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Chapter 45: A Quiet Peace

Posted on 2009-03-29

Darcy looked toward Elizabeth, and noticed her cheeks were covered in a light blush. He took in her countenance, watching as the wind brushed against the curls that fell to her forehead. She turned her face downward, biting her lip thoughtfully and concentrating on her steps as they made their way through the brittle weeds around them. Darcy looked out over the field, seeing the outline of Longbourn rise out of the late morning mist. Realizing his aunt would not likely leave easily, his mouth set in a firm line and he unconsciously tightened his hold on Elizabeth's hand. Elizabeth felt the change in him, and furrowing her brow, she turned her face upward. She waited for him to speak, but during her distraction, she did not feel the ditch beneath her. Her half boot caught, and inhaling sharply, she felt herself stumbling forward. Darcy immediately felt her distress, and tearing his mind from his anger over his aunt's cruelty, he caught Elizabeth's arm and slid his other hand about her waist to steady her. Elizabeth fell against him, and closing her eyes, she felt the heat rise swiftly to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she whispered, turning her face from him to hide her mortification.

Darcy's grip on her arm softened and he slid his hand to her elbow. He did not relinquish his hold on her waist, waiting to see that she fully recovered her footing.

"I was careless," he said regretfully. "I should not have walked so quickly."

"You have nothing to apologize for," she answered, stepping out of his grasp and smoothing her skirts. "I was once far more attentive to my steps."

In an attempt to cover her unease, she declared lightly, "I am afraid since meeting you I have not been as graceful as I once was. Not that I was ever very graceful."

Raising his hand to her cheek, Darcy caressed it with the back of his fingertips. He studied her intently, pleased to see her complexion heightened and her eyes brighter since her departure from London. He watched as Elizabeth lifted her hand to cover his own, and after pressing it fondly, she moved to continue walking. Darcy stayed her progress, holding onto her hand and lowering it between them. Elizabeth turned fully toward him, her brow arched in question.

"What is it?" she asked, stepping back toward him.

He briefly turned his gaze to Longbourn and declared, "I cannot imagine my aunt has departed yet and I do not trust myself to meet with her again so soon."

He paused, his mouth working wordlessly with his racing mind. Shaking his head, he continued, "I should have addressed my aunt's wish for me to marry Anne long ago. Her treatment of you is a product of my cowardice. You should not have had to endure it. To be treated so by a stranger; what must you think of my family?"

"You are not her master," Elizabeth declared. "And I have met others of your family and they are not like her."

Darcy's mind turned to his uncle's disapproval, and frowning, he prayed that the earl's opinion had softened since their last meeting, perhaps tempered by his wife and son's entreaties. Dropping Elizabeth's hand, Darcy passed his hands over his face in an effort to calm himself. He breathed deeply, and turning from her, he looked out over the field.

"You do not deserve to be treated so deplorably, Elizabeth," he said, his voice quiet and firm as his gaze followed the lines of the trees in the distance. "Lady Catherine's behavior was inexcusable. Had I been there, I… I would not have allowed…"

Darcy stopped himself, and breathing deeply to quell his anger, he crossed his arms. Elizabeth listened to his movement, and reaching out, she leaned forward until her small palm rested between his shoulders. She felt the tension in his muscles as they leapt slightly beneath her fingers, and though she wished to, she could think of nothing to say that would ease his worry for her. Taking the final step toward him, she moved her hands to his upper arms and laid her cheek against his back. Darcy started at the contact and glanced over his shoulder, seeing only the top of her head, for her face was hidden by the brim of her bonnet. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the warmth coming from her form.

Elizabeth allowed her own eyes to drift closed as she implored softly, "Please, Fitzwilliam."

He heard the entreaty in her voice, but remained silent as she continued, "I am afraid that today is not the final time I will hear disapproval such as Lady Catherine's. Though her words were cruel, I cannot fault her. Anyone who knows you would never expect you to marry someone like me."

Darcy turned rigid at this, wanting to argue with her. He felt that were it he, actions such as his aunt's would not be tolerated. Elizabeth pressed his arms more tightly, and focusing on the sensation, he felt his resentment quiet. They stayed thus for some time; the only sounds distinguishable were their breathing and the rustle of the light breeze around them. After a few moments, Elizabeth stepped back and moved in front of him, never allowing her hand to leave his form. Darcy watched her movements, his eyes following her as she stopped before him and raised her hands to his face. She placed her palms on either side of his jaw and caressed it slowly with her thumbs. Despite his cravat, she felt him swallow hard, in an attempt to control his uneasiness.

"I told you I do not care for the opinions of others," he said finally, his dark gaze studying the lines of her face. "But my heart aches at the thought of anyone treating you unkindly, most especially if I am not there to rectify it."

"I wish you would not feel so," she declared as she moved her fingers over his face, smoothing the fretful lines on his forehead. "Do not take so much upon yourself."

Darcy felt his annoyance falter beneath her touch; the fire in his mind calmed and he barely managed to ask, "How can I not feel so when I hear such ignorance and prejudice from my own aunt?"

"As you said, her words are of no consequence," she asserted, calmly reminding him of his earlier remark.

Darcy reached for her hands, clasping them tightly to convey the truth in her statement. He leaned his forehead against hers and declared, "That is true, but you should not have to hear them. I cannot stand to see you harmed."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and returned the pressure of his hold, saying, "She has not injured me."

Gathering Elizabeth into his arms, he held her against him and laid his chin atop her head. "Thank God for that," he whispered, raising his hand to stroke the back of her neck and move his fingers against the delicate skin there.

Elizabeth focused on the feeling of his touch, and clutching the lapels of his greatcoat, stepped deeper into his warmth. Darcy moved his other arm to encircle her shoulders, holding her protectively against his chest. He reflected on the slightness of her form next to his, and shifting, he moved to shield her from the breeze. He sighed, feeling that he would never be able to meet with his aunt again after this day and maintain his equanimity. Closing his eyes, he leaned down and buried his face against Elizabeth's neck, desperately fighting to regain his composure, for he had no desire to upset her further with his anger. He felt her pulse beat steadily beneath his cheek and he listened to her breathing.

"I know that you do not want, nor do you require my protection," he declared, moving his hand up and down her spine. "But I cannot promise that I will not feel like this every time I hear words against you. I will always want to protect you from them."

Smiling, Elizabeth answered, "I know."

Stepping out of his embrace, she smoothed her skirts and fixed her scarf more tightly about her neck before adding, "Unfortunately if you do not return me to Longbourn soon, it will be you who will require my protection."

Darcy's brow arched, and regardless of the knowledge of what awaited them at Longbourn, he asked lightly, "And why is that?"

"My father does not like when we are tardy," she declared, taking a few blithe steps in the direction of Longbourn. "If we delay any longer, he is likely to call you out or demand we marry tomorrow."

Laughing lightly, Darcy strode forward, his long stride carrying him to her quickly. He caught her about the waist, turning her toward him. Elizabeth smiled brightly as he said, "If I could be certain his response to our disappearance would be the latter, I would keep you out here all afternoon."

"You would dare to upset my father?" she asked, willing her voice even, but finding the task difficult after hearing his low voice and feeling his arms so securely about her.

"I would dare anything if it meant we would be husband and wife tomorrow," he whispered, watching a deep blush spread across her cheeks.

Elizabeth moved her hands to his shoulders to steady herself, and Darcy was delighted to see that despite the quaver in her voice, her eyes were wide, and held the mischievous sparkle he had come to adore. Though he did not wish to, he determined that he would duel Mr. Bennet if it meant having Elizabeth's as his own. Grinning and shaking his head at the notion, he pressed his hand to her cheek and lowered his lips to hers.

Mr. Bennet watched the scene in front of him, his grey eyes narrowing slightly as he listened to Lady Catherine arguing with her nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He observed that despite bearing the entirety of her ladyship's anger, the young man stayed quite calm, leaning comfortably against his aunt's conveyance.

"I cannot understand your supporting Darcy in this ridiculous scheme!" she cried, throwing up her hands. "You must know this woman will ruin him! Why do you protect him?"

Shaking his head, Fitzwilliam turned his light gaze toward his aunt and declared firmly, "Because Miss Elizabeth is his choice, and I trust him implicitly."

Lady Catherine pursed her lips in displeasure and observed, "Your sentiments have always overcome your rationality."

Fitzwilliam held her furious glare, and bowing his head graciously, he answered, "I shall take that as a compliment."

Mr. Bennet bit back a laugh at the young man's audacity, feeling that her ladyship would undoubtedly not take well to such language. He was not disappointed when Lady Catherine stepped closer to the colonel, her tall stature allowing her to look him directly in the eye.

Holding her cane tightly, she said, "If you persist in this, your cousin's eventual unhappiness will be on your head. The gossips of the ton will fix him as the most foolish man in England!"

"He will not be unhappy aunt," Fitzwilliam said, laying his hands atop of hers in an attempt to calm her. "You know what Darcy has done for Georgiana and Pemberley. Do you truly believe he would be careless in his choice of wife? He would not do anything that would harm his sister. I have watched Georgiana these last weeks, and since making Miss Elizabeth's acquaintance, she is a different girl."

"You have a love for pretty faces, Fitzwilliam," Lady Catherine said spitefully, pulling her hands from his grasp. "And as virtuous as you think your cousin to be, do not mistake the matter; he can be as easily swayed by this girl's beauty as you could have been."

Pressing a hand to her hat to ensure it sat properly and running her fingers along the large plume that surrounded the brim, she raised her chin and added, "Darcy has risked Georgiana's happiness before; he trusted that Wickham character and look what it almost cost the family."

Mr. Bennet's brow furrowed at this, recalling Elizabeth's tale all those months before. He remembered thinking long into the night on Mr. Wickham's actions and imagining that such a betrayal must have caused Mr. Darcy great pain. Glancing toward the colonel, he saw the young man's color deepen and his jaw set furiously.

"George Wickham is a deceptive snake," Fitzwilliam bit out.

"At least in that we are agreed," she answered calmly, stepping away from him and looking out over the lawn in search of Darcy.

Fitzwilliam's hands curled unconsciously in an attempt to quell his rising anger over his aunt's words, and striding after her, he moved to stand in front of her. "What happened at Ramsgate was not Darcy's fault; no one could have imagined Wickham would be capable of such cruelty and treachery."

"Darcy is like his father," Lady Catherine asserted, leveling her gaze on her nephew. "Blind to the faults of those around him, and doomed to romantic ignorance."

Fitzwilliam paled at her words, for never had he heard anyone in the family speak against Darcy's father's goodness. He felt himself go dizzy when she added, "Perhaps his choice of bride is fitting then."

Closing his eyes, Fitzwilliam breathed deeply before turning his gaze to Mr. Bennet in order to ascertain how he received such a slight toward his daughter. He was not surprised to see that Mr. Bennet flinched, his color heightening noticeably. He prepared to answer Lady Catherine, to demand that she return to Rosings at once and stop endeavoring to destroy Darcy's future happiness, but he was prevented by Mr. Bennet's calm voice.

"I find it shocking, madam, that a personage as illustrious and worldly as you can speak so ignorantly," Mr. Bennet declared softly from his place behind the pair.

Lady Catherine's eyes widened in amazement, and turning quickly, she prepared to demand an apology from the man, but was stricken silent when Mr. Bennet held up his hand to silence her. "You seem quite intent on seeing the worst in Mr. Darcy," he added quietly.

Stepping forward, he paused before her and continued, "You are his family, and normally that would cause me to believe you are one of the people who know him best in the world. Yet, in the short time I have known him, it seems I have developed a very different opinion of your nephew than the one you hold. From the time I have spent in his company, I have observed him to be an intelligent and honorable man. As such, I cannot imagine he would willingly endanger anyone he cares for. Indeed, he is so good, that I would wager that even after this unfortunate morning, he will still accept you as his aunt."

Her ladyship's severe countenance wavered momentarily, before being replaced with a look of disapproval. Raising her chin, she lifted her skirts and moved silently toward her carriage. One of her coachmen swung himself swiftly down from his seat, his ornately trimmed coat rustling with the movement. Bowing before her, he aided her in her ascent and saw her comfortably seated. Only when he had closed the door securely did Lady Catherine turn her eyes to the two gentlemen on the drive.

"I am most severely disappointed, Fitzwilliam," she declared bitterly, before looking toward Mr. Bennet. "Your daughter will never be accepted by anyone of consequence. For all its beauty and vastness, Pemberley will become her prison, because she will be unwelcome everywhere else."

Frowning deeply, Mr. Bennet asserted, "She will be welcome here."

Without answering, Lady Catherine rapped loudly on the roof of the carriage with her cane, signaling her drivers to urge the team onward. The grand conveyance lurched forward, and as the coachmen directed it to turn about, she looked out over the lawn. Not far off, she saw Darcy and Elizabeth walking, but noticing her gaze upon them, Darcy stayed their progress. His serious mien revealed nothing; his dark eyes were unwavering and his mouth set in a thin line. Despite her continued studied of them, he did not flinch or drop his gaze to the ground. Instead he watched her carefully as the carriage moved forward, and unashamedly, he reached for Elizabeth's hand and drew her nearer to his side. Her face held no confusion, and seemingly she understood the reason for his action. Lady Catherine watched as Elizabeth spoke a few words to him, but her distance prevented her from discerning what she spoke of. Darcy merely nodded in response, before guiding Elizabeth's hand to his elbow and covering it with his own.

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed as she witnessed Darcy's protectiveness and care for the upstart woman who destroyed all her hopes for Anne, and shaking her head in disgust, she whispered, "Sentimental fool."

With that, she settled back into the plush cushions of the coach and crossed her arms in dissatisfaction. The driver cracked the whip harshly and the team picked up speed, making their way swiftly down the gravel drive and away from Longbourn.

Meanwhile, Darcy watched his aunt's carriage depart with no small amount of satisfaction, and breathing deeply, he felt the large weight of dread lift from him. He pressed Elizabeth's fingers beneath his own, concentrating on the warmth that spread to his despite the gloves she wore. He looked toward her, noticing that she gazed in the direction of the retreating conveyance, undoubtedly listening to the beating hooves of the horses diminishing. Darcy's gaze caught the forms of Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bennet watching the carriage, unaware that he had returned with Elizabeth. Having no doubt his aunt spoke harshly to Mr. Bennet, he sighed deeply and hoped that the damage she had caused would be rectified over time.

Elizabeth heard his despondency, and turning toward him worriedly, she inquired, "What distresses you, my love?"

Darcy started at her easy use of so intimate an address, and smiling slightly, he reflected that he looked forward to hearing it often in the future. Shaking his head, he declared, "I cannot imagine your father is enthusiastic for you to be connected with such a woman."

Wishing desperately to ease his troubled mind, Elizabeth smiled wryly, and adopting Mr. Collins' strict deportment, she said, "I believe he will be happy for me to have so magnanimous and direct an acquaintance. I have been told she is highly celebrated and esteemed for such traits; surely he, too, shall be amazed by them."

"You are teasing me," he answered flatly, attempting to quell the smile that threatened to lighten his countenance.

Pressing his arm affectionately, she declared, "Perhaps I am, but I do it for your own good."

"Really?" he asked, raising his brow in amusement. "You are being charitable?"

"Indeed," she answered, smiling wickedly.

Darcy took in the brightness of her countenance, pleased to see that his aunt's visit seemed to have no lasting effect on her. Unable to prevent himself, he leaned toward her and kissed the corner of her mouth gently. He froze when he heard the unmistakable sound of Mr. Bennet clearing his throat. Both he and Elizabeth started, and as if burned by the other's touch, the two separated quickly and turned their gaze guiltily to the ground.

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet called firmly, his usual humor and even temper spent by so trying a morning.

Darcy raised his eyes to him, and bracing himself for the onslaught he knew would follow, he watched as the older gentleman strode toward him. "I have had a very eventful hour," Mr. Bennet said, his eyes lowering to Elizabeth's hand, which still lay on Darcy's arm. "I am not a man who enjoys having my morning peace so terribly interrupted. Shall my afternoon include a wedding?"

Darcy's eyes widened and he felt the heat rise quickly to his cheeks. Shaking his head, he assured Mr. Bennet it would not, before turning his eyes to his cousin. Much to Darcy's dismay, Fitzwilliam watched the scene in amusement, a pleasant smirk lighting his previously serious countenance. When Fitzwilliam shook his head silently in rebuke, Darcy rolled his eyes heavenward in annoyance. Clearing his throat, he released Elizabeth's arm and stepped slightly away from her.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," Mr. Bennet began. "Would you be so good as to see Elizabeth indoors? I am certain her mother is worried for her."

Looking toward his daughter, Mr. Bennet's eyes softened and he declared, "Please see that you sit near the fire, Lizzy. Mr. Byatt would not be pleased with your excursion."

Elizabeth nodded, but asked, "Why do we not all go in? I am certain Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam could use some refreshment after their journey."

Mr. Bennet smiled slightly and declared, "Mr. Darcy and I will not be long. Have no fear; I have no intention of demanding to meet him tomorrow at dawn."

Darcy shook his head, thinking on his earlier conversation with Elizabeth, and admitting that had Mr. Bennet been a less understanding man, the thought that had given him such amusement could have easily become a reality. Breathing deeply, he resolved to check his behavior toward Elizabeth, for he had no desire to harm Mr. Bennet's opinion of him.

"I would be happy to remain out here with your father, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said carefully.

So formal an address was not lost on Elizabeth, and realizing what he intended by it, she nodded in resignation. She heard Colonel Fitzwilliam step forward, and smiling toward the sound, she declared, "Very well; shall we, Colonel?"

The colonel smiled easily, and looking apologetically at Darcy, he took Elizabeth's arm with all his customary gallantry and wove it through his own. "Come, Miss Elizabeth; I would be very happy to meet your mother. I have heard much of her."

With that, he stepped forward, and together, the two departed. Darcy watched them go, dismayed to hear them laughing lightly as they stepped across the threshold and into the foyer. He could not help but feel jealous of his cousin's engaging manner, and as they disappeared into the house, he returned his gaze to Mr. Bennet.

"Well that is shocking," Mr. Bennet declared wryly. "He has heard much of my wife and is still excited to meet her. Your cousin is a curious man."

Darcy bit back a surprised laugh at Mr. Bennet's sudden show of humor, and knowing not how to answer, he said quietly, "I apologize for my familiarity with Miss Elizabeth, sir. I assure you that it shall not happen again. I have nothing but the very deepest respect for her."

Mr. Bennet moved to stand beside him, and nodding his acceptance, he looked out over the lawn. He listened as Darcy shifted beside him nervously and continued, "Please accept my deepest regret over my aunt's behavior towards you and your family. Though I know little of what she said to you and Miss Elizabeth, I can imagine its subject. I am truly sorry for it."

Darcy turned his sad gaze to the ground and waited for Mr. Bennet to speak. The silence seemed interminable, and moving his hands in front of him, he began to spin his ring distractedly. Closing his eyes, he felt his chest tighten with fear.

'Lady Catherine's visit must have made him fear for Elizabeth's future happiness,' he thought despairingly.

Shaking his head sadly, he barely heard Mr. Bennet when he began, "Your aunt's visit was most unexpected. While I suspected having to endure Mr. Collins' reprimands and warnings yesterday evening was not the end to her disapproval, I never imagined we would see her here."

He drew his greatcoat more tightly about him, and stepping away, began in the direction of the garden. After several steps, he realized Darcy was not beside him, and glancing over his shoulder, he asked, "Shall we take a turn about the garden? I believe we both can use the peace it provides."

Darcy nodded, and tucking his hat securely beneath his arm, he hurried after him, catching up with him in a few strides. They walked on in silence for some time, until they reached the flagstone path that wound through the garden.

"Your aunt's arguments against your marriage cannot be shocking to you," Mr. Bennet began.

Feeling his jaw set firmly, Darcy declared flatly, "They are not."

Mr. Bennet moved toward a nearby bench and seated himself upon it, stating, "I must say, her concerns do give me pause."

Darcy started, and believing his previous fears to be true, he stepped forward and declared quickly, "I can assure I will do everything in my power to see to Miss Elizabeth's happiness. She will be treated with the respect that will be her due as Mrs. Darcy."

"I have no doubt that you will see to her comfort," Mr. Bennet assured him.

Darcy's brow furrowed, his mind racing to discover which of his aunt's arguments Mr. Bennet found worrisome. Mr. Bennet noticed his pallor, and wishing to calm his fears, he continued, "Your townhouse is very impressive."

This comment did nothing to correct Darcy's confusion, and having no desire to discuss the grandeur of his home, he answered evenly, "Some have told me so."

"And though I have not seen it, I understand that your Pemberley is the grandest estate in Derbyshire," Mr. Bennet pressed on, watching Darcy as he spoke.

"Thank you, sir," his companion mumbled, thinking that he desired nothing more than to rejoin Elizabeth. "May I ask to what these observations tend?"

Rising from his seat, Mr. Bennet moved slightly farther along the path, before declaring, "Your aunt seemed to believe that my Lizzy would be unable to preside over so grand an estate, and that you and your reputation would suffer for it."

Closing his eyes in shame, Darcy said, "I am sorry she questioned Miss Elizabeth so."

"But I fear that her concern is well-founded to some degree," Mr. Bennet asserted, turning back toward Darcy.

Darcy's color immediately heightened, his temper rising with Mr. Bennet's easy questioning of his daughter's abilities. As he prepared to answer, Mr. Bennet caught his incensed look and hurriedly declared, "I do not doubt my daughter's ability to govern your household. I, perhaps better than anyone, know what Lizzy is capable of."

Breathing deeply, Darcy felt his annoyance quiet, and turning his eyes to his cuff buttons, he listened intently as Mr. Bennet continued, "I remember watching her and Jane wind their way about the house those months after her sight was taken. They would walk slowly; allowing Elizabeth time memorize every aspect of every step. I joined them many a morning, and she would say how differently every inch of the ground felt. She began to depend on the senses she was left with."

Darcy looked toward him, noticing that his eyes had softened as he recalled the dismal period of Elizabeth's illness and the early days of her blindness. He had always been curious to hear more of her strength, and feeling privileged to have such a rare glimpse into her past, he remained silent.

Mr. Bennet seemed to barely acknowledge Darcy's presence, so lost was he in his recollections. He gazed out over the lawn as he declared, "It took her months to learn her way about the grounds, and only when she did, did I see her vivacity return; only then did my Lizzy return."

Smiling, Darcy imagined Elizabeth walking Pemberley's paths and gardens with him; he would show her his favorites. He felt she would love the east ridge in spring, for it would be blanketed with lupines and pinks that swayed and bent in the breeze. The light scent of them would often carry toward the main house and he looked forward to watching Elizabeth discover it.

'I hope she will love it as I do,' he silently prayed.

Returning his attention to Mr. Bennet, he noticed that he looked at him seriously; the happy look of nostalgia replaced with determination.

"It took her months to learn," Mr. Bennet repeated.

Darcy straightened, suddenly recognizing what Mr. Bennet intended with such a conversation. Clasping his hands behind his back, he waited, and was not surprised when Mr. Bennet declared, "I cannot imagine how long it will take her to learn the way at her new home."

"I will help her," Darcy answered quickly.

Mr. Bennet smiled and said, "I am certain you will, but Elizabeth is intrepid and demands a certain amount of independence. There will be times that she will not want your aid. I imagine Pemberley's rooms and hallways are many and quite vast. You must be patient with her."

Darcy bristled slightly and declared, "I would never hurry her."

Nodding, Mr. Bennet added, "And she will not approach her duties in a conventional way."

"I will not fault her for that," Darcy bit out, his annoyance of having his dedication to Elizabeth and his temper questioned in such a way.

Mr. Bennet assured him he knew he would not and continued, "I am wondering if you will indulge a request of mine, for I believe it will add greatly to Elizabeth's comfort."

Darcy's eyes brightened, and nodding earnestly, he declared, "I would do anything for her."

"Will you welcome her at Pemberley before your wedding?" Mr. Bennet asked carefully. "Allow her to experience it for a time so she does not become overwhelmed when she truly makes it her home?"

Darcy remained silent for a time, realizing the import of Mr. Bennet's request. 'Elizabeth will be at Pemberley,' he thought in amazement.

A peaceful smile lit Darcy's features as he thought on her arrival there. "She will always be welcome there," Darcy answered quietly. "As will you, sir."

A broad smile spread across Mr. Bennet's face, setting his grey eyes twinkling. "Lizzy tells me that your library there is far larger than the one in your townhouse," he said, his voice belaying his excitement at the prospect of such entertainment.

Giving a slight nod, Darcy acknowledged it was, before stating, "Bingley is to return to Netherfield next week, and I have promised him my assistance in making something of his land. You and Miss Elizabeth would be welcome to return with Georgiana and me to Pemberley in a month's time. I know she would be delighted to have Miss Elizabeth's company before Easter."

"Excellent," Mr. Bennet said happily.

Stepping away from Darcy and striding toward the house, Mr. Bennet declared, "Come, Mr. Darcy; I must return you to your intended, for I would not have her fearing I have harmed you."

Darcy laughed lightly, and nodding, he followed the older gentleman back toward the house. As they rounded the path toward the front, he noticed the forms of the other Miss Bennets and Miss Lucas quickly running up the drive. Mr. Bennet paused, and smiling casually, greeted them when they arrived in front of him.

Jane's chest rose and fell rapidly from her run and her fair eyes were wide with worry. "Is Elizabeth well?" she declared, before recognizing Darcy's presence.

When she encountered his dark, apologetic gaze, her mouth fell open and she stammered, "Good day, Mr. Darcy."

He bowed deeply, but was prevented from answering, for Lydia exclaimed, "We did not know you were to come!"

Darcy looked toward the young woman, who had pushed her way past her elder sisters and friend to stand before him. Knowing not how to answer her, he was grateful when Mr. Bennet declared, "I am certain your mother is impatient to have you inside, Lydia. I am certain she would like to hear about your visit to the Forsters"

Lydia looked incredulously at her father before declaring, "We were kept from visiting Mrs. Forster. After Mrs. Harting told us she had met with Lady Catherine, Jane demanded we return here immediately. She made us run, Papa!"

Mr. Bennet smiled wryly and declared, "I assure you, dearest, that your sister had a very good reason for doing so."

"I have muddied my favorite boots!" Lydia cried, lifting her foot so that he might see. "And I was not even permitted to see my friend!"

Catherine watched as her younger sister crossed her arms and huffed in frustration. Rolling her eyes heavenward, and feeling Lydia would never abandon her penchant for histrionics, she stepped forward and took her arm.

"Come," she said simply, holding her sister's elbow firmly. "We shall visit Mrs. Forster tomorrow."

Lydia attempted to free herself, but Catherine led her inside. Jane and Charlotte watched the two go and looked at each other pointedly, before returning their attention to Mr. Bennet and Darcy. The younger man gazed across the lawn in an effort to ignore Lydia's exclamations, while Mr. Bennet shook his head.

Stepping toward her father, Jane declared, "The carriage passed us on the lane."

Darcy immediately turned his gaze to the women and listened as she continued, "Was the subject of her visit what I suspect it was?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Mr. Bennet answered, his pleasant countenance melting away with the memory of their visitor.

"And Elizabeth?" she asked fearfully.

Mr. Bennet smiled, and placing a comforting hand on her arm, he declared, "She is quite well; I cannot imagine her meeting with Lady Catherine went quite the way that lady expected."

"I believe Miss Elizabeth's resolve surprised my aunt," Darcy added proudly.

Jane released the breath she had been holding and smiling, declared, "I am happy to hear that."

Charlotte removed her gloves, and carefully raising her bonnet from her hair, she said, "Mr. Collins was surprised to see her in Hertfordshire."

Mr. Bennet laughed lightly and declared, "So she visited Lucas Lodge as well."

Charlotte nodded, and quickly recounted her ladyship's visit, apologizing heartily for her intended's lack of familial affection. Darcy cursed beneath his breath and stepped away from the party. He was disgusted with Mr. Collins' subservience, and passed a frustrated hand through his hair.

Shaking his head, he returned his gaze to Charlotte and professed, "I am heartily sorry she imposed upon your family as well, Miss Lucas."

"It is no matter, sir," she said, smiling slightly. "I found it quite enlightening."

Darcy's brow rose at so unexpected a reply, and feeling it was not his place to inquire after it, he remained silent. Mr. Bennet soon confessed he desired nothing more than a cup of tea, and leading the way into the foyer, he called for Hill to help them off with their cloaks and greatcoats. As Darcy pulled his arms from the sleeves and handed it off to the woman, he heard Elizabeth's voice followed by the hearty laughter of his cousin coming from the parlor. Shaking his head, he had no doubt his cousin had become enamored with Elizabeth's humor, for he was a man who thrived on entertaining conversation. While the others entered, he remained in the doorframe to watch the scene.

Fitzwilliam smiled brightly and declared, "I can easily believe it; you undoubtedly thought him devoid of all proper feeling."

"I cannot blame him for his annoyance," Elizabeth answered lightly. "He was thrown quite forcefully."

Darcy blushed, immediately recognizing what they spoke of, and feeling his first impression on Elizabeth could not have been a favorable one. His first words to her had been harsh ones, and smiling, he felt amazed she had treated him so kindly the next time they met. His eyes traced the lines of her form; she was covered in a thick shawl and enjoying the warmth of the fire that blazed in the hearth. Her eyes sparkled in amusement and her beautiful lips spread into a brilliant smile.

"It was certainly not a conventional introduction," she declared quietly.

He watched as she suddenly turned her face toward him, somehow detecting his presence. Her smile changed slightly, no longer the humorous, clever one that reached her eyes. Leaning against the doorframe, he studied her for a moment and noticed that it was one that revealed the quiet peace she now felt, and he hoped, the happiness she looked forward to with him. He smiled in satisfaction, watching as she tilted her head slightly to listen for him. Pushing himself away from the wall, he strode into the room to join the rest of the company.

Chapter 46: A Troubling Evening

Posted on 2009-04-21

When the sky began to darken that evening, Darcy and Fitzwilliam prepared to depart. Mrs. Bennet had convinced them to stay on for tea, and then following tea, despite their assurances that taking supper at the inn at Meryton would suffice, she persuaded them to remain for a fine dinner.

"You must return tomorrow for luncheon," Mrs. Bennet said sweetly as she watched the gentlemen put on their greatcoats and secure their gloves over their hands. "Your dining at the inn is nonsense! Lizzy; come convince Mr. Darcy and the colonel to join us."

Elizabeth cringed slightly, listening to her mother's strident voice, and sighing, she declared, "They are already joining us for supper tomorrow evening."

"All the more reason to come!" her mother cried, looking at Elizabeth in disapproval. "You can go shooting with Mr. Bennet in the afternoon!"

Darcy breathed deeply, attempting to calm his rising discomfort. While he treasured the hours spent in Elizabeth's company, he admitted to himself that his patience had its limits. Mrs. Bennet had spent much of the afternoon attempting to engage him in discussions of his townhouse and Pemberley, and though he took pride in his family homes, he was never in a temper to discuss their grandeur. He had answered her questions politely and tersely, attempting often to direct her attention to a different subject. Unfortunately, he found that his future mother was quite determined, and despite his best efforts, he found himself forced to retreat into silence as the afternoon wore on. By the time Mrs. Bennet abandoned his company and directed her attention toward his cousin, Darcy's deportment mimicked that of his first night among Meryton's society. He felt his old unease among company return, and when Elizabeth or Mr. Bennet were occupied, he retreated to the window and surveyed the landscape beyond it so that he might avoid conversation entirely.

Now, as he secured the closures of his dark greatcoat, he listened distractedly to the exuberant voices of the youngest Bennet sisters. Sighing, he glanced toward them and noted that they spoke with Fitzwilliam, their smiles bright and their color heightened. He shook his head, feeling that no amount of their father's reprimands would temper their love of redcoats, and he could only feel thankful that his cousin wore no uniform today. Taking up his riding crop and tucking his hat beneath his arm, he studied the trio, and found himself envying his cousin's easiness for the second time that day.

"It has been a pleasure meeting all of you," Fitzwilliam declared, his wide smile lighting his features. Looking toward Jane and Mr. Bennet, he added, "And it was wonderful seeing you both again."

Mr. Bennet extended his hand and replied archly, "We look forward to seeing you tomorrow for supper."

He looked pointedly toward his wife, who pursed her lips in displeasure. Shaking his head, Mr. Bennet glanced toward Darcy and added, "I only wish we could have met again under more pleasant circumstances."

Darcy turned his dark eyes to Mr. Bennet's face and held his gaze intently. "I wish that as well," he answered quietly.

He heard Elizabeth step toward him, and turning his eyes to her, he smiled, feeling his uneasiness quiet. "Thankfully, we will have many more opportunities," he declared.

Mr. Bennet caught this tender look, and clasping Darcy's hand, said, "Very well; off with you then. I fear if you remain any longer, my wife will persuade you to remain until breakfast!"

Darcy saw Fitzwilliam press his hand to his mouth in an effort to hide his amusement. Grinning slightly, Darcy bowed deeply and wished Mr. Bennet a good evening. Mr. Bennet nodded to each young man before turning on his heel and retreating down the hallway toward the comfort and safety of his library.

"Oh Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed in exasperation, crossing her arms and letting out a slight huff.

Fitzwilliam watched the older gentleman pause and smile broadly, and as he entered his library, he let out a low chuckle. Smirking, Fitzwilliam leaned toward Darcy and declared quietly, "I find I like your future father immensely."

Before Darcy could answer, he felt Elizabeth's hand move up his arm until her fingers encountered his elbow. He turned to her, and was delighted to see her smile mischievously.

"I am happy to hear that, Colonel," she said pleasantly. "He is a man of singular tastes and humor, but he has been most attentive to me."

Darcy saw a slight change in Elizabeth's countenance, and had he known her less, he would have missed it. He noted that her bright gaze turned wistful, and he felt she must have thought of the day she would leave her father's house. Wishing to give her comfort, he covered her hand with his own. He was gratified to see her smile return at the touch as she drew a long breath to calm herself.

"We look forward to seeing you tomorrow then," Mrs. Bennet declared, drawing the attention of the company. Despite her annoyance with her husband's unwillingness to persuade the gentlemen to accept her invitation, she smiled and added, "Lizzy, Jane; be so good as to see Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam to their horses."

The sisters acquiesced as Lydia loudly disapproved of only Jane and Elizabeth being permitted to venture out of doors with their guests. Untouched by the colonel's title and the image of him in regimentals, Mary bid the gentlemen a pleasant evening before picking up her skirts and sweeping silently down the hallway, a book of verse securely under her arm. Mrs. Bennet took Lydia by the elbow and assured her that she would see the colonel the following day. Moving with her out of the room, she motioned feverishly for Catherine to come as well. Catherine sniffled slightly and bobbed a quick curtsey before following her mother and sister.

Blushing heavily at Lydia's show of temper, Elizabeth drew her shawl more tightly about her and moved out onto the drive. She felt Darcy arrive at her side and she declared, "I hope the colonel can forgive my sisters for their… enthusiasm for his company."

Darcy noted her heightened color, and glancing over his shoulder, he watched Fitzwilliam step onto the drive beside Jane, laughing happily with her. Smiling wryly, Darcy said, "Trust me; my cousin is quite content with such attention. I do not know that he would enjoy his work half as much as he does without it."

He watched her smile return, and taking her hand, he guided it to his elbow and took the remaining steps to where the groom stood with their horses. Pausing beside his stallion, Darcy dismissed the man and placed his other hand on the animal's strong neck, stroking it lightly.

Turning his eyes back to Elizabeth, he felt a sudden nervousness well within him and he bit his lip. Breathing in, he asked, "Are you pleased with the prospect of joining Georgiana and me at Pemberley in the spring?"

Elizabeth heard the trepidation in his voice, and wishing to put him at ease, she answered, "Of course I am; I have heard so much of it. I would like to experience it for myself."

Looking to Fitzwilliam, and noting that he and Jane were distracted, he stepped closer to Elizabeth and inquired softly, "You do not fear being its mistress, do you? I would not wish you to come to it with anything other than happiness and anticipation."

Elizabeth remained thoughtful for a moment, breathing deeply and feeling that the biting chill of winter had all but vanished. She felt her companion's eyes upon her and his fingers pressing against her forearm, gently imploring her to answer him.

She smiled, and turning toward him, she said firmly, "I am not afraid."

Darcy released the breath he had been holding, but started when she added, "I only wonder what your staff will think of me."

"My staff?" Darcy asked, his brow arching.

"They will expect a very different sort of mistress for you," she explained. "I do not want them to find me lacking; I will have so many questions for them."

Darcy's eyes widened, baffled by the beautiful woman before him. She was right; his staff undoubtedly anticipated his marrying a woman who would have a complete understanding of society and the demands of his household, but never would they expect a mistress so concerned with their opinion of her. Darcy realized that Elizabeth would care for his staff and tenants as he did, and with that realization, a slow smile spread across his features.

Glancing beyond Elizabeth to ensure their relative privacy, he raised his hand to her face and traced his fingers down her cheek. "I assure you, they will adore you," he said quietly. "Just as I do."

Elizabeth smiled reluctantly and nodded, but she soon discerned her sister gently clearing her throat behind them. Darcy immediately dropped his hand, and Elizabeth felt him step back to a more proper distance. She had no doubt that a slight blush covered his cheeks, but she imagined that despite it, a roguish smile fought its way to his countenance.

"I shall see you tomorrow then," he declared, amusement evident in his voice.

He took up her hand, and bowing low, he placed a light kiss against her knuckles. Elizabeth concentrated on the sensation, and wished him pleasant evening. She returned the pressure of his hold, allowing the touch to say what she could not, and when he lowered her hand, she released a sigh of disappointment. She listened to him bid her sister farewell just as the colonel arrived before her.

Elizabeth curtseyed, and smiling brightly, said, "I hope you will find the inn comfortable."

"I am certain we shall," Fitzwilliam answered. "Forgive me for taking him away, but I am quite done in by the excitement of the day."

"Thank you for all you have done, Colonel," Elizabeth began.

Fitzwilliam waved his hand dismissively and declared, "I could not have lived with myself had I allowed him to face my aunt alone. Though I am certain he would have survived the ordeal, I would have been robbed of a highly entertaining meeting."

Laughing heartily at this, Elizabeth felt that she and the colonel would be great friends. She heard Darcy call for his cousin, and she listened as the men lifted themselves into their saddles before guiding their horses forward. Her reverie was interrupted by Jane's soft touch upon her arm, and smiling, Elizabeth covered her hand with her own.

She declared, "It has been an eventful day."

"It has indeed," Jane sighed, watching the gentlemen pick up speed as they reached the end of the drive. Winding her arm through Elizabeth's, she added, "Will you tell me of your conversation with Lady Catherine?"

Elizabeth smiled, and thinking of Darcy's assurances, she declared, "She had nothing to say that was of consequence."

Jane studied Elizabeth, and seeing her peaceful countenance, she nodded and said, "I am happy to hear that."

Tucking Jane's arm more securely at her side, Elizabeth stepped toward the entrance and declared, "But do not tell our cousin, for he shall think me mad for not finding her conversation scintillating."

Jane smirked and assured her she would not. She was surprised to hear Elizabeth sigh and declare, "There is one thing I shall regret though."

"And what is that?" Jane asked tentatively.

"I shall never be invited to Rosings, and so I shall never have the opportunity to experience the chimneypiece Mr. Collins told us so much about," Elizabeth said evenly. "A pity really."

Jane watched Elizabeth curiously, but realizing Elizabeth's lips were pulled tightly in an attempt to hide her good humor, Jane shook her head. "Oh Lizzy," she said.

Before either could compose themselves, they laughed openly and felt the worries of the day diminish. Stepping up, they entered the foyer, and their laughter echoed happily throughout the house.

Denny tossed his cards to the table in exasperation, and looking darkly at his companions, he settled back into his seat and unbuttoned the remaining button on his waistcoat. Saunderson, a gentle looking man of no more than five and twenty, clapped him on the back in attempt to assuage his displeasure.

"Fear not, Denny," he said easily. "We shall give you ample opportunity to win back your earnings. In the mean time, we shall buy your next pint."

Scowling at his young friend, Denny declared, "That will not be necessary."

Glancing to his right, Denny studied Wickham skeptically and added, "You are having uncommonly good luck this evening."

Wickham's grin widened charmingly and he said, "Do not begrudge my success."

Leaning forward, he gathered Denny's discarded hand as Saunderson dropped his to the table as well. Wickham deftly shuffled the cards and set to dividing them among himself and the others once more. He was pleased when Denny took up the cards set before him, and chuckling, he observed, "You have never been one to step away from the table when you have the chance to put more coins in your pocket."

"And you are usually forced from the table because you have no coinage left in yours," Denny bit out, taking up his tankard and gulping down its contents.

Wickham's easy smile faltered, and lifting his cards, he watched his friend carefully. Leaning back in his chair, he raised his left hand to his other sleeve to ensure the cards there remained securely hidden by his cuff. Satisfied that they were, he dropped his gaze to his cards and listened as Denny cursed under his breath, obviously disappointed with what he had been dealt. Before Wickham could determine the quality of his own hand, he heard the innkeeper happily greet a guest who had just entered. As the man returned the salutation, Wickham straightened immediately, recognizing the identity of the speaker. Paling, he glanced over his shoulder, and was not surprised when he saw the unmistakable form of Colonel Fitzwilliam speaking with Mr. Stewart, the proprietor of the inn.

Denny heard Wickham draw a sharp breath of surprise, and feeling his companion had finally drawn a losing hand, he smiled and looked up in anticipation. His smile fell and his brow rose curiously when he saw Wickham's pallor, and craning his neck, he looked beyond his friend to see a stranger to Meryton society. He was not the only occupant of the room to become intrigued by the appearance of the man, whose slate colored greatcoat and fine leather riding boots bespoke a gentleman of some wealth. Saunderson also watched the man carefully, and catching Denny's gaze, he shrugged slightly and looked pointedly at Wickham.

"Do you know the man, Wickham?" Denny inquired carefully, all the while watching his countenance.

Wickham shook himself from his reverie, and clearing his throat, he forced his smile to return before stating, "He is merely an old acquaintance."

Denny did not miss the slight quaver in Wickham's voice, and looking toward the stranger again, he noticed a second gentleman enter, one he recognized immediately. His eyes widened and he declared, "Well, he seems to be riding with another old acquaintance of yours."

Wickham's brow knitted, and Denny gestured toward the door, directing his attention toward the tall figure of Mr. Darcy. Wickham studied Denny warily for a moment, and though he felt reluctant to do so, he turned back to the entrance. His eyes widened and his mouth fell into an unhappy line as he observed his childhood companion removing his hat while speaking quietly with his cousin. He watched him carefully, wondering at his appearance in Hertfordshire, and trying desperately to recall if Bingley's party had returned to Netherfield. He suddenly remembered Lady Catherine's arrival that morning, and wondered the reason for it.

'Darcy,' Wickham thought bitterly. 'Lady Catherine would not have come all this way to merely meet with her clergyman. What the devil is Darcy doing here again?'

His initial apprehension gave way to confusion over Darcy's appearance in the country. His brow furrowed, and he settled back in his seat as Denny declared, "I wonder what brings Darcy back to Hertfordshire. Everyone knows he found little enjoyment here in the fall. What business could he possibly have here?"

Before Wickham could answer, Mrs. Stewart swept by the small table beside them, dusting it as she passed. She paused at hearing their discussion of the young man from Derbyshire, and turning kindly toward her patrons, she said, "It is the most extraordinary thing."

"What is, madam?" Wickham asked, his gaze remaining on Darcy's form.

"The gentleman you were just speaking of," she began, smiling brightly. "He has recently engaged the hand and affections of one of Hertfordshire's very own."

Wickham immediately tore his gaze from Darcy and leveled it on Mrs. Stewart. His companions were equally amazed with this information, for Denny and Saunderson's eyes widened in surprise.

A slow smile spread across Wickham's features, and though he felt he knew the answer, he inquired, "That is extraordinary indeed; may I ask who is the young lady who engaged his affections?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Mrs. Stewart declared, before taking up her cloth once more and greeting another group of guests.

Wickham shook his head and chuckled lightly. "Of course," he breathed out between his laughter.

Leaning toward him, Denny said, "I thought Darcy was engaged to his cousin, Miss deBourgh."

"This is a surprise," Saunderson declared glancing toward Darcy again. "Miss Elizabeth is lovely, but…"

He paused, and taking up his tankard, he continued, "I cannot imagine what such a marriage will achieve for him."

Wickham barely heard the observation as he studied Darcy. Instead, he thought on his unfortunate final meeting with Mr. King, recalling the man's reasons for refusing Wickham and removing Miss King from Meryton. Mr. King, though late in years, was a formidable man; tall and quick-witted and keenly observant of the society around him. He was highly respected in his small circle, and when Wickham expressed an interest in his niece, he was elated, but a mere week following the departure of the Netherfield party, Mr. King called on Wickham one evening.

"I have been made aware of some discrepancies in your past, Mr. Wickham," he had said. "I am convinced your situation in life cannot make my niece happy."

When Wickham attempted to defend himself, Mr. King declared firmly, "I have it on good authority that you sought to separate a young lady of fortune from her family; that you engaged her affections for the sake of her substantial dowry and convinced her to follow you to Scotland. It was mere chance that her family discovered the intended elopement and saved the young woman before she was damaged irrevocably. Do you deny it?"

"I do. I assure you, sir, you have been misinformed," Wickham said, his voice uneasy and shaking with his growing anger.

"I find that unlikely, for the person I have it from would not gain from lying about such a thing," Mr. King bit out, walking closer to Wickham and pausing before him. "He merely sought to do his Christian duty and protect Miss King. And if it is a falsehood, it is still attached to your name and it will not do to have my niece connected with such an unfortunate story."

Mr. King dismissed Wickham and departed for Liverpool the following day. Wickham imagined only one person capable of providing Mr. King with such information, and now, he watched as Darcy turned to survey the dimly lit room. His childhood friend's dark eyes moved deftly over the occupants before alighting on him. He noticed Darcy inhale harshly, his chest rising and falling more quickly as he held his gaze. Taking up his glass, Wickham smirked and raised it to his lips.

"Darcy's marriage will bring him nothing," he declared, holding Darcy's unwavering stare.

Meanwhile, Fitzwilliam dropped a few coins in Mr. Stewart's palm and thanked him before watching the gentleman depart to have their rooms prepared. Turning to his cousin, he declared, "This seems as delightful a society as one would wish to find. I may even find myself a game before the end of the night."

When Darcy did not answer, Fitzwilliam noticed his heightened color and followed his gaze. His jovial countenance was immediately replaced with one of disdain as he watched Wickham raise his glass to them from his place across the room.

Fitzwilliam's light blue eyes narrowed and he said, "Perhaps this is not so delightful a place."

Darcy glanced at him and confessed, "I had hoped he would no longer be in Hertfordshire."

He breathed deeply, feeling that after such a day, he was in little temper to meet with Wickham. "I think I shall retire," he added.

He stepped toward the staircase, but paused when he heard Wickham call loudly, "Darcy."

Darcy closed his eyes at the sound, and his fingers curled angrily, his knuckles whitening with the pressure. Squaring his shoulders, he breathed in and turned to see Wickham walking toward them. His jaw tightened as Wickham arrived before him and he felt Fitzwilliam shift uneasily by his side. He remained silent, and managed only a brief nod of recognition to answer Wickham's greeting.

"Wickham," Fitzwilliam declared tightly, raising his chin. "It would be insincere of me to say it is a pleasure to see you."

Wickham's eyes flashed in annoyance and he scowled, but realizing their meeting was being observed by the rest of the room, he forced a smile to his countenance. "It has been quite some time since we last met," he said politely, his voice low and even.

Fitzwilliam remained unmoved by this declaration, and touching Darcy on the elbow, suggested that they depart for their rooms. Darcy nodded in agreement, his eyes remaining on Wickham. Fitzwilliam moved past Wickham, but as Darcy stepped forward to follow him, Wickham placed a heavy hand on Darcy's forearm to stay his progress. Darcy cringed at the touch, recalling that he had not felt it since he forcibly removed the man from the apartments he had taken for Georgiana at Ramsgate. His dark gaze turned icy, and he glanced down to where Wickham's fingers gripped his sleeve.

Wickham noted the disdain in Darcy's look, and smiling charmingly, he declared, "I must congratulate you. I have been told you are soon to be married."

Lightly shrugging Wickham's grasp from his arm, Darcy thanked him quietly and listened as he continued, "You must imagine my surprise at hearing that your intended is not your cousin. Lady Catherine must have been incensed at your decision."

At the mention of his aunt, Darcy started, his gaze turning thoughtfully to the floorboards. He was not surprised when Wickham added, "I suppose she arrived in Hertfordshire to give her disapproval of it, but as you are always a gentleman, I am certain you stood by Miss Elizabeth."

Darcy inhaled sharply, for hearing Elizabeth's name on Wickham's lips brought back images of him speaking quietly with Elizabeth in the darkened hallway at Netherfield. He slammed his eyes shut against the memory of Wickham's grasp on Elizabeth's delicate hand, the hand he had held so reverently earlier that day.

'I always shall stand by her,' he thought, turning his ring to calm his agitation and raising his gaze to Wickham's.

Wickham noticed the fire that entered Darcy's eyes, and feeling pleased to have unsettled him so, he pressed on, declaring, "The Bennets are very fortunate to have such a man as you in their family now. Why, you are so gallant, you even extend your protection to persons entirely unconnected with you."

Fitzwilliam's brow furrowed at Wickham's mocking tone, and placing his hand on Wickham's shoulder, he urged him to return to his seat. "I will not have you speak to Darcy in such a way," he added.

Pushing Fitzwilliam's hand away, Wickham declared, "I mean no slander; I am merely stating a fact."

Returning his gaze to Darcy's, he continued, "I know Mr. King is thankful for your aid."

'So that is what he is about,' Darcy thought, laying his hat and riding crop upon the small table to his left.

"I told him nothing that was untrue," Darcy said evenly. "I could not allow you to destroy that girl. Miss King had no idea who you really are."

"So you do not deny that it was you who spoke with him?" Wickham asked, his brow knitting.

"I have no wish to deny it," Darcy answered, his temper rising. "I did everything in my power to separate you from her; I did what I should have done for Georgiana."

Wickham pursed his lips in displeasure while he watched Darcy warily. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed that Denny and Saunderson watched the meeting with interest, and not wishing to give any hint of being shaken by Darcy, Wickham smiled.

"It is no matter," he said easily. "There are many other pretty faces in Meryton. In fact, I have always found the company of the young Miss Bennets to be very entertaining. I think I shall reintroduce myself to them."

Darcy's gaze darkened, and stepping closely to Wickham, he listened as Wickham added, "I think the youngest could be a very...spirited companion."

Before he could stop himself or Fitzwilliam could step between them, Darcy grasped Wickham's lapel, crushing the brilliant red wool in his fingers. "Do not speak of them," Darcy whispered harshly.

Aware that he had struck a painful chord, Wickham smirked and winked. "We have been here before, Darcy," he said.

"Yes; we have been," Darcy answered, his coal-black gaze on Wickham. "But I think you will find that it is I who has friends in the room this time. How many of these men have you cheated? I wager you owe Mr. Stewart quite a large sum. What about your two companions over there?"

Wickham's confident grin faded, and he remained silent as Darcy added, "I, on the other hand, am marrying Miss Elizabeth Bennet; someone this town greatly esteems. I have family here; you do not."

He reached down to Wickham's cuff and pulled the cards he knew would be there from their hiding place. Holding them up, Darcy caught Denny and Saunderson's gazes before tossing the cards to the ground.

Releasing Wickham's coat, he said, "You will not come near my new sisters. If you do, I will call you out, and you know I am better with both sword and pistol than you will ever be."

With that, Darcy snatched up his hat and riding crop before pushing past Wickham. He made his way above stairs silently, his riding boots pounding angrily against the wood of the stairs. Fitzwilliam smiled in satisfaction at his cousin's show of control, feeling that had it been him, Wickham would no longer be standing. Tipping his hat to Wickham, he wished him a pleasant evening before departing as well.

Wickham dropped his gaze to the floorboards, and seeing the few cards at his feet, he bent down swiftly to retrieve them. When he rose, he saw Denny and Saunderson watched him angrily. Shaking his head, Denny stood, the force of his movement pushing his chair over before he stormed away. With a final glance at Wickham, Saunderson followed after his friend, leaving the rest of the company to speculate as to what had passed between the gentlemen.

Darcy halted outside of his room, drawing a long breath in an effort to calm himself. He leaned against the heavy door, and raising his left hand, he was troubled to see it quaking. Sighing, he pushed it through his dark curls in frustration before curling his fingers and dropping his hand back to his side. He heard his cousin's footsteps reach the landing, and he raised his gaze to see Fitzwilliam's pleased grin.

"That was well done, old man," he said, leaning against the banister behind him and crossing his arms. "You are a better man than I shall ever be; I would have created quite the scene."

"I should not have let him unsettle me so," Darcy declared, his deportment becoming less rigid and his muscles relaxing, desperate for respite. "But I cannot help it; when I hear his voice, I see nothing but Georgiana's tears. When I see him, I see only what might have happened to Elizabeth had I not stumbled upon them at the Netherfield ball."

Fitzwilliam smiled comfortingly and professed, "You have every right to feel resentment toward him, Darcy. He has done our family great wrong; even as a child, he was deceitful."

"I suppose I always expected he would redeem himself one day," Darcy admitted. "I believe it is that which upsets me; that he has not changed."

"Perhaps he will someday," Fitzwilliam declared, hoping to calm Darcy's apprehension for his old acquaintance. "But you cannot torture yourself for his missteps and sins."

Darcy nodded, and his jaw set in determination as he resolved, "We shall watch him closely. I do not trust him, and God willing, when the militia departs for Brighton at the end of the week, he will go with it."

Fitzwilliam pushed himself away from the banister and laid his hand on Darcy's shoulder. "Come; I believe you have endured enough for one day," he said, reaching beyond Darcy and opening his door for him. "Rest now, for I have a great desire to ride out and see the area in the morning."

Darcy nodded, and thanking Fitzwilliam, he made to move into his room as Fitzwilliam stepped down the hallway toward his own. He paused when he heard Fitzwilliam call after him, and he looked over his shoulder to meet his cousin's gaze.

"Wickham is correct about one thing," Fitzwilliam declared, watching as Darcy's brow rose in confusion. Chuckling lightly, he continued, "The Bennets are very fortunate to have you."

Pausing, Fitzwilliam's gaze turned somewhat wistful, for he was truly touched by the obvious affection between Darcy and his intended. "Miss Elizabeth is very fortunate to have you," he added quietly.

Darcy's countenance lightened, and a small smile spread across his face. "Thank you, Richard," he said.

Fitzwilliam wished him a pleasant evening and slipped noiselessly into his own room. Darcy watched him go before entering his chamber. He closed the door securely behind him, and his eyes surveyed the simple accommodations. Though not as grand as he was accustomed to, it was tidy and comfortable, and he was pleased to see a large fire blazing in the hearth. He tossed his hat, gloves, and riding crop onto the trunk at the end of his bed before discarding his greatcoat. Walking toward the chimneypiece, he undid the buttons of his jacket and waistcoat, pulling them from his shoulders and laying them on the back of the simple chair before the fire. He breathed deeply and watched the flames churn and sputter. Raising his fingers to the knot at his throat, he deftly untied his cravat and pulled it from his neck. He did not remove his gaze from the hearth, and began working the fine piece of linen between his fingers distractedly, twisting it and winding it thoughtfully as he reflected on the events of the day.

'Fitzwilliam is right; this has been an eventful day for me,' he thought, laughing in spite of the unease he felt.

Dropping his cravat atop his other garments, he moved toward the bed so that he might remove his boots. Once he accomplished this, he laid them aside and allowed himself to fall back onto the soft mattress. Closing his eyes, he prayed that Elizabeth was well and sleeping soundly. She had assured him throughout the day that she was quite all right following her encounter with Lady Catherine, but he feared that Lady Catherine's venom had still affected Elizabeth.

'And now Wickham,' he thought bitterly.

He breathed deeply, quelling the anger he felt welling within him. He returned his thoughts to Elizabeth, and reminded himself of her mischievous smile and bright green eyes. He imagined them at Pemberley, walking its paths during the afternoons and enjoying the other's presence in the evenings. He raised his fingers to his jaw, recalling the touch of Elizabeth's fingers and a small smile lit his features. Soon, the sounds coming from below stairs drifted away, the glow of the fire dimmed, and Darcy fell into a sound sleep where he saw nothing but Elizabeth's beloved countenance and heard only her light laughter.

Chapter 47: A Change of Opinion

Posted on 2009-05-11

The following morning dawned grey, with wisps of clouds marring the sky, and a light breeze carrying the scent of the damp ground. Elizabeth shifted beneath the heavy quilt her mother had insisted be put on her bed, and turning her face toward the window, she frowned when she did not feel the warmth of the sun's rays. Breathing deeply, she stretched her arms above her head and opened her eyes. She slid up onto her elbows and listened for the sounds of the rest of her family rising. Feeling she had woken far later than was her custom, she was not surprised when she heard her mother's strident voice calling, followed by Hill's hurried footsteps. Lydia cried out in protest, and Catherine shouted back, undoubtedly arguing over some bonnet, lace, or pair of slippers. Elizabeth shook her head and drew her legs from beneath the linens, swinging them over the edge of the bed. She took up her dressing gown and laid it about her shoulders as she made her way to the window.

Standing before it, she reached out until her fingers encountered its latch. She lifted it, and slowly raised the window, feeling the cool breeze penetrate her nightshift. She tucked the edges of her dressing gown around herself and breathed deeply. Reaching up, she pressed her hands against her cheeks, and she smiled, feeling that the slight fevered heat that had persisted there over the last week had finally dissipated.

'I shall be myself again by the end of the week,' she thought happily.

Breathing in once more, she lowered the window and secured the latch. She untied the bow which bound her dark braid and blithely sifted her fingers through her hair, drawing them through the long tendrils. Once satisfied she had smoothed many of the knots, she moved toward her vanity, and seating herself, she slid her fingertips along its smooth surface until they encountered the delicate chain of her cross necklace. Raising it to its customary place at her throat, she smiled, and reflected that soon enough she would be walking among Longbourn's gardens, enjoying the scent of its flowers.

Her fingers faltered suddenly, and her mind whispered, 'Soon it will not be Longbourn's gardens and paths; you will be some place entirely new.'

She lowered her necklace back to its place, and closing her eyes, she saw Longbourn's drive winding along its expansive lawn, and just across the way, the small copse of oaks rising. She saw their color and the roughness of their bark, and beneath them, the brilliant green of the moss that carpeted the ground.

Opening her eyes, she whispered, "Will I know my new home in such a way?"

She admitted to herself that the memories of those people and places most dear to her had sustained her for the difficult days that followed the onset of her blindness, as well as the cruelty and misunderstanding she experienced even now when she ventured into new society. Admitting to herself that she drew on those memories every day, she felt a solitary tear draw a trail down her cheek. She swiped at it quickly, frustrated with her show of emotion, and rising from her seat, she walked about the room in an attempt to calm her mind. Wringing her hands, she attempted to recall all she had heard of Pemberley. She remembered Georgiana's quiet observations of her favorite rooms and Lady Matlock's description of the elegant, yet unassuming gardens that were scattered about its grounds. She recollected Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley discussing some rare piece they had seen during one of their visits there. Yet, among these, she did not find any comfort.

Drawing a breath, she counted her steps to the bed and sat upon it. She reached out, feeling along her nightstand and taking up the small volume she knew would be there. She cradled it, and moved her fingers along its spine, memorizing its creased and cracking leather. Opening the cover, she traced her fingertips along the inscription, and closing her eyes, she recalled his rich voice reading it to her.

'He wants me to come to Pemberley with no fears,' she reminded herself.

Closing the book, she laid it aside, and folded her hands thoughtfully upon her lap. She imagined weaving her way along the paths around Pemberley, the great house in the distance. He was beside her, his hand curled securely around her own as he told her of the landscape surrounding them; the expansive lawn rising gently toward the field beyond it and the century-old elms towering above them. He smiled easily, undisturbed by her many questions, and slowing his step so that she might feel the breeze that rustled her hair.

Smiling, Elizabeth whispered, "I shall see Pemberley as he sees it."

With this thought, she stood and made her way to the trunk at the bottom of her bed, and kneeling before it, she set to searching for a gown. Her fingers glided deftly over the fabrics and felt for the varying details of their bodices. When they encountered the lightly embroidered edge of her white dress, she smiled in triumph. Gathering up the gown, she sat back upon her heels and absently ran her hand along the skirt, imagining what her time at Pemberley would be like. She heard a knock upon her door, and calling for the person to enter, she listened as Sarah's light step crossed the room toward the far window.

"It looks to be a promising day, Miss Lizzy," she declared, drawing the drapes aside.

Rising from her place, Elizabeth grinned and answered, "I believe you are right."

Fitzwilliam shifted slightly, and frowning in dissatisfaction, he raised his hand once more and knocked insistently. Feeling he had never known his cousin to sleep so far past sunrise, he called, "Darcy?"

Hearing no answer, he shook his head and grasped the iron latch, pleased to find it unlocked. He pushed the door open slowly and glanced around it, listening for signs of his cousin rousing. Looking around the small chamber, his light eyes fell upon Darcy's form, lying atop the linens with his legs hanging over the side. Fitzwilliam chuckled softly, amused to find his cousin in such a way, and moving to stand before him, he tossed his hat aside.

"Darcy?" he called once more.

Fitzwilliam watched as Darcy's brow furrowed in annoyance, clearly annoyed to have his rest so disrupted. He turned away and drew his legs up.

Sighing, Fitzwilliam breathed out, "Very well; I tried."

He glanced about the room, and noting that Darcy's riding crop was braced against the hearth, he smiled wickedly and crossed the room to retrieve it. Striding back to his cousin, Fitzwilliam pressed the handle of the instrument against Darcy's side several times in an attempt to stir him. He was delighted when Darcy started, sitting up swiftly as his dark eyes widened in confusion.

"Richard?" he asked, his voice laced with sleep and irritation. "What the devil are you doing?"

"I told you I wished to ride out this morning," Fitzwilliam answered, tossing the riding crop onto a nearby chair. "And here it is, nearly nine, and you are still abed."

Darcy leaned back on his elbows and passed his hand over his eyes, attempting to focus. "I suppose I was more tired than I realized," he declared.

Fitzwilliam studied his cousin, and noting the dark circles beneath his eyes, he admitted that the previous day had taken a far greater toll on Darcy than he realized. He watched Darcy stand and cross the room toward the basin by the window. As Darcy plunged his hands into the cool water and doused his face, Fitzwilliam lowered himself into the chair.

"So our afternoon with the Bennets tired you?" Fitzwilliam asked, his smile widening. "However will you survive this evening?"

Darcy glanced at his cousin darkly, lifting the towel and patting away the drops of water that streamed down his cheeks. Fitzwilliam chuckled and added, "I found Mrs. Bennet's conversation highly entertaining."

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Darcy said, "There is much to be had of it, I assure you."

Fitzwilliam smiled sympathetically, and rising from his seat, he watched as Darcy crossed the room to his saddle pack to pull a fresh shirt from it. "I shall go and see about our breakfast," he said. "May I expect you soon?"

Darcy pulled the fine linen shirt over his head and straightened it before facing Fitzwilliam fully. Nodding, he answered, "I will join you after I have written Georgiana."

"Ah; knowing her, she believes we have been kidnapped by pirates," Fitzwilliam observed as he moved toward the door. Opening it, he paused and added wryly, "Is Meryton a known pirate port?"

With that, he departed, and Darcy quickly set to finish his dressing, tying his cravat deftly as he moved toward the small writing desk at the window. He reflected that Fitzwilliam was undoubtedly right; Georgiana was most likely pacing aimlessly about the house, wondering what had become of her brother and cousin. Smiling, he retrieved a pen and parchment and quickly set to writing:

Georgiana,

I hope you are well, my dear sister, though I am certain you have spent the previous night sleeplessly, and are dwelling on the possible tragedies that may have befallen us. Rest assured that we are both alive, if only a little tired. We neither fell from our horses, nor faced a band of gypsies. Instead, we are safely in Meryton, and are even to dine with Elizabeth and her family this evening.

Unfortunately we did not reach Longbourn before Lady Catherine, and I cannot tell you what I felt when I was apprised of what Lady Catherine said to Elizabeth and her family. I will not repeat her words, for to remember the cruelty of them is too painful. I am ashamed of our aunt, and I do not know that I shall ever be able to meet with her again with any amount of equanimity. I feel I must blame myself as well, for had I been open with our aunt long ago, none of this would have happened. I know you shall say, just as Richard did, that I take too much upon myself, but I cannot help feeling so.

He paused, drawing a long breath and laying aside his pen. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, and passed his hand over his face in frustration. Despite his anger toward his aunt, he still felt a profound sadness at their inevitable estrangement. Since his father's death, he had visited his aunt's estate every April, and before that, every fall. He did not look forward to keeping away from Rosings, for doing so would mean Georgiana would be prevented from seeing Anne as often as she liked. With their family so small already, he mourned losing them. Opening his eyes, he cursed his aunt's intolerance, and taking his pen once more, he continued:

Forgive me for my resentment, but until our aunt can accept Elizabeth, and treat her with the dignity that is her due, I cannot be in her presence. Thankfully, Elizabeth is well despite her unfortunate meeting with our aunt. She and her father have even agreed to join us at Pemberley in a few weeks. I am certain you shall welcome her to our home, and I hope that you look on the event with excitement, just as I do.

Richard is waiting below stairs for me, so I beg your forgiveness for the brevity of this letter, but I shall tell you all when I return to London. You may expect me on Friday, and until then, I remain,

Your faithful brother,
Fitzwilliam

Darcy dropped his pen to the desk and set to sealing the letter. Praying that it would lessen Georgiana's apprehension, he took up his jacket and the missive, and with a final glance about his room, he slipped out into the hallway to join his cousin.

Meanwhile, Georgiana sat in the breakfast room of their townhouse, stirring her coffee distractedly. With Mrs. Annesley visiting her sister for the day, she found her mind repeatedly engaged in imagining what might have transpired between Lady Catherine and her brother. She feared for Elizabeth, feeling that her recent illness might have weakened her. Shaking her head, she realized that such dismal thoughts would do little for her, and admitted that she could do nothing but wait for word from her brother. She glanced out the window and craned her neck to see if the post carriage was about, or if a rider bore an express for her.

'It is too early,' she scolded herself.

Sighing in frustration, she turned her light brown eyes to her plate, and taking up her toast, she tore at it. She managed to eat a few bites, but feeling her stomach turn slightly, she tossed it to her plate and stood from her seat. Picking up her skirts, she walked toward the window and sat upon the seat beside it, tucking her feet up beneath her skirt. She studied the scene outside; a few riders trotted by as a governess and her charges walked happily toward the park. Looking beyond them, Georgiana saw a large carriage approach, and when it arrived before her home, she immediately perceived that its black lacquer door bore the Matlock seal. She smiled, pleased with the prospect of her aunt's visit, for it would distract her from her worry. She quickly moved out into the hallway, but halted when she saw her uncle step into the foyer. She leaned against the doorframe and watched as he removed his hat and great coat before quietly thanking the footman who greeted him. Feeling there was little else she could do, she raised her chin and walked slowly toward him.

"Good morning, uncle," she declared.

Lord Matlock immediately turned on hearing his niece's voice, and bowing, he returned her salutation. Georgiana studied him, and noted that his eyes did not hold the fire they did the day he last visited.

Folding her hands in front of her, she said, "You find me all alone this morning; my brother is not here."

"I am quite aware of what took him from London," the earl answered evenly. "And I have not come to speak with him."

He smiled with something akin to remorse and added, "I have come to speak with you, my dear."

Fearing he sought to convince her to leave her brother's house, Georgiana felt her chest tighten in apprehension. She pushed back the tears she felt come to her eyes and declared, "Very well; will you join me in the breakfast room then?"

Lord Matlock nodded, and without another word to him, Georgiana turned on her heel and went back the way she came. On entering the room, she pressed her hands to her cheeks in an effort to calm herself, and gestured toward the chair by the fireplace as she seated herself on the settee. She watched her uncle step once toward it before pausing and stepping past it instead, to move toward the window. Clasping his hands behind his back, he gazed absently at the scene outside. He remained thus for some time, and the silence that followed seemed interminable to Georgiana.

When she could bear it no longer, she called softly, "Uncle?"

He started, his thoughts interrupted by her frightened voice, and cursing himself for causing such fear, he looked toward her. "I have come to apologize to you," he said.

Georgiana's brow rose in surprise, for never in her recollection had her uncle seemed so humbled. She listened intently as he continued, "I had a visit from Lady Catherine the night your brother departed, and her anger toward him shamed me."

Looking toward the floorboards, he crossed the room and lowered himself into the chair near her. "Forgive my words the other day; I shall not attempt to remove you from this house," he declared.

Georgiana released the breath she had been holding and said, "I am happy to hear that."

The earl nodded and confessed, "My sister seems to think your brother remiss in his care of you; she believes that in choosing such a wife he is damning you to the prejudice he will soon face."

Georgiana's jaw set tightly at these words, disappointed in her aunt's perception of her brother. "I assure you there can be no more caring a brother than mine," she asserted.

"Of that I am sure," Lord Matlock declared. "And my words the other day to him were unjust; I know what he has done for you and Pemberley over these last years. He has been a dedicated caretaker, and I have not done right by him."

The crashing waves at Ramsgate, and Wickham's gentle voice calling her, suddenly filled Georgiana's mind, and she slammed her eyes shut against the sensations. Shaking her head, she observed, "All of us are in debt to him."

"But I cannot pretend to approve of, or understand his choice," he pressed on. "The world will not look on the match with a friendly eye, and I wonder if you have fully considered the consequences for yourself. Are you not afraid that you will suffer?"

Georgiana opened her eyes, and leveling them on her uncle, she declared, "I am not afraid; I can think of no one I would rather have as a sister than Miss Elizabeth. Yet even if I was afraid, I would not rob my brother of this chance at happiness. He takes so much upon himself that he often forgets that he is deserving of the care and kindness he extends to others."

Suddenly feeling a slow tear escape her eyes, Georgiana wiped it away, and smiling wryly, she added, "As you see, I am as determined for him to marry Miss Elizabeth as he is. We will not be swayed."

Lord Matlock retrieved his handkerchief from his jacket and handed it silently to Georgiana. When he was certain she was composed, he declared, "This Miss Elizabeth Bennet must be a remarkable woman to have such staunch defenders. First, your brother and cousin, then my lovely wife, and now you; she must indeed be extraordinary."

Rising from his seat, he continued, "While I cannot yet approve of the match, I will not stand in your brother's way. I would like to meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet and see what all the fuss is about."

Georgiana caught her uncle's wry smile and the mischievous glint in his eyes that she admitted reminded her very much of her brother. "I believe you will like her," she declared as she stood and returned his handkerchief.

"Rest assured, I shall be visiting with your brother once he has returned," the earl said. "That is, if he will see me."

His eyes dropped anxiously and his color heightened with the realization that he may have irrevocably damaged his nephew's opinion of him. He prayed that someday all would be mended between them, and he started when he felt Georgiana's gentle touch upon his hand. He glanced up to see her watching him anxiously.

"My brother is not a resentful man," Georgiana professed.

The earl nodded mutely, and tucking Georgiana's hand at his elbow, he led her out into the hallway. When they reached the foyer, he declared, "Forgive me for abandoning you so quickly; I have some other matters to attend to this morning."

Releasing Georgiana, he thanked the footman who held his greatcoat for him, and slid his arms through the sleeves. Fixing the lapel and accepting his hat from the young man with a brief nod, the earl added, "Lady Catherine arrived quite early this morning."

Georgiana's eyes widened with this knowledge, and before she could press her uncle for news of her brother and cousin, he declared, "I have not yet spoken with her. When she arrived, she seemed in little temper to describe her journey. When I left, she was resting comfortably."

He fixed his hat upon his head and continued, "When I do have the opportunity to speak with her, I will see that she does not take any further steps to discourage your brother's engagement. I shall see that she returns to Rosings by the end of the day."

Nodding, Georgiana noted that her uncle's shoulders set rigidly and he stood taller, giving all the appearance of being head of their family. She smiled and said, "Thank you, uncle."

The earl blushed at her gratitude, and in an attempt to divert her attention from him, he declared, "I believe Lady Matlock will visit with you later. She is most anxious for you, and perhaps you could report to her that I was not at all boorish when I visited with you."

Laughing, Georgiana agreed, and raising herself up on her toes, she kissed his cheek fondly. She watched as a pleased smile lit his face, and she wished him a good day. With a swift bow, he descended the stairs to his waiting carriage, and Georgiana waited until the conveyance disappeared around the corner before making her way back to the breakfast room. She resumed her earlier seat and returned her attention to her plate. Taking up her coffee, she smiled peacefully, and looked forward to hearing news from her brother.

Midday found Lydia and Catherine venturing into Meryton, for Lydia insisted on visiting with and apologizing to Mrs. Forster for the previous day. She had fretted all morning about it, relentlessly talking of it until their father agreed to allow them to go into the village. Mary declined joining them, and Mrs. Bennet professed having a great need to have Elizabeth and Jane help prepare for the evening.

"I hope she will forgive us!" Lydia cried as she and her sister entered the town. "I do not know how I would feel if my friends I was depending upon visiting me abandoned me without a word!"

"As Papa said, she will surely understand our absence," Catherine began. "We were being of service to our sister, and that is far more important than tea."

"Oh, save your breath to cool your porridge, Kitty!" Lydia answered hotly. "I still do not know what 'service' we provided! Our returning to Longbourn was a ridiculous waste of a perfectly good afternoon."

Catherine recollected Colonel Fitzwilliam's pleasant conversation, and smiling, she asserted, "I do not think it wasted. I enjoyed meeting Mr. Darcy's cousin."

Lydia paused in her annoyance and said, "I suppose; but he would have been ten times more appealing if he was wearing his regimentals. I found him rather plain without them."

Catherine shook her head at her sister's observation, and they continued on silently until they had reached the Forster's residence. Their friend must have seen them from the upper window, for she met them at the door before they even rang the bell.

"Good day to you both!" Mrs. Forster exclaimed.

Mrs. Forster was a pleasing young woman of nineteen, and despite being one year Catherine's senior, she maintained little of her friend's refinement or sense. She instead was much like Lydia, and the two laughed loudly as they embraced.

Stepping back, Lydia pressed her hands and cried, "I hope you can forgive our not coming yesterday! Jane made us return home."

"Lydia," Catherine said, looking at her pointedly and willing her to be silent.

"I will not have our friend thinking us rude!" Lydia asserted. "We were almost here when Jane made us turn about and run all the way back to Longbourn!"

Catherine pinched her younger sister's arm to quiet her, yet even this did not abate Lydia's feelings that both she and Mrs. Forster had been treated unjustly the previous day. Sticking out her tongue, she crossed her arms and looked away from Catherine. Mrs. Forster watched the exchange in wonder, before gesturing for her guests to follow her to the parlor. It was a small room that was simply furnished, but its colors and fabrics gave a sense of warmth and comfort. She invited Catherine and Lydia to sit upon the couch as she took up the chair across from them.

"Of course I forgive you," she began. "But whatever took you away so urgently? I hope your family is well."

Mrs. Forster raised a small silver tray of cake from which Lydia happily took a piece. Sighing dramatically, Lydia declared, "They are all quite well; no one was in any danger, which is why I feel I must apologize."

Pouring tea for both of her friends, Mrs. Forster pressed on, inquiring, "Then what was it?"

Catherine thanked her for the delicate cup and said, "A visitor arrived, and we were merely needed at home."

"It was hardly just any visitor!" Lydia exclaimed, happy to have such information to impart. "It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh, our cousin's patroness."

Catherine rolled her eyes, and Mrs. Forster said, "Oh, how lovely; she came to pay her respects to your family."

Lydia snorted loudly, and taking an indelicate bite of her cake, she declared, "Hardly! She is Mr. Darcy's aunt, and is not very happy with his engagement to Lizzy!"

"That will do, Lydia," Catherine hissed, her light eyes flaring in annoyance.

Before Lydia could answer, the bell rang, and Mrs. Forster's maid bustled past them into the front hall. She opened the door to admit a smiling Mr. Wickham, who bowed deeply and wished the young girl a good day. The maid blushed prettily as Mrs. Forster rose to greet her new guest.

"Mr. Wickham," she said, her smile brightening as she extended her hand to him. "We were not expecting you."

Wickham bowed over her hand gallantly and declared, "Forgive me for the intrusion, madam. I had hoped to speak with your husband."

"He has just gone out," she answered. "You find us all alone."

At the mention of others, Wickham looked beyond his colonel's wife, and was delighted to see the youngest Miss Bennets gazing back at him. Grinning, he said, "I have been remiss; good day to you both."

He bowed low, and as Lydia smiled and wished him a good afternoon, Catherine managed only a curt nod, for she recalled Elizabeth's warning. Elizabeth had not expounded upon it, but Catherine had little reason to question her elder sister, who was an acute observer of humanity. Catherine watched the scene carefully, and was much disturbed when Lydia's color heightened as she inquired after Mr. Wickham's health.

"I am quite heartbroken," he answered, stepping further into the room and pressing his hand to his chest.

Lydia's eyes widened at this and she asked, "Poor Mr. Wickham! Whatever has happened?"

"I am to leave Meryton at the end of the week," he said, pursing his lips unhappily. "Is this not reason enough to be heartbroken?"

Giggling, Lydia declared, "You flatter us all, for it is we who shall be mourning your loss."

Catherine turned sharply toward Lydia and rebuked her quietly for so intimate a response. Much to her dismay, Lydia ignored her, and Mrs. Forster invited him to join them for tea. He accepted happily, and took up the chair beside Mrs. Forster's.

"We have not met recently," he declared, his eyes trained on Lydia. "It seems much has happened during our separation; Miss Elizabeth is to marry, I understand."

In an attempt to prevent her sister from further revealing more of the events of the previous day, Catherine answered, "Yes; we are quite happy for her and Mr. Darcy."

Noting the brusqueness of her declaration, Wickham turned fully toward Catherine. Smiling innocently, he said, "I saw Lady Catherine yesterday; she came to congratulate your sister, I suppose."

Catherine paled noticeably, and saying nothing, took up her tea and sipped at the hot brew in an attempt to calm her mind. She missed Mr. Wickham's look of satisfaction as he watched her discomfiture, and smiling, he returned his attention to Lydia and Mrs. Forster.

"What a fortunate match for your sister," he continued. "She will be quite comfortable. Was she pleased to make Lady Catherine's acquaintance?"

Lydia smiled and declared, "Not at all; I believe Lady Catherine was not at all kind to her. I heard my mother talking of it later to Jane."

Settling back into her seat, Lydia added, "I do not know why everyone is so angry with her though. We had little hope of Lizzy ever marrying, let alone marrying a man of ten thousand a year. How could Lady Catherine possibly approve of her? For all her charm, she is hardly suited to him. I do not see how she came to engage herself to him."

"That is enough, Lydia," Catherine said hotly.

"I am merely stating a truth," Lydia asserted, her eyes widening at hearing her sister speak in such harsh tones.

Wickham smiled comfortingly at Lydia and declared, "It does you credit to worry about your sister so; a marriage to Darcy will be demanding of her."

"I should say; he is one of the dullest men I have ever encountered," Lydia observed. "He and Colonel Fitzwilliam visited with us last evening, and Mr. Darcy barely spoke a word!"

"And your sister is so personable," Wickham declared, and shaking his head sadly, he added, "Let us pray she is happy with him."

Unable to abide any more, Catherine rose from her seat and said, "I believe she shall be. Mr. Darcy is a kind man, and I believe he is above reproach."

She gazed pointedly at Mr. Wickham as she added, "Which unfortunately many young men are not."

Wickham smirked in answer, and Mrs. Forster, who was not aware of the rising tension in the room, declared, "Unfortunately you are quite right, my friend. But I do agree with Lydia; Mr. Darcy could use a sense of humor."

All but Catherine laughed heartily at this, and shaking her head, she said, "Come along, Lydia; we are expected at home."

Lydia prepared to protest, but noticing Catherine's heightened color, she rose from her seat. Not wishing her sister to embarrass her further with her ill-humor, Lydia confessed, "My sister is unhappily correct. Shall we see you at Sir William Lucas' tomorrow evening?"

"You shall!" Mrs. Forster cried happily. "It is so kind of him to hold a party for us before our departure. I look forward to congratulating Miss Lucas, as well; I know she is to marry on Saturday."

She kissed her young friend on the cheek and added, "I shall be quite desolate when I leave Hertfordshire."

Dropping Lydia's hands, she turned to say farewell to Catherine, and noticing this, Wickham took the opportunity to wish Lydia a good day. He bowed low and admitted, "I, too, shall miss the society of Hertfordshire. I have found such wonderful acquaintances here."

He glanced over his shoulder, and noting her elder sister was still occupied with Mrs. Forster, he took Lydia's hand and pressed in affectionately. "I shall miss your company acutely," he said in hushed tones.

Lydia's cheeks brightened with a light blush, and she lowered her eyes demurely. Curtseying, she wished him a good day before following her sister outside. Wickham followed Mrs. Forster to the door to watch them go, and his smile broadened.

"They are such lovely girls," Mrs. Forster observed. "I am happy the Bennets shall join the party tomorrow night, for I know my husband would be quite put out if he did not get to say his farewells to them."

At the mention of his colonel, Wickham was reminded of his original motive for coming. "I believe I shall seek him out," he declared. "Where did you say he ventured to?"

"He went riding," Mrs. Forster answered. "I believe he wished to take in the scenery at Oakham Mount."

Smiling, Wickham thanked her, and wishing her a good day, stepped swiftly outside and made his way toward his barracks to fetch a horse.