch as Lydia and her mother dragged their whole family, however gradually, down the path to ruin.

"Jane," she spoke up suddenly, surprising them all, "is your father in his library? My father asked that I give him a message and I should do so now before I forget."

Jane assured her that her father was indeed in his library and, wishing the Bennet ladies a good day, Elizabeth rose and left the room. She knocked on the door to the library and waited to be invited in, smiling at Mr Bennet's look of surprised pleasure in perceiving her standing in his doorway.

"Good afternoon Lizzy; I was not aware that you were here. How is your father?"

"He is quite well," Elizabeth assured him, adding with a helpless smile, "though I did catch him attempting to eat some eggs and bacon this morning whilst I was out for my walk; he would not divulge his accomplice to me, however, so I have some detective work to do when I get home."

Mr Bennet laughed and then asked, "Did you wish to speak to me or were you just wishing for a few moments reprieve from my daughter's delightful company?"

"There is something I need to speak to you about," Elizabeth admitted, quietly shutting the door so that they could have some privacy; she did not want this conversation to be overheard.

"Oh dear, this sounds quite serious," Mr Bennet teased; he sobered when he noticed that Elizabeth did not smile. "What is it my dear?"

"It is about Lydia's trip to Brighton," Elizabeth replied; Mr Bennet sat back and regarded her with interest.

"With the exception of Jane, you are the only young lady who does not seem troubled by the militia's going," he commented and Elizabeth firmly admitted,

"I am not at all troubled by their going; indeed, I welcome it. Mr Bennet," she went on in quite agitated tones, "I know that it is not my place, that I am interfering where I should not, but please do not let Lydia go to Brighton."

Taking a deep breath Elizabeth then represented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's general behaviour, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must be greater than at home. Mr Bennet listened to her attentively before smiling slightly and replying,

"I fear that Lydia will never be easy till she has exposed herself in some public place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so little expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present circumstances."

Elizabeth, not at all satisfied with this reply, hesitated momentarily before pressing on and arguing,

"As a particular friend of my family, Mr Bennet, you cannot help but be aware of the very great disadvantage which must arise from the public notice of a family member's unguarded and imprudent manner; you know as well as I that a family's importance, their respectability in the world, must be affected by the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which marked my mother's character and begin to characterise your daughter's. Excuse me, for I must speak plainly. If you do not take the trouble of checking your daughter's exuberant spirits, and of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt that ever made herself and her family ridiculous. A flirt, too, in the worst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyond youth and a tolerable person; and from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger Kitty is also comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads.--Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled! Do you not see, Mr Bennet? You who know so well what my father and I have suffered because of my mother! Do you really want Jane and your other daughters to suffer my fate? Can you not see that if you do not do something Lydia will one day drag your family down and you will all be involved in the disgrace?"

Mr. Bennet sat in silence for so long that Elizabeth became ashamed of herself for her outburst and hung her head in contrition;

"Please forgive me Mr Bennet, I...I do not mean to insult you by comparing Lydia to my mother or by implying that your family is in anyway undeserving of the utmost respect. Indeed, you know how dearly I hold both you and Jane; wherever you and Jane are known, you must be respected and valued and I am honoured to count your family amongst my dearest friends. You must think me a hypocrite," she lamented suddenly with a shake of her head, "to think that I of all people am trying to speak to you of reputation!"

"I think," Mr Bennet slowly began, "that you are truly a very dear girl; I do not know of anyone else who would care so much about my family as to risk my censure by being so brutally honest." Elizabeth started at this so he reached out and took her hand, "No, do not be uneasy, I meant no criticism. Indeed, I would like to think I am honest enough to admit that a hefty dose of reality is perhaps just what I needed. And you are right. I have witnessed firsthand the effect that such behaviour can have upon a family and their fortunes; there is no excuse for my allowing Lydia's wildness to go unchecked for so long."

Elizabeth could see that Mr Bennet was somewhat affected by her words and, though he had said he needed to hear it, she still felt awful for having spoken to him in such a way.

"I am sorry I was so blunt; I did not mean to be I just..."

"Your concern for my family overrode your concern for my feelings Lizzy," Mr Bennet replied, smiling up at her, "there is no need for you to apologise for that. And please, say nothing more of my suffering; who should suffer but myself? My lackadaisical, indifferent parenting style is to blame for her behaviour and the accompanying shame should be mine also; it has all been my own doing, and I ought to feel it."

"You must not be too severe upon yourself," replied Elizabeth, shocked and a little concerned by the extent of Mr Bennet's guilty recriminations; she had not meant her words to have so much an effect as this!

"No, Lizzy," Mr Bennet argued, "I believe that for once in my life I should feel how much I have been to blame. Do not worry though; I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression and it will pass away soon enough. When I arrive tomorrow to play chess with your father I shall be my old self again, you'll see."

He smiled and patted her hand and Elizabeth smiled in return, though inwardly she was still worried that she had said too much. If it helped avert disaster for the Bennet family, however, perhaps it was all for the best. Mr Bennet stood up and she rose as well as he said,

"Let me assure you now, Elizabeth, that Lydia will not be travelling to Brighton; furthermore, I will make an effort to check her behaviour from now on. And let me also assure you," he added, pressing a fatherly kiss to her forehead, "that I bear you no ill will for all you have said to me today."

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied, relieved. Mr Bennet escorted her into the front hall where she collected her things from a waiting servant; she turned to him as she pulled on her gloves,

"We will still see you tomorrow for chess?"

"That depends," Mr Bennet replied, his eyes twinkling playfully; "Will you let me beat you for a change?"

"Perhaps," Elizabeth teased, happy that he truly did not seem to bear her any ill will; she wished him a good day and began the walk back to Willoughby. She felt relieved not to have to witness Lydia's reaction when her father told her of his decision, glad that no-one but Mr Bennet would know of her interference; she was only human after all!

As she walked she released a heavy sigh, knowing that she had done all she could for the Bennet family and that it was now up to Mr Bennet to make some changes. If only Mr Bingley were to come now instead of last year, she thought wistfully; she had observed the state of her friend's spirits and had concluded that Jane was not happy. She still cherished a very tender affection for Bingley and Elizabeth could tell that Jane made a very great effort to conceal the regrets she felt at his loss; she was saddened by her friend's suffering but knew not what to do about it.

Turning her mind to other matters, Elizabeth began to think seriously about what to do about Mr Wickham. He was leaving in two weeks, it was true, but he would be taking his leave of everyone as a particular favourite and, seized by the perverse desire to reveal something of his true nature, Elizabeth decided on a course of action, knowing however that she would need an accomplice; a trip to Emily's was needed. If in the course of unmasking Mr Wickham she did something to improve the general opinion of Mr Darcy, well, that was just a happy coincidence.

The one potential flaw in Elizabeth's plan was that it meant that she would have to tell Emily everything about what had happened in Kent between her and Mr Darcy. She had spoken of it to no-one before now and was still reluctant to do so; she was still ashamed of the things she had said to him and was afraid of what Emily would think of her. At length she decided she would just have to be brave and admit to what she had said and done, hoping that Emily would not judge her too harshly. She went to her friend's cottage and, preparing her to be surprised, she related to Emily the chief of the scene between Mr. Darcy and herself.

Emily was not as surprised as Elizabeth had expected her to be.

"I could see that something was going on between the two of you," she admitted once Elizabeth had concluded her tale. "Though I believe that Mr Darcy's affection for you exceeded that even of a friend."

Elizabeth flushed and denied the implication, "Emily, I know that he does not care for me; indeed, how could he? And he certainly cannot care for me at all now, not after I abused him so thoroughly."

"And yet was he not there to comfort you when you received news of your father?" Emily contradicted lightly but Elizabeth shook her head,

"He was just being a gentleman; and we have heard nothing from him since then," she pointed out but Emily just smiled.

"Lizzy," she admonished lightly, "would you have written were the circumstances reversed? You have convinced him of your dislike; he no doubt believes any word from him would be unwelcome, no matter his concern for your father."

"You blame me for speaking to him as I did," Elizabeth surmised guilty; she looked up when Emily took her hand and replied,

"I do not. I have said before that I did not approve of his behaviour and I have not been so unfortunate as to have been the recipient of it; you spoke perhaps a little too harshly, but I think that in many ways he deserved the criticisms you levelled at him."

"With regards to my father and me you may be right, but with regards to everything else," Elizabeth shook her head and sighed, "I will tell you everything Emily, though I am reluctant to do so."

She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents for her friend to hear. What a stroke was this for poor Emily! She had never wholly liked Mr Wickham and had had some doubts about his story, but the truth of the matter was indeed quite a shock. Mr Darcy was completely vindicated in this instance and Emily began to chastise herself for ever believing Mr Wickham's lies, forgetting for the moment that she never really had.

"This will not do," Elizabeth argued with a sad smile, "you have nothing to blame yourself for Emily. You are not the one who allowed herself to be completely taken in by one man just to satisfy her need to think ill of the other. And you," she added guilty, "are not the one who accused Mr Darcy of such villainy, to his face no less."

"Elizabeth," Emily soothed, "you could not have known that Mr Wickham had lied to you."

"I should have," Elizabeth cried. "I knew Mr Darcy to be an honourable man and yet I willingly believed the words of a stranger; I was wilfully blind and I am heartily ashamed of myself Emily. And poor Mr. Darcy! Emily, only consider what he must have suffered, what I must have made him suffer by defending Mr Wickham and accusing him of such things. At the time when we were arguing I confess I wanted to hurt him, as he had hurt me, but I never meant for it to go so far! And though I may have had no idea my words would inflict such a degree of pain and I still cannot believe that I am capable of such cruelty."

"Lizzy, Lizzy," Emily consoled her, "you are too harsh on yourself. You were both equally to blame for all that happened, for everything that was said. And the remorse and regret you feel now clearly goes to show that you are not as cruel or unfeeling as you believe; indeed, I know you could never wilfully hurt anyone in such a way when..." Emily hesitated and Elizabeth looked at her.

"When?"

"When your own feelings are not so conflicted," Emily replied at last. "I know that he hurt you and you were angry with him because of that, Lizzy, but I also think that you liked Mr Darcy, though perhaps against your will."

"Perhaps I did," Elizabeth admitted honestly after a long moment, "though it is of little consequence; I am unlikely to ever see him again and if I ever did, he would likely ignore me completely. I could also never truly care for a man who cared more for his reputation than me."

The two friends lapsed into silence before Elizabeth finally roused herself and said,

"I have not related to Jane any of what Mr Darcy said with regards to Mr Bingley; indeed, I do not believe I ever could. To know she was loved by him only to lose him as a result of his sister's and friend's interference and her family's behaviour; I believe I will spare Jane the pain of such knowledge!"

"Yes, that is no doubt for the best," Emily agreed. She sighed sadly as she added, "Poor Jane, to have happiness snatched away from her through no fault of her own."

Elizabeth nodded and Emily studied her for a moment before asking, "Do you still blame Mr Darcy for taking Mr Bingley away?"

"Yes!" Elizabeth declared fervently; a moment later however she quietly admitted, "Though I can perhaps understand his reasons for doing so. The desire to save his friend from a loveless match I cannot condemn, and I must also admit to the justness of his charges against the Bennet's, though it shames me to do so. If they were nothing to Mr Bingley, however, they should have been nothing to him. Again we return to the fundamental point," she concluded with a slight smile, "he is too proud."

"How was Jane when you last saw her?"

"She is still subdued," Elizabeth admitted. She brightened as she said, "But that reminds me of my reason for coming here; I need your help with something Emily."

"Oh?" Her friend replied, amused and intrigued by Elizabeth's sudden eagerness. "And what would you like my help with Lizzy?"

Elizabeth smiled mischievously as she admitted, "I want to give Wickham a taste of his own medicine."

Chapter 2

Posted on August 27, 2009

"I cannot believe I let you talk me into this," Emily muttered under her breath and Elizabeth laughed lightly.

"Emily, stop acting as though we are about to commit a crime; we are simply going to go in and have a conversation. There's no harm in that."

Emily rolled her eyes and allowed her young friend to lead her into the butcher's shop; they greeted Mr Greenly pleasantly and at Elizabeth's nod Emily put their plan into action. She ordered a number of cuts (which Elizabeth would be paying for) and measures, sufficient enough to keep their audience busy and in their presence, before turning to Elizabeth and asking in quite a loud tone,

"Did you enjoy your stay in Kent?"

"Oh yes, very much so," Elizabeth replied. She paused significantly before saying, "Though I did hear something quite surprising whilst there; indeed, I was quite distressed by it."

"Oh really?" Emily enquired, smiling to herself as Mr Greenly's ears almost visibly perked up; the man was an awful gossip and it was clear they had caught his interest.

"Yes; it was about Mr Wickham," Elizabeth replied, "you know, that charming gentleman in the militia. The one everyone likes so well."

"And what did you hear about him?"

"Well, I met a gentleman who had known Mr Wickham before he bought his commission and he was very surprised to hear that I knew Mr Wickham and that I thought at all well of him. You see this gentleman knew Mr Wickham a few years ago when they lived in the same town and he told me that Mr Wickham had an awful..." Elizabeth paused and pretended to check that no-one was listening before she said in a scandalised tone, "gambling habit. He also said that he rung up debts with all the local trades people but then left without paying them! One poor man even lost his shop as a result!"

"No!" Emily exclaimed, scandalised. "How awful! Are you sure it is the same Mr Wickham?"

"Oh yes, quite certain," Elizabeth affirmed; by this point Mr Greenley had abandoned his task and was listening unashamedly. "Mr George Wickham, from Derbyshire. And the gentleman I spoke to was the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and therefore surely can be trusted."

"Oh yes, quite so," Emily agreed with a vigorous nod of her head; Elizabeth looked like she was trying not to laugh.

"But do you know what was worse than that?" She proclaimed in the direst tones. "According to Mr Fitzwilliam, the gentleman I spoke to, Mr Darcy was the one who paid off all of Mr Wickham's debts after he had disappeared!"

"No! Mr Darcy!"

"I know, I could not believe it either. I told Mr Fitzwilliam what Mr Wickham had said about Mr Darcy and he was furious! According to him Mr Darcy has always acted honourably towards Mr Wickham despite the fact that Mr Wickham is not quite a gentleman and that Mr Wickham was compensated for the living left to him by old Mr Darcy to the tune of three thousand pounds!"

"Three thousand pounds!" Emily parroted, just so that Mr Greenley remembered that particular detail. "And Mr Fitzwilliam said that Mr Wickham was not quite a gentleman?!"

"Oh yes, those were his very words," Elizabeth affirmed, "and he said them in a very significant way as to truly make me question Mr Wickham's character. After all, if he lied about the behest then can he truly be trusted?"

"It does not bear thinking about," Emily replied, fluttering her handkerchief in a way reminiscent of Mrs Bennet. "I believe we would do well to avoid him from now on."

Elizabeth agreed and they let their discussion end; turning to Mr Greenley they both smiled innocently and waited for him to finish their order before paying and going on their way. They walked a little way down the street before Elizabeth pulled Emily into a small alleyway and they waited a few moments; they were not disappointed when Mr Greenley emerged from his shop and hurried across the street to the general store where Mr Banks, another gossip, worked.

"And so it begins," Elizabeth predicted happily and Emily laughed in spite of herself. "You are a very fine actress Emily, though perhaps a little too fervent."

"I wanted to make sure I was convincing," Emily replied; the two friends hooked arms and stepped back out onto the street.

"Are you ready for stage two of our plan?" Elizabeth asked as they strolled in the direction of Emily's home.

"No," Emily replied before sighing resignedly, "but I can tell that you are determined to go through with it so I suppose I have no choice but to help you."

"Thank you Emily," Elizabeth gave her friend's arm a light squeeze. "It'll be worth it in the end; Mr Wickham will be gone and we will have cleared Mr Darcy's name for him."

"Is that why we're doing this?" Emily asked with an amused smile and Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her friend.

"No Emily," she chided before admitting, "though it will make me feel better."

"I just hope your father doesn't find out about this," Emily said worriedly after a moment, "it would not be good for him to worry."

"I know," Elizabeth admitted thoughtfully, "but I am sure if we are careful he will remain none the wiser."

"I hope you know what you're doing Lizzy," Emily cautioned but Elizabeth just nodded resolutely.

A few days later Elizabeth and Emily lay in wait for Mr Wickham. They had come into Meryton for the past few mornings, pretending to shop and the like, in the hopes of meeting him but as of yet had been unsuccessful. Today however they were in luck and Elizabeth, when she spotted him walking their way, greeted the sight of him with excitement; she grabbed Emily's arm in her agitation and whispered,

"There he is!"

Emily, who was pretending to peruse the lace display, dropped the piece she was holding and hissed at her young friend,

"Oh, you startled me!"

"Forgive me," Elizabeth hurriedly apologised. "I am going to intercept him; you know what to do."

Before her friend could reply Elizabeth was already gone, stepping out of the shop and into Wickham's path. She noticed Sir William Lucas across the street and smiled to herself before turning and walking to greet Mr Wickham; if there was anyone who could be relied upon to spread the report of the upcoming confrontation, it was Sir William Lucas.

The stares and mutterings which followed Wickham as he walked down the main street in Meryton probably would have disconcerted a lesser man, but Wickham had never been one to let the opinions of others affect him. He strolled and smiled with the same easy confidence as always, though inwardly he was fuming. The change in the populace's behaviour towards him had first begun a few days ago and Wickham had at first been quite perplexed by the air of distrust he now detected coming from those whom had previously welcomed him with open arms. The pointed questions he had been asked by a number of tradesmen with regards to his bills further served to disconcert him, but still he was at a loss to explain what had caused the change. It was only the evening before that Denny had enlightened him as to the source of the problem.

"Apparently," his friend had confided. "Miss Casterton had heard from a gentleman in Kent, a Mr Fitzwilliam, about some of your old debts."

Worse still, "She had also heard that Mr Darcy gave you three thousand pounds for the living that old Mr Darcy had left you, and that you were quite happy to take it."

The shock with which Wickham heard this story can well be imagined; that he had been found out, and by the very lady whom he had selected as his unknowing ally in establishing his reputation whilst ruining Darcy's! More discussion with Denny revealed that Miss Casterton had indeed been very thorough in her communications and Wickham was convinced that she was intentionally trying to reveal his true character, wondering what could be motivating her to do so, though perhaps she simply did not appreciate being lied to. The "Mr Fitzwilliam" he wrongly guessed to be the blasted Colonel, not for one moment suspecting that Darcy himself had been the one to tell Miss Casterton all that she apparently knew.

Wickham had spent the night thinking it all over, trying to think of ways to salvage his reputation here whilst also getting his own back on Miss Casterton. By the time dawn was approaching he had come to a number of conclusions, the first being that his reputation was probably unsalvageable by now and that it was not worth the effort anyway. He would soon be gone from this place and, now that little Mary King had been whisked away from him (damn her blasted uncle), there was little left for him here now. He could start afresh in Brighton, although perhaps not with an entirely clean slate; this thought led on to his second conclusion of the night, that the best way to get back at Miss Casterton was through an indirect attack. Much as he had with Darcy, he would use someone she cared about to get to her. He had heard a few days earlier that Miss Lydia Bennet had been invited to accompany Mrs Forster to Brighton and it was with malevolent glee that Wickham looked forward to becoming better acquainted with the little flirt; ruining the reputation of her best friend's family seemed like a fitting punishment for Miss Casterton's interference in his affairs.

As Wickham smiled maliciously to himself at his clever plan, the subject of his malevolent musings exited a shop a little way ahead of him. Unable to resist the temptation he plastered his most charming smiled onto his face and strode forward to greet her.

"Good morning Mr Wickham," Miss Casterton greeted him with all the appearance of pleasure, curtseying and smiling.

"How do you do, Miss Casterton? It has been many weeks since I last had the pleasure of your company," Wickham replied in his usual way though inwardly he wondered at her manner.

"I am very well, thank you," the lady replied, watching him with a strange expression in her eyes.

"And your father?" Wickham prompted, "I had heard he had taken ill. Nothing too serious, I hope?"

"No, nothing serious," she replied; she offered nothing more and simply continued to watch him.

They stood in silence for so long that Wickham almost began to feel uncomfortable, still annoyingly aware of the stares and whispers of the towns folk, as well as Miss Casterton's disconcertingly perceptive gaze. He shifted slightly from one foot to the other but stiffened with annoyance when Miss Casterton smiled and quirked an impertinent brow at him, as if to say "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Damn her, Wickham inwardly fumed; outwardly all he said was, "I am leaving soon, for Brighton, with the regiment."

"Such a shame," came the reply; her smile was perfectly polite but her tone was hard and sarcastic. "But I daresay I will bear the deprivation quite well."

"Yes, I am sure you will," Wickham retorted, following her lead and dropping all pretence, now completely convinced that she had intentionally caused his current difficulties.

"As I am sure will everyone else," the lady added coldly with a meaningful glance about them.

Wickham, unable to bear her gloating, smirked and replied, "Some perhaps better than others; the Bennet's I'm sure will miss me greatly, though I will have the delight of Miss Lydia's company in Brighton."

"No you won't," Miss Casterton replied bluntly, surprising Wickham and spoiling his fun. "Her father has had a change of heart and would rather she remained at home where she will be safe."

Wickham started as she said this, an uncomfortable suspicion entering his mind; did Miss Casterton know about Ramsgate?

"Does he not trust the Forster's to look after her?" He asked, trying to sound innocent.

"He does not trust them, or her, anymore than he trusts unscrupulous young men who would take advantage of her silliness," was the reply and Wickham no longer had any doubts that she knew all about his past.

"How is Mr Fitzwilliam? It seems you and he found a lot to talk about," he noted sarcastically, frustrated when the lady smiled, looking very pleased with herself.

"Mr Greenly is such a terrible gossip but he certainly has his uses," she replied with a light laugh. "And he was very efficient; I confess I didn't expect the story to spread quite as quickly as it has but I cannot say that I mind. The sooner you leave, the better."

His anger and frustration mounting, Wickham heedlessly took a step closer as he hissed, "You think this is over? I am not going anywhere; I care nothing for what these simple minded trades people are saying about me. You'll have to find another way to get rid of me, Miss Casterton."

"I already have," was the reply, spoken so coldly and menacingly that Wickham momentarily felt very uneasy. He quickly dismissed the impulse and frowned down at Miss Casterton, sure that she was bluffing.

His temper flared when the lady smiled at him, a look of triumph in her eyes, but his anger quickly turned to confusion as he watched a puzzling change take place; the lady gasped loudly, her face a picture of hurt and affront as she took a hasty step away from him, her hand at her throat. She looked as though she had just heard something truly awful, the picture matched perfectly by her words as she cried,

"Oh, Mr Wickham! How can you speak so to me?!"

"What the hell...?" Wickham muttered to himself, totally confused. He was even more confused a moment later when she slapped him soundly on the cheek and cried,

"Oh! How dare you!"

Wickham was left wondering what on earth had just happened, his cheek still stinging, as Miss Casterton hurried away to where Mrs Burrows now stood, her exit from the shop, unknownst to him, planned and perfectly timed.

Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune and risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to the King during his mayoralty. The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust to his business and to his residence in a small market town; and quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world. For though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. He could not help but notice, therefore, the conversation going on between Miss Casterton and Mr Wickham, about whom he had recently heard things not to his liking. When the lady slapped the gentleman and hurried away into the arms of her friend, Sir William puffed up his chest and hurried across the street, glaring at Mr Wickham with a good deal of affront and suspicion. Reaching the two ladies he bowed and said with an abundance of quite sincere concern,

"My dear Miss Casterton, please allow me to be of assistance. Mrs Burrows? Please, the young lady is very distressed."

He watched with concern as Miss Casterton covered her face with her hands and wept pitifully, Mrs Burrows patting her back consolingly.

"I believe we should take Elizabeth home," the elder lady replied. "Away from that scoundrel," she added with a dark glance in Wickham's direction who still had not quite comprehended what was going on. When Sir William also glared at him he seemed to come to his senses and hurried away back to the barracks.

"Come," Sir William addressed Miss Casterton once more. "I will see you both back to Willoughby and speak to Lord Casterton of this myself."

He was surprised when Miss Casterton roused herself and protested, "Oh no, my father cannot hear of this! It is too, too distressing!"

"But Miss Casterton," Sir William began to argue, stopping when Mrs Burrows laid her hand on his arm and said,

"I believe Elizabeth is correct, Sir William. Lord Casterton is still unwell and it would not be wise to distress him; we do not want to risk his health."

Sir William hesitated, torn between the desire to do what he felt was right and what the ladies asked. Miss Casterton's pitiful expression persuaded him and he agreed not to speak to Lord Casterton of what had happened. Miss Casterton thanked him profusely and he swelled with pride at her praise. He patted her arm with awkward affection and was quite surprised when she took his hand, her expression earnest as she said,

"You must do one thing for me Sir William."

"Anything, my dear," he assured her readily, eager to do his neighbourly duty.

"You must promise not to let Mr Wickham near Miss Maria," came the shocking reply. "He said such shocking, improper things to me; I could not bear it if he imposed himself upon your daughter also, she is still so young."

"He will no longer be welcome at Lucas Lodge," Sir William assured the distressed young lady with a solemn air.

She thanked him once more and then allowed Mrs Burrows to lead her away; Sir William watched them go before hurrying home to tell Lady Lucas about everything that had happened, little understanding what had actually happened. But then that was the point.

"Well," Elizabeth happily proclaimed once they were a safe distance out of town, on their way to Emily's home, "it is certainly a comfort to know that if I am ever so unfortunate as to lose all my money I will not be completely destitute, that a life on the stage awaits me!"

"Lizzy!!" Emily attempted to chastise her but Elizabeth was too pleased for criticism.

"Frown at me all you like Emily, I will not be deterred. Lydia is safe, Mr Darcy's name is cleared and Wickham will soon be gone, chased from town by the tradesmen and all the mamas and papas with daughters to worry about. It is a job well done and I will be happy about it even if it is wrong of me to be so. I cannot feel any sympathy for that man Emily and I refuse to do so."

Emily sighed and admitted defeat, letting Elizabeth have her way; they walked on in silence until she eventually smiled and commented,

"I suppose it would be too much to expect from you Lizzy; you have changed this past month but sympathy for him would perhaps be a little too much to ask. Indeed, it would be a challenge for most people I'm sure, expect maybe Jane."

"Oh yes, dear Jane would find a way," Elizabeth agreed cheerily, "and would no doubt pity him enough for the both of us."

Emily shook her head and let Elizabeth enjoy her success, inwardly quite pleased having helped deal with Wickham so effectively, though still feeling a little guilty for having used such subterfuge.

"I don't think I am going to be able to keep this a secret from father for long," Elizabeth commented thoughtfully a little while later. "Sir William's presence will no doubt add credence to the whole story, but it will also ensure its quick dissemination throughout the neighbourhood. It is extremely unlikely that my father will remain in ignorance for long, though he rarely goes out these days."

"Will you tell him about it yourself?" Emily asked, suddenly envisioning herself called before Lord Casterton to explain her part in the whole affair.

"Yes, though not today," Elizabeth replied. "He had a bad day yesterday and needs some rest; tomorrow or the day after will be fine, I'm sure."

Chapter 3

Posted on September 2, 2009

"Oh for goodness sake!"

Elizabeth huffed with impatience as the discordant sound of the piano echoed around the music room. She shifted in her seat, determined to master the difficult passage of the piece before her and was about to begin again when she heard a distant shout somewhere in the house; frowning she hurried from the bench to the door, opening it just in time to hear her father shout,

"Calm down!? Don't tell me to calm down...! I'll call the bastard out if I find out he..."

Hurrying to her father's study Elizabeth pushed open the door and rushed into the room. Mr Bennet was stood before her father, evidently attempting to calm him down as her father waved his arms and angrily demanded,

"Why did no one see fit to tell me of this?! My daughter is imposed upon in the street and I am the last to know!"

Cursing herself for not having told her father the truth before now, Elizabeth hurried over to him and attempted to take hold his arms, desperately worried that he was going to make himself ill if he did not calm down.

"Father please!" She pleaded, "Please calm down; there is no need for you to be so angry, it is not good for you! Please calm down and..."

"How can I calm...?" Her father began only to cut himself off suddenly; his face contorted with pain as he grasped his chest, gasping at the sudden pain he felt there.

Elizabeth let out a cry of distress, her face as pale as her father's had suddenly become as she and Mr Bennet each took hold of an arm and helped her father into a chair. As Mr Bennet had Dr Jones sent for Elizabeth got her father a glass of water and he managed a few sips though his breathing was laboured and he appeared to still be in pain. Knelt at her father's feet she sent up silent prayer after silent prayer that he would be well, unable to stem her tears as they awaited the doctor. Mr Bennet hovered in the background, his face a grim mask as he looked at his closest friend, worriedly wondering if this time he was going to be taken from them.

"My lord, you are a very bad patient but I believe I shall have to put up with you for a good while yet."

Lord Casterton managed a weak smile at Dr Jones' quip as Elizabeth finally released the breath she'd been holding and relief flooded through her. She glanced over at Mr Bennet who looked as relieved as she felt, just about managing to return his hopeful smile.

"Needless to say, however," Dr Jones continued in a sterner voice, "this episode will set back your recovery by some weeks; another like it and you may never recover at all. I am very serious about this my lord; your health is precarious and you must take more care! You owe it to yourself as well as your loved ones," the good doctor added quietly with a meaningful glance at Elizabeth who had begun to quietly sob as she sat at her father's bedside.

"I swear I will take more care from now on," Lord Casterton replied breathlessly, still feeling the effects of his scare. "Forgive me."

"It's my fault," Elizabeth whispered brokenly, her head down. "This is all my fault."

Her father was about to argue but was interrupted by Mr Bennet who, though very worried about his friend was nevertheless somewhat clearer headed than the Casterton pair.

"I believe that no-one is to blame, that this is the result of some misunderstanding and as soon as we have you well again Michael we will set everything to rights."

Both the Casterton's nodded and the group lapsed into a brief silence before Dr Jones checked that her father was comfortable once more and then finally took his leave. Elizabeth saw him out, leaving Mr Bennet and her father alone for a few moments. The two friends looked at one another until the latter smiled and quietly said,

"I believe now is when you say I told you so."

"I would like to think that I could come up with something a good deal wittier than that," Mr Bennet quipped and his friend smiled; he sobered abruptly though as he went on to say, "You must listen to us from now on; that's two scares you have given me and I would not appreciate a third."

Lord Casterton accepted the reprimand for what it was, a concerned warning from a good friend. Feeling himself tiring but needing some reassurance he looked earnestly at his friend as he reminded him, "You remember your promise?"

"Of course," Mr Bennet assured him quickly. "Elizabeth will be well looked after, you know that. But do not think of it, you have years ahead of you yet."

"God willing," Lord Casterton murmured before finally succumbing to his weariness and falling asleep.

Elizabeth returned not long after and silently approached the bed, coming to stand beside Mr Bennet.

"He looks so peaceful," she whispered, staring down at her father, her eyes full of tears.

"He will be well," Mr Bennet replied, placing his arm about her shoulder for a brief embrace. "You do not still blame yourself?" He asked, looking down at her.

"I will never forgive myself," Elizabeth stated with grim conviction. "This would not have happened if I had not been so foolish."

"I don't understand," Mr Bennet replied, confused. "Surely if anyone is to blame, it is Mr Wickham."

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head sadly, "He has much to answer for, but in this instance he is almost completely innocent."

"Elizabeth, what...?" Mr Bennet began but Elizabeth cut him off.

"Please, do not ask me about this now. I will explain everything but not now; I cannot think of anything else but father and seeing him well again."

"Very well," Mr Bennet agreed. He looked between father and daughter before quietly saying, "I should go. Promise me that you will get some rest tonight though."

"I will try," Elizabeth replied honestly, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep.

"I will call tomorrow, in the morning," Mr Bennet told her and Elizabeth nodded, not really listening anymore as she carefully sat at her father's side and took his hand.

Taking one moment to look at his friend and assure himself that he would really be alright, Mr Bennet silently walked away and left father and daughter alone. Shaking his head at the perverseness of fate and the sheer number of misfortunes that had befallen the Casterton's he returned to Longbourn, hoping that in future their fortunes would change.

When Lord Casterton awoke the next morning it was to the sight of his daughter asleep in the chair beside his bed, her head resting on her arms on the mattress beside him. Smiling tenderly at such devotion he reached out his fingers to stroke her cheek, gently waking her. Opening exhausted eyes she smiled upon seeing him, pleased to see that the colour had returned to his cheeks and that his eyes were bright and alert. He still looked wearier and older than she remembered but she knew that it was inevitable that the events of the last few weeks would take their toll on him; she could not help but hope, however, that things would be better from now on.

"Good morning my dear," her father eventually said and Elizabeth smiled as she leant forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Good morning papa. How do you feel?" She asked as she sat back, studying him carefully.

Her father patted her hand reassuringly as he replied, "Much better now; there is no need for further worry."

"Perhaps not, but I will continue to worry about you no matter what," Elizabeth asserted honestly and her father frowned slightly, wishing he wasn't such a burden, annoyed with himself for having brought about this setback.

Placing her hand against his cheek, Elizabeth smiled lovingly as she added, "Please do not frown so papa; nothing in the world means more to me than you and it would be very strange if I did not worry about you. And I know that I have given you many a cause for concern over the years; it is about time that I made it up to you," she teased and her father chuckled lightly.

"Not very many; and your loving care of me these past few weeks has more than atoned for it," he added quietly but Elizabeth shook her head.

"Any good I wrought, I singlehandedly undid yesterday," she replied guilty, avoiding his eye. Her father would have none of it though and tipped her chin up so she would look at him.

"It was not your fault," he told her firmly; his mouth thinned into an angry line as he added, "The fault was my own for becoming so angry, though Mr Wickham has some explaining to do. Did he harm you?" He asked with sudden concern, realising that in his anger he had neglected to ensure that his daughter was well.

"Father..." Elizabeth began; she hung her head, briefly closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she looked up again she was ready to make her confession. "Mr Wickham didn't do anything."

"But Thomas said...?" Her father began, confused. Elizabeth took hold of his hand and when he fell silent asked, "Will you let me explain?"

Her father nodded and Elizabeth related to him the truth of her meeting with Mr Wickham; she told him how she had started the rumours about his debts and about the carefully orchestrated conversation in the street, explaining the unknowing role Sir William had played. She was careful to avoid mentioning Emily's name but her father was no fool and he eyed her suspiciously for a long moment until she eventually confessed their friend's involvement.

"Please do not be angry with her," Elizabeth implored him. "I made her help me, and keep the truth from you," she added guiltily.

"And what is the truth Elizabeth?" Her father asked sternly. "What reason could you have for wilfully ruining a man's reputation, and in such a calculated manner?"

Elizabeth winced at his tone, hoping that when she had explained everything he would understand why she had acted the way she had.

"When I was in Kent," she began only to hesitate, shaking her head. "No, I must begin earlier than that. When I first met Mr Wickham," she began again, "I was in Meryton with Emily and Jane. As we were stood talking Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley came to join us and I noticed that Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy did not look at all pleased to meet one another, as though they had met before, and I confess I wondered about it. When I met Mr Wickham again the next day at the Long's party, he provided me with an explanation."

"What did he have to say for himself?" Her father questioned when she lapsed into silence.

"According to Mr Wickham," Elizabeth began reluctantly, "Mr Darcy had in the past done him a great wrong. They knew each other from their boyhood; Mr Wickham's father was the steward of old Mr Darcy and the two boys grew up together, attending Cambridge together as a result of old Mr Darcy's benevolence towards his employee's son. According to Mr Wickham, however, Mr Darcy did not like how fond his father was of him and, when he died, discarded his father's will and denied Mr Wickham the living that his father had promised to him."

The scepticism apparent on her father's face caused Elizabeth to feel ashamed of herself all over again as she realised once more how utterly, wilfully blind she had been.

"I was a fool to believe him," she went on. "A stupid, blind fool; anyone with an ounce of sense would have realised that Mr Wickham was lying, but I failed to do so. I believed him because I wanted to believe him," she admitted finally with harsh accusation.

"You know for sure that he was lying?" Her father questioned, still not entirely sure where this was all going although understandably curious as to why his daughter was so distressed.

"I do now," Elizabeth replied. "You see, when I was in Kent, Mr Darcy and I...we quarrelled," she admitted in a small voice.

Her father smiled slightly at her repentant tone as he asked, "What was your quarrel about?"

"Many things," Elizabeth sighed, her mind playing over that afternoon that seemed so long ago and yet was still so fresh in her mind. She could remember their argument almost word for word and spared no detail when relating it to her father; he deserved to know the truth, but it also brought Elizabeth relief to be able to talk about it. Telling Emily had helped, it was true, but her father had always been the one person she could trust with all her worries and concerns and it had been hard to keep these secrets from him.

Elizabeth wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point during her confession she had moved to sit beside her father on his bed and was now safely cuddled in his arms as she told him of Mr Darcy's letter and his subsequent kindness to her when she had received Mr Bennet's express. Though the events she related had taken place almost two months ago they were still very painful and Elizabeth was grateful for her father's loving embrace.

"Oh papa, how I wanted you," she admitted brokenly as her father kissed the top of her head soothingly. "I was so unhappy, with no one to speak to of what I felt, no one to comfort me and say that I had not been so very weak and vain and nonsensical as I knew I had!"

"There, there," her father soothed. "It is all in the past now Lizzy. Do not let it distress you."

"How can I not?" Elizabeth argued, sitting up as she bitterly added, "I am so ashamed of myself. And I know that you must also be ashamed of me; to think that I acted in such a way! Please forgive me father, I'm so sorry."

"Elizabeth," her father intoned firmly. "For what do you have to apologise to me for? In what way have you wronged me?"

"I have let you down," Elizabeth pointed out guilty. "You taught me to behave better than I have been."

"You have let yourself down, perhaps," her father countered, "but you are old enough now to make your own choices, and to suffer their consequences. You are answerable to yourself Elizabeth, not to me."

"It is still your voice in my head telling me that I have done wrong, father," Elizabeth replied with a slight smile; her father chuckled lightly and took her hand.

"Then that is enough; you are your own master Elizabeth and if you feel you have done wrong, I trust that you will do whatever you think necessary to make it right."

"If only I could," Elizabeth breathed. "My behaviour is within my power to change, I know, and I have been trying these last few weeks to make changes, but my ability to atone for the past is limited by the fact that I will likely never see Mr Darcy again, and so am incapable of apologising to him as I ought."

"Perhaps your paths may cross again someday," her father pointed out optimistically before sensibly adding, "But even if they do not, it is perhaps enough for you to feel that you owe him an apology. It is no use holding onto the past Elizabeth; learn from it, yes, but you must also let it go."

"I know," Elizabeth replied with a slight smile. "It has taken me twenty years to learn that lesson but it is one that I shall never forget. I made a promise to myself that it was time for me to move on," she added resolutely, "and I am determined to keep my word."

"It is perhaps easier said than done," her father pointed out with the wisdom of someone who had made a similar promise before suddenly smiling and adding, "though knowing your stubbornness I have no doubt that that will simply make you even more determined. Am I right?" He teased with a twinkle in his eye and Elizabeth laughed as she replied,

"You know me too well papa."

They lapsed into silence as Lord Casterton attempted to digest all that he had heard. It was certainly a convoluted tale and he didn't wonder any longer at the extent of his daughter's distress; this past six months or so had certainly been eventful for her! And poor Mr Darcy, to have such a thing happen to his young sister! No wonder the young man seemed so careworn at times.

"I suppose your knowledge of Mr Wickham's real character was another reason you did not want Lydia going to Brighton," he eventually commented knowingly, smiling when Elizabeth looked surprised and then blushed guilty. "Yes, Thomas told me about your conversation."

"Was I wrong to interfere?" Elizabeth asked sheepishly; her father shook his head and replied,

"No, I do not think so. Thomas may be my closest friend but I am aware of his faults, one of which is his reluctance to exert himself where his daughters and wife are concerned. He needed a good talking to, and by all accounts you gave it to him," he concluded with a slight chuckle. He sobered as he added, "You did well to avoid any mention of Mr Darcy and his sister though."

"He did not give me leave to share the story with anyone and I have told no one but you and Emily," Elizabeth admitted. "Indeed, he showed great trust in me by telling me of it."

"I doubt he realised when he told you of it that you would put the knowledge to such effective use," her father commented dryly, one brow arched. He didn't sound disapproving as such, but then neither did he sound very approving either.

"I couldn't let everyone continue to think so well of Mr Wickham, not after what he did to Miss Darcy," Elizabeth argued spiritedly.

"And of course Mr Darcy's reputation is somewhat improved as a result," her father pointed out with a knowing look in his eye that Elizabeth stubbornly ignored.

"Perhaps it is," she conceded before quickly adding, "but that is not the point. Wickham cannot be trusted and now everyone knows it."

"You could have come to me," her father replied gently, though his tone was somewhat disappointed. "You could have told me what you knew and I would have spoken to Sir William and Thomas myself. You need not have resorted to such subterfuge."

"But I was worried about your health," Elizabeth defended herself weakly, knowing as she did that her father had a valid point. "And I wanted to deal with Wickham myself," she admitted finally. "He used me to further injure Mr Darcy and I could not let him get away with it."

Her father's brows rose at her harsh tone but all he said was, "Well it is done now; let us hope that Mr Wickham will take the hint and leave this place for good."

Elizabeth nodded and they lapsed into silence once more. She could see that her father was still preoccupied however and quietly prompted,

"What is it papa?"

"Do you have feelings for Mr Darcy, Elizabeth?" Her father asked, deciding to get straight to the point.

"No!" Elizabeth denied without hesitation. She was being honest with her father; she knew she was not in love with Mr Darcy, despite how confusing her conflicting feelings towards him could sometimes be.

"But do you think that he is in love with you?" Her father prodded but Elizabeth shook her head, a note of exasperation entering her voice as she pointed out,

"Both you and Emily have asked me that question and my reply remains the same; how could he be? He made it perfectly clear when he was here that our family's reputation was too great an impediment to any friendship between us, let alone something more. And our argument in Kent was such that he probably hates me now, if he even spares me a second thought, something I highly doubt."

Elizabeth realised that she sounded as though she regretted that fact even before her father quietly pointed out,

"You seem troubled by that thought."

"I confess I did quite like him at one time," Elizabeth admitted after a long moment, her confusion evident by the way she picked agitatedly at the coverlet as she spoke. "Before he knew about mother and before I witnessed how he treated those he perceived as beneath him. Mr Wickham's story came at the perfect time to further fuel my anger and sense of rejection and I directed it all at Mr Darcy. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but he became the focus of all the hurt feelings I'd been silently harbouring for years," she confessed with a frown, "and when we quarrelled in Kent they all came pouring out. He may have deserved some of what I said to him but he certainly did not deserve all of it and I heartily regret having spoken to him in such a manner. My only hope is that he has forgotten about me and the things I said; indeed I am sure he has, as I can mean nothing to him."

"I would not be so quick to think yourself so easily forgettable Lizzy," her father told her. "And I would give Mr Darcy more credit; I have no doubt that your words will have affected him greatly and that he will remember them for a long time to come."

"Perhaps he might," Elizabeth granted. She smiled as she added, "Accepting such a possibility is not at all helpful though; I am trying to forget about him and that task is made harder by the thought that he might still be thinking about me."

"Are you sure you don't have feelings for him Lizzy?" Her father asked with an amused smile as Elizabeth blushed and swatted his arm for teasing her.

"Yes! I do regret, however, that we can never be friends," she admitted, if only to silence her father. "I always felt that we would have suited one another quite well," she added almost to herself.

"If he weren't so proud," her father pointed out and Elizabeth nodded as she finished for him,

"And if I had had a virtuous mother." She sighed resignedly before smiling and saying in a tone of forced optimism, "There is no use wishing for something that can never be, however, so I am determined to put him out of my head."

"That is perhaps for the best," her father agreed. He reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear as he gently added, "And I am sure that one day you will meet a man who cares about nothing but you, whom you can be happy with."

"One day, perhaps," Elizabeth replied with not much conviction. She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek as she added, "I am perfectly content here with you, however, and have no need for anyone else."

"Elizabeth," her father began only to be interrupted by her as she stood up and said,

"I think I hear someone coming; no doubt it is Dr Jones here to check on you. I will just go and make myself presentable; I will return in a moment."

With a sigh Lord Casterton let his daughter make her escape, watching her go with sad eyes. It was indeed Dr Jones whom Elizabeth had heard and Lord Casterton just about managed to muster a smile for the kindly physician. Dr Jones was not fooled however and quirked his brow in question,

"Problems, my lord?"

Lord Casterton sighed and shook his head, "Nothing that cannot be resolved."

"In that case, let me check you over," Dr Jones replied briskly and set about making his examination.

Lord Casterton answered all the doctor's questions mechanically, his thoughts occupied by his daughter and all he had learnt that morning. The sadness in her eyes as she spoke of her future prospects had struck him quite forcibly and he wondered how long it had gone unnoticed, or whether it was actually the result of her recent foray into affairs of the heart.

Chapter 4

Posted on September 10, 2009

"I am never drinking again," Darcy muttered to himself as he somehow managed to drag himself out of bed.

His head was pounding and his vision was blurred, making his already uneasy stomach dip and swirl in a very unpleasant manner. His valet, Dickson, watched his master's efforts in silence though it was clear to Darcy that the older man did not approve.

"You need not worry," Darcy told him as he stood up and walked gingerly over to the basin of water that Dickson had awaiting him. "I have no intention of making a habit of this."

"I am glad to hear it sir," Dickson replied with the familiarity of years of faithful service.

"Your sister was asking after you sir," he informed Darcy once he had thoroughly washed himself in the freezing cold water. "Shall I send a message that you will be down shortly?"

"Please," Darcy replied, glancing at the clock and realising that it indeed was very late for him to have only just arisen. "Send her my apologies as well for keeping her waiting."

It was tradition for the siblings to start their day together when they both resided under the same roof and Darcy was sorry to have delayed his sister so long. He hurried, as much as he was able, through his morning routine and was soon on his way to the breakfast parlour.

"Good morning William," Georgiana greeted him with a shy smile.

She surreptitiously studied him as he went to the sideboard and poured himself a cup of coffee, wondering if he was sickening. She had never known him to remain in bed later than nine o'clock and yet here he was, only now making his first appearance at almost eleven!

"Good morning poppet, forgive me for making you wait so long," he replied affectionately, smiling at the delicate frown Georgiana sent his way at his use of her childhood nickname.

"Are you well brother?" She asked once he was seated, studying him carefully. "You seem a little pale," she noted with concern; Darcy immediately felt guilty and, not wishing her to worry, admitted,

"I am well Georgie; I simply overindulged a little last night with the brandy."

"Oh," his sister breathed, blushing; she looked embarrassed enough for the both of them, so much so that Darcy couldn't help but chuckle.

Georgiana looked at her brother with surprise; she couldn't remember the last time she had heard him laugh. In fact, the more she looked the more she realised that although he did indeed look quite pale and tired he nevertheless looked happier than he had done in some time. She was trying to think what had caused the change when her brother, obviously noticing her interest, told her,

"I made an important decision last night Georgie."

"Oh? What about?" Georgiana replied lightly. She did her best to hide her surprise and pleasure that her brother was actually choosing to confide in her but it was still obvious to Darcy that the decision he had made was the right one, and that it had been long overdue.

"Us," he replied succinctly. Georgiana's brows rose at this and she looked at little alarmed; Darcy smiled reassuringly as he went on, "Do not fret my dear, it is good news. I have spent a lot of time thinking during these past few weeks and last night I realised something."

"What did you realise?"

"That you are not a child anymore," Darcy replied with a loving smile at his almost grown little sister. "That no matter how much I may wish it, I cannot stop the passage of time and that you will soon be, indeed in fact already are, a young lady. As such I think it high time that I become less of a father figure and more of a brother to you; I would like it very much if we were to spend more time together, if we confided in one another more. Would you like that?"

Georgiana was silent for such a long moment that Darcy began to doubt his reasoning; eventually however she smiled slyly and said,

"Do you promise not to call me poppet anymore?"

Darcy laughed with relief as he replied, "I promise, though it may slip out once or twice whilst I get used to our new arrangement. Feel free to tell me off though whenever it does; and please, Georgie, tell me if I become overbearing and attempt to order you about. I am far too used to having my own way, and you," he added with a meaningful look, "are far too compliant."

"We both have some changes to make," Georgiana agreed tentatively. She smiled with relief when Darcy nodded in agreement.

"We can help each other," he replied before adding in a slightly melancholy tone, "Indeed, I believe I will need all the help I can get."

He frowned down into his coffee cup, his mind replaying all the criticisms that Elizabeth had levelled at him, and the ones he had added to his list of failings the night before. He felt that opening up to Georgiana was a step in the right direction, knowing that before he could attempt to change his behaviour to the world at large, he needed to fix the problems he had a home. He was pleased by his sister's reaction to his decision though and hoped that they would both be happier for it. Since the Ramsgate incident their relationship had been somewhat strained, not by any anger or blame but by their mutual sense of failure. It was time to put the past behind them, however, and move on. He would help Georgie overcome her shyness and she, he hoped, would help him overcome his pride and learn to have more respect for others.

"William?" Georgiana asked, shaking him from his thoughts, "What made you come to your decision?"

"That is a long story," Darcy replied with a sad smile, "which I intend to share with you soon. Perhaps this afternoon, when I return from some business I have to attend?" He asked and Georgiana nodded. She had a feeling that having her brother share his concerns with her was going to take some getting used to, but she also felt that it would be a change for the better.

"Come," her brother intoned briskly, standing. "Let us have some breakfast; I have made you wait long enough I think, it will soon be lunchtime!"

Georgiana smiled and followed her brother to the side board where they filled their plates with their favourite foods. As she was reaching for some toast her brother bumped her shoulder with his own; she looked up at him and he smiled affectionately down at her as he said,

"I love you, poppet."

Georgiana blushed and smiled in reply, deciding that she could happily put up with his affectionate nickname if it meant having her older brother back.

"Georgiana?" Darcy questioned, watching his sister carefully. He was surprised by the insecurity he felt as he said, "Please, say something."

"I, um, I don't quite know what to say," his sister admitted after a moment and Darcy almost smiled at her stunned tone. The tale of the last few months was no doubt a lot to take in!

It had taken considerable effort and determination, but Darcy had finally managed to force himself to speak of what had happened in Kent and the events preceding that fateful afternoon. When he had admitted to spurning the Casterton's once Miss Bingley had discovered the truth he had purposefully denied himself the comfort of avoiding his sister's eye, knowing that the disappointment he would see there, whilst painful, would no doubt help him in times to come. Georgiana had not disappointed his expectations of her; she did not say a word, indeed did not have to say anything as he could see very clearly how she felt. He burned again with the shame of his conduct but it simply made him even more determined to keep his promise and do all that was in his power to change.

"You make Miss Casterton sound quite wonderful brother," Georgiana eventually commented with a puzzled frown. "Indeed it is almost as though you admired her anyway, despite your desire to distance yourself from her family."

Darcy startled inwardly and hesitated for a long moment. Despite his promise and resolutions to change he was still and probably always would be an inherently private person and he was not sure he was ready to share his feelings about Miss Casterton with anyone, even his sister. Those of a more cynical bent will no doubt assume that Darcy was using his natural reticence as an excuse, that he was a coward and did not want to give his sister yet another reason to think ill of him; perhaps they are right to think so, but for the moment at least Darcy resolved to keep silent on the subject, cowardly or no.

"I did admire her," he admitted, not wishing to totally deceive his sister. "And if I am ever lucky enough to see her or her father again, I hope, perhaps foolishly, to earn their forgiveness. I regret not making the most of the friendship they offered me," he added finally with a dark frown at some unpleasant memory.

"I am sure they will forgive you William," Georgiana replied quietly.

Her brother, whom she had always looked up to as almost perfect, seemed decidedly imperfect to her now and yet she found she did not regret the loss of her former idol. He seemed much more approachable now, a real man with flaws and all, someone she could easily relate to. She felt the weight of his sadness and wondered how much he had cared for Miss Casterton, though she decided to keep those thoughts to herself. He had asked for her help however, albeit only in an unspoken way, and she was going to be there for him. They only had each other, after all. She knew that if her cousin Richard were still in the country her brother would undoubtedly have turned to him but he was away with the army and Georgiana was determined to do all she could in his stead.

"Thank you for listening to me all this time Georgie," Darcy said, interrupting her thoughts. The clock was striking and the siblings only then realised that it was time to change for dinner.

"What are sisters for?" Georgiana teased in reply and after a moment of surprised silence Darcy chuckled and rose to escort his sister to her room.

"When is Mr Bingley returning to town?" Georgiana asked as they climbed the stairs together.

Her brother's friend had been visiting his family in the North for the past few weeks but she knew that he was due to return soon. Her brother smiled and glanced at her with a knowing look, making it clear that he knew what she was hinting at.

"He is to return in two weeks," he replied before adding, "and I intend to talk to him as soon as he returns. I have a wrong to right."

Georgiana nodded her approval and her brother smiled and shook his head, realising that having his little sister grow up into a young lady perhaps wasn't such an awful thing after all.

"William," his sister quietly said once they were at the door to her room. "I...Thank you."

"What for, poppet?" Darcy asked with a bemused smile at her sudden shyness.

"For confiding me," Georgiana replied. "For trusting me. I promise you won't regret it."

"I know I won't," Darcy assured her with complete faith. "I just hope this doesn't affect your opinion of me too badly," he added with a smile, though it was clear to his sister that he wasn't joking.

"You'll always be my big brother," she replied with a smile, "and nothing could make me love you less. And all will be well," she promised and Darcy truly appreciated her reassurances.

"I will see you for dinner," he replied and they finally parted from one another, both occupied with their thoughts.

Darcy spent the next two weeks awaiting the return of his friend and he was honest enough to admit that he almost dreaded the conversation he needed to have with Bingley. He distracted himself from his worries in the usual way, throwing himself into matters of estate during the day and attending social events at night. A welcome addition to his schedule, however, was the time he spent with his sister. They walked and rode together in the parks of town, attended concerts and the opera, spent hours wandering around exhibitions and galleries in quiet companionship; by the end of the two weeks Darcy was convinced anew of his sister's worth and chastised himself for taking her for granted for so long. Her quiet, steady presence kept him calm also and he unconsciously began to follow her example; she was still shy, it was true, but she was also unfailingly polite, kind and attentive to whomever they met, despite her own discomfort in company. His manner began to soften, ever so slowly, as he tried to temper his pride and judgemental nature and Georgiana smiled to herself when she noticed it, knowing that only those who knew him well would perceive the changes beginning to take place within him as of yet. Only time would tell if he continued on the path to change or reverted back to his old ways, though Georgiana hoped that she could help prevent that happening.

One source of unease for the siblings during this time, besides Mr Bingley's impeding arrival, was the absence of their cousin Richard. He was with his regiment on the Peninsula and every week seemed to bring news of more battles fought, both lost and won. Darcy kept an eye on the lists of wounded and learnt all he could of the war from acquaintances with links to the government; both he and Georgiana greeted the arrival of the post each day with worried glances, however, dreading a letter that would tell them that Richard had been wounded, or worse. He had been like a brother to them both all these years and he was constantly in their prayers. As is so often the case, however, their prayers were not enough to keep him safe from what fate had decided for him; but that is a story for another time...

"Darcy!"

Darcy smiled at his friend's characteristically enthusiastic greeting as the door was closed behind him and he strode further into Bingley's study.

"Hello Charles," he greeted in his calmer manner, shaking the hand Bingley held out to him. "How was your trip?"

"Boring," Bingley replied honestly though not unkindly. "My aunt, bless her soul, is beginning to feel her age. She rarely ventures out and we spent most of our visit shut up indoors until Caroline finally went into a frenzy and demanded to be let out," he explained with a chuckle at the memory. "We were allowed to attend a ball," he added with particular emphasis, as though his aunt had bestowed upon them a great honour.

Darcy smiled at his friend's humour but careful scrutiny revealed that Bingley was not perhaps as cheerful as he was making out; there were shadows under his eyes as though he were not sleeping well and his eyes lacked their happy lustre. Sighing Darcy steeled himself for what was sure to be a difficult conversation as he said,

"Charles, I need to talk to you."

"By all means. What about?" Bingley replied with a frown, instantly picking up on his friend's serious tone and mien. They each took a seat and after a long pause Darcy began.

"Charles, when we returned to London do you remember what I told you about Miss Bennet?"

"Of course," Bingley replied with reluctance, averting his eyes and staring morosely at the fire. "You told me that you had not detected any symptoms of regard for me, that she did not share my feelings and was being pushed into the match by her mother."

"I was wrong," Darcy stated quietly; it took a moment for his friend to react but when he did Darcy could see how confused he was.

"What?" Bingley questioned blankly. "What do you mean, you were wrong?"

"I was wrong about Miss Bennet's feelings," Darcy explained, watching as confusion turned to anger as he went on. "When I was in Kent I encountered Miss Casterton staying with some friends and she told me herself that Miss Bennet cares for you as much as you care for her, and that she was greatly upset by your departure from Hertfordshire."

Bingley sprang up out of his chair and walked to look out of the window, no doubt unable to bare the sight of him, Darcy thought. He spoke to his friend's back.

"When I separated you from Miss Bennet I honestly believed that she was indifferent to you Charles; it was convenient for me to think so, I admit, what with my low opinion of her family, but I swear to you that I believed it nonetheless. I know now how mistaken I was and I am sorry for interfering Charles; I never meant to hurt you or her, but I know that I undoubtedly have."

There was a long pause until Charles finally spoke. "You say that Miss Bennet cares for me as I do her?"

"Yes," Darcy replied. He sighed and admitted to his worse offence. "Indeed, even before Miss Casterton's revelations I had reason to doubt my conclusions when Miss Bennet and her aunt called upon your sister here in London."

"What?!" Charles demanded, spinning round. "Jane was here? When? Who...? Why did I not know of this?"

"We kept the truth from you," Darcy replied honestly. "She called on your sister whilst staying with her aunt and uncle several months ago now; your sister told me of the meeting and I...I purposefully kept the knowledge from you, thinking that it would do you no good to see Miss Bennet again. My interference was...unforgiveable and you have every right to be angry at me..."

"I know I have every bloody reason to be angry at you!" Bingley shouted back, startling Darcy who couldn't remember ever hearing his friend shout in such a manner.

The two friends stared at one another in tense silence until Bingley, unable to bare the sight of his "friend" any longer turned away and rudely told him,

"Get out."

Darcy did as he was bidden, turning to walk away with a heavy heart. As he reached the door he paused and turned back to his friend,

"I am so sorry Charles."

Charles gave him no sign that he had even heard him and Darcy sighed with resignation before finally taking his leave. He emerged from Charles' house onto the street where his carriage was waiting with a deep sigh, suddenly feeling as though a weight had settled onto his shoulders. He climbed into the carriage and wearily sat back, his eyes shut.

"I take it that it did not go well," Georgiana quietly surmised sadly, reaching out to take her brother's hand.

"No, not well at all," Darcy replied; he opened his eyes and squeezed his sister's hand with a grateful smile that did not reach his eyes. "It is done however and I hope some good may still come of this whole situation."

"You think he will return to Hertfordshire?" Georgiana questioned as the carriage trundled along towards their home.

"I would if I were in his place," Darcy replied before his mouth set into a grim line as he added, "Not that it has anything to do with me. I am never going to interfere with anyone else's affairs again. And if you think I am about to, Georgie," he added with a grim smile, "please remind me that it cost me my best friend the last time."

"I think you should wait and see brother," Georgiana replied with a very motherly pat to his hand. "Mr Bingley is incapable of holding a grudge, and anger is not in his nature either. You will reconcile before long, I am sure."

"I hope so," Darcy admitted. "Everyone who knows us thinks that Bingley is dependent on me to "guide" him or what have you but the truth is that I am equally dependent on him. He has been my friend since university and I would dearly miss his friendship."

"All will be well brother, you'll see," Georgiana assured him although inwardly she was not so sure as her words made her sound. All lay with Mr Bingley now and she hoped that he had not been pushed beyond the limits of his kind nature.

A week later Darcy was in his study looking over his accounts when he was startled from his occupation by the sudden arrival of Bingley; his friend walked unannounced into his study with a determined stride and without preamble demanded,

"You say that Miss Bennet loves me?"

"From what Miss Casterton told me, yes," Darcy replied, slowly coming to his feet, wondering who this man was and what he had done with his usually endearingly bumbling friend.

"And you swear never, ever, to interfere in my business again?" Bingley demanded before softening to something of his usual self to add, "Unless I ask you to, of course, then you're free to interfere all you like."

"I swear I won't ever interfere Charles, unless expressly invited to," Darcy assured him and his friend nodded resolutely.

"Very well. I'm going back to Hertfordshire, did you want to come?" He asked briskly and Darcy fumbled over his response.

"Come with you? I..um, well, err..."

"Come, Darce, it'll do you good to get away from the city for a bit. Georgiana is welcome too, of course and you'll get to see Miss Casterton again."

Darcy stared at his friend in shock, wondering what on earth Bingley was trying to imply. He had to suffer the mortification of blushing like a school boy when Bingley chuckled and teasingly added,

"Come now Darcy, did you really think I hadn't noticed? I've never seen you smile at anyone the way you smile at her."

"Charles, I," Darcy began; he shook his head in an attempt to make sense of all this but in the end gave up and said, "I have been such an arse."

Bingley laughed heartily and slapped his friend on the shoulder. "That makes two of us."

"You haven't done anything wrong," Darcy argued but Bingley shook his head.

"I listened to you when I should have listened to my heart," he pointed out. "I'm not saying that I forgive you, or that you were right to do what you did," he added with a glare at his friend, "but I was wrong to let myself be led so easily. I'm a grown man for god's sake!"

"I meant what I said Charles; I won't ever interfere again," Darcy promised and Bingley nodded his thanks. The two friends regarded each other in silence for a long moment until Bingley, unable to hold a grudge against anyone, let alone his best friend, smiled and clapped Darcy on the shoulder.

"Come, Darcy, let's put all this behind us. You're heart was in the right place, I suppose."

Darcy smiled his relief, knowing that if Charles were any other man he'd never have been forgiven, let alone so readily. Charles Bingley was Charles Bingley though and Darcy would have him no other way.

"I don't deserve you, my friend," he replied, "but I'm heartily glad to have you as my friend nonetheless."

"Pfft," Bingley flapped his hand as though to bat away the praise. "Enough with the idle flattery; it isn't your style and it won't get you anywhere with me!"

They shared a laugh before Bingley reverted back to his earlier question, "So, will you come with me to Hertfordshire?"

"You are determined to go?" Darcy queried, pleased that his friend seemed so set upon this course of action.

"I am," Bingley replied firmly, daring Darcy to question him. His reliance of his friend's opinion couldn't be completely overcome however and he couldn't help but add, "Do I have your blessing?"

"Do you need my blessing?" Darcy challenged with a smile.

"No; but I should like to have it all the same!" Bingley replied with a laugh and Darcy placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Then you shall have it, along with my sincere apology. I can offer no justification for my actions; it was an arrogant presumption based upon my failure to recognise your true feelings and Miss Bennet's. I should never have interfered. It was wrong of me, Bingley, and I apologise."

"I can't remember the last time you admitted that you were in the wrong," Bingley mused thoughtfully and Darcy smiled sadly and shook his head.

"Well I fully own that in this, and in many other things, I was certainly in the wrong, utterly and completely."

Deciding not to explore that statement for the moment Bingley stored it away for another time and reverted back to an old question,

"So, will you come with me to Hertfordshire? I should be glad to have you, Miss Casterton or no."

Darcy smiled at the offer, sorely tempted to accept it. It had been almost two months since he'd last seen Miss Casterton; was he ready to see her once more? Did he want to see her again? His heart leapt at the thought and Darcy smiled to himself, knowing he had the answer to that particular question. What remained unclear, however, was whether she would welcome his presence? Would she still be angry at him? And what of Wickham? The thought hit him suddenly and he frowned darkly as he thought of that man and the possibility of his still being in the area.

"Shall I leave you to think about it?" Bingley asked, noting the dark frown on Darcy's face.

"Forgive me," Darcy breathed, coming back to the present. "I will need to talk to Georgiana before I decide; I will let you know soon."

"Very well," Bingley agreed. They spoke for a few minutes more on trivial matters before Bingley finally took his leave.

"I shall see you soon I expect," he said as he rose to leave.

"Yes," Darcy agreed; they shook and he began to apologise again before Bingley held his hand up to silence him.

"Until next time, my friend," Bingley said with a smile that told Darcy that he was forgiven and that it was all in the past.

Returning the smile Darcy wished his friend a good day, sitting back down in the chair behind his desk with a relieved sigh, feeling better than he had in weeks. Now all he had to do was decide whether or not he was ready to return to Hertfordshire.

Chapter 5

Colonel Forster was a man committed to King and country. He had known from early on in life that he was destined for the army and he took his duty seriously; he was a good soldier and an even better commanding officer and it was a rare day when he made mistakes or foolish decisions in his professional capacity. No, he left those for his personal life; Mrs Forster was a lady committed to herself and shopping and counterbalanced all of her husband's good sense with her self-absorbed foolishness. Nevertheless, Colonel Forster was a good man (albeit with very poor taste in women) and when he eventually heard of Lieutenant Wickham's transgression he was determined to right the wrong. Wickham was promptly confined to his rooms with severe threats of punishment should he dare to venture out and the good Colonel hastened to Willoughby to call upon Lord Casterton personally.

"Good morning Colonel," Lord Casterton greeted his not-wholly unexpected guest. "You will forgive me for not standing?"

"Of course," Colonel Forster hastened to assure his lordship, feeling slightly uneasy.

"It is good to see you again Colonel, though I wish the circumstances were different," Lord Casterton added with a smile, trying to set the other man at ease.

"Yes," the Colonel agreed. "I hope your recovery is going well."

"Well enough," Lord Casterton replied, not wishing to share the news of his slight relapse with just anyone. "But where are my manners? Please, take a seat."

The colonel took the offered seat across from his lordship and after a moment began his carefully rehearsed speech.

"It has recently come to my attention, my lord, that one of my officers has...did not conduct himself in a manner befitting a gentleman when he last encountered your daughter. Lieutenant Wickham has been confined to quarters and will be dealt with accordingly..."

"How do you mean to deal with him?" Lord Casterton questioned, one brow raised. He knew that Wickham had done nothing wrong where Elizabeth was concerned but he wasn't about to ruin his daughter's carefully orchestrated plan; the cad deserved all that was coming to him and more.

"His debts will have to be discharged and he will receive no pay until I have been compensated. He will not be allowed to leave his quarters whilst we remain in Meryton and once in Brighton he will be given duties befitting a man capable of such disrespect towards a young lady."

Lord Casterton bit back a smile at the thought of what "duties" Wickham would be made to endure before sobering to ask,

"I have your word on that? That he will not be allowed to leave his quarters? I cannot have my daughter afraid to venture out of the house and I will not tolerate that man being allowed to wander free; he is a threat to all the young ladies in this neighbourhood and it is our duty to do right by them."

"You have my word," Colonel Forster promised him soberly and was relieved when Lord Casterton smiled.

"Very well, I am satisfied."

"I would still like to apologise to your daughter, my lord, if I may?" Colonel Forster asked. "As one of my officer's Wickham's behaviour is my responsibility and I cannot help but feel that I owe your daughter an apology; Lord knows she won't get one from him, the reprobate," he muttered angrily under his breath.

Lord Casterton had the good grace to pretend he hadn't heard the latter part of his remarks and rang for a servant to fetch Elizabeth. The two men made small talk until she appeared and Colonel Forster stood up, bowing low to her as he said,

"Miss Casterton. Please accept my most humble apology. I heartily regret any harm my officer caused you and I can only hope that it is of short duration."

"I am quite well, Colonel," Elizabeth assured the poor man, whom she did quite like (despite his poor taste in women) and felt guilty for deceiving. "And I accept your apology. I simply wish to put the whole episode behind me; there is no need for us to think of it anymore."

"You are too kind," Colonel Forster replied, pressing the hand she held out to him. He looked between father and daughter before briskly declaring, "Well, I had best be off. Good day my lord, Miss Casterton."

Elizabeth and her father watched him go in silence until the door to her father's sitting room was closed behind him; Elizabeth looked to her father, her brows raised in silent question.

"Wickham is to be confined to barracks until the regiment leaves for Brighton in a few days," her father admitted. Elizabeth didn't hide her surprise as she asked,

"You went along with my lie?"

"Yes," her father sighed. "Wickham may not have done anything this time but I have no doubt that you have earned his wrath and were he released he would find a way to exact his revenge. That is a risk I cannot take," he concluded darkly with a pained expression and Elizabeth quickly took his hand as she gently assured him,

"Do not worry about me father. He is safely shut away, there is no danger."

"I pray you are right," her father breathed. He looked at her as he earnestly implored her, "Do take care though. I do not want you to venture beyond the boundaries of the estate and if you must walk you will do so at a sociable hour, when other's are about."

"But father," Elizabeth began to argue; she abruptly silenced her protests when her father snapped,

"Do not argue with me!"

There was a tense silence as Elizabeth looked at her lap, chastened by her father's harsh reprimand, and Lord Casterton frowned at his ill-tempered demand. He reached out and stroked Elizabeth's cheek, making her look up at him.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to shout. I worry about you, that's all."

"I know," Elizabeth assured him with a smile. She pressed a kiss to his palm and then took a moment to readjust her skirts, effectively putting the moment behind them. When she looked back to her father it was with a bright smile as she asked,

"Will you tell me again what Uncle Lewis' letter said?"

Her father chuckled and then nodded over to his desk, "Better yet, why do you not read it for yourself and see?"

Elizabeth excitedly hurried over to his desk and quickly located the missive; she resumed her seat next to her father and took to eagerly reading the letter. Lord Casterton smiled as he watched her, his own sense of excitement as he remembered the contents of the letter not insubstantial.

"Uncle Lewis" as Elizabeth affectionately called him was to the rest of the word His Grace, the Duke of Felmore and was one of Lord Casterton's oldest friends. They hadn't seen each other for almost five years as Lewis and his family had been on the continent, but this latest letter announced their return to England and invited the Casterton's to their estate in Dorset. Lewis had stood by him through thick and thin and Lord Casterton couldn't wait to see his friend again; he also couldn't wait to see his reaction, or his eldest son's, when they saw Elizabeth again.

"How soon do you think we can go, father?" Elizabeth asked him, interrupting his thoughts.

"I would go tomorrow if I could," her father replied with a smile, "but the decision lies with Dr Jones. When he believes it safe for me to make such a long journey, then we shall go."

"Have you replied to the letter yet? Will you tell him about your heart?"

"I shall have to I suppose," her father sighed, "though it would only make him worry. He will no doubt offer to come here but I do not wish to uproot them all when they have only just returned."

"Did he make any mention of their returning in his last letter father?" Elizabeth asked, curious as to the seemingly sudden decision.

"He hinted at it as a vague possibility, but given the situation on the continent at the moment and the amount of time it takes letter's to travel from there to here, I am not surprised he did not write to us of it. It was simply easier to do so once they'd reached England."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Elizabeth agreed. She seemed to lapse into thought for a moment before she happily exclaimed, "I cannot believe we are going to see them again, papa! I wonder what Sofia will look like now? And Fredrick, how much will he have grown? Maria I know will be as beautiful as ever but I still long to see her..."

"And Alex?" Her father prompted with an amused smile. Though there was a six year age gap between them Elizabeth and Lewis' eldest son Alexander had always been good friends.

"Do you think he'll be very different?" Elizabeth asked thoughtfully, nibbling on her nail. "He is six and twenty now, after all. I shall probably have to call him my lord, won't I? Alex is far too familiar for a Marquess."

"Lizzy!" Her father chastised her as he laughed at her foolishness, "Alex has always been a Marquess."

"Somehow that didn't seem to matter when we were playing hide and seek in his father's house," Elizabeth replied with a smile; she shrugged easily and said, "Oh well, it is of little consequence anyway. I will simply use his behaviour as a guide for my own."

The next day Elizabeth was taking tea with Jane and her family, sharing with them the news of her impending trip to Dorset, when Mrs Phillips was announced. The lady bustled into the parlour and without further ado shared the latest article of news; that the housekeeper at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her master, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several weeks. Elizabeth smiled into her teacup at Mrs. Bennet's reaction; she was quite in the fidgets but was making pains not to show it.

"Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister. Well, so much the better. Not that I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to come to Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what may happen? But that is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to mention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain he is coming?"

"You may depend on it," replied the other, "for Mrs. Nicholls was in Meryton last night; I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose to know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certain true. He comes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. She was going to the butcher's, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on Wednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks just fit to be killed."

Jane of course had not been able to hear of his coming without changing colour but Elizabeth herself was hard pushed not to show her own reaction to the news. She focused on her friend however and as soon as the opportunity presented itself spirited Jane out into the garden.

"I saw you look at me earlier, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the present report; and I know I appeared distressed. But don't imagine it was from any silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I felt that I should be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not affect me either with pleasure or pain."

Elizabeth smiled knowingly as she pointed out, "Dear Jane, did I say anything about Mr Bingley?"

"Well, no, but..." Jane blushed and then noticed Elizabeth's smiled and pouted adorably, "You are teasing me."

In truth Elizabeth did not know what to make of Mr Bingley's coming back to Hertfordshire, though she could not help but think him still partial to Jane. She also could not help but wonder whether or not he came with his friend's permission, or whether he was bold enough to come without it.

"I am glad of one thing," Jane admitted quietly as they walked together. "That he comes alone; because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid of myself, but I dread other people's remarks."

"Then I shall venture none," Elizabeth assured her before playfully adding, "however sorely I am tempted. It is hard that the man can't come to a house he has legally rented, without raising all this speculation," she commented lightly, smiling when Jane nodded resolutely.

"That is just what I think."

"Then we shall leave him to himself."

"Yes," Jane agreed. She caught her friend's eye and blushed at the look she saw within. "Stop it, Lizzy," she chastised her friend with a playful glare.

Elizabeth laughed lightly and took Jane's arm and they continued on around the garden in thoughtful silence. Elizabeth was trying to decide how likely it was that Mr Bingley would come alone, or if Mr Darcy would be with him. Had he confessed the truth to Mr Bingley? Is that why that gentleman had decided to return? Or was he coming because he had decided for himself? And what of Mr Darcy? If he had told Mr Bingley the truth, had their friendship survived the ordeal? Or would Mr Bingley come alone? She hoped their friendship hadn't been ruined by Mr Darcy's actions, they were nonetheless well meant, if completely misguided. And if he had confessed all to Mr Bingley, did that not mean that he had learnt from his mistake? Had taken her words to heart in this instance and acted on them? It was all so confusing!!

Elizabeth sighed heavily, drawing Jane's attention. After assuring her friend that she was well Elizabeth took her leave, climbing into the carriage that her father insisted she use until the regiment, and Mr Wickham, left Meryton for good. Elizabeth chaffed at the restriction but knew that she only had a few more days to wait before she was free to ramble about once more.

Now that she had begun to think of him Elizabeth found it very difficult to turn her mind from thoughts of Mr Darcy and the ride back to Willoughby was spent trying to decide whether or not she would like to see him again. When she thought of their argument she thought not, but when she remembered his letter and subsequent kindness she thought so. The apology she owed him also weighed heavily on her and by the time she reached home she had worried herself into a fine headache. Fortunately Emily was visiting with her father so Elizabeth forced thoughts of Mr Darcy from her head as she focused on her two companions instead.

"Come on Denny," Wickham whispered urgently; he could see his friend was wavering and pressed his advantage, "it won't cost you anything. And I'll forget about that £20 you owe me if you do it."

"What are going to do?" Denny asked nervously, glancing towards the door to Wickham's room. He was confined to quarters and denied visitors but Denny, whose turn it had been to stand guard, had managed to slip in unnoticed; he was regretting it now though.

"Get some fresh air, stretch my legs," Wickham replied with what he hoped was plausible sincerity. "I've been cooped up in here for almost a fortnight and you know that once we're on the road I won't be let out until we're in Brighton. Please Denny, I just want to get out of this room for a few hours."

"Alright," his friend capitulated with a sigh, glancing towards the rapidly lightening window. "Just promise you'll be back in time."

"I've got until 10 o'clock, haven't I?" Wickham checked, adding when his friend nodded, "Then I'll be back by nine. I swear Denny, I just want to get out for a bit. No one will be any the wiser."

He was at his persuasive best, knowing that this was his last chance to get away. He had no intention of coming back but his poor, stupid, gullible friend was too simple to realise that. Denny was a good man, very useful to a man like Wickham and he applauded himself for having thought to befriend the hapless officer. You never knew when these things might come in handy, after all.

"Very well, be off with you then," Denny urged him in a whisper, "Just be sure not to make any noise as you go."

Unable to believe that his plan had actually worked, Wickham practically skipped down the back steps and out the door. He held his head high as he walked at a brisk pace through the fields at the back of Meryton, keeping away from the main roads, cutting across the farmlands to avoid being seen by any passing vehicles, knowing that his redcoat was very noticeable. It would come in handy later on though, he knew, hence his decision not to divest himself of it. He'd been walking for about an hour when Willoughby Hall came into view and he cursed to himself, his voice carrying in the early morning quiet. Every time he thought of how Miss Casterton had trapped him he was filled with a simmering rage and it greatly irked him that he was forced to leave this place without having got his revenge on the scheming bitch. He had to take his chance to get away, however, before he was carted off to Brighton and made to endure his punishment, which he had no doubt would be severe. He was tired of army life anyway, and the denial of his pay was yet another reason he'd decided to cut his losses and make a run for it; desertion came with a heavy price but he wasn't about to get caught.

It was as he was approaching Netherfield that Wickham stilled, a familiar voice reaching his ears. He paused to listen, a gleeful grin spreading across his face. Surely, he could not be that lucky?! He inched forwards and, much as he had suspected, spied none other than Miss Casterton walking through the adjacent clearing, singing quietly to herself. Advancing slowly, Wickham pushed his way through the bushes and stalked after her, advancing on his prey with a menacing glint in his eye. His boot landed on a large twig and the loud snap resounded in the silence as the lady gasped and span around, her face paling slightly when she saw who was standing not six feet behind her...

Chapter 6

Posted on September 17, 2009

"What do you want?" Elizabeth demanded after a long moment of tense silence during which she attempted to quiet the sense of foreboding that had swept over her at the sight of her silent pursuer. She took refuge in impertinence and bravado, hoping he would not see her fear.

"I haven't decided yet," Wickham replied quite honestly. "Meeting you was not in my plans for this day, though our paths' crossing is certainly quite fortuitous."

He smiled and slowly perused Elizabeth from head to toe, a licentious look in his eye. Elizabeth felt herself stripped bare and defensively crossed her arms over her chest, noticing how his look lingered there. He raised his eyes to her face and she glared at him with obvious fury; he simply laughed quietly to himself.

"You're quite the lively thing, aren't you? I have always liked my women spirited though," he added with a leer and Elizabeth's temper exploded.

"I am not your woman!" She exclaimed furiously, her fists balling at her sides. "You disgust me! You..."

She cut herself off abruptly as he took several paces towards her and Elizabeth, though she cursed herself for her cowardice, couldn't help but retreat back a few steps to avoid being within his reach. He smiled at her retreat, his eyes mocking her.

"I'm of a mind to collect what you owe me," he mused quietly before adding in a harsh tone, "I've been accused and convicted of a crime I've yet to commit, though that can be easily remedied."

His hands shot out to grasp her arms but Elizabeth reacted quickly, jumping backwards and then swinging her arm to strike him as hard as he could about the face. Wickham's face snapped sideways and with his face still averted he laughed cruelly before returning the favour and backhanding Elizabeth across the cheek.

"You'll have to try better than that this time," he told her as Elizabeth gasped and held her hand against her cheek where a ring he wore had left a deep and painful gash. Her eyes began to water as she felt the blood begin to seep through her fingers but she refused to give Wickham the satisfaction of crying in front of him. "There's no Sir William to save you now."

Wickham again went to grab her about the arms, this time succeeding, his face contorted and angry as she fought against his hold, hitting him repeatedly about the chest with her fists. Tears of indignation and fury sprang to her eyes as he grasped a fist full of her hair, yanking her head back with a vicious jerk and crushing her mouth in a fierce and brutal kiss that was meant to punish and humiliate her. Elizabeth continued to struggle against his hold on her, all the while keeping her lips resolutely clamped shut as he tried to force his tongue into her mouth, feeling sick to her stomach.

Her temper, however, which had so often in the past led her into mischief, in this instance proved most useful; she doubted after all that any other emotion but anger could have so effectively overrode the fear she felt at that moment. As it was, as her temper took over, her courage rose and before Wickham knew what she was about she kicked him with all her might between the legs. She found herself suddenly released and stumbled backwards as she watched Wickham let out a howl and crumple into a heap on the floor, curled up into a protective ball.

Elizabeth studied the prone man before her, her chest heaving with fear and exhilaration. She was somewhat taken aback by his reaction though from past experience she did know that men were sensitive in that area, having witnessed a stable hand take a knock there when she was younger. Nevertheless she hadn't expected such an extreme reaction and was surprised at her own strength; she couldn't deny though that she was pleased with the result of her hasty action and thought it lucky that she'd chosen to wear her good, sturdy walking boots this morning.

After taking another few moments to gather her wits Elizabeth glanced about her. Unwilling to spend any more time in Wickham's deplorable company and not at all certain how long he would be thus disabled, she stumbled off the direction of the road, thinking it would be safer to walk back home via that path. It was only as she hurried away from Wickham that she realised how utterly terrified she still was, how close she had come to danger.

Bingley chuckled to himself as he saw Darcy yawn widely for at least the tenth time that morning. His friend shot him a dirty look from his seat across from him in the carriage and Bingley laughed openly this time.

"Tired, Darcy?" He asked with a smirk.

"It's your fault," Darcy retorted with a grumble. "Honestly, dragging us from town when decent folk aren't even about on the roads!"

"I confess it was a little early," Bingley agreed, totally unrepentant. "But at least this way you'll have more time to rest once we reach Netherfield."

"I wouldn't need time to rest if I'd had more time to sleep," Darcy pointed out and Bingley laughed again at his friend's ill humour. Darcy always had needed his sleep.

"Were you similarly inconvenienced by my eagerness to leave, Miss Darcy?" Bingley asked his friend's sister who had watched their interaction with a smile.

"Not at all, Mr Bingley," she assured him demurely before playfully adding, "I was sensible enough to retire early last night."

She looked pointedly at Darcy, knowing he had been up very late from what their butler had told her this morning. Darcy flushed and attempted to defend himself,

"I was busy!"

His two companions simply smiled to themselves and Darcy was glad they let the matter drop. The truth was that he'd been unable to sleep, tortured by anxiety at the thought of seeing Miss Casterton again. When he'd spoken to Georgiana about the possibility of travelling to Hertfordshire, confessing the likelihood of Wickham still being in the area, his feelings had been torn between concern for his sister, anticipation at the thought of being once more in company with Elizabeth and nervousness about his reception. When Georgiana had confessed herself capable of venturing into the neighbourhood he had been proud of her strength and determined to show a little of his own; he was a grown man after all and he wasn't going to let a lady leave him cowering in the corner! That was what he had told himself in any rate; the moment was fast approaching when his resolution would be put to the test.

Bingley and Georgiana were chatting quite amiably about the chance of rain when they were suddenly interrupted by a shout from above. Sharing a look with Darcy as the carriage came to a smart stop, Bingley banged on the roof and called,

"Is there a problem Jenkins?"

"There's a lady sir," came the reply. The coachmen conferred with one another inaudibly as Bingley and Darcy exchanged another curious glance and silently came to an agreement.

"Stay here," Darcy told his sister before thinking to add in a softer tone, "Please."

"Yes, brother," Georgie replied with a smile at his effort which she quickly tried to hide from her brother as he looked at her suspiciously.

Following Bingley out of the carriage, Darcy looked up to the drivers as Jenkins explained,

"Just back there sir, right there." He pointed down the road to where there was indeed a young lady standing. "She stumbled right out of the hedge, almost in front of us. Lucky we didn't hit her."

"Thank you Jenkins," Bingley replied before looking to his friend. "Should we go over...?" He tentatively suggested, noting that Darcy was not really listening to him.

In truth, Darcy was more concerned with the young lady and the uncomfortable feeling that he recognised her. He slowly began to walk in her direction, Bingley at his side, and was about to call out to her when she turned and he saw her face clearly for the first time.

"Miss Casterton!"

Elizabeth jumped at his sudden exclamation and watched uncomprehendingly as two gentlemen approached her, looking very much like Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley. Indeed, once they were within three feet of her Elizabeth had to admit that they were indeed Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, as strange a coincidence as that was. She realised that they were speaking to her and tried to pay attention.

"My god, what on earth happened?" Bingley exclaimed, staring at her cheek in dismay. The cut still bled profusely and an angry bruise was already forming.

Darcy was more concerned with practicalities than his friend and quickly handed Miss Casterton his handkerchief; she took it almost unthinkingly, with a hand that shook so violently that Darcy was instantly alarmed. He moved to step closer to her but she jumped and paled so quickly that he stopped at once.

"Miss Casterton?" He quietly, tentatively ventured. When that garnered no response, "Elizabeth?"

Finally she looked up at him, up into his eyes, and Darcy sucked in a sharp breath at the tortured look therein. She seemed only then to recognise him.

"Mr Darcy," she whispered. She blinked a few times and then in a stronger voice asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied honestly, relieved when her lips twitched ever so slightly.

"I was walking," she began to explain; Bingley stepped forward and asked,

"Did you take a fall?"

"No," she replied, suddenly glancing behind her into the trees with a stricken look. Darcy saw it and immediately comprehended what it meant, nevertheless hoping to God that he was mistaken.

"Were you...? Did someone importune you?" He asked in a low voice, albeit as gently as he could.

For some reason that made Elizabeth smile, a dark smile but a smile nonetheless. She nodded as she replied, "Yes, you could call it that."

At her reply the two men suddenly moved closer to her, as though they were guarding her from some unseen foe. As she looked between her two would be protectors, noticing their dark expressions, she suddenly felt safe again for the first time that morning. Knowing that there was more to be said she laid a hand on Mr Darcy's arm and confessed,

"It was Mr Wickham."

The effect on Darcy was instantaneous. First he looked disbelieving, but as the truth sank in his expression changed to one of loathing and barely contained anger. He moved, obviously with the intent of accosting the scoundrel himself, but Elizabeth tightened her grip on his arm, silently imploring him with her eyes not to leave her. They were silent for a long moment until Elizabeth whispered,

"Please, send someone else."

Darcy found that he could no more ignore her entreaty than he could tell the sun not to rise; he nodded and took a deep breath, allowing the tension to flow out of his body. Her hand still lay upon his arm and he covered it with his own,

"Come, we have lingered here long enough. We will take you to Netherfield and have your father sent for."

Elizabeth nodded and allowed Mr Darcy to lead her to the waiting carriage. It was strange, but the act of placing one foot in front of the other required so much more effort than usual and she was grateful for the support of the gentleman beside her. She supposed she was still suffering from the shock of Mr Wickham's attack, and her close encounter with Mr Bingley's carriage, but she hoped the effects would pass soon.

"Bingley," Darcy addressed his friend in a low voice as they slowly made their way back to the waiting carriage, both keeping a careful watch over the clearly traumatised young lady. "Have your men search the area. I doubt he will have lingered here but if there is a chance he remains nearby then he must be caught."

Bingley nodded and was about to issue instructions to his men when he was interrupted by Miss Casterton saying,

"He may still be where I left him." She pointed into the trees. "There is a clearing, about fifty yards that way. That was where I was when he," she stopped, unwilling to say anymore. "He may still be there."

Darcy and Bingley shared a look of confusion before the latter ventured an enquiry, "Where you left him?"

"Yes, I..." The lady blushed and looked down at the ground as she admitted, with a great deal of faltering, "When he tried to...I fought him...I struck him in such a way as to...he seemed somewhat incapacitated."

"How on earth did you manage to...?" Bingley began; he trailed off at the warning look from his friend who did not want Miss Casterton to have to relive her ordeal. Miss Casterton had heard him, however, and, with sudden boldness more reminiscent of her usual self, admitted,

"I kicked him between the legs. It proved to be quite effective."

"I'm sure it did," Bingley muttered to himself after a stunned silence. He turned to give his men the directions as Darcy studied the top of Miss Casterton's bent head with no little amount of awe.

When they reached the carriage he opened the door for her, holding his hand out to assist her in. Feeling her hesitate he looked up and realised that in all the confusion he had neglected to mention his sister to her, and vice versa. Smiling down at her reassuringly he said,

"Miss Casterton, may I introduce my sister, Georgiana. Georgie, this is Miss Elizabeth Casterton. She has had a slight mishap," he explained with a look that clearly asked his sister not to ask any questions at this time.

His sister, however, was far too preoccupied with the lady's injuries to think to ask about their cause.

"Oh! Your poor cheek! Come, sit beside me; take my handkerchief."

She added her own handkerchief to Elizabeth's growing collection and began to gently wipe away the blood. Elizabeth willingly submitted herself to the younger girl's care and silently thanked Mr Darcy who stood watching them both with a worried air. He smiled tentatively at her and Elizabeth managed to return the gesture before his name was called and he disappeared from view.

The two ladies were silent as Georgiana worked until she eventually whispered, "There, is that a little better?"

"Yes, thank you," Elizabeth replied tremulously.

She felt her bottom quiver and before she knew what was happening she had burst into tears. It didn't even occur to her to be embarrassed about crying in front of a total stranger as Miss Darcy was being so kind and considerate, although Elizabeth doubted that she would have been able to stem the outpouring of emotion even if she had tried. As it was it took her several minutes to regain her composure, sniffing pitifully as she wiped her eyes with Mr Darcy's handkerchief. She managed a wobbly smile for the young girl sat beside her, watching her worriedly.

"Forgive me, I have had a very trying morning," she said with unintentional humour.

"It is quite alright," Miss Darcy assured her quietly. "I am simply glad to have been of help to you. I hope I have been of help."

"You have," Elizabeth assured her, giving her hand a thankful squeeze. "And I thank you for it."

The gentlemen chose that moment to return, and it took considerable effort on Darcy's part to conceal his reaction at the picture Miss Casterton and his sister made as they sat together, hand in hand. It was so reminiscent of his own hopes for the future that it took him several moments to recover; fortunately Bingley did not find himself similarly undone and was mercifully his verbose self.

"How are you faring?" He asked Elizabeth with worried frown. She smiled and attempted to put him at ease, though the effort was spoiled by the way her voice shook as she said,

"I am well enough now, largely thanks to you both." She found herself suddenly shy of looking at Mr Darcy and addressed herself solely to his friend. "I am indebted to you."

"Please," Mr Bingley replied, looking modest and uncomfortable. "We did nothing that was not our duty. Far be it for us to abandon a lady in need of aid!" He proclaimed with a smile that Elizabeth returned, realising that he was uncomfortable with her gratitude.

"Did you find Mr...?" She ventured before realising who was sat beside her and quickly saying, "Did you find him?"

"We have left men searching," Mr Darcy replied, speaking for the first time since returning to the carriage. He waited for the lady to look at him before adding, "But we will find him, you have my word."

"I have sent a man on to Willoughby, to fetch your father," Bingley supplied after a moment of heavy silence. He was surprised when Miss Casterton nodded with obvious relief before her eyes widened and she cried worriedly,

"Oh no! No, no, no, no...he mustn't find out, at least not like that! We must go to Willoughby, I must go home!"

Bingley and Georgiana watching with increasing alarm as Elizabeth became quite frantic, but Darcy, who thought he understood her worry, remained calm and took her hand as he firmly assured her,

"Do not worry; Bingley's man was told only to inform your father that you had taken a fall and that we were escorting you to Netherfield so that you could be seen to. I gave him express instructions not to alarm your father."

"He will be so worried," Elizabeth whispered, her eyes filling with tears. Darcy squeezed her hand and replied,

"Then let us have you taken care of, so that when he arrives he has less cause for concern."

Elizabeth recognised the sense in his suggestion and nodded, taking a deep breath in an effort to regain her composure. She glanced at the other two occupants of the carriage and was relieved when they both smiled in understanding. It was only when they carriage pulled to a stop and the door was opened by a waiting servant that she realised she had yet to release Mr Darcy's hand. She did so quickly as a blush spread over her cheeks, gratefully accepting the hand Mr Bingley extended to her to assist her down from the carriage.

Miss Casterton was quickly ushered upstairs to a guest chamber, attended by the housekeeper and Georgiana, who did not wish to leave her alone. The apothecary was sent for as the young lady still seemed somewhat traumatised by her ordeal and the cut on her face needed tending. A cup of tea and a few quiet minutes sat in front of the fire appeared to go some way towards calming the lady and restoring her spirits, but it was obvious to all that she still was not easy, and likely would not be so until her father arrived.

The two gentlemen awaited his arrival downstairs in one of the many parlours, Darcy pacing in front of the fire as Bingley sat in a nearby chair, watching his friend's progress. He knew little of Wickham beyond the very little Darcy had told him and was subsequently shocked by this evidence of the man's evil character; he was greatly relieved to know that the scoundrel had been found and was at this moment being taken back to barracks by two of his outriders whom he knew could be relied upon. He almost smiled to himself as he remembered Miss Casterton's bold admittance of how she had disabled her attacker, wishing nonetheless that she had been spared the necessity of defending herself from such advances.

As he paced Darcy's mind kept jumping from one thought to another with every length of the space in front of the fire. To and fro, to and fro, he paced and paced again, desperately trying to keep his rampaging anger under control. His nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists, the urge to strike another man washing over him for only the second time in his life. Even in his present state he knew that had he gone after Wickham himself and encountered him, he would not have been able to restrain himself; it was fortunate indeed that Miss Casterton had pleaded with him to stay.

Elizabeth! His relentless pacing finally ceased and he turned towards the fire, leaning heavily against the mantle, his forehead resting on his arm as he stared unseeing into the flames. Her face, pale and terrified, appeared before him and he was suddenly seized by fear, dreading the effect this morning would have on her, wondering whether she too would become a shadow of her former self as his sister had done for so long. Closing his eyes against the possibility, Darcy sighed with anguish. Of all the people Wickham could have chosen to attack, why did it have to be her!? Why his darling Elizabeth?

Startled from his tortured reflections by the sound of the door opening, Darcy straightened in time to see Lord Casterton hurry into the room. It was very apparent that, regardless of the measures taken to avoid worrying his lordship, his lordship was nevertheless extremely worried.

"Where is my daughter?" He demanded without preamble; his voice was strained, not angry, and Bingley quickly rose to his feet and replied,

"She is upstairs. Miss Darcy and my housekeeper are seeing to her comfort, and the apothecary has been called for. Wilde will show you the way," he added with a nod to the waiting footman.

Lord Casterton seemed to breathe a sigh of relief before thanking them and following the servant from the room. Bingley watched him go before glancing at his friend,

"Do you think we should have attempted to explain what happened before sending him to her?"

"I don't think he would have given us a chance to explain," Darcy pointed out quietly, hoping that her father's presence would provide Miss Casterton with the comfort she so sorely needed.

Feeling useless and concerned, the two friends resumed their prior positions as they awaited news of the lady; that one's concern far eclipsed the other's can well be imagined.