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Chapter Five

After Elizabeth had rounded the corner and was out of sight, Darcy walked back to the pasture where he had left his mount. His mind and heart were overtaken with conflicting and unsettling thoughts and emotions. He deeply loved Elizabeth but a part of him was angry with her for misjudging him so completely. He was infuriated that once again Wickham had deceived someone he cared for. He was frustrated with himself for not realising the true state of her feelings toward him. Had it been less than a week ago that he believed she was awaiting his offer with pleasure? What a blind fool he had been.

Reaching the field he called his horse to him, saw to the tack, swung himself up into the saddle and urged Odysseus into a gallop. He spurred him on, effortlessly clearing a thick hedgerow at the bottom of the pasture, and continued their devilish pace across the verdant fields. The speed was exhilarating and carried with it the feel of leaving all his problems far behind.

In Elizabeth's eyes he had officiously manoeuvred events and directed people to his own ends with no remorse, ignoring any feelings other than his own and disregarding any hearts that may be crushed in the process. He had casually directed his friend from the woman he loved to reserve him for Georgiana, not scrupling to break Bingley's heart, and not heeding Miss Bennet's. She had implied that he had haughtily surveyed his company and had assessed them as wanting - only willing to grace them with his superior presence and withholding his conversation. And those were not his worst offences. No, he had pushed aside honour, integrity and mercy and succumbed to baser feelings in the conscious and deliberate impoverishment of his father's favourite. He had intentionally devastated a dependant's prospects and cruelly denied him a promised livelihood.

Elizabeth had been right when she stated her admissions may give him pain. He did not often care what others thought of him - but he loved Elizabeth and craved her good opinion. Her initial rejection had hurt, but the knowledge of her true opinion pierced his heart. The injustice of it hit him: he was not a bad man - had he not always tried to take the honourable course in life? But the one woman he longed to have love him had despised him.

The sun was rising in the sky and the morning mist had now evaporated as Darcy guided Odysseus along the edge of a newly ploughed field, ready for the spring plantings. Darcy sighed. To Elizabeth he was a villain, it was no wonder she rejected his proposal and could not countenance his offer of courtship. And yet, instead of cruelly wounding him with angry words (which he, blackguard that he was, would not hesitate to do), she had couched her refusal in restrained terms and had been unwilling to reveal her true opinion of him, out of concern that she may cause him more heartache than he already must feel. She had interrupted him earlier, in consideration for his feelings, to prevent him from asking a question which she could not answer favourably.

"Mr Darcy! Please do not ask if you can court me!"

"I apologise for not meeting you before today. Lady Catherine has been rather ... demanding. As my aunt and hostess she has a valid claim on my time, however she has begun to schedule my every move. That is more than obligation demands. I shall not allow my aunt to keep me from you again. I shall meet you on Friday morning."

Darcy knew he must now trust Elizabeth's kind heart and good sense and hope that she would be able to come to see him in a more estimable light. Had he known the true extent of her misconceptions, the veritable chasm between them, nothing would have prevented him from keeping their previous meetings. Colonel Fitzwilliam had suggested she hated him, but he had not taken that comment seriously. He had thought whatever objections she could have would be minor - that his status, repute and character would give at least a foundation of merit. How very wrong he was!

He prayed Elizabeth would improve her opinion of him - it could hardly get any worse! She had been wholly wrong about him, had she not? Was it wise to completely dismiss her opinion? Had he not always applauded her intelligence and ability to provide sound arguments? Was her judgment here entirely wrong? Did she not profess to be a studier of character - she must have based her opinions on some evidence, she must have got her ideas from somewhere.

Perhaps it all stemmed from his insult at the Meryton Assembly. He had certainly not made a good first impression. 'She is tolerable I suppose but not handsome enough to tempt me.' How his opinion had changed! He had somehow managed to persuade himself that she had not heard his disparaging comments. It had been far easier to believe that than the alternative - that she had heard him and he ought to make an apology.

Darcy pushed Odysseus back into a gallop. He cursed his rudeness and stupidity and swore never to insult anyone again in that manner. She had not been more than five yards away! "Did I just presume she was deaf?" The Colonel had pointed out his lack of fellow-feeling - how right he was! "What was I thinking? Only of myself - not of her feelings at all. I did not, could not, know then what she would eventually mean to me."

Would it have been so very bad to indulge Bingley and dance? Did he have to resort to discourteousness? He had been in a black mood that evening and Bingley had been so enthusiastic, so annoyingly cheerful. Perhaps Elizabeth had compared the two and seen two extremes - Bingley, eager to find everything and everyone pleasing and Darcy, in bleak contrast, a misanthrope.

He was not, and could not be, like Bingley. He did not have his ease of making conversation, he could not always catch the tone of a conversation or appear interested in others' concerns. He could not understand Bingley's readiness to be pleased with any society, let alone emulate it. Darcy thought it rather foolish to be so trustful and unguarded. Was he not right to be circumspect? It afforded him some protection. During the London season he was careful with whom he associated. He assiduously avoided certain people and certain sets - the buffoons, the fops, those with less than honourable reputations and of course the matchmaking mamas and their daughters. Was it his fault that all of Hertfordshire society seemed equal parts mercenary and foolish? Well, clearly not all of Hertfordshire society - Elizabeth and, evidently, Jane were the exceptions. Did he really know that they were the only ones of value? This was the society that had produced Elizabeth, that had helped mould her into the exceptional woman he fell in love with, how could he discount it entirely? If Elizabeth had found worthy elements in that neighbourhood then there must be some others of merit there. He had not given anyone else there an opportunity to prove their worth. He had not looked further than Elizabeth.

Darcy was ashamed to acknowledge that Elizabeth's accusations of his 'indifference and barely concealed derision' were just. He had evaded admitting it to her, saying he had felt nothing of that for her, but in truth he had judged the rest of Hertfordshire society as beneath his notice and had not exerted himself to know them better. He slumped somewhat in the saddle as feelings of guilt washed over him. He ought not to have concealed his true feelings under the guise of awkward social skills. It was true that he was reserved and did not converse easily, but his reticence was due to his haughtiness, not due to a lack of confidence.

Darcy raised his head and surveyed the fields around him. A scripture sprang to his mind: 'For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass: For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightaway forgetteth what manner of man he was.' Elizabeth had held up a mirror - he ought not to go on his way and forget what he had seen. These painful feelings ought not to be repelled. Elizabeth had not hesitated to openly admit her mistakes. It had been painful for her - she had castigated herself and made herself miserable - but she had admitted to it. He ought not to repress such feelings. He had come to believe he was not worthy of Elizabeth, admission of his mistakes was the first step toward becoming a man she could respect and love.

Darcy and Odysseus made their way down a small bank and to the edge of a stream. Darcy dismounted and led the horse to the water's edge allowing him to drink. Sitting upon a large, flat rock, removing his hat and raking his hand through his hair Darcy watched the water flow past, gliding over the rocks and pebbles and cascading down a small fall.

He was proud of his status in society and had viewed Hertfordshire as inconsequential because they lacked wealth, fashion and breeding. Is that not what he despised - being courted for his prominence in society and the condition of his finances? Did he not detest walking into a ballroom and hearing the whispers - 'eligible bachelor', 'grandson of Earl', 'great estate in Derbyshire', 'ten thousand a year'. Yet he had been guilty of the same attitude. Those were the very same measures he used to judge others - fortune, breeding, connections and influence. Darcy was struck with his own hypocrisy and felt disgusted with himself. That was why he had struggled against his feelings for Elizabeth - because against those standards she fell short. He had not wanted his status and his good name to be injured by a marriage to an inconsequential country Miss. But Elizabeth was so much more than that! Was he any more than the wealthy, landed grandson of an Earl?

How did Elizabeth judge others? Through their own merits - not against any worldly standards but as to their own goodness, principles and the content of their character. Darcy's character had fallen short of Elizabeth's standards. He had judged with superficial standards; Elizabeth looked for substance.

How had his view of the world become so skewed? How had he come to judge people by their pocket books and prestige rather than their character and qualities? Did he really think so much of himself that he could sit in judgment of others and deem them unworthy? He could not honestly remember ever being different. Was his upbringing wanting? His father had not been so prejudiced as to birth and wealth - had not the son of his steward been a favourite? However, his father had been rightly proud of Pemberley and all that it stood for. He had taught Darcy to be proud of the estate and fulfil his duties and obligations to it. His mother had been proud of her family: he had been named Fitzwilliam in their honour. Lady Anne had been proud of their lineage, proud of their status. From an early age he had been given everything he could want - nothing that he desired was denied him - everything that could give him pleasure was provided. How could he not have grown into a proud, overbearing adult? He had been given good principles, he had been taught liberality, fairness, honesty, integrity but he had also been encouraged to be arrogant and proud.

Elizabeth had been quick to see him for what he was. She had voiced her findings during their verbal spar at Netherfield asking him his opinion of vanity and pride. What had been his reply? "Vanity is a weakness indeed but where there is real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation". He had failed to recognise his own vanity and had boasted of his pride. He had condemned himself in her eyes.

Darcy mounted Odysseus and began the short ride back to Rosings stables. He was ashamed of what his values had been but was resolved to do better in the future. He was determined to become a man Elizabeth could respect and esteem.

To think that had he not been so convinced of his own superiority he could now have been celebrating his engagement. No - if he had come to this realisation sooner he would never have left Hertfordshire in November - he and Elizabeth could have been married by now. Instead he was reproaching himself and had made Elizabeth uncomfortable and miserable. Instead of bringing her joy he had brought her pain. A wave of sadness washed over him as he thought of his own failures. He sat straighter in the saddle and squared his shoulders. He was not about to give in to depression, he had impaired his chances and had squandered the time he had spent with Elizabeth but the sense of what he had lost would keep him firm to his resolve.

Elizabeth walked out of Rosings gates and into the lane and stood looking at the parsonage for a moment. Turbulent thoughts were warring inside her head and she could not define her feelings. Everything she thought she knew about Mr Darcy, Mr Wickham and herself had been completely overturned. All at once she was feeling shock, shame, anger, distress and disgust. Returning to the parsonage at this moment was impossible. She was completely unequal to the task of conversing with her friends and appearing her usual cheerful self and the thought of the possibility of another lecture from Mr Collins had her turning down the lane instead of parsonage garden path.

She could not think of her recent discussion with Mr Darcy without sharply chastising herself. She had never felt so stupid or felt such a sense of shame in the whole of her life. At least she had remained firm to her resolve and had not lost completely her temper. She had been unable to mask her annoyance but had managed to control the unjustifiable anger she had felt. How much more complete would the humiliation have been had she unleashed her misplaced fury.

The small sense of satisfaction she felt at her restraint did little to reduce Elizabeth's shame for having behaved so very badly toward Mr Darcy. She had found fault with him because she had wanted to, attributing negative motives to his actions and imagining failings where she had not found enough to satisfy her. She had been so very prejudiced. She had thought herself exceptionally clever, thinking that her judgment was impeccable, because she had disliked him so vehemently before the general populace in Meryton had heard of his vicious propensities. Why had she done this? Because he had wounded her pride and vanity with his unkind comments at the assembly. She had been nothing but a blind, naïve fool.

She reached out and snatched a stem of ivy from its home on the low bough of tree as she passed it. He had more than recompensed for those few words. He had paid her such compliments: had praised her, proposed to her, loved her! How disappointed Mr Darcy must now feel! He would be saddened that his plans had come to naught and must be completely disenchanted with her! Nothing could be more sure of driving away regard than him coming to realise that the woman he loves not only despises him but had courted the attentions of his worst enemy and was herself a vain, partial and foolish creature.

She began to shred the ivy leaves in her hands, pulling them apart carefully along their veins. She was now faced with the fact that all her opinions of Mr Darcy had been without foundation - she did not know him - he was little more than a complete stranger. She had ungraciously interrupted him earlier - how could she have answered the question she thought he was going to ask? She was humiliated - she had said such things to him - how could she even face him again let alone welcome his attentions? Her judgment had been so deficient - how could she make such an important decision? It was not a situation to be entered lightly. She discarded the tattered remnants of the ivy stalk, throwing it into the bushes.

What did she know of him now? Her list of his faults she could abandon and replace with a list of merits. The officiousness she had charged to him in relation to his interference with Mr Bingley and Jane's relationship could be supplanted with a fierce and active loyalty, that mirrored her own. The scandalous and unprincipled behaviour of which Wickham had accused him was wholly without foundation and instead he was honourable: acting with integrity in dealing with an unscrupulous man and generously giving him more than he deserved.

Instead of being greatly conceited he was ready to admit when he had made mistakes and make amends where he believed he was wrong. Had he not promised to speak to Mr Bingley about Jane? At least some good could come of this situation - her sister may have the opportunity for happiness.

Mr Darcy had also offered assistance in dealing with Mr Collins, if she required it.

After his explaining about Lady Catherine's determination to keep him at Rosings, Elizabeth had replied, "I do understand - I too am a guest. I had to slip out this morning before Mr Collins had risen so he would not detain me."

Darcy shook his head, "If he causes you any more discomfort, I will do all in my power to ease the situation - even if that means escorting you to London earlier than planned."

Elizabeth thought Darcy had perhaps overreacted to the situation, but she could only compare his behaviour to how her father would have reacted. He would have undoubtedly laughed at Mr Collins' absurdity, finding it diverting, and would have encouraged her to do the same. He would likely have scolded her for being missish at having taken such offence at Mr Collins words. He certainly would not have voluntarily offered to put an end to the situation, unless it had escalated very significantly. She did not know quite how to feel about Mr Darcy's support, never before having had such a willing champion. It was a novel experience. No one had ever been so eager to defend her and he was fully able to carry out his offer and had asked for nothing in return. She doubted it would be necessary to call on him to intervene, but just the knowledge that he would act should she require it enhanced her own strength and increased her toleration.

A few days ago, she admitted to herself, she would have felt no warm feelings toward this offer. She would have assigned different motives to him, attributing his offer to his abominable pride or arrogance or his apparent need to be in control of every situation. Mr Darcy did seem to be very used to getting his own way. She could have been right about that. Following his offer to escort her to London before Saturday, should she require it, he had asked about her current travel plans.

"You and Miss Lucas are travelling alone by post?" His tone made it plain that he did not think much of this arrangement.

"Write him a letter and I will have my man take it to Westerham and have it sent Express."

She was not sure whether to attribute his determination to accompany her to his high-handedness or his protective loyalty but either way she had a letter to write. She took a deep breath, resolved to repress all thoughts of Mr Darcy until later, and turned back toward the parsonage.

Chapter Six

As Charlotte and Elizabeth stepped from Mr Collins' bookroom, Charlotte's curiosity was piqued. Elizabeth, shaking her head in a mixture of amusement and denial, collected the bonnet and pelisse that she had not long discarded, and went to wander the garden. Charlotte, going to join Maria in the parlour and sitting near the window with a good view of the gardens, watched her. They had left Mr Collins in his bookroom following a most singular conversation. Very little Mr Collins said interested Charlotte now, and his words then had done little to improve her opinion of his sense, but what had surprised her was Elizabeth's response. Mr Collins had been concerned when Elizabeth had returned to the parsonage from a very early walk, and had requested she and Charlotte join him in his bookroom for a Private Conversation.

Charlotte and Elizabeth seated themselves and looked attentively at Mr Collins, albeit with a little trepidation as Mr Collins stood formally before them, one hand resting upon the mantelpiece.

Charlotte looked at Elizabeth with a curious smile on her lips. Elizabeth had defended Mr Darcy rather warmly! Had her opinion of Mr Darcy changed so very much in the past day? Charlotte thought this a very interesting development indeed. Turning back to her husband she said, "And do not forget, Mr Collins, what a great estate Mr Darcy has in Derbyshire, he surely oversees several livings - it would be wise for you to keep on good terms with him. He undoubtedly has great influence in the church."

Elizabeth and Charlotte had been able to defend Mr Darcy sufficiently to convince Mr Collins to abandon his arguments against him, but not enough for him to rescind his request that Elizabeth restrict her activities to the parsonage garden unless accompanied. It was all very well keeping his future options open but it did not do to go against the mandate of his present patroness.

Charlotte looked through the window, into the garden, and watched her friend as she wandered about, deep in thought. Lizzy had not been quite herself since her suffering a headache several days ago. As she had denied still feeling ill, Charlotte was certain there was something else disturbing her and was convinced that something was Mr Darcy. Charlotte knew better than to demand her confidence - if Elizabeth wished to confide in her she would, but she certainly would not if Charlotte tried to force her to reveal her intimate thoughts. Charlotte watched as Elizabeth abruptly stopped her meandering and began to walk purposefully back to the house. A moment or two passed and Lizzy entered the parlour.

"Charlotte," she said, "I happened across Mr Darcy in the grove this morning and as he is travelling then himself, he offered to escort me and Maria to London on Saturday. He offered to arrange for a chaperone to travel with us and I saw no reason not to accept. What do you think Maria? Shall you prefer to travel in a fine carriage or would you rather we hired a post-chaise?"

After Maria's raptures on the possibility of travelling in a fine equipage, Elizabeth had excused herself to write a letter to her uncle to explain the change in travel arrangements.

"Well Maria!" asked Charlotte, once Elizabeth had left the room. "What do you think of that?"

"What a lot I shall have to tell when I get home! Mr Darcy's carriage may be even finer than Lady Catherine's!"

"I wondered before today whether Mr Darcy admired Lizzy, now I am almost certain of it."

"Mr Darcy admires Lizzy?"

"You must write to me Maria, from London, and tell me whether Mr Darcy pays her any particular attention."

Anne de Bourgh was staring rather vacantly from the library window. To all outward appearances she was politely and thoughtfully considering her cousin's reading - she sat straight-backed, her hands demurely clasped in her lap, a deceptively pensive expression graced her face but she had long since ceased listening to her cousin's words as he read aloud from some historical tome. She simply allowed the sound of his voice to wash over her as she became lost in her own thoughts.

Darcy cleared his throat, drawing Anne's attention. Looking around she found that her mother had left the library. This event had apparently evaded both her and Darcy's notice; she was alone with her cousin. Darcy shifted in his seat, a wry smile on his lips, he continued his reading:

"…I therefore require, charge, and command that you make answer, for I have been well informed of your arrogance, Act plainly, without reserve, and you will sooner be able to obtain favour of me…"

Anne once again slipped into covert inattentiveness, blocking out Darcy's voice and becoming lost in thought. Darcy had been acting rather strangely this visit. Anne had noticed that at the start of his visit he had seemed very distracted and now it was as if he had realised his inattentiveness and was endeavouring to compensate by being overly considerate. Anne could not account for it.

"Anne?" Darcy said rather loudly, disturbing her reverie. He had evidently been trying to gain her attention for some time. "You seemed very far away."

Anne offered him a half-hearted smile, "I do apologise, pray continue."

He looked at her curiously and closed the book. "If I am not mistaken," he said, "you are as indifferent to the Collected Letters of Queen Elizabeth as I."

Anne smiled faintly and nodded. What had Darcy been thinking choosing that work? He must have chosen it for her mother's benefit - she certainly possessed a lot of books devoted to the subject. Anne could not remember a great deal from her history lessons (Mrs Jenkinson had a circuitous, incoherent style of teaching) and Anne had often let her mind wander. They had, though, dwelt a great deal on that Queen and some information was bound to take hold. Anne had been struck with the similarities between Lady Catherine and Queen Elizabeth, perhaps her mother used her as something of a model - both were strong, independent, well-educated women with sharp tongues, which they used to their own advantage, and who surrounded themselves with obsequious men. Anne smiled as she pictured Mr Collins as Raleigh, ceremoniously placing his cloak over a puddle in a gallant attempt to prevent her mother's feet from being muddied. Darcy too was a favourite in the Court of Lady Catherine, though he was certainly far from sycophantic, despite his current efforts at courtesy. He would not fulfil Lady Catherine's every wish - he had all but promised never to offer for Anne. Which of Queen Elizabeth's favourites had rebelled against her? The Earl of Oxford? Essex? Anne could not remember. But whatever his name was that was Darcy. A one time favourite ready to stage a rebellion.

"Shall I select another book?" Darcy asked, "Poetry perhaps?"

"Yes, poetry." Anne repeated blandly. It did not matter much what he read - Darcy chose the dreariest books. He needed to marry someone as dull as he - someone who would appreciate tedious histories or incomprehensible poetry or the latest article on sheep breeding.

Darcy rose, returned the book to its sisters, and moved to the shelf containing poetry. He ran his finger along the spines, quickly scanning the titles. He paused at Scott and half pulled the book from the shelf before hesitating, he seemed to change his mind as he slowly pushed it back into its place, turned to Anne and said, "There is Scott and Cowper here or I have a work of Coleridge in my rooms. Which would you prefer?"

Anne frowned. Scott, Cowper or Coleridge? If she could remember any of their works she may have been able to make an informed decision but she was likely to find each as dull as the other and understand none of them. Before she was able to pick one at random Darcy moved closer to her and spoke again.

"I have a new novel upstairs," he said. "It is by a new authoress - Mary Brunton - and it is not as dull as the title 'Self-Control' suggests. Would you prefer me to read that?"

As it was, she had much rather have Self-Control read. Lady Catherine did not approve of novels and Anne rarely got the opportunity to read one. However a thought struck Anne: "Why is Cousin Darcy being so considerate? Perhaps Mama is right." she thought, "Perhaps he is not as rebellious as I thought. Perhaps he has extended his stay to make me an offer!" Everything seemed to fall into place. His distraction earlier in his stay could now be accounted for as his devoting a great deal of time considering whether or not to enter into an engagement and his current attentiveness was in an effort to win her favour. Anne paled at the thought.

"Would you rather to do something else?" asked Darcy.

Anne rose from her seat with an outward serenity that she did not feel and smoothed her gown. "If you will excuse me, cousin, I have a headache coming."

Darcy took out his watch and checked the time. Today he would meet with Elizabeth and hopefully she would say whether she was willing to allow him to further their relationship. He hoped he had done enough to persuade her. Darcy was feeling a peculiar mix of confidence and self doubt. He was usually a confident man - it was a natural result of his possessing a certain amount of arrogance. The same part of him that had assumed her acceptance of his initial proposal was now confident that he could win her heart if only he was granted the opportunity. He was equal parts grim doubt that the opportunity would ever be given him, and desperate hope that it would. He had been waiting for her almost an hour. He had left Rosings as dawn was breaking and the sun was steadily making its ascent as he waited in the grove.

He had returned to Rosings that day, after his enlightening conversation with Elizabeth and his own mortifying reflections, with a strong feeling of purpose and a determination to succeed. Darcy neither gave his heart nor made decisions lightly. Once he had overcome his struggles and realised he did not wish to live without the brightness and joy she would bring to his life nothing could cause him to swerve from his course. He was now driven by his intense love for her, his determination to succeed and his incredible obstinacy. Her admission of her true feelings towards him did not, for a single moment, cause him to relinquish his goal of winning her hand but only added a further obstacle to overcome. Once he had determined on a course of action he would hold to it unbendingly. Elizabeth had informed him where he was lacking and the only thing he could do was to improve himself and make himself worthy of her. Elizabeth was certainly precious enough in his eyes to merit his attempts at self-improvement. She was a remarkable woman and deserved no less. He had walked into his aunt's house with a resolute air ready to effect the changes needed. To him who is determined it only remains to act. Unfortunately Rosings offered little scope and his efforts had been frustrated.

Elizabeth treated all around her with thoughtfulness and courtesy regardless of their rank, intellect or how they treated her. She treated Mr Collins with dignity despite his foolishness, to Lady Catherine she showed respect regardless of her prying and rudeness, and to Caroline Bingley demonstrated civility in spite of her insincerity. Darcy's first response in any situation was to ensure his own comfort. He found he had to constantly remind himself to be considerate and ensure the comfort of others. He scanned the grove in the direction of Hunsford, but still there was no sign of Elizabeth. He could not think so little of her integrity to believe that she would not honour her promise to meet him and thought that the responsibility for her absence may lie at Mr Collins' door.

It had been a long three days. He had known Elizabeth needed a period to disentangle her thoughts and Darcy had promised himself that he would give her time to do so. He had often wished to, but he had not called at the parsonage - determining only to do so if Elizabeth summoned him to save her from any situation of Mr Collins' making. He had almost wished for Mr Collins to make a nuisance of himself, to enable him to see Elizabeth that much sooner, but either Mr Collins had conducted himself with more civility or Elizabeth had not wished for Darcy to become involved.

He hoped Elizabeth, had she witnessed them, would have been pleased with his attempts. He had been polite to his aunt, despite his disappointment with her manners. He attempted to involve the mouse-like Mrs Jenkinson in conversation (however Lady Catherine had answered all questions he posed to her). And he had tried to converse with Anne.

All Darcy's attempts at conversation with his cousin had been met with brief, bland answers or silence. Darcy admitted he lacked the skill and patience to draw her out (if there was anything to draw out, which he often doubted) but her lack of response irritated him. He was using every courtesy in his power and she was evading and ignoring him. Lady Catherine had greatly deceived herself if she thought Anne's insipidity would ever tempt him to offer for her. She seemed quite content to sit quietly for hours, putting forth no effort at conversation, not using her time in any useful way and making no attempts to occupy her mind. Anne could not compare to Elizabeth.

Darcy pulled out his watch and checked it again. It was now a later hour than any time he had previously met Elizabeth here and on his looking down the grove there was still no sign of her. He had promised Elizabeth that he would not let anything keep him from meeting her - not Lady Catherine, not Elizabeth herself, and certainly not his aunt's fool of a Rector. If Mr Collins was impeding Elizabeth's freedom his only recourse was to meet her at the parsonage. Scanning the lane again and still not seeing Elizabeth, Darcy began to walk towards Hunsford.

Elizabeth returned to the parsonage following a brief turn about the garden under the ever watchful eye of Mr Collins. He had not made too great a nuisance of himself since his ill conceived attack on Mr Darcy's character - nothing with which she had felt the need to concern Mr Darcy. Mr Collins had not relented in his desire to keep her from walking out alone, however, even going so far as to rouse himself at an exceptionally early hour to prevent her from slipping out unnoticed at dawn. If it had not greatly frustrated her need for solitude she may have admired his tenacity.

She had spent a great deal of time in the parsonage garden the past few days. Walking out accompanied by John, or heaven forbid, Mr Collins, would have denied her the privacy she needed to think deeply on the only subject that currently occupied her mind - Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. It was not as liberating to walk to and fro along the garden path in the view of the residents of Hunsford as it was to meander the grove alone, and she believed Charlotte to be a little suspicious of her current pensive moods, so she took to pretending to read a book on a bench in the garden while she deliberated on the conundrum that was Mr Darcy.

Elizabeth removed her pelisse and bonnet in the hall, and joined the others in the breakfast room. Once she had a cup of tea and a roll, she indicated her intention to oversee the packing of her trunks and the ever sensible Charlotte persuaded a reluctant Maria to do the same, but not before the younger Lucas girl had extracted the promise of help from the elder. Mr Collins, satisfied that the ladies would be well occupied for the foreseeable future, left to pay his daily call at Rosings with no fear that any lady would venture out alone.

Elizabeth directed Molly, the Collins' housemaid, to remove her gowns from the closet as she set aside her evening wear and travelling clothes. She had worked through her conflicting emotions, and discordant thoughts as best she could in the time available. She had revisited her past interactions with Mr Darcy, endeavouring to re-evaluate his behaviour and ended up condemning her own. She had spoken to him with the intention to give offence more often that not. She had blindly allowed herself to be led by Mr Wickham. Her insolence to Mr Darcy at the Netherfield Ball she could not look at without shame. In her own past behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret. Often through the course of the past few days she had wondered how Mr Darcy had ever fallen in love with her.

Come Thursday afternoon she believed she had ordered her thoughts as best she was able. Mr Darcy was a good man - she had excellent character references from his friendship with Mr Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was intelligent, generous, honourable and loyal. He was honest, sometimes painfully so, and was ready to make recompense for his errors.

On the other hand, he had not adequately explained away his behaviour in Hertfordshire. Granted he was not a man of many words and was reserved but, as he so accurately said, so were Jane, Charlotte and her father and none of them would sit next to anyone for an extended period without speaking. He certainly did not lack confidence and so she could only believe he thought himself superior, and that Hertfordshire society was not worth his attention. She admitted he had more reason to think well of himself than anyone else in her acquaintance, but she could not like such conceitedness.

He also looked down on her family. He did not respect them. She knew their faults full well but she still loved them. Would he want her to distance herself from them? She found it difficult to imagine his ever staying at Longbourn or him entertaining her mother and younger sisters at his house in town or at Pemberley. What of her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner? He had asked to call on her at their home - did he realise that that would require him to travel near Cheapside? Would the proud Mr Darcy countenance his wife calling on her relations in Gracechurch Street? Would her family be lost to her? Marriage must be a difficult thing to become accustomed to. To submit herself to the will of her husband would be difficult enough, but without the support of her family it would be untenable.

She doubted very much that they would find felicity in marriage. He evidently thought them compatible but based on their previous interactions she could not. Granted she had not in the past endeavoured any more than a cold civility interspersed with impertinence but their relationship had consisted of misunderstandings, an inability to communicate and quarrels. That did not bode well for the future. Her father had often expressed his thoughts about the possibility of her future wedded bliss or lack thereof - she would be in danger if she could not respect or esteem her husband; her quick wit and obstinacy would make an unhappy marriage true torture for both spouses. Add to that his arrogance, officiousness and need to have his own way and she doubted whether they would be able to live in the same house. That was not the kind of marriage she aspired to.

There was also the question of his wealth. From a prudent point of view she could not ask for a better union. She would be in a position to provide for her mother and sisters if they survived her father. She would never want for anything and could likely have all that her heart desired. These things were in his favour, but was it enough to commit to a courtship?

Her feelings had been harder to evaluate than her thoughts. She was certain she no longer hated him, but was unsure whether she actually liked him or not. The truth was he was not the man she thought him to be, and she did not truly know him. She could assign him some merits and faults but she did not trust herself to accurately judge the motives for his actions. She did not know how he thought, his tastes or his plans and wishes for the future and she did not know whether she could ever come to love him. But she knew enough to know which answer she had to give him.

With all the household now accounted for - Charlotte and Maria were in the latter's room, John was fetching the trunks and Mr Collins was visiting Lady Catherine, Elizabeth had only to excuse herself from Molly, go downstairs, put on her bonnet and pelisse and slip from the house.

Charlotte happened to look from Maria's window as Elizabeth went through the parsonage gate and met Mr Darcy in the lane. After a brief greeting Mr Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm which Charlotte noted she took without hesitation. Darcy was sporting a smile Charlotte had never before seen grace his face. It was almost equalled by the satisfied grin that Charlotte wore on her own.

Chapter Seven

As Darcy approached the parsonage he had a clear view of Elizabeth as she stepped lightly down the garden path, focused on fastening the buttons of her gloves. The smile of success as she fastened the button at her left wrist was soon replaced by a small frown of concentration as she struggled to fasten the right. It was a nigh on impossible task. Her less dexterous left hand, further hindered by the leather of her gloves could not work the tiny button into its hole. Darcy watched, fascinated, as she stubbornly persisted. The tip of her tongue crept out and pressed her upper lip, her frown deepened and her steps slowed. Darcy was captivated. He smiled to himself and shook his head - wondering how even the most mundane of tasks could enthral him, if it were she who was performing them.

Every day, Elizabeth was becoming more precious to him. He both dreaded and longed for her promised answer. He doubted whether he could survive a further rejection and even though he believed she deserved far better, he was desperate for her to accept his suit. He just needed a foothold - the opportunity to progress - then he was sure that eventually she would be his.

Darcy opened the gate for her as she approached it. She looked up quickly in surprise and offered him a small smile. It was not the wide, dazzling grin he was hoping for but nor did she seem displeased to see him. As they greeted each other formally he looked at her intently, trying, unsuccessfully, to discern what her answer may be.

Elizabeth stepped through the gate and Darcy placed his walking stick on the garden wall, reached down, took her hand in his and turning it over slowly fastened her glove. He lingered over the task - locking in his memory the sight of her tiny hand, with its long slender fingers, almost completely encased by his and the feel of its slight weight in his palm. He could not resist brushing the bare skin of her wrist with his finger, although his senses were stifled by his gloves and could only imagine its softness. He savoured the intimacy of the action and delighted that she had not drawn away, but at the same time despaired that she would ever again allow him to do such a thing. As he released her hand he met her eyes, felt a sense of satisfaction as he noted her flushed countenance, and again made an attempt to read her expression but admitted to himself that he had before been such a poor judge as to her feelings that he could do this with no real accuracy. She seemed to lack something of her usual vibrancy but he could not discern the cause.

She offered him a tentative smile. "Would you accompany me on a short walk? I cannot be gone long."

Mr Darcy smiled warmly in response, took up his walking stick and offered her his arm with an air of confidence that he did not feel, "Your servant, madam."

He led her across the lane and into the grounds of Rosings and directed her to take a short gravel walk through the formal gardens.

"It is so very good to be away from the house." she breathed out in a slightly exasperated whisper.

Darcy was not sure whether she had intended to say this aloud but her sentiment could only confirm his suspicions and, with a note of concern in his voice, he asked her, "Has Mr Collins made a nuisance of himself?"

She coloured and looked away. "We did not meet today to talk about my cousin."

"No, we did not," he replied quietly. A bothersome thought, that she had evaded his question, was quickly pushed away and all thoughts of Mr Collins were forgotten, his attention was now riveted on Elizabeth. He held his breath, waiting, impatient for her to speak, as they continued down the path. He frowned slightly and looked intently at her, willing her to give the answer he ached to hear.

She looked up at him with a curious expression. "I have no wish to torment you. I am quite ready to give you my answer to your question - if you still wish to ask it."

He released his breath and stopped walking, turning slightly to look at her. "If I still wish to? Do you doubt it?"

"You looked rather solemn."

Darcy gave a small, nervous laugh, shook his head and then said seriously, "Miss Bennet, would you do me the honour of allowing me to court you?"

"Yes, Mr Darcy, I will."

"Thank you." He spoke quietly, barely breathing out the words, and felt an inexpressible relief. He took her hand from his arm and raised it to his lips. Elizabeth's gaze dropped to the ground, her colour rose and a self-conscious half smile played on her lips. Darcy, unwilling to let her go, returned her hand to the crook of his arm and they continued along the path, through a formal knot garden; the regimented box hedges restraining the colourful plantings within. "I had persuaded myself that you would answer me very differently."

"I thought you may change your mind and not wish to court such a stupid creature - I thought so very ill of you a week ago - I misjudged you so completely - I have rebuked myself thoroughly I assure you."

"I will not have you blame yourself," he said firmly. "Nor are you in any way stupid - your judgment of my character did not err so greatly."

Elizabeth smiled up at him and arched her brow. "You, sir, are ridiculously biased. I have been very stupid and very mistaken."

"I will admit to being prone to come to your defence and therefore may not be the most impartial judge, but I have spent the past few days considering my own sizeable errors and have barely thought on your excusable and minor ones."

"If you can find any excuse for my woeful gullibility and imperceptiveness I should like to hear it - I have been thinking on it for days and cannot defend myself at all."

"Your trust in Mr Wickham was misplaced but can easily be accounted for - I had done nothing to merit your good opinion and you are not of a suspicious nature. Mr Wickham would say anything to have people think well of him and you are open and genuine and wish to believe the same of everyone you meet."

Elizabeth laughed, but there was little humour in it. "That is a virtue I cannot claim for myself; it belongs to Jane. She is the one who believes there is no badness in the world and genuinely believes the best of everyone. I may have looked for good in Mr Wickham but I consciously sought out your faults, and created them when I did not find enough to satisfy myself. I am heartily ashamed of myself."

Mr Darcy could not like her continued self-reproach. "I have faults enough. I do not believe my character quite as black as you painted it, but will admit to it being a rather dark grey."

"No sir - I accused you of being cruel and manipulative, when you are simply loyal and protective of your friends, and I believed you capable of acting without principle or integrity in your dealings with Mr Wickham, when in fact you have been more than generous with him."

They passed through an archway in the tall yew hedges and down some steps into a courtyard with an ornamental pond and fountains, reflecting very much Lady Catherine's taste. Mr Darcy was revelling in the remarkable transformation Elizabeth's opinion of him had seemingly undergone - hearing her defence of him took his breath away. But his smile of satisfaction quickly twisted into one of self-deprecation. "Yet I am arrogant, selfish, too used to having my own way, high-handed and not forgetting excessively proud."

"You do not sound proud, but rather humble."

"If I do it is because you have humbled me. You have held up a mirror before me and shown me my true self, and I do not like what I see."

"I had no idea of my words being taken in such a way," she said quietly.

"I am sure you did not: you believed me to be without any honourable traits," Darcy said wryly and caught an expression of remorse on Elizabeth's face before she looked away in embarrassment, fixing her eyes on the fountain. He continued in a softer tone, "But I will own to possessing honesty - I could not pretend to be faultless once I had seen the truth. I am indebted to you - if it were not for you I would remain an insufferable man and not even know it. You have given me means to improve myself and try to be worthy of you. I am glad you have given me the chance to do so."

She looked up at him with an earnest expression approaching wonder. "You are not the man I thought you were. I own that I do not know you at all. I thought it best to give myself a chance to truly get to know you - 'Yes' was the only one answer I could give."

"You could easily have given a different one."

"No sir, not easily," she replied firmly. "Most would consider it the height of folly to refuse you. It is undoubtedly prudent to accept your courtship."

"Ah yes," he said, "a great estate in Derbyshire and ten thousand a year - some of my better qualities."

"You must know that if I believed they were your only good points I would have given you a very different answer."

"I do know it."

"But it was not what you wished to hear," she said wistfully. "I would not wish you to think me mercenary but I cannot but tell you the truth."

"I have ample proof that you are far from mercenary," he said a little stiffly, "It is sensible - I cannot fault you for it."

He felt a gentle pressure on his arm and looked down for a moment to where her hand rested on it before meeting her eyes, and noted her look of contrition.

"It was not my only reason," she said earnestly. "I do wish to know you better - I am ashamed of what I felt a week ago. I have wronged you and I feel a sense of obligation to avoid injuring you further."

Darcy looked away again, and his expression tightened. "Obligation," he repeated almost to himself.

"I fear I am not explaining myself well," Elizabeth said quickly. Darcy turned to look at her and saw a smile form on her lips before she said archly, "Do you suppose it is contagious?"

He gave her a small, tense smile, remembering his own difficulties conversing with her. "I hope not."

"I…I would not marry for those reasons." She paused for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts, turned away from him slightly and gave her attention to the flowerbed. "I can give so very little to my husband," she continued softly, "barely fifty pounds a year - I will not marry if I cannot give him my heart. I do not know if I can give you mine - I hardly know how I feel about myself at this moment, let alone anyone else. Before now, I have not allowed myself to come to know who you really are - you have offered me a chance to know you better and I have very little to lose." They stopped in front of a small gate which led back onto the lane, Elizabeth turned to him with an expression bordering on guilt and said softly, "You have more to lose than I."

Mr Darcy opened the gate and held it for her and she released his arm and passed through. Of all the feelings he wished he had inspired in her, prudence, obligation and guilt were the furthest from his desires. He felt the bitter-sweet ache of having his suit accepted for all the wrong reasons. His feelings could not be termed disappointment. Had he not thought she would reject him outright? Could he truly expect her to warm to him in a few days after months of contempt? No. What he felt could better be described as regret. Had he behaved differently in the past, had he sooner seen her true worth, had he courted her properly, had he been a better man - then perhaps his desire to have Miss Bennet as his wife would be that much closer to realisation. The hill he had to climb to reach his goal now seemed steeper, but it was not insurmountable. Darcy stepped into the lane, closed the gate behind him and turning to Elizabeth was enchanted anew, met by a pair of fine eyes, sparkling with mirth.

She smiled up at him and said archly, "I think the only way I could be wounded is if you are of a malicious character - and we have already decided you are not - and wish to exact revenge for my rejecting you and so wholly misjudging you by making me fall in love with you and then abandoning me. But I believe I shall chance it."

"If I did that," he replied seriously, "I would break my own heart twice in the process, once for losing you and once for wounding you. If you need further assurance I also plan to write to your father and ask his permission to court you. I would then be honour bound to offer for you."

"No," she said sincerely. "It is not necessary."

"It is the right thing to do."

"You did not do so before."

"No, I did not. I ought to have done so - perhaps then we would have understood each other better. I shall do it properly this time." They continued on their way down the lane. "Why do you not wish it?"

"He would be very surprised. I…" Her colour rose, and she said with no little embarrassment, "I was not temperate in expressing my opinions of you to my family."

"I see," said Darcy. "You could write a letter to him and enclose it within my own."

"What would I say?" she asked. "It would be better if I could explain myself in person. Could it not wait until I return home?"

Darcy's lips were pressed together in a thin line and it was a few moments before he asked, "When do you return?"

"At the beginning of May," she looked up at him apologetically, pleading with her eyes, "it is not so very long."

"Very well."

They walked some way in silence. This had been both the best and worst week of his life. He had felt the release of admitting the extent of his love for Elizabeth but had then been categorically rejected. He had learned that she held him in derision but had succeeded in his struggle to improve her opinion of him and he would be forever in her debt for exposing to him his true nature and enabling him to improve himself. He was now torn between elation that she was now willing to allow his suit and wretchedness that she would do so for the most tenuous of reasons. Elizabeth too, it seemed, was ill at ease; she was unwilling to meet his eye and was fidgeting with her gloves. Darcy submitted to a desperate urge for reassurance.

"So, aside from Pemberley and my income," he said with more good-humour than he felt, "what are my other good points?"

Elizabeth let out a taut chuckle. "Your vanity competes with mine!"

Darcy gave her a look intended to compel her to answer his appeal.

"Very well," she responded resignedly. "I have already spoken of your loyalty and generosity and you have proclaimed your honesty - I can add to that integrity, a well-informed mind and a compulsion to right whatever wrongs you feel you may have committed. There! Any more and your vanity will grow to truly insufferable proportions!"

Darcy smiled, assured that she was not guided merely by prudence and obligation alone but that she had some foundation of merit, albeit generalised, to build her feelings upon. They approached the parsonage and together entered the house. As Darcy removed his hat, gloves and greatcoat, Molly approached and assisted Elizabeth. Darcy felt a stab of envy as the maid unbuttoned Elizabeth's gloves and he recalled the earlier intimacy he had stolen. He held Elizabeth's gaze and she coloured under his intense scrutiny unable to turn away from his eyes until both were drawn to the door of the back parlour as Mr Collins' lurid tones rang out, "I cannot believe that! What other reason could there be? Mr Darcy cannot know the displeasure, the disappointment, he is inciting!"

Molly bobbed a quick curtsey and hurriedly withdrew. Mr Darcy looked back toward Elizabeth and asked, "Are you aware of what he is speaking?"

Elizabeth answered him only with a look of such mortification that led him to the conclusion that she did indeed know the meaning of Mr Collins' words.

"Tell me."

She shook her head. Darcy frowned. His eyes once again were pulled to the parlour door as Mr Collins' voice was heard.

"Cousin Elizabeth ought not to have acted in so wilful a manner! To walk out without protection - her Ladyship will be most displeased."

Elizabeth spoke at last. "I ought to go inside."

"As should I."

"No indeed, it is not necessary," Elizabeth said in stricken tones.

Elizabeth's distress pained him and in an attempt to lighten her mood he leaned toward her and said, "Indeed it is - I am for London tomorrow and have not yet taken leave of Mr & Mrs Collins. Between you and me," he said conspiratorially "I am attempting to impress a young lady who thinks my manners sadly lacking, I cannot afford to ignore proper etiquette."

Elizabeth's response was still rather strained. "I do believe, in the circumstances, she would forgive you."

Mr Collins' rantings continued to ring through the hall. "My dear Mrs Collins! That is all well and good but for them to be alone - again! This is precisely the sort of situation Lady Catherine wished to avoid! I cannot impress enough…"

"I believe," Darcy replied, "if I abandoned my good manners at this moment, I would not forgive myself."

"Mr Darcy, please---"

"Miss Bennet, I am afraid Mr Collins has been less than circumspect," Mr Darcy said seriously, "Do you trust the Collins' servants not to gossip?"

"No, sir." Elizabeth replied quietly.

Mr Darcy gestured toward the parlour, "Shall we?"

Chapter Eight

Mr Darcy and Miss Bennet's entrance had quieted the indignant clergyman more effectively than his wife's previous efforts. Mrs Collins now attempted to speak of the weather but each person's mind was fully occupied with Mr Collins tirade and its possible consequences to allow room for meaningless civilities. Mr Collins sat with a disapproving scowl directed at Elizabeth, Mrs Collins and Elizabeth were looking with some concern at the dark expression Mr Darcy concentrated on Mr Collins, and Miss Lucas' eyes, widened in an expression of bewilderment, were darting about between the occupants of the room. A heavy silence settled on the occupants of the small back parlour of the parsonage, all experiencing a certain degree of discomfiture.

The silence was broken by Mr Darcy; his voice was deceptively calm. "Mr Collins, may I have a moment of your time to speak with you in private?"

Mr Collins frown fell away from his face as he looked towards Mr Darcy, and was replaced by a deferential smile, "Why certainly Mr Darcy, I am, of course, well aware of the great honour you bestow upon me with your request and indeed it is no inconvenience at all, to be sure. In fact, even if it were incommodious I could hardly refuse such a request from such an estimable gentleman who is also the nephew of my noble patroness, and you may be certain should you ever again wish an audience with me, I may safely say, no occasion would be so inopportune for me to deny you!"

Reminded as to Mr Collins' tendency to produce an almost limitless quantity of words, and correctly surmising this necessary interview would be more than the work of a mere moment, Mr Darcy turned to Mrs. Collins and, although politely worded as a request, his tone was more in the way of a direct order, as he said: "Mrs Collins, might I ask that you do not allow any of your servants to leave the house in the immediate future."

Having received a nod in reply, Mr Darcy returned his steely glare to Mr Collins, "Perhaps we could remove to your library, sir."

"If you would deign to follow me Mr Darcy, I shall not lead you astray!" said Mr Collins as he strode from the room, a displeased Mr Darcy in his wake, "However, the room that houses my many books, sir, is too humble a chamber to merit such a designation, indeed Lady Catherine herself was so gracious as to condescend to advise me on the best placement of furniture to make the most efficient use of the space available. However, although now more than a study, it is still somewhat less than a library and now boasts the appellation 'bookroom'."

Having now arrived in said bookroom, Mr Collins paused, faltering between seating himself behind his own desk and allowing Mr Darcy the honour of that position. The decision was made for him as Mr Darcy moved to sit in a wing-backed chair facing the desk and Mr Collins settled himself in his own chair, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his desk, eagerly awaiting the words about to fall from Mr Darcy's lips.

Mr Darcy was leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other and his fingers steepled. His manner would be described as nonchalant were not for the cool glint in his eyes and the manner in which he had set his lips in a tight, rigid line. His voice was quite calm when he spoke, but someone who knew him well (which, it must be said, Mr Collins did not) would have recognised an element of danger in it which would put them on guard. "Mr Collins, I must admit to you, sir, that as Miss Bennet and I arrived at the parsonage we could not help but overhear some of your remarks. Miss Elizabeth admitted to me that she knew your meaning, but pointedly refused to tell me. I have never before known her at a loss for words, and it has only led me to wonder at your purport. Perhaps you could oblige me?"

"Indeed sir," replied Mr Collins earnestly, "I am well aware of my cousin's outspoken and wilful nature and such behaviour does sometimes lead her astray. I am afraid that I have found it necessary, under the gracious advice of Lady Catherine, to expressly instruct Miss Elizabeth not to walk out alone. I had not realised, before now, that the task of hosting single young ladies was so arduous and Lady Catherine was so kind and affable to advise me on that score. I am afraid to say Miss Elizabeth wilfully left the parsonage gardens this morning without protection and without informing anyone of her intentions - on my return to the parsonage earlier, I found her missing and I could not help but express my dissatisfaction."

"Miss Bennet did not, however, walk out alone. I met Miss Bennet in the parsonage garden and was happy to escort her on a short walk."

"Lady Catherine was very clear in her instructions that I or my manservant should accompany my fair cousin at all times and I expressly stated such to Miss Elizabeth. I am always most particular in complying with every piece of her Ladyship's estimable advice."

"I am sure you are, sir." said Darcy evenly, "Am I then to conclude that you believe me to be an inferior escort to your manservant?"

Mr Collins' complexion paled, "I did not mean to imply that so noble a personage as yourself could be inferior in any way. As the nephew of my esteemed patroness I cannot but believe that you would excel in any avenue you cared to extend yourself and as such am sure you are the most attentive of escorts."

"I am not my aunt, Mr Collins, and am not won over by gratuitous flattery. Let us keep to the point, sir. I could not avoid hearing you particularly mention my name in the course of venting your dissatisfaction; what did you mean by it?"

"I … Lady Catherine, I am sure did not wish for you to become inconvenienced should you meet Miss Elizabeth alone in the park and feel obliged to accompany her, as I am certain you would do, as a most courteous gentleman, who is, I am sure---" A cold look from Darcy ended his stream of flattery and Mr Collins began again, "Lady Catherine expressly wished that Miss Elizabeth did not make a nuisance of herself, had I known the full extent of her headstrong, wilful nature I would have---"

"Mr Collins, I would advise you to attempt to be succinct. If my memory serves me correctly, you did not state that Miss Elizabeth was provoking Lady Catherine's ire, but that that charge could be laid at my door. How so?"

"Your wish to remain in her Ladyship's favour does you credit, sir. Indeed it is hardly surprising given your intimate connection with that household and in particular with your fair cousin, Miss de Bourgh, but perhaps it is best to remain silent on this matter until more formal congratulations are in order."

"By all means, sir, speak frankly. To what do you refer?"

"I flatter myself, that I have inspired her Ladyship's confidence to such an extent that I am well aware of the Understanding you have with your cousin and the imminent nature of your engagement."

"Engagement to my cousin? You are misinformed, sir."

"No, I think not. Her Ladyship herself informed me of it."

"Lady Catherine has expressly stated that I am betrothed to my cousin?"

"Her Ladyship has not expressly announced the event but has made little comments and indicative remarks that could not be open to conjecture. I have on many occasions been happy to declare to Lady Catherine that you are about to carry away the county's brightest ornament."

"I am my own man, Mr Collins, and my aunt's wishes do not necessarily correspond with mine, or my cousin's." Darcy's voice remained quite quiet, almost serene, but if Mr Collins been less ready to be impressed with every word he uttered he may have been more aware of the trace of hostility in Darcy's tone. "Let me be quite clear, I am not, nor ever will be, betrothed to my cousin and the only understanding we have between us is that we do not wish to wed. Any reports as to our engagement are at best conjecture and at worst blatant falsehoods. I am sure I need not remind you of the Church's stance on gossip and slander. Let me leave my own reputation aside for the moment and speak with you of Miss de Bourgh's. Are you aware, sir, of the damage such reports may do to my cousin's honour? As a marriage between us will never take place, if talk of an 'Understanding' between us reached Town there would be speculation as to disappointments and broken engagements which could do nothing but lessen my cousin's good name."

"Your consideration for your family is admirable, sir, and it is to your credit that you are so concerned with your cousin's reputation. Indeed, now that I am fully aware of the situation I shall do all within my power to preserve the good name of de Bourgh and, although your aunt's disappointment may be great, you may be assured that I will do all I can to console her as best I can, without mention of the younger generation's setting aside familial expectations."

"That is very good of you, I am sure," said Mr Darcy, to which Mr Collins responded with an indulgent nod. Darcy then continued in a deceptively calm manner. "I am not yet satisfied as to why my escort of Miss Elizabeth is less than satisfactory, and why our walking out alone merits such strong objections. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

Mr Collins could barely explain the situation to himself, let alone to Mr Darcy. He was sure that either Miss Bennet was unashamedly throwing herself at Mr Darcy, or Mr Darcy was approaching Miss Bennet with less than honourable intentions, or Lady Catherine had some other reason for keeping the two separate which he could not fathom. Clearly someone was at fault but as his own loyalties could not allow him to blame Lady Catherine, his wife would not let him lay the blame at Miss Elizabeth's door and Miss Elizabeth defended Mr Darcy he was in a difficult position. To attach blame to one person meant displeasing another. The only escape he had found in this vicious circle was that Miss Elizabeth may be shielding Mr Darcy to protect her own reputation but how could he broach such a subject with Mr Darcy? He mopped away the beads of sweat forming on his brow with his handkerchief and made a personal vow never again to host single young ladies at his home and prayed he would be blessed with sons, not daughters.

Mr Collins finally found his voice. "It is a delicate matter."

"A delicate matter?" repeated Mr Darcy, examining his fingernails.

"Indeed it is, sir."

"I see." Darcy fixed the Rector with a cold glare. "And yet you voiced your concerns in so voluble a manner I could easily hear you from the hall. Heaven knows what your servants construed from your words. Shall I tell you what I have deduced and you may inform me if I have erred in my conjecture?"

Mr Collins shifted uncomfortably in his seat, dabbed at his clammy face and nodded mutely.

"You, and my aunt, do not wish for Miss Bennet to be alone in my company." said Mr Darcy matter-of-factly, "I can easily surmise my aunt's reasons for this but yours must be different as you believed me to be practically engaged to my cousin. Miss Bennet knew the reason but could not speak of it to me and you have described it as a delicate matter. It must be that either you believe I am likely to compromise Miss Bennet or I have other dishonourable intentions toward her."

"Indeed sir, you are to be commended for your intelligence…"

Mr Darcy rose from his chair and placing his hands on the desk leaned forward, his eyes hard, boring into the Rector's. Darcy's voice remained quiet but the edge of venom was quite evident, even to Mr Collins, "Could you really believe that, even if I were such a dishonourable wretch, I would attempt to seduce an innocent gentlewoman on my cousin's own estate? The same cousin you believed me to be my intended bride? Could you believe that your own cousin would welcome such advances? You should be grateful sir that I am an honourable man and that you are a clergyman. It goes against my principles to call out a man of God. It was a most fortuitous choice of living for you, sir."

Mr Collins, pale-faced and moist-browed, had pressed himself against the back of his chair in an attempt to move as far away from Darcy as possible. When Darcy paused for breath the Rector could only make a small, strangled sound by way of reply.

"I can only surmise that your servants have leapt to similar disturbing conclusions. I hope you at least have the good sense to advise your servants, immediately upon my departure, as to the dire consequences should they happen to repeat any of your words. You are a Rector, sir, a respected member of the community, and any reports originating from you will likely be treated as gospel. If you allow such reports to spread you will sully the reputations of Miss de Bourgh, Miss Bennet and myself and in the process gain my aunt's disfavour."

Mr Darcy stood tall and with a final dark look of contempt at the Rector, which caused him to further his attempt at disappearing back into his seat cushions, Darcy made a quick, cursory bow and strode toward the door. With one hand on the door handle he turned back to Mr Collins and said in a tone of dry civility, "And Mr Collins, perhaps you would be so kind as to mention to Miss Bennet that should she wish for fresh air and exercise, at any time before her departure, Rosings Park will welcome her and I can attest that she will be quite safe, whether in company or alone."

On hearing the front door close, Mrs Collins and Miss Bennet stepped into the hall and were met by Mr Collins coming out of his bookroom, with a rather awestruck and bewildered expression. On perceiving the ladies he endeavoured to rally his spirits, mopped his brow and with an affected air said, "A fine young man, so very like his aunt. I am not displeased, no, not displeased at all. Such an estimable gentleman, a font of good advice! Do you know, my dear Mrs Collins, he told me that the position of clergyman was a fortuitous choice for me, and that my parishioners must look upon my every word as gospel - those were his very words. He went so far as to praise my good sense in managing my household and that reminds me, my dear, could you please have all the servants assemble in my bookroom forthwith."

Charlotte headed toward the kitchen to carry out her husband's wishes. Mr Collins appeared to Elizabeth to be somewhat dazed and she was left with a burning curiosity as to exactly what had transpired between him and Mr Darcy. She would be the first to admit that she did not know Mr Darcy well, but she was certain he had not asked to speak to her cousin to compliment him.

Mr Collins turned to her "My dear cousin, Mr Darcy expressly wished me to state that you are welcome to explore the grounds at Rosings, whether in company or alone, at any time before your departure and he personally vouchsafed your well-being. He is a most affable young man."

A lesser man may have questioned the necessity of this conversation, and indeed Darcy had for a short moment entertained the possibility of avoiding it but, inevitably, he found himself knocking on the door to his aunt's sitting room, bracing himself for battle.

Mr Darcy had walked back to Rosings briskly, in a rather black mood, following his exchange with the Rector. He was incredulous at the lack of judgment and consideration Mr Collins had shown. Darcy had left the parsonage without taking leave of the ladies and owned that he was worried about Elizabeth's reaction to his interference. She evidently knew his honour would likely be called into question - perhaps she was protecting him, not wishing for him to be so deeply insulted. He quickly brushed aside this line of reasoning as entirely too optimistic. She more likely did not wish for her cousin's weaknesses to be so exposed and was perhaps worried about his reaction to the Rector's undeniably foolish assumptions. Whatever her reasons, he had involved himself despite her clear wish that he did not confront Mr Collins. She already thought him high-handed and officious - he had now added further proof.

Having been granted admittance to his aunt's sitting room, Darcy entered. Lady Catherine was seated at her writing desk attending to her correspondence.

"Where have you been, Nephew?"

He chose a chair close to her desk and replied in even tones, "I have just called at the parsonage to take leave of Mr & Mrs Collins. I had a very interesting conversation with your Rector."

This evidently did not raise Lady Catherine's curiosity as she resumed sorting her letters. "Indeed? Mr Collins has a great deal of conversation. It is, however, not commonly of interest."

"Usually that may be true, however today I could not help but hear him loudly proclaiming his dissatisfaction as I entered the house."

Lady Catherine pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing. "I have often mentioned to him the need to modulate his voice with more decorum as befits a man of his station."

"Indeed. He ought to have listened to you. He mentioned my name, your name, Miss Bennet's and quite possibly Anne's as well before I arrived - at such a volume to have been heard by the whole house. Had I not arrived when I did we could well have had a scandal on our hands."

"A scandal!" On hearing the word Lady Catherine had stabbed her pen into the paper, causing an ugly blot to blight her elegant copperplate, and she now flung down the quill with such force it skittered off the desk and onto the floor. "I demand to be told what it is he said!"

Darcy calmly bent to pick up the pen, before the ink stained the carpet, and inspected the nib. "He said that Miss Bennet ought not to walk out alone and that it would displease you greatly if she were unprotected and caught alone with me again." He raised his head from the quill and looked at Lady Catherine coolly. "Of course it did not help that I escorted Miss Bennet back to the house and we were seen, by one of the maids, to have been walking together, quite alone."

"That foolish man! Scheming girl! Mr Collins ought to keep her under lock and key! Mark my words she is out to catch you Darcy! I told Mr Collins to keep an eye on her and not let her out alone. It shows only how correct I was - the minute his back is turned she is sauntering out to find you and snare you in her trap."

Darcy's jaw tightened as he calmly took out his pocketknife to mend the shattered pen, carefully cutting away the old nib. This was not through any desire to be of service to Lady Catherine but instead to give his hands an occupation less violent than the one that immediately sprang to his mind as an effective means to put an end to his aunt's defamatory exclamations. "Do not attach the blame to Miss Bennet. I can assure you she is not 'out to catch me'. Had you not spoken with Mr Collins he would not have spoken so at all."

"You dare to blame me for trying to protect you from the advances of such a girl! You do not know what these women are, Darcy. She has you fooled. She has taken you in with her charm and pretty smiles."

Darcy was not about to acknowledge his attraction to Miss Bennet notwithstanding his views on disguise. He did not wish to give his aunt any reason to storm off to the parsonage and crush the fragile relationship he had with Elizabeth. "I can assure you madam I have not spent so many seasons in London without gaining the ability to recognise conniving females and becoming adept at deflecting their schemes." He averted his eyes, looking down again at the pen, to avoid betraying his feelings. "Miss Bennet is certainly not of their ilk."

He carefully made a new split in the quill by cracking the shaft over the back of his blade and skilfully began to carve the nib. Lady Catherine shook her head, but whether through belief of his blindness as to Miss Bennet's character or in critique of his ability to mend pens Darcy was not sure.

She watched him for some moments, before stating, "You are cutting the angle quite wrong Darcy - it will not hold the ink - you need to deepen the curve." Her voice lowered and took on a more serious note, "Do not underestimate Miss Bennet. She is a clever one. She is aiming high, I can assure you. She refused Mr Collins' proposal and is waiting for a better offer, I know it! I am by no means suggesting that you would willingly form such a disparate alliance, rather that she will do all in her power to draw you in. I refuse to sit idle while the son of my dear sister is trapped by a pretentious upstart! Would that be the way to honour the memory of Lady Anne - to allow such a one as that to take her place as the Mistress of Pemberley?"

Throughout this speech Darcy's grip on his pocketknife tightened and his movements became more stilted. He began to question the wisdom in keeping his hands occupied by wielding a knife.

Lady Catherine continued, "If you are blinded as to her avaricious ambition it falls to me to protect you! If only Mr Collins had acted as I advised him and kept a stricter watch on her, this could not have happened."

"I was not questioning your motives but your methods ma'am," he replied rather stiffly. "It was badly done. Instead of involving others in our concerns you ought to have consulted me. Mr Collins was a very poor choice of instrument."

"Fitzwilliam Darcy this is not to be borne! Do not forget who I am. You ought not to question me at all."

For a moment they each favoured the other with such looks as would make less indomitable beings quake until Darcy broke the silence quietly but firmly. "I do not mean to afford you any less respect than is your due, but when your actions so closely affect me, with possible adverse consequences, I cannot remain silent. This had almost the opposite effect to that you intended. Had the Collins' servants spread the rumour that Miss Bennet and I were alone again, inciting your displeasure because of my supposed engagement to Anne, Miss Bennet and I would have been forced to marry."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Lady Catherine. "You would marry Anne and then any rumours would settle down."

"No," Darcy replied emphatically, "Mr Collins practically announced to his household that Miss Bennet needed protection from me - that I am not to be trusted around gentlewomen. Her reputation would have been in tatters. Anne would have had the lesser scandal attached to her name - that I had jilted her - but that cannot compare to what Miss Bennet may have suffered - her father would have us force-marched to the altar." Darcy drew in a steadying breath and again turned his attention to the quill. 'Of course by 'us',' he thought wryly, 'I meant 'Miss Bennet'. Mr Bennet would have found in me a willing victim.' He very much wished to wed her but a forced ceremony, on the back of a scandal, with an unwilling bride was not exactly what he had in mind. He continued more calmly, "Fortunately, I believe I was able to quell any such rumours by impressing on Mr Collins your likely displeasure should any such scandal attach itself to your daughter and nephew. I can only implore you to use more discretion should you again wish to protect any of your relatives and not draw on Mr Collins to aid you - unless, of course, you wish to see their names in the scandal sheets."

Lady Catherine's eyes widened slightly and Darcy knew his point had hit home. Her ever present strong sense of familial duty would have her protecting the de Bourgh, Fitzwilliam and Darcy names from any hint of disgrace.

"Not the scandal sheets, of course," she replied more calmly, "but it is about time your name and Anne's were seen in the announcements."

"No, Aunt. We have spoken of this before. Neither Anne nor I wish for the match. We are not well suited."

"Of course you would suit. You have both been raised to take care of great estates, you are both from noble family lines and your alliance would unite two of the finest houses in England and satisfy the wishes of all your family."

"That is all we have in common - our family and our homes. Our tastes, interests and attitudes could not be more different." He paused for a moment making the final minute adjustments to the nib, then looked up at her and added, "And even if I were so inclined - offering for one woman while the possibility that a scandal attaching me to another could still arise would hardly be the most honourable course."

"Really Darcy, it is hardly likely that any rumour will spread! I will not allow it!"

"Let us hope it does not."

Satisfied that the quill met his usual standards he pocketed his knife and rising, placed the pen atop her Ladyship's spoiled letter. His aunt appeared to be about to speak again but he was not inclined to engage her in a lengthy argument regarding his betrothal, or lack thereof, to Anne and so he said firmly, "That is all I will hear on the matter. I will not be moved." He then bowed and left the room.