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Chapter 43: An Unexpected Visitor

Posted on 2009-03-01

Darcy inhaled sharply at Fitzwilliam's declaration, his hand sliding from the keys of the pianoforte. He passed his hand over his mouth in disbelief, and rising from his seat, he frowned deeply.

"When did she depart?" he asked, his voice low and even as he turned his signet ring furiously.

"Perhaps a half hour ago," Fitzwilliam answered.

Darcy lowered his dark eyes to the floor, studying the lines of the floorboards in an effort to calm his mind. Georgiana looked worriedly toward her brother, listening as he inquired quietly, "Did she speak with the earl?"

"She did," his cousin declared. "Lady Catherine was quite incensed, and I am afraid my father's voicing his displeasure at her bringing Anne all that way did not help to quiet her temper."

Shaking his head, Darcy began to pace across the rug, his riding boots pounding with each heavy step. He breathed deeply, his mind racing and urging him to ready his horse immediately and depart for Hertfordshire. He had little doubt what his aunt intended by her journey, and aware that Elizabeth was still recovering, he feared such an encounter would harm her irrevocably. His mind saw only Elizabeth, and he barely heard Georgiana speak.

"Where is Anne now?" she inquired, turning her eyes toward her cousin.

A small smile lightened his features and Fitzwilliam answered, "My mother can be very convincing; Anne shall remain with us until Lady Catherine returns."

Fitzwilliam assessed Darcy, who had paused before the hearth and braced his foot upon the grate. "I believe my father was ashamed by Lady Catherine's words," Fitzwilliam said thoughtfully. "He was shocked by her cruelty."

He was not surprised when Darcy startled from his reverie. He watched Darcy's nostrils flare in anger and his shoulders square, the strength of them evident even through the wool of his jacket.

Imagining what his aunt might have said about Elizabeth, Darcy asked darkly, "And what did she have to say?"

"I would not repeat her words, most especially not before Georgiana," Fitzwilliam declared, turning his tired eyes to Georgiana.

Shaking his head, Darcy moved his fingers against his temples, feeling his worry over Elizabeth pressing upon him. Dropping his hands, he began unbuttoning his jacket feverishly.

"I shall leave at once," he said, suddenly striding into the hallway.

Georgiana and Fitzwilliam shared a brief look of surprise, before setting after him. "You cannot leave now; it is far too late," Georgiana said fretfully, attempting to keep up with her brother as he took the stairs two at a time. "You will catch your death."

"I will be fine," he declared, pulling his arms from the sleeves and continuing toward his chambers.

Her eyes wide with worry, Georgiana looked imploringly at Fitzwilliam, begging him to reason with her brother. Fitzwilliam caught her gaze and confessed, "Georgiana is right, Darcy. What will leaving tonight do? You cannot stop Lady Catherine on the road, and force her back here and you certainly cannot overtake her."

Darcy reared angrily, his eyes hard and determined, and flinging his jacket to the floor, he cried, "I will not leave Elizabeth to contend with her alone! I am going! I will hear no argument."

"What good will you be to Miss Elizabeth if you break your neck or die of fever?" Fitzwilliam shouted back, stepping close to Darcy, mere inches from his person and meeting Darcy's dark gaze with his own.

"I know what I am doing!" Darcy exclaimed, turning on his heel and continuing into his bedroom.

He called for his valet, who swiftly entered from the dressing room, and bowing, awaited his master's orders. "Fetch my green riding jacket," said Darcy, sitting upon the large chest at the foot of his bed and pulling at his riding boots so that he might trade them for a thicker pair.

"Surely you are not riding," Fitzwilliam said incredulously, watching his cousin.

"I can make better time this way," Darcy declared, forcing his feet into the polished black boots his valet placed before him. "I cannot afford to wait for the carriage to be prepared."

Standing, he took the jacket from the valet, and waving his hand, he dismissed him. Darcy turned his eyes to Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, and noticed both watched him warily.

Sighing, he said, "I must go. If I leave tonight, I can be in Hertfordshire by morning, and God-willing, arrive soon after Lady Catherine."

He stepped forward, taking both of Georgiana's hands in his own. Pressing them imploringly, he added, "I must be with Elizabeth. You have my word that I will be careful."

Georgiana studied her brother, seeing the pleading and worry in his eyes. She noticed his chest rising and falling swiftly, the product of his fear for Elizabeth, which she had no doubt increased with every second. Biting her lip fretfully, she said a silent prayer for his safe return. Removing her hands from his, she reached forward and took his riding coat from its place on his arm.

"Go now then, and help my sister," she said, lifting the garment so that he might put his arms through the sleeves.

Darcy watched her actions, feeling his throat tighten with emotion. Lifting his arms, he felt the heavy wool of the jacket warm him immediately, and he set to adjusting the closures at his wrists. He lifted his eyes to Georgiana's face, and inhaling deeply, he whispered his gratitude. Georgiana nodded, and stepping back, she glanced at Fitzwilliam, who still stood near the door, his arms crossed and his deportment uneasy.

Looking over his shoulder, Darcy caught Fitzwilliam's gaze and said, "I will not be swayed, Richard."

"I know," Fitzwilliam answered, pushing himself away from the doorframe. "And that is why you shall not go alone."

Darcy's brow furrowed, and shaking his head, he said vehemently, "No, no; I cannot allow that."

"I am very sorry, old man," his cousin answered, crossing the room and clapping Darcy on the back. "It is not your choice; it is mine. If you will not allow me to join you, I shall lock you in this room until morning."

"And what if you fall from your horse?" Darcy asked, smirking in amusement in spite of himself.

Fitzwilliam smiled broadly and declared, "You may be a better horseman than many of your acquaintances, but you must admit that I am at least as skilled as you. I shall be fine."

Darcy remained silent, feeling he no longer wished to argue or waste another moment. "Very well," he answered, clasping his cousin's hand tightly. "Thank you, Richard."

Moving out into the hallway, Darcy buttoned his jacket as he walked toward the staircase. He descended it, adjusting his cravat and starched collar against his jaw. He arrived at the bottom, and taking up his dark greatcoat, he hastily put it about his shoulders. Fitzwilliam soon joined him, and as they spoke quietly with each other, Georgiana instructed the footman she met on the stair to see that saddle packs were prepared for her brother and cousin. The man hurried off to the kitchen, and wrapping her shawl more tightly about her, Georgiana walked toward them.

"Please take heed," she said, her voice tight with concern. "Both of you."

Darcy turned to her, and embracing her briefly, he fixed his hat upon his head. He pressed her hand and pulled his thick leather gloves on, before stepping out into the darkness. Fitzwilliam followed after him, but pausing in the doorframe, he glanced back at Georgiana.

"I will see him safely to Hertfordshire," he said, his customary smile quelled by his knowledge that they would soon meet with his aunt. "Send word to my mother and father."

Georgiana nodded, and watched Fitzwilliam descend the stairs to the stone walk outside. As Fitzwilliam raised himself into his saddle, her brother gently stroked his stallion's muzzle and whispered to him. Laying his head against the animal's strong neck, he closed his eyes in attempt to calm his racing mind. Darcy heard Georgiana wish them a good journey, and opening his eyes, he nodded and patted the horse once more. Stepping around its powerful shoulders, Darcy mounted the horse and urged him forward.

The sun rose brightly the following morning, and the early morning rays filtered through Elizabeth's window. She felt their heat on her skin, spreading up her neck and across her face. They warmed her cheeks, and though the feeling should have given her comfort, it did not. Her mind still raced with thoughts of her unfortunate meeting with Mr. Collins, and she closed her eyes more tightly, drowning out the memory of his voice relating Lady Catherine's displeasure. Rolling over, she buried her face in the softness of her pillow, and felt that she did not yet want to face her family's questions.

'You cannot hide away,' her mind scolded her.

Raising her head, she opened her eyes slowly, and admitted the truth in this. She pressed her hands to her forehead to lessen the tension she felt before sitting up. Her muscles protested at every movement, for she had spent much of the previous night sitting before the small fire in her bedroom, imagining what would follow her cousin's visit. She pushed the heavy linens from her legs and folded them neatly down to the foot of the bed. Swinging her legs to the side, she placed her feet against the cold floorboards and stood slowly. She counted her steps to the window and raised her hand to the glass, feeling the coolness of the pane, and reflecting that it was far milder than it had been the previous week. She allowed her forehead to fall against the window frame, and closing her eyes, she wished that she might venture out in a few weeks' time, when the biting cold of winter had dissipated and the trees slowly lost their barren, grey appearance. Her mind turned then to Mr. Darcy; she envisioned his slight smile and felt his fingers curling around her own as he stepped out in front of her, leading her down a muddied path. She heard his voice, smooth and even, describing the colors that began to appear in the scenery around them. Her apprehension faded in the midst of her reverie, and smiling slightly, she pushed herself away from the window and crossed the room so that she might ring the bell for Sarah.

Meanwhile, her younger sisters sat in the dining room, waiting for Hill to bring breakfast. They intended to set out for Meryton just after they had dined, so that they might seek out Mrs. Forster at the earliest acceptable moment and hear the latest news from the militia. They were still very much disappointed, for their father still held fast to his belief that they should refrain from conversing with the officers at any length.

"Was not Mr. Collins' appearance last night curious?" Lydia wondered loudly, slouching in her chair inelegantly. "And he requested to speak with Lizzy; I wonder what that was about."

Catherine twisted her napkin distractedly and declared, "It must have been something rather important, for Mr. Collins looked very annoyed with her when we departed."

From her place at the window, where she sat reading, Mary shook her head and said, "It is not any business of ours the subject of Lizzy's conversation with him. Your time would be much better spent improving your mind rather than mooning over officers and gossip."

"It is not gossip when one is wondering about their own family," Lydia asserted, rolling her eyes heavenward.

"Mr. Collins merely wanted to wish your sister a happy marriage," Mr. Bennet declared, striding into the dining room and looking pointedly at his youngest daughters. "There is no need to wonder at anything else."

Catherine and Lydia startled at his entrance, while Mary smiled slightly and declared, "I could not agree more, father."

Lydia pursed her lips in dissatisfaction before sticking her tongue out at Mary. Mr. Bennet did not miss the action, and seating himself at the head of the table, he wondered if Lydia would ever improve her deportment. He heard Jane greeting Hill in the hallway before she appeared in the doorway and wished the company a good morning.

"Good morning, Jane," Catherine answered, smiling broadly. "Will you go into town with us? It is the first day since the autumn that it is possible."

"You will muddy your skirts walking all that way in the dirt," Mrs. Bennet declared as she swept into the room and seated herself opposite her husband.

Catherine straightened immediately and said, "We wish to visit Mrs. Forster, Mama; we have not met with her since last week."

"She is to travel to Brighton soon," Lydia added, her eyes wide with excitement. "I want to hear all about her plans."

Jane shifted uneasily in her seat, feeling that she did not want Catherine and Lydia unchaperoned in the colonel's house, for he would undoubtedly be visited by several officers. Looking toward her father, she noticed that he, too, seemed uneasy at such an idea.

Turning to her sisters, Jane smiled and declared, "I think it too early to visit her; you do not want to surprise her at so early an hour."

"But she is our friend!" Lydia exclaimed unhappily, the prospect of being unable to visit the colonel's wife overwhelming her earlier amusement. "Are we not to have any fun?"

"I did not say you could not visit her," Jane answered gently, taking up her toast. "I only wish you would consider a more decent hour to visit your acquaintance."

Lydia crossed her arms, sighing in disinterest as her sister spoke. Unwilling to lose her chance of walking into town because of her sister's stubbornness, Catherine looked thoughtful for a moment.

Her eyes widening happily, she declared, "We will visit the shops then until we are certain Mrs. Forster is able to take visitors. You did say you wanted a new lace, Lydia."

Turning her eyes to Catherine, Lydia shrugged and said, "I suppose so."

Catherine smiled broadly, and settling back into her seat, she looked to Jane for approval. Still not prepared to allow her younger sisters to run freely through Meryton, Jane forced a small smile to her face.

"I think I shall go with you then; a walk sounds very enjoyable, and I would also like to visit the milliner's," Jane said evenly, training her features so as not to reveal the true reason for her going.

Mr. Bennet leaned toward her, and thanking his eldest daughter, he smiled in relief. She nodded slightly and pressed his hand as if to promise Lydia and Catherine would not make spectacles of themselves while she was with them. Meanwhile, Lydia and Catherine clapped their hands merrily, for the presence of their eldest sister ensured their father would approve of their outing. While they talked in hushed tones of their hopes that they would see Mr. Denny, Hill entered with several trays, and within moments, Elizabeth appeared as well. Her father watched her take her seat, and immediately noticed the dark circles that lined her eyes.

"Are you well, Lizzy?" he asked gently.

Elizabeth smiled and declared, "I am well; only a little tired perhaps."

He noticed that despite her drawn countenance, her eyes were clear and happy. If Mr. Collins' visit had unsettled her, she had reconciled with it, and now appeared at peace. He nodded, and reaching out, lifted the cover of the first plate. The family immediately set to breaking their fast, and once they had finished, Catherine, Lydia, and Jane set left the room to prepare themselves. Elizabeth accompanied Jane, while Mary professed a great need to practice the pianoforte.

"I hope we do not meet with Mr. Wickham," Jane said, tying the ribbon of her bonnet as she stood in the foyer. "I do not know that I can speak with him civilly, even after all this time."

Elizabeth grinned, feeling that she could not imagine Jane speaking so to anyone. "We have not heard anything of him since our departure for London," she observed from her place on the window seat.

"Perhaps he has realized his errors and seeks to live better," Jane declared as she fixed her gloves over her hands.

"Perhaps," Elizabeth said quietly, her mind turning to Miss King, who had yet to return from Liverpool.

She hoped the young girl had recovered from her disappointment. Mr. King had not made public Mr. Wickham's true intentions, wishing to spare his niece any more embarrassment. From what Elizabeth could tell, the people of Meryton still had no idea of Mr. Wickham's true nature, for she had heard from Charlotte that the charming young man still frequented the inn and shops.

"I wish you could go with us," Jane said, drawing Elizabeth from her reverie.

Elizabeth heard the regret in Jane's voice, for her sister knew how desperately she wished to venture out. "I do not mind," she answered quietly. "I am feeling myself again though. Could we not take a turn about the garden when you return?"

Jane smiled comfortingly and declared, "I do not think our father and mother would approve. Papa was quite intent on following Mr. Byatt's orders."

Sighing in frustration, Elizabeth nodded in acceptance and turned toward the hallway when she heard the quick steps of Lydia and Catherine. "Are you ready, Jane?" Lydia called impatiently.

"I am coming," Jane said calmly.

She leaned forward and kissed Elizabeth's cheek lightly. "Is there anything you would like from town?" she asked, stepping back.

"Not at all; enjoy yourself," Elizabeth answered, smiling easily and rising from her seat.

She heard Lydia snicker loudly in the hallway with Catherine, and shaking her head, Elizabeth added, "Let us hope our sisters do not revert to their old silliness; they have vastly improved these last months. Well… Kitty has improved."

Jane laughed and wished Elizabeth farewell, before moving out into the hallway and leading her sisters outside. Elizabeth listened at the window, hearing their steps crunch on the gravel drive. She heard Lydia laugh boisterously and quicken her step, charging heedlessly forward and inviting Catherine to race with her. Their giggling was followed by Jane's calm voice reprimanding them as she followed after them. Elizabeth smiled and lowered herself on the window seat once more. Pulling up her feet, she tucked them beneath her and smoothed her skirts around them, before settling her back against the wall. She wondered what news they would bring from Meryton, and closing her eyes, she settled her head against the windowpane so that she might enjoy the warmth of the sunlight that filtered in. She did not suspect that at that moment the milliner at Meryton was speaking with a woman who would undoubtedly furnish the town with gossip for several days by asking where she might find Mr. Collins and Lucas Lodge.

Darcy's dark eyes scanned the carriages and drivers outside the small inn, searching for the familiar lines and ornate decoration of his aunt's barouche box. Seeing nothing familiar among the black and grey polished conveyances, Darcy shook his head in frustration.

'She must have stopped only to water the horses briefly,' he thought unhappily. 'It must have been hardly enough for them.'

Angered over his aunt's relentlessness, he tore his hat from his head and raked his hand through his disheveled curls. He felt overwhelmed and tired; the night's ride wreaking havoc on his muscles and mind. He had little desire to stop, but just before daybreak, his horse had slipped a shoe, and while he cursed his luck, he was not so reckless as to continue on without seeing it mended. When they entered the small town, Fitzwilliam suggested they inquire if Lady Catherine had stopped here as well. Now, while Darcy waited impatiently for the stablemaster to see to his horse, Fitzwilliam spoke with several people inside the inn. Stepping away from his stallion, he craned his neck, his tall form allowing him to look over the crowd easily. Seeing no sign of the stablemaster, his jaw tightened anxiously. Feeling he could do little but continue to wait, Darcy moved toward the inn, despite the fiery pain that shot down his back in protest. By the time he arrived at the entrance, his muscles screamed for relief. Settling himself against the doorframe, he rested his aching body. He squinted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, and he soon saw the outline of his cousin, speaking earnestly with the innkeeper. The shorter gentleman held a look of recognition, and nodding, he answered Fitzwilliam. Smiling and bowing his gratitude, Fitzwilliam placed a few coins in the man's palm and turned to join Darcy.

"She was most certainly here," he said, striding up to Darcy's side. "As soon as I described her, the man knew her."

Darcy scowled and declared, "She must have made quite the impression."

"Oh, I imagine she did," Fitzwilliam answered, fixing his hat atop his head and leading Darcy outside. "He said she arrived just after dawn, demanded the horses watered as quickly as possible, and would not take refreshment for herself or drivers."

"Foolish woman," Darcy whispered harshly.

Smiling slightly, for he rarely heard his even-minded cousin speak so, Fitzwilliam agreed and said, "I have no doubt the proprietors of this establishment will not be forgetting her quickly. She was apparently quite severe with them."

Darcy sighed, and closing his eyes, turned his face to the sky. "She will arrive at Longbourn before us," he said sadly.

"Yes; I think that is unavoidable," Fitzwilliam admitted. "But I think we can at least close the gap a bit."

Looking toward the splendid pair of stallions drinking their fill at a nearby trough as a stable hand brushed the mud from their coats, he added, "I believe Khan can handle this last stretch of road if your Titus can."

Darcy lifted his eyes to his horse, whose pure black coat was speckled brown with dirt from the previous night. "He can," he declared, taking in the animal's powerful shoulders and haunches. "If the stablemaster ever chooses to fit him for a shoe."

Hearing the exasperation in his cousin's voice, Fitzwilliam patted him on the shoulder in encouragement. "Then let us make sure he hurries along," Fitzwilliam said, his smile still brilliant despite the sleepless night they had passed. "I am certain we have the means to persuade him."

Smirking, he bounded away across the yard where the subject of their discussion was diligently seeing that the reins on a large team of horses were secured. Darcy watched his cousin go, and shaking his head in amazement, he felt that Fitzwilliam approached their journey as he did his military life; with wild abandon. He had thrown himself whole-heartedly in, displaying no regret for following him to Hertfordshire. Darcy thanked the young boy beside Titus and handed him a few sovereigns, before setting after his cousin. Taking up his hat, he replaced it on his head.

"I must thank you again, Richard," he said quietly, falling in beside him.

Fitzwilliam declared lightly, "There is no need for that, old man. At least not now; you may thank me after we have met with Lady Catherine. I will need to hear kind words after the angry insults she will surely hurl at us."

Darcy smiled in response, feeling that Fitzwilliam was perfectly right. Drawing himself to his full height, he reached into his waistcoat and retrieved his purse. Glancing at Fitzwilliam, he smirked and set off after the stablemaster.

Sir William Lucas stirred his coffee distractedly, his eyes trained on the window as he thought on his daughter's upcoming nuptials and the previous night's unpleasantness. Following the Bennets' departure, Charlotte had spoken barely a word. When she made her way back into the drawing room, she took up her needle work and sat herself near the window. She pushed her needle through the fine linen distractedly, hissing in pain when she pricked her small finger. Tossing it aside, she gazed out into the darkness, but Sir William noticed she straightened when she heard her intended enter the room.

"My dear," Mr. Collins had called impatiently. "I cannot permit you to keep company with my cousin anymore. Until she can show some decent amount of composure, you are not to meet with her."

Charlotte turned slowly, assessing the man standing before her. His breath came rapidly, and he swiped impatiently at his damp forehead. Breathing in, she rose from her seat and raised her chin.

"Forgive me, Mr. Collins," she said, her voice even and low. "Elizabeth is my dearest friend, and I shall not give her up."

Charlotte picked up her skirts and swept past the dumbfounded Mr. Collins and into the hallway. Sir William had been amazed at her, for never had he heard her speak so determinedly. Now, he sighed, wondering if she could find happiness with such a man. He had been pleased with Mr. Collins' offer for her; he and his wife had often feared for Charlotte's security and future comfort. The young minister's situation in life and his intelligence recommended him, but the more time Sir William spent in his company, the more he questioned if such a man was a suitable choice for his daughter. Yet with the marriage so swiftly approaching, a mere three days away, he feared there was little to be done about it. To deny Mr. Collins now would surely cast a poor light on his family. Sighing, he settled back in his seat and took up his coffee, waiting for the rest of his family to rise and join him. Before the steaming brew touched his lips, he heard the sound of a carriage just outside. Rising from his seat, he made his way to the window and saw a tall, imposing woman descend from an elegant carriage. Startling slightly, he glanced around the room, realizing that their visitor, whoever she was, would have few people to greet her if he did not rouse them to complete their preparations more quickly.

"Oh dear," he said, running out of the room and toward the staircase.

Before he could call out to them, the bell rang, and he watched their housekeeper hurry to the door. Straightening, he realized he wore no jacket yet. His color heightened as he straightened his waistcoat and cravat. When the door swung wide, he saw woman standing gravely, her high hat appearing to tower at an even greater height because of the grand plumage attached to it. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward and bowed deeply.

"Good day, madam," he said, willing his voice steady. "May I ask who I have the honor of addressing?"

Lady Catherine arched her brow, and ignored the question, before declaring, "I am looking for Mr. Collins. I was assured I might find him here."

Sir William stilled, realizing who the woman before him was. "Then you are Lady Catherine de Bourgh," he said, his eyes wide with wonder.

Rolling her eyes heavenward, she nodded and demanded, "Is Mr. Collins here or not?"

"He is, your ladyship," Sir William answered. "I shall have him fetched for you. If you come to the drawing room, you can wait for him there."

"I shall do no such thing, for I have no intention of remaining long," she answered, waving her hand dismissively. "Will you fetch Mr. Collins?"

Sir William nodded to his housekeeper, who watched the scene in bewilderment. She fled swiftly up the stairs. Within moments, Mr. Collins appeared on the landing, his cravat still untied and his waistcoat unbuttoned.

"Lady Catherine!" he exclaimed, descending the stairs clumsily. "Forgive me for not greeting you properly."

Frowning, Lady Catherine said, "I trust you have dealt with your cousin, Mr. Collins, for I learned something most disturbing in London. I am told your cousin is engaged to my nephew!"

Looking nervously to Sir William, he stammered, "I, too, only learned of that yesterday, madam. I… I am afraid my cousin was not willing to listen to my entreaties."

Sir William studied Lady Catherine, and seeing her eyes narrow in annoyance and her fingers curl tightly about the head of her cane, he felt she was not at all pleased with the news of her nephew's happiness. Wishing to calm her anger, Sir William tried once more to invite her into the drawing room for refreshment.

"I require nothing!" she boomed, banging her cane impatiently on the floorboards. "I need only to know where I might fine this Miss Elizabeth Bennet!"

Unbeknownst to the three, Charlotte, Mariah, and Lady Lucas listened to the conversation from their place at the top of the stairs, drawn from their rooms by Mr. Collins' hasty descent. Hearing Lady Catherine's request, Charlotte turned her gaze to her mother, her eyes filled with concern for her friend. Feeling she was farther along than the others, though her hair was still plaited over her shoulder, Charlotte slowly descended the stairs.

Arriving at the bottom, she heard Mr. Collins declare, "She is just down the lane at Longbourn. Shall I take you there?"

"No, that will not be necessary," Lady Catherine said flatly. "I am heartily disappointed in you, Mr. Collins. I thought you could not fail to make your cousin see reason; clearly familial affection kept you from doing so. Did you not reprimand her when you heard of her presumption at seeking a match with my nephew?"

Mr. Collins paled at this recrimination, his mouth falling agape. "Believe me, Lady Catherine," he said, loosening his cravat, for he had suddenly found himself very uncomfortable. "I feel little for my cousin; she is a difficult woman. I am afraid her infirmity has made her so, and her recent illness has altered her irrevocably."

Charlotte inhaled sharply, having no doubt that Elizabeth would not wish to have her illness known. Her jaw set angrily and she turned her hard gaze on Mr. Collins.

"Then it is worse than I feared," Lady Catherine breathed out. "Oh, to have such a woman as my nephew's wife!"

With that, she turned and made her way out of doors, calling over her shoulder for Mr. Collins to follow her. They stood on the drive; Mr. Collins pointing in the direction of Longbourn and bowing deeply to Lady Catherine, before aiding her in her ascent into her carriage. At her driver's command, her powerful team of white stallions walked forward. Sighing, Mr. Collins retrieved his handkerchief from his waistcoat and blotted his brow. He turned and made his way back into the house, where he was surprised to be faced with the unhappy gazes and scowls of Charlotte and her family.

Jane studied the bonnet she held carefully, moving her fingers over the small bunch of silk flowers gathered at the base of it.

"I think Lizzy would be very pleased with that one," Catherine said, joining her at the counter. "The ribbon color will suit her very well."

"Well it would not suit me," Lydia declared, glancing over Jane's shoulder. "I would pull it to pieces as soon as I got it home."

Shaking her head, Jane declared, "We should be thankful then it is not yours."

Mrs. Harting, the clerk of the shop, appeared before them and inquired, "What do you think, Miss Bennet? Was I correct in assuming Miss Elizabeth would like it?"

"You were indeed," Jane said pleasantly. "I shall take it."

Mrs. Harting smiled, and taking the bonnet from Jane's hands, set to boxing it for her. Lydia sighed impatiently and cried, "Are you not finished yet, Jane? I want to go to Mrs. Forster's!"

"Calm yourself, Lydia," Jane declared, glancing at her warningly. "It is still early yet. We will impose upon the colonel and his wife if we go now; I am sure they have scarcely finished their breakfast."

"But I want to hear if she has any news!" Lydia whined, stomping her foot unhappily and crossing her arms.

Mrs. Harting smiled at the younger girl's declaration and observed, "I am certain she will, Miss Lydia. It has already been quite the morning in Meryton."

Lydia's eyes lit with excitement and she asked, "Has something happened?"

Wrapping coarse twine about the box she held, and bringing it back before Jane, Mrs. Harting said, "A noblewoman stopped here earlier; Mr. Harting had barely opened the shutters! She inquired after your family and then asked him to direct her to Lucas Lodge."

Jane paled slightly, and she felt her chest tighten in apprehension. "What was the lady's name?" she inquired, fearing the answer.

"A Lady Catherine de Bourgh," Mrs. Harting said, sliding the box toward Catherine so that she might carry it. "I must say her dress and furs were quite striking."

Jane inhaled sharply, and thanking Mrs. Harting, she wished her a good day, before turning and departing the shop. Lydia and Catherine did the same and joined her on the walk outside.

"Lady Catherine in Meryton?" Lydia wondered. "I did not know she was attending Charlotte's wedding. Did Charlotte mention anything about it?"

"I do not think she is here to attend the wedding," Jane murmured thoughtfully, twisting her gloves in her hands.

Turning swiftly to her younger sisters, she added, "We must go home immediately."

"What?" the two girls asked in unison, surprised at their sister's declaration.

"Come; we must go as quickly as we can," Jane added, taking hold of Lydia's cloak.

Lydia's color heightened, and pulling at Jane's fingers, she asked, "But what of Mrs. Forster? You said we could call on her!"

"You shall meet with her another day," Jane answered evenly.

Lydia attempted once more to free herself, but Jane reared on her and declared firmly, "You are coming home now, Lydia. I will hear no argument. Elizabeth may need us and I will explain along the way."

Startled by Jane's discomposure, Catherine stepped to her side and said, "Of course we will follow you home."

Though Lydia was annoyed with Catherine's easy agreement to Jane's request, the fear in Jane's voice worried her. "Very well," she said in resignation. "I will come with you."

Jane thanked her sister quietly and the three of them set off toward Longbourn. They did not realize that from nearby, a gentleman they knew well, but had not lately seen listened to their conversation with great interest. Mr. Wickham watched them go, taking in the speed of their steps as they moved down the road.

"So Lady Catherine has come to Hertfordshire," he said softly.

Smirking in amusement, he turned and made his way into the inn, his greatcoat slung carelessly over his shoulder and his hat in his hand.

Mrs. Bennet hummed lightly to herself and smoothed the lace linen over the small table before the window. Picking up a painted urn, she placed it in the center and stepped back to assess her handiwork. She had spent much of the morning helping Hill polish and dust the trinkets and family artifacts throughout the house, for Mr. Collins' appearance the previous night had upset her temper tremendously. She attempted to placate her disquiet by readying the house for Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy's arrivals in Hertfordshire. She smiled, her heart swelling with pride over her second eldest's engagement. Since hearing of it, she had been very merry, and now with the knowledge that Mr. Bingley was returning to Netherfield, she felt herself entirely distracted by happiness.

Studying the blue pastoral painted on the urn, her mind returned to Mr. Collins, and she frowned. Though she knew not why, she did not believe their hasty departure from Lucas Lodge had anything to do with her husband's being tired, for he remained up, and locked himself in his library for a full two hours after arriving home. She could only surmise that Mr. Collins' discussion with Elizabeth had something to do with it.

She scowled slightly and declared, "I would wager he returned to press Lady Catherine's request on her again."

Crossing her arms, she reflected what a good joke it was for Elizabeth to now be engaged to that lady's nephew, for the idea must have been a very great surprise to Mr. Collins. "No daughter of mine will be someone's companion!" she bit out, before stepping forward to turn the urn slightly. "Stupid man."

She raised her gaze from her task, and looking out onto the drive, she thought sadly, 'Though I thought that might be Lizzy's only option; I am happy to be wrong.'

Breathing deeply, she felt her annoyance with Mr. Collins dissipate in light of her daughter's newfound security, but before she could think on it more, she was distracted by the sound of a carriage coming up the drive. She craned her neck and looked out the window to catch sight of it.

"Mama, the most enormous carriage has arrived," Mary said, walking swiftly into the room toward the window. "I have never seen anything like it."

Mrs. Bennet's eyes widened as she took in the grandeur of the conveyance; its polished black lacquer finish gleamed in the sun and on the door of it was the intricately drawn livery of some noble family. Seeing this, she stepped back immediately, pulling her daughter with her.

"It will not do to be seen spying on whoever it is!" she cried, ushering Mary down the hallway. "You must help me straighten everything!"

Before Mary could answer that there was little to straighten, Mrs. Bennet thrust her into the parlor with such force that she nearly fell. Elizabeth turned her face toward them at the sound and asked, "Has something happened, Mama?"

"Some person we do not even know has arrived," Mary declared flatly, picking up Lydia's basket of ribbons and the bonnet she had been repairing.

Elizabeth's brow furrowed, wondering who could have come. She listened as Mary crossed the room to the large cabinet and her mother bustled about, fretting over the state of the place.

"Who ever it may be must be very important to have a carriage like that!" she declared, biting her lip in worry. "What will they think of us? And look at the state of you two! Could you not wear a more striking gown, Lizzy? You are the future Mrs. Darcy!"

Elizabeth rose from her seat at the window, and moving her hands over her skirt, felt the small embroidered flourishes on it. "This is my blue gown; it is quite pretty," she answered.

Throwing up her hands, Mrs. Bennet resigned herself to the idea that it was far too late for any of them to change and instead instructed Elizabeth to pick up the embroidery that lay on the table beside to her left. "What do you wish me to do with it?" she asked, sliding her hand along the smooth wood and finding the offending object.

Hearing the bell ring and Hill hurry into the foyer, Mrs. Bennet paled slightly and declared, "Put it out the window for all I care! Just do something with it!"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but thought the better of it, and instead counted her steps to the settee. Lifting the embroidery, which from the size of the ring and quality of the linen she knew to be Jane's, Elizabeth thrust it under one of the cushions and then sat upon it. She smiled triumphantly and heard Mary laugh lightly.

"For heaven's sake, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said in exasperation at her daughter's actions.

Elizabeth shrugged lightly and listened for Hill to arrive in the doorway. She smiled pleasantly in preparation from their visitor, but startled when she heard Hill introduce the new arrival.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh for you, madam," Hill declared sedately, her eyes looking warningly at her mistress.

Mrs. Bennet moved forward immediately, her mind racing with the knowledge that this was the very woman Mr. Collins constantly went on about and the aunt of Elizabeth's intended. She smiled tightly, knowing not what to say at her appearance. Curtseying deeply, she waited for her ladyship to speak.

Lady Catherine watched the woman in front of her, before turning her cold gaze on the housekeep beside her. Raising her brow slightly, she silently let her know that her services were no longer required. Hill bobbed a curtsey, and looking apologetically to her mistress and Mary, she fled down the hallway. Lady Catherine studied the room, taking in its simple furnishings and slightly worn fabrics. Her gaze halted on Elizabeth, who by now had risen from her seat and listened intently for any movement.

"Are you Miss Elizabeth Bennet?" Lady Catherine asked, her voice low and icy.

Elizabeth's jaw set firmly at hearing so cold a greeting, and raising her chin, she declared, "I am."

Lady Catherine inhaled deeply, and continued, "And I suppose this woman before me is your mother."

Mrs. Bennet looked uneasily at her ladyship and stepped in front of Elizabeth. "Yes, madam," she said, willing her voice steady. "And this is my daughter, Mary; my other girls have gone into town for the day."

To this, Lady Catherine made no reply, but instead crossed the room and seated herself in the chair near the fire. "This is a very small room you have here, Mrs. Bennet," she said flatly.

Elizabeth bit back a laugh at this attempt at conversation, but listened intently as she continued, "It must be a very inconvenient sitting room in the summer, for the windows are full west."

Attempting to calm herself and wishing to redeem her small estate in Lady Catherine's eyes, Mrs. Bennet began, "But we do not sit in here much. We have... "

"It was not a question," Lady Catherine said firmly. "I was merely stating a fact. I understand my parson is to inherit this place. Perhaps he can make something of it."

Mrs. Bennet felt the heat rush to her face, and her mind turned quickly to discover a retort. She was surprised when Elizabeth touched her elbow and stepped beside her.

"May we inquire what brings you to Hertfordshire, Lady Catherine?" Elizabeth asked evenly, though her green eyes were filled with annoyance at the woman's treatment of her mother. "It must be something imperative to bring you all this way. Should we summon Mr. Collins for you?"

Standing from her seat, Lady Catherine raised herself to her full height. She heard something biting in Elizabeth's address and declared, "That will not be necessary; it is you who have brought me to Hertfordshire."

"I have brought you here?" Elizabeth asked, her suspicions over Lady Catherine's appearance confirmed. "But we have never been introduced. You pay me a very great honor."

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed slightly, and looking toward Mrs. Bennet, she declared, "I wish to speak with Miss Elizabeth alone. You have a very pleasant looking wilderness on the other side of your lawn; I would wish to take a turn in it."

Mary looked fearfully at Elizabeth, recalling the doctor's instructions, and asked, "But will you not be more comfortable before the fire, your ladyship?"

For the first time, Lady Catherine turned her gaze on Mary, and taking in her appearance and the small pair of spectacles perched atop Mary's nose, Lady Catherine smirked slightly. "No, I would not be," she answered. "Will you favor me with your company, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth felt the worried eyes of her mother and sister studying her, but having no desire to flee from Lady Catherine, she said, "It would be my pleasure."

She then moved out into the hallway, followed quickly by Mary, who whispered, "You are not supposed to venture out for any length of time, Elizabeth."

"I shall be fine," she answered calmly. "It is mild today, and I shall dress warmly."

Elizabeth raised her hand to the wall, sliding her fingers along it until they encountered the cold iron of the hook from which she knew her traveling coat hung. She lifted the garment and pushed her arms through the sleeves distractedly.

"I wish you would not," Mary said, taking up Elizabeth's warmest gloves and handing them to her. "If Jane or Papa were here, you would listen to them."

Smiling, Elizabeth declared, "Now you know that is not true; I rarely listen to anyone."

With that, she fixed her gloves over her hands and listened as Lady Catherine entered the foyer.

"Are you certain you will not take tea?" Mrs. Bennet asked. "You and Elizabeth could meet much more comfortably then."

"No, Mrs. Bennet," Lady Catherine professed firmly. "I have a great desire for a walk."

Before Mrs. Bennet could protest, Lady Catherine moved out onto the drive, her cane and fine boots causing the gravel to crunch beneath her. Mrs. Bennet immediately went to Elizabeth's side and said, "You must not stay out long."

Elizabeth smiled at her mother's worry, and taking up her scarf, she assured her, "I am feeling quite well, Mama. Whatever Lady Catherine has to say to me, cannot possibly take long."

Fixing her scarf about her neck, Elizabeth stepped out the door and onto the walk where Lady Catherine waited for her. Raising her hand, Elizabeth invited her to join her by the small copse of trees across the lawn, and turning, she counted her steps toward it. Lady Catherine raised her brow quizzically, clearly surprised by Elizabeth's confidence. Glancing once more at Mrs. Bennet and Mary, she set off after the young woman whose actions had brought her from Rosings.

Mrs. Bennet watched the two depart, and turning to Mary, she said, "Go and fetch your father from Lucas Lodge. He must be apprised of this."

Mary nodded, and taking up her cloak and bonnet, ran swiftly out the door. Mrs. Bennet watched her charge down the drive in the direction of the road, and sighing fretfully, she turned and made her way back to the parlor.

Darcy reined his horse tightly, causing the animal to rear. He looked out over the scene below him; the familiar field was calm and desolate, its reeds now beaten down by the snow and cold. He recalled the last time he had stood in this spot. He had been desperate then, for his mind had been filled with fear over the fire at Pemberley and the disappointment at having to leave Elizabeth. Thinking on it now, he realized that he felt the same, only this time his fear was for Elizabeth. Sighing, he raised his eyes to Fitzwilliam, who had halted his own horse beside him.

"Well, this is a very pretty view," he said lightly.

"This is Oakham Mount," Darcy answered instantly. "We are not far now; a mere half mile."

His grip strained against the reins and he tied them mercilessly around his hands. He knew that Lady Catherine's wish for him to marry Anne would keep her from publicly discussing his engagement with Elizabeth and voicing her disapproval of it. Praying silently, he hoped his aunt had not yet been able to meet with Elizabeth alone. He turned his dark eyes to Fitzwilliam and nodded briefly, before snapping the reins and tearing down the hill. Crossing the field would take him more swiftly to Elizabeth. He would explain later to Fitzwilliam that this was the very field in which he had met his intended, yet at this moment, his mind could not think on so pleasant a memory.

"I am coming, Elizabeth," he whispered, heedless of his cousin's presence by his side.

Chapter 44: Objections

Posted on 2009-03-09

Elizabeth breathed deeply, counting the final steps to the small grove of trees. She knew what was around her; tall oaks bending toward one another and creating a shaded canopy. She felt the ivy-covered ground beneath her, damp and soft from the recent thaw. Closing her eyes, she attempted to calm her racing heart. She heard Lady Catherine step up behind her, several twigs cracking beneath her fine boots.

"You must be at no loss to know the reason for my journey, Miss Bennet," Lady Catherine said curtly, grasping the head of her cane tightly. "Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I have come."

Elizabeth opened her eyes, envisioning the woman before her. She pictured her angular face tightening in displeasure and her shoulders squaring beneath the thick furs that no doubt covered them.

Smirking slightly, Elizabeth answered, "You are mistaken, madam; I am quite at a loss to account for your appearance here. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Do not be coy with me," Lady Catherine bit out, bristling at Elizabeth's pleasantness and easy smile. "I have been made aware that you seek to be advantageously married to my nephew, Mr. Darcy. When I heard of it, I immediately resolved to set off for this place so that I might make my sentiments known to you."

Elizabeth's smile fell, and raising her hand toward the bench she knew to be to her left, she asked, "Would you not be more comfortable sitting for this interview, your ladyship?"

"Indeed I would not!" she answered, waving her hand. "I do not know how you worked on him; what arts and allurements you used to draw his affections, and in a moment of infatuation, made him forget what he owes to himself and to all of his family. Somehow you have drawn him in!"

Elizabeth remained silent, listening to her ladyship's assertions. "If I did, madam, I would be the last person to confess it," she answered, willing her voice even despite her growing discomfort. "I am no fortune hunter I assure you."

Walking around Elizabeth, circling her slowly and studying her, Lady Catherine declared, "I am a woman whose character has been celebrated for its frankness and sincerity, and I must tell you, Miss Bennet, that a fortune hunter would be more warmly welcomed than you will be. Do not expect to be noticed by his friends or family if you willfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected with him. Now what have you to say?"

Elizabeth started at these words, her earlier fears rushing back to her. Since the moment of their acquaintance, she knew that she would never be readily accepted into his world. She had feared it then, feeling that in connecting himself with her he would destroy himself. Standing before his aunt, a woman who no doubt epitomized the harsh views of the ton, she shivered, her body feeling suddenly cold.

"And he is engaged to my daughter! It is a union that is greatly desired by both of their families," Lady Catherine continued, pausing directly in front of Elizabeth. "Is this to be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth, of no consequence in the world?"

"Mr. Darcy has said nothing of it and has never given any indication that he wished to marry Miss de Bourgh," Elizabeth declared evenly. "If she is disappointed by this, I am heartily sorry for her and wish her a speedy recovery."

Lady Catherine's color deepened, and banging her cane against the ground, she said, "The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. Since my daughter was in her cradle, we have planned the union."

"If that is so and he agreed to the arrangement, then he would not have made an offer to me. Furthermore, your nephew does not object to my situation so it can be nothing to you," Elizabeth answered, her voice low and even.

"I am almost his nearest relation!" Lady Catherine answered hotly. "Of course it is something to me. I am heartily concerned for him; your infirmity will prevent you from being a proper wife to him. I understand from your cousin that you have little experience with polite society. I imagine you know nothing of hosting acquaintances, planning dinners, and attending balls. And what of Pemberley? It is the grandest estate in northern England! Do you truly believe you are prepared to be its mistress?"

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and breathing deeply, she answered, "No, I do not."

Lady Catherine exhaled in relief, feeling that perhaps the young woman before her had recognized the unsuitability of her choice. She seemed pleased, but frowned deeply when Elizabeth added, "But I can learn to be."

Elizabeth raised her chin defiantly, her green eyes steady and cold, and continued, "I am aware that I have little experience moving in society, but that does not mean I am unsuitable for your nephew."

"I am told you have attended only one ball!" her ladyship cried. "You rarely travel to London, and when you do, you do not dine or meet with anyone of importance. Your inexperience and ignorance of the world make you unsuitable for him; he is a man of education and understanding!"

"I assure you I am at least as educated as he," Elizabeth answered. "And I am not as ignorant of the world as you imagine."

Lady Catherine bristled, and narrowing her eyes, she exclaimed, "Even if that is so, you will be an embarrassment to him! After he comes to his senses he will realize that you can never be the wife he requires or a suitable mother to his heir."

Elizabeth felt herself pale at this, for never had she imagined motherhood, but under Lady Catherine's unyielding attacks, she envisioned a small child before her. Closing her eyes, she saw him; his hair and eyes very much like his father's and his laughter ringing out as his father chased after him. Her chest tightened at the image, and for a moment, she wondered how her blindness would affect their family.

"I can tell from your countenance that you know I speak the truth," Lady Catherine said, smiling triumphantly and startling Elizabeth from her reverie.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth declared, "No, madam; I do not. I will do all in my power to be a proper wife to your nephew. You should not think him so inconstant. I know your nephew and he would never feel I am a burden to him."

"You would be surprised what men feel and do when they realize they are not content," Lady Catherine professed bitterly. "Rest assured, Miss Bennet; my nephew will regret his choice."

Drawing her scarf more tightly about her throat, Elizabeth said, "You can have nothing further to say. You have insulted me in every possible way that I must beg you leave my presence now."

Elizabeth began to step away, but halted when she felt Lady Catherine grip her arm tightly, staying her progress and stepping closer to her. "You are resolved to have him then?" her ladyship asked.

Elizabeth remained silent, her jaw setting firmly. She turned her eyes toward Lady Catherine's voice, and hearing her draw a breath in surprise, she smiled slightly. She shifted her arm, tearing it from the older woman's grasp.

Turning fully toward her, Elizabeth declared, "I am."

With that she turned and walked quickly away, whispering the number of steps as she took them. Behind her, she heard Lady Catherine cry, "Unfeeling, selfish girl! You are determined to see him be made the contempt of the world!"

She imagined Lady Catherine walked angrily back toward the house, for she no longer heard her harsh words ringing across the lawn. Elizabeth turned her face toward the sky as she walked, allowing the soft breath of wind to spread across her cheeks. When she knew she was clear of the trees, she paused and only then felt the dampness that covered her cheeks. Removing her gloves, she pressed her hands to them and swiped at the tears that fell freely down.

"Calm down, Elizabeth," she whispered, drawing a ragged breath.

Pulling her gloves back over her hands, she realized she should return to the house, for she had no desire to worry her mother and Mary. She took a step back in that direction, but halted when Lady Catherine's cruel words filled her head. Realizing she could not yet face her family's questions, she turned in the direction of the field behind her. She remained still a moment, allowing the wind to blow against her skirts and brush at the tendrils that had escaped her bonnet. Breathing deeply, she began walking.

Mr. Bennet rounded the path toward the entrance the house, his hands clasped loosely behind him. He smiled, glancing out over the lawn, but his gaze was caught by the enormous carriage and team of horses shifting anxiously in front of it. His brow furrowed, and curious as to who visited his home, he continued inside. Just as he shrugged himself out of his greatcoat and handed it to Hill, he was approached by his wife.

"Mr. Bennet!" she cried, fanning herself feverishly. "Whatever are you doing here? I just sent Mary to Lucas Lodge for you!"

Smiling, he declared, "I changed my mind. As much as I enjoy Sir William's company, I felt little desire to meet with my cousin this morning. He was rather trying last evening."

Ignoring his declaration, Mrs. Bennet held his arm and said, "Mr. Collins' patroness, Lady Catherine has arrived. She asked to speak with Lizzy."

"With Lizzy?" her husband, he asked fearfully, recalling what Mr. Collins had told them of the woman. "Where are they?"

"She requested that Lizzy join her on a walk," Mrs. Bennet answered, twisting her handkerchief.

Mr. Bennet's color heightened, and turning to Hill, he took back his greatcoat and moved outside without another word. His eyes wide with worry, he looked out over the lawn, searching for his daughter's familiar form. Mr. Byatt's warnings rang in his ears, and his fear for his dearest girl increased with every moment. He heard swift footsteps on the gravel behind him, and whirling quickly, he smiled, expecting his daughter. His countenance immediately darkened when he took in the imposing frame of who he could only assume was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

"Where is my daughter?" he breathed out, heedless of anything but his concern for her.

Lady Catherine halted, and unaccustomed to such abrupt greetings and speech, she frowned. She studied Mr. Bennet closely and asked, "Is that all the greeting I am to expect from you, sir? No wonder your daughter has so little decorum. I would blame her infirmity, but I see she has not been given sufficient instruction."

Mr. Bennet's countenance darkened and his grey eyes narrowed unhappily. "Forgive my concern for my daughter," he said dryly.

Moving past Mr. Bennet toward her carriage, Lady Catherine declared, "I suggest you speak with your daughter immediately and encourage her not to leave her life here behind. She does not understand what will be required of her as my nephew's wife, and that she is utterly incapable of it. You must know how she will be received."

Lady Catherine expected he would follow, but when she noticed he was not by her side, she turned, her brow raised in amazement. Mr. Bennet drew himself to his full height, and though not imposing as she, he struck a fine figure nonetheless.

His jaw was tight and his gaze unyielding as he said, "I know how my daughter will be received as Mrs. Darcy. The gossips of town will not be kind to her, and the ignorant of the world will not be willing to know her. Yet these are minor things if your nephew cares for my daughter as he says he does, and she him."

"Minor?" Lady Catherine asked incredulously. "They will be treated with derision!"

"They will be happy with each other," Mr. Bennet said evenly. "If you will excuse me, Lady Catherine; I must find my daughter."

He turned to depart, but paused when she cried, "Not so hasty, if you please! I have another objection; what of your daughter's health? Oh, I know it all! Mr. Collins tells me she must be prone to these fevers, otherwise she would not have so easily suffered from one while in town. What will happen when she bears him an heir? That is, if she is even able to."

Mr. Bennet reared on her, his customary easiness completely erased by her cruelty. "You have said quite enough, madam; I must ask that you leave my presence at once. You are no longer welcome here," he said hotly.

"Do you know who I am?" she cried. "I am not accustomed to such language as this! I will be heard, and this foolish alliance will never take place!"

Before Mr. Bennet could reply, he heard the rapid approach of horses coming up the drive. Glancing up, he saw two horsemen, and raising his hand against the sun, he noticed one of them was Mr. Darcy.

Smiling slightly, he declared, "I suggest you speak with your nephew, madam, though I doubt he will be receptive to your entreaties."

Darcy's dark gaze was riveted on his aunt, and before his horse came to a complete halt, he swung himself down from the saddle. His boots and breeches were covered with dust and the edges of his fine greatcoat were speckled with mud. He straightened to his full height and tore his hat from his head.

"Where is Elizabeth?" he asked, his eyes like flint.

Lady Catherine pounded her cane against the ground in annoyance and declared, "It is good you have arrived, nephew. I have been treated abominably by these people; you should not wish to marry into such a sphere. To marry such a woman… "

Darcy raised his eyes to Mr. Bennet apologetically, before turning fully toward his aunt and stating, "My wishes are no business of yours."

"I shall not be interrupted!" Lady Catherine exclaimed. "Not even by you, Darcy. You have been bewitched by this girl."

"Do not speak of her!" Darcy boomed, surprising the rest of the company with the force of his declaration. "I cannot imagine what you said to her, but I have no doubt it was she who was mistreated."

Darcy moved to enter the house, but stopped when Mr. Bennet touched his shoulder. "Elizabeth is not within," he said, grimacing with the knowledge his daughter was still out of doors.

The effect of these words was immediate; Darcy's complexion heightened dangerously and he reared on his aunt. Lady Catherine noticed the anger in his deportment, and raising her chin, she said, "It was a private discussion; Miss Bennet did not object."

Darcy shook his head in disgust and turned on his heel, walking swiftly around the side of the house. He looked out over the lawn, searching desperately for Elizabeth. Seeing nothing, he turned back, panic obvious in every feature of his face.

Stepping toward his aunt, he declared, "I know you wish me to marry Anne, but I assure I have never had any inclination in that regard. Elizabeth is my choice, and I will not be swayed. You will treat her and her family with the respect they deserve, or you shall never be welcome in my homes."

"This is madness!" Lady Catherine exclaimed. "You are throwing over everything you have been taught; I am ashamed of you. You are descended from noble, ancient families. Will you disregard that entirely for this woman?"

"I would throw over everything if it meant having her as my wife," Darcy said firmly.

"She will do nothing for you but disgrace you!" she cried. "Her condition is unnatural! Our acquaintances will be disgusted by her. After seeing you with her at the orchestra, they were already speaking of it; wondering what business this nobody has with one of the most illustrious men in the country!"

"Leave now," Darcy said evenly, pointing toward her carriage. "You are not to come near my family again until you can speak civilly."

Lady Catherine glanced at Mr. Bennet, who smiled proudly at the young man beside him. Scowling, she asked, "Your family?"

"Yes; the Bennets shall be my family," he answered. "And if Elizabeth will still have me after being treated so horribly by my relations, she will be my wife."

Darcy did not hear his aunt's reply, for he took off across the lawn. He ran swiftly, the tails of his greatcoat spreading out behind him. His eyes scanned the landscape as he ran toward the garden. He reached it, coming to a halt and briefly noting how barren it seemed in the cold. Finding no sign of Elizabeth, he continued on, desperately wishing he knew more of her favorite walks. That thought made him stop; his breath came rapidly and his mind raced. His eyes widened in recognition, and looking out over the expanse of grass, he saw the roughly hewn fence he had encountered months before. Gripping his hat tightly, he prayed he was right, before racing towards it.

Lydia breathed heavily, attempting to keep up with her elder sisters. She tore at the bow of her bonnet, loosening it. She sighed in frustration and threw her hands into the air.

"Please, Jane," she said. "I need a moment and I still do not understand why we are hurrying so. What can Lady Catherine possibly do?"

Jane paused, her own chest rising and falling swiftly. "I do not know, Lydia," she answered. "I told you she does not approve of Lizzy marrying Mr. Darcy. I imagine she has come to voice her objections."

"But what can we do about that?" Catherine asked fretfully. "From what Charlotte has said of her, she sounds like a woman who is not easily swayed."

Jane nodded distractedly and looked out over the small field they had stopped beside. She did not even notice they had stopped at the end of the lane that led to Lucas Lodge, or that Charlotte and Mary raced toward them. She only startled from her reverie when they called out to them.

"Jane!" Charlotte called, clasping Mary's hand more tightly and pulling her along. "Lady Catherine was here! She was quite vehement in her disapproval of Lizzy."

"She is already at Longbourn," Mary rejoined, her breath coming quickly. "Mama sent me to fetch Papa, but he has not yet visited Sir William."

Jane took Lydia and Catherine's hands in her own and declared, "Let us hope he is at home then."

They continued in the direction of Longbourn as Charlotte recounted Lady Catherine's visit to Lucas Lodge. Catherine listened in amazement and shook her head angrily.

"I cannot believe our cousin did not defend Lizzy," she said.

"I can," Lydia declared, pulling her hand from Jane's grasp and assuring her she could keep up without it. "He sounds quite spineless in the presence of the illustrious Lady Catherine."

Jane silenced Lydia with a sharp look, before turning apologetically to their friend. Charlotte halted, her mind replaying Lydia's words and admitting reluctantly how true they were.

Not wishing her sister's thoughtlessness to injure her friend, Mary pressed Charlotte's hand in encouragement and declared, "Pay her no mind."

Charlotte smiled uneasily and answered, "It is nothing. I confess his words shocked me as well."

Jane studied her friend, noticing unhappily that dark shadows lay under her eyes and her countenance was drawn. She wondered if her friend feared for her future happiness as they did, and sighing, Jane passed her arm through Charlotte's, knowing not what to say. Charlotte seemed to understand her friend's concern and felt thankful for her support. Jane looked at each of the women beside her briefly, before leading them on wordlessly.

Darcy slowed as he reached the fence, looking left and right and wondering which way Elizabeth had gone. He could not describe what pulled him toward the fence, but his mind replayed his meeting with Elizabeth before the Netherfield ball. He saw her eyes dancing merrily in anticipation of the event and he heard light laughter over the breeze that rustled the brush around them. Despite his racing heart and mind, he smiled at the memory. He pressed the brim of his hat tightly, his fingers straining against it as he scanned the landscape. Turning his dark gaze to the left once more, his smile fell into a determined line and he hurried toward the field that bordered Netherfield's land.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth walked forward, her arms outstretched as she concentrated on her steps. She listened to the sounds around her, hearing nothing but the wind lifting the ends of her scarf and pushing the ribbons of her bonnet. She paused, her mind racing as she reconsidered her steps.

'Could I have miscounted?' she wondered, her fingers reaching forward, searching for the rough, splintered rails of the fence.

She felt nothing, and dropping her hands to her sides, she drew a deep breath and willed the panic she felt welling within her to calm. "Calm yourself," she whispered. "You are only a little distracted by Lady Catherine's words. It cannot be far now."

Raising her chin, she lifted her arms once more and walked forward, but after a few steps, she felt fresh tears pricking at her eyes. "I have walked this way so many times!" she cried out, her voice cracking in frustration.

She swiped at the air angrily, desperately wishing for her touch to encounter the fence. Stumbling slightly, she released an exasperated shout and tore her bonnet from her head, pulling a few dark curls from their pins.

'She cannot be right,' she thought, recalling Lady Catherine's assertions. 'I can be a proper wife.'

Dropping her bonnet to the ground, Elizabeth pressed her fingertips to her temples, willing her mind to calm so that she might concentrate on her steps. Yet, she could not, for her mind echoed with nothing but her past fears and insecurities. Shaking her head, she forced the thoughts aside and played idly with the ribbons of her bonnet, winding the ends around her fingers. Closing her eyes, she turned her face toward the sky.

"I shall make him happy," she whispered resolutely.

Just as she determined she should return indoors, she heard a voice carrying toward to her. "Elizabeth!" the voice called.

She started, hearing something beneath the panic that was evident in the voice. She heard the steady deepness of it and her eyes widened when she recognized the voice she had come to know best in the world. Before she could answer him, she heard his footsteps carrying him swiftly toward her and felt herself pulled into his embrace.

"Thank God I have found you!" he breathed out, wrapping his left arm tightly about her waist and cradling her head against his chest with his right hand. "My Elizabeth; my dearest Elizabeth."

Elizabeth listened to Darcy's whispering in amazement, but when she felt him tuck his face against her neck, his breath rapid and uneven from his run, she realized that she did not dream him up. Inhaling shakily, she moved her arms to encircle his shoulders. She pressed them firmly, reveling in the feeling of the familiar lines of them and the wool of his greatcoat. Closing her eyes, she laid her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart beating swiftly.

Darcy brushed Elizabeth's curls from her forehead and kissed it reverently before stepping back. He studied her intently, tracing her countenance with his eyes. Raising his hand to her cheek, he cradled it.

"Are you well?" he asked though he feared the answer.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but stopped when she felt her eyes water. Shaking her head, she turned her face away and attempted to step out of his embrace. Darcy recognized her movement, and dropping his hands to her arms, held her. Placing a finger beneath her chin, he raised her face, and before Elizabeth could prevent herself, the tears fell freely. Darcy startled at her discomposure, his mind immediately turning to his aunt.

Removing his gloves hastily and tossing his hat aside, Darcy moved his fingertips over her cheeks in a vain attempt to stop them. "I am so sorry you had to endure my aunt's bitterness," he said, his heart wrenching at the sight of Elizabeth in pain. "Forgive me for not arriving more quickly. I could have prevented this."

Elizabeth wanted desperately to answer him, to tell him that he had nothing to apologize for and that she was grateful that he was with her now. Her tears choked her and she breathed deeply in an effort to calm herself.

"Please tell me what I might do," he continued, stroking her jaw lightly. "I wish you would not conceal your mind from me."

Shaking her head, she declared, her voice breaking, "I am well. I am only pleased you are here."

Smiling slightly, Darcy observed, "While I appreciate that, I hope I do not inspire such tears."

His smile vanished then, his mien darkening noticeably as he pressed on, asking, "Will you not tell me what Lady Catherine said to you so that I may set it to rights?"

"She said nothing that was untrue," Elizabeth admitted, tearing herself from his grasp and swiping at her damp cheeks in frustration.

Darcy's brow furrowed, and he watched as she walked unsteadily away from him. When she halted, he said firmly, "Nothing she could have said is of consequence."

Elizabeth crossed her arms and declared, "She is your aunt, Fitzwilliam."

"And I care nothing for her opinion," he answered, striding toward her and stopping just behind her. "Tell me what she said to you."

Feeling he would not be satisfied until she answered, she turned to him and said, "She expressed her concern over my readiness for being your wife and mistress of your estate."

"You are ready," Darcy said immediately. "There is no one more capable."

Sighing in frustration, Elizabeth confessed, "I wish I was so confident. I do not wish to disappoint you."

Darcy drew a long breath, feeling his annoyance with his aunt growing. "You could never disappoint me," he declared.

"And what of our children?" she asked, twisting the ribbons of her bonnet mercilessly.

Darcy looked toward her sharply, and laying his hands on her shoulders, he listened as she continued, "Lady Catherine wondered at that. Can I truly teach your heir to be a proper gentleman in the world when I have not been a part of it?"

"Stop," Darcy said suddenly, pressing her shoulders tightly. "You must know that I believe you capable."

A tear slowly wound its way down Elizabeth's cheek as she answered, "I truly have never thought myself incapable of anything in these last years, but I will not be able to see my child's face or watch him as he discovers the world. What will the world think of him for having such a woman as a mother? I cannot imagine…"

Before Elizabeth could continue, Darcy moved his hands to her neck and swiftly pressed his lips against hers. Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise, before drifting closed. She held fast to Darcy's shoulders, and feeling her apprehensions lessen, she deepened the kiss and raised her right hand to his jaw. She traced the line of it, focusing on the feeling of his form being so near to her. The wind picked up slightly, for she felt it move her skirts about her ankles. She shivered faintly, but could not tell if it was due to the chill in the air or the man before her.

Darcy felt her quake, and tearing his lips reluctantly from her own, he stepped back, his dark eyes wide with worry. Fearing her convalescence had been hindered by her being out of doors for so long, he damned himself for not finding her more quickly or insisting she return to Longbourn immediately.

"Are you unwell?" he asked fearfully.

Elizabeth eyes opened slowly and Darcy was gratified to see nothing in their green depths but happiness and their customary glow. He traced his forefinger lazily down her cheek and watched as an amused grin lightened her countenance.

"That is an effective way to end an argument," she said dryly.

"I do not believe we were arguing," Darcy answered, moving his thumb over her chin while his other hand stroked her upper arm rhythmically.

Elizabeth felt the heat of his hand on her arm despite the wool of her coat, and inhaling slowly in attempt to steady herself, she declared, "Then it is an effective way to silence me."

"I would never seek to silence you," Darcy assured her.

His smile fell then, his face turning serious and his jaw tightening uneasily. "You cannot truly believe what my aunt said about you is true," he continued.

Elizabeth attempted to turn her face away from him, but Darcy held fast to her and moved his hand from her arm back to her face. He listened as Elizabeth drew a shaky breath, and biting his lip thoughtfully, he declared, "You are everything I knew I always wished to find in my partner in life. Your intelligence and goodness will make you the best of mistresses; Pemberley will be so fortunate to have you."

"It will take me several months to learn my way," she confessed.

"You have my word that I will be there every day," he assured her. "And if you will permit me, I would love to be the one to show you the halls of Pemberley."

Elizabeth laid her hand over his and said, "I would like that very much."

Darcy smiled, imagining the hours they would spend in each other's company once they were married. Closing his eyes, he laid his forehead against hers and declared, "And as for our children… "

Elizabeth stiffened at this, her mind returning to Lady Catherine's sentiments. Darcy felt the shift in her deportment, and dropping his hands from her face, he gathered her back in his arms and placed his face against her ear.

"When we are so blessed," he whispered, pausing to kiss her lobe lightly. "You will be everything to them; they will love you unconditionally. I could have found no better teacher for them. You will teach them to be good individuals, who do not merely accept the world as it is or blindly follow what society tells them. My parents taught me good principles, but left me to follow them in pride and conceit. Such I was from eight to seven and twenty and so I still might have been but for you."

"You are the best man I have ever known," Elizabeth interrupted him, before turning her face and kissing his jaw. "I have nothing to do with your goodness and I will not allow you to give me credit for it."

Darcy inhaled sharply, and shivering, he answered, "Despite what you may think, madam, you have made me a better man. When I arrived in Hertfordshire I was bitter; I could not escape the image of Georgiana standing on that bluff at Ramsgate and Wickham joining her. At the first assembly I spoke to no one, as I am certain your mother told you."

Elizabeth heard the wickedness in his voice, and smiling, she nodded in admittance. "I thought as much; I do not believe she liked me very much at the beginning. Now, I think she is merely terrified of me."

Laughing openly at this, Elizabeth could not deny the truth in it. "You do strike me as an imposing figure," she quipped, wiping the happy tears from her eyes.

She stepped back slightly and moved her hands slowly along his shoulders and down his arms. Feeling their strength, and closing her eyes, she laid her hands on his chest. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch, and suddenly recognizing the intimacy of their situation, she blushed noticeably.

"Am I so frightening?" he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

"Not at all," Elizabeth answered, her face so near his own that she felt his ragged breathing.

Raising her hand, she laid her fingers against his lips and declared, "I love you, Fitzwilliam. I am so happy you have come."

Darcy kissed her fingertips, and taking her hand, held it against his chest as he said, "I will do everything in my power to see that no one speaks to you in such a way again."

"Thank you," she answered. "But I would not have you protecting me from the world; I am not afraid of it."

Smiling, Darcy declared, "I do not believe you are afraid of anything."

Darcy leaned toward her, kissing her slowly and pouring into it every promise he wished to make her. Feeling himself slowly losing his resolve, he kissed her once more before stepping back.

"I believe we should go back," he said softly, delighted that her eyes remained blissfully closed.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and no longer fearing Lady Catherine's disapproval or her family's curiosity over the unexpected interview, she nodded. She listened as Darcy stepped away from her to retrieve his hat and her bonnet which had been so carelessly discarded. In a moment he was before her, wrapping her fingers around the brim of her bonnet.