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Chapter 53: An Unhappy Occasion

Posted on 2009-12-08

Elizabeth made her way out of doors at the earliest opportunity the following morning. She was thankful for the cool clearness of the day, and sighed in relief when the light breeze hit her flushed cheeks. She counted her steps across the lawn towards a secluded copse of trees that had been a favorite place of refuge during her youth. On reaching the glen, she raised her right hand, and moved forward tentatively until her fingertips encountered the rough bark of the old elm she knew to be there. Pressing her back against it, she slid down until she was seated comfortably on the ground. She cared nothing for the dampness of the ground, and drew a long breath in an attempt to quiet her mind. She raised her hands to the ribbons of her bonnet, and pulling at them distractedly, she succeeded in disengaging it from her dark curls. She laid it beside her and pressed her hands to her forehead, rubbing slowly, and willing the ache in her temples to dissipate. The previous night had passed slowly for her, and she found no respite until the sky began to lighten in the early morning. She had dressed swiftly and without aid, for she desired nothing more than to spend the hour before breakfast in quiet solitude. Her mother's exclamations, demands, and histrionics over the last days had weighed heavily on her, reminding her constantly of the damage done by Lydia's folly. Lowering her hands to the ground, she moved her fingers idly over the moss and grass, and allowed her thoughts to return to the previous night.

"Oh, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet had began as she sat abed surrounded by her tonics. Whatever will Mr. Darcy think of us now?"

Elizabeth's brow knitted in concern, for her mother expressed the fear that plagued her since the discovery of Lydia's flight. Jane noticed her sister's fear and quickly asserted, "I am sure Mr. Darcy will think no less of us, Mama."

Mrs. Bennet pressed her handkerchief to her nose and cried, "Oh, but he will! If Lydia is indeed lost to us, what man would wish to have her as a sister?"

Elizabeth closed her eyes against her mother's words and declared, "You must rest, Mama."

Her mother insisted she could not possibly rest at such a time, and continued to lament the loss of Mr. Darcy's good opinion until she fell into a fitful sleep. Elizabeth rose from her seat near the window, determined to retire, for she felt herself undone by her mother's unhappiness. She massaged the muscles in her neck, feeling them strain beneath her fingertips from the hours she had spent sitting with her mother. Wishing her sisters a goodnight, she slipped into the hallway, but paused near the door of her own chamber when Jane called her name.

"Do not concern yourself with our mother's words," Jane had declared, touching her arm in an effort to calm her. "Mr. Darcy would never think ill of you because of this."

'She is right,' her mind asserted, stirring her from her reverie.

She drew a long breath and plucked a few pieces of moss from the ground, twisting them idly in her fingers to quiet her racing mind. She allowed her head to lay against the tree behind her, and closing her eyes, she turned her face to the sky and enjoyed the sound of the creaking boughs above her.

"I know she is," she whispered, a soft smile lightening her features.

She saw Darcy's face; his deep eyes softening as they conversed and his hand lifting to her face. She knew that he labored for her sake and the comfort of her family, and she prayed that he was well. She wished that he sat in the warmth of his study, but she knew he did not, and instead searched for her sister. Sighing in frustration, she opened her eyes and tossed the moss she held away from her. She suddenly felt herself overwhelmed with thoughts of his injury, and how such a hasty journey to London could have affected him. Rising from the ground, she began pacing across the small glen. Thoughts of her beloved occupied her for several minutes until she heard her name called from across the lawn.

"I am here, Jane," Elizabeth answered, pausing in her step.

She heard Jane's gentle footfalls approaching, and turning toward the sound, she greeted her. "You are out walking very early this morning," she added, smirking slightly. "It is not usually your custom."

Jane arrived at her sister's side, her customary peaceful countenance replaced by a more solemn pallor. "I confess that I did not rest well last night," she declared, studying Elizabeth and noting that her eyes were clouded. "I thought the air might help."

Elizabeth's smile fell at this, and she held out her hand, waiting for Jane to take it. When she felt Jane returned her hold, Elizabeth wound her arm through hers and began to walk. The two sisters made their way to the path that led away from Longbourn, each remaining silent until they reached the far side of their father's property. Jane continued on, making her way to the fence rail that was not far off, but Elizabeth paused. Her mind returned to not long ago, when Darcy had come upon her following Lady Catherine's visit. His reassurances echoed in her ears and the thought of the feeling of his hands gently touching her cheeks warmed them. Her breath caught, and closing her eyes, she found it difficult to believe so much had happened in so few days.

"Lizzy?" Jane called, leaning against the fencepost to face her sister. "Are you unwell?"

Opening her eyes, Elizabeth quickly assured her she was not. "I will not have you ushering me back into the house," she added wryly.

She continued forward, counting her steps until her fingers encountered the wood stile beside Jane. Leaning her elbows upon it, she turned her face toward Jane expectantly. Jane smiled, aware what Elizabeth wished for, and happy for the opportunity to turn her mind from the thoughts that had plagued her over the last days. Turning her light eyes to the landscape before them, she told Elizabeth of the mist that rose from the reeds and the gentle bend of the trees when the breeze caught their branches. She described the wash of color that changed as the sky brightened, and she was pleased to see that the tension in Elizabeth's shoulders began to ease.

They passed several minutes in this way, until Jane asked, "Do you think our father will send news today?"

Elizabeth sighed, and as she thought on her sister and Mr. Wickham, her jaw tightened. "Let us hope there is news to send," she said evenly.

Jane nodded and continued, "If they are discovered and made to marry, what will become of them then? Do you think Mr. Wickham has money enough to purchase a commission?"

"We can hardly know," Elizabeth answered, though she felt certain he did not, and she felt a growing fear that her intended would have to bear the mortification of seeing to the couple's comfort.

'Mr. Wickham must know our father can give him nothing,' she thought bitterly. 'And I cannot imagine that our uncle can spare much.'

She closed her eyes against the thought of Darcy sitting before Mr. Wickham and reasoning with him, attempting desperately to make him marry. Opening her eyes and shaking her head, she asserted, "I cannot help but fear their being found, for I will not be able to meet with either of them with any amount of equanimity. She is not the sister I knew, and I shall not treat her as such."

Elizabeth began to move away, but was prevented by Jane's hand settling on her forearm. "That is unkind, Lizzy," she said softly.

"I cannot help it!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I cannot bear the thought of what Mr. Darcy has had to endure at Mr. Wickham's hands. Now our sister may be his wife? We are forever connected with a man who can so thoughtlessly and heartlessly treat those he calls 'friend' ill."

Moving her arm so Jane's hand fell, she pushed herself away from the fence and began pacing. "No, Jane; I cannot think kindly just now, for our family will be forever changed by this," she said sadly. "Can you not see that?"

Jane watched her go and confessed, "I must have faith that it will turn out well in the end."

"I do not know that I can," Elizabeth confessed, moving back to the fence.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to calm her temper, for she did not wish to burden Jane further. Suddenly, she felt Darcy's touch upon her hand, and the rough sensation of the wool of his coat beneath her fingertips. She flexed her fingers as the warmth the memory caused spread up her arm, and focusing on the steadiness of his strength, she willed the ache in her heart to quiet. She opened her eyes, and turned to where she knew her sister stood.

"Forgive me," she began. "I should not have spoken so. I believe I am only tired."

Jane's eyes saddened and she declared, "Do not worry; your concern is natural. You are right when you say we are forever changed by this."

Her light eyes turned in the direction of Netherfield's land, and though the edifice was too far to be visible and it had been many months since she had seen it, she recalled its red brick facade and its beautiful gardens with perfect clarity. Her thoughts naturally turned to its owner and she sighed.

Elizabeth heard her sister's distress and said, "I am sorry, dear Jane. I have done nothing but upset you. I am very poor company this morning."

She heard Jane cross the small distance between them, and was pleased when she laid her arm about her shoulders, for she knew Jane had forgiven her anger. "Let us go inside," Jane declared. "Mama will be up soon, and I am certain breakfast is prepared by now."

"Perhaps our mother will take hers above stairs," Elizabeth declared bitterly, her mind turning to her mother's comments the previous night.

"Are you suggesting we should be happy at that prospect?" Jane asked, her mouth twitching at her sister's suggestion.

Elizabeth blushed and confessed, "I am only suggesting we would benefit from a peaceful breakfast."

Despite the gravity of their words only moments ago, Jane laughed. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, and she was happy to see Elizabeth's countenance lighten as well.

"Perhaps you are right," she answered, securing her shawl about her shoulders and winding her arm through her sister's.

Elizabeth stepped forward with her, and together they walked back slowly. By the time they gained the drive, Elizabeth detected the sound of a carriage entering the gate.

She paused, and turning toward the sound, she asked, "Whoever could that be?"

Jane's brow furrowed as she watched the conveyance came to a halt before the house. When its door opened, she was surprised to see the face of their cousin, Mr. Collins, appear.

"Oh, dear," breathed out Jane.

Elizabeth felt her sister's grip on her hand tighten, and fearing what could have unsettled her sister so, she inquired, "What is it, Jane?"

Watching as Mr. Collins stumbled out of the carriage, Jane answered, "It is Mr. Collins, and I am afraid we cannot avoid the conversation, for he is already coming toward us."

Elizabeth raised her chin, and squaring her shoulders, she listened to her cousin greet them with more alacrity than she expected. She curtseyed and wished him a good morning.

"We had not expected to see you in Hertfordshire for quite some time. What brings you here so soon after your wedding?" Elizabeth asked, her brow rising in challenge.

Jane joined her sister's inquiries and added, "Is Mrs. Collins at Hunsford?

"She is," Mr. Collins said simply, recalling his new wife expressing her displeasure at his coming. He passed his handkerchief over his forehead and continued, "I received a letter from Hertfordshire only yesterday, informing me of the unfortunate situation in which you all find yourselves. I thought it only right, given our relationship and my situation in life, to come here and speak of it with you. I had hoped to converse with your father and mother."

Jane thanked him for his concern and said, "Our father is still in London."

"And as the hour is still quite early, our mother is not yet prepared to receive visitors," Elizabeth bit out, her patience with the man before her lessening.

"I see," Mr. Collins began, before turning toward the house. "Mrs. Bennet must be undone by all of this. I cannot imagine what a toll Miss Lydia's behavior has taken upon your family; indeed the death of your sister would be more welcome than this shame."

Elizabeth bristled and her eyes grew hard at this. Recognizing her sister's growing anger, Jane quickly laid a comforting hand on her forearm and asked, "Will you break your fast with us, Mr. Collins? You must be quite tired."

Mr. Collins gratefully accepted, and following after his cousins as they moved past him, he continued, "Indeed, both Mrs. Collins and I sympathize with you all, for I have no doubt time cannot mend such an embarrassment."

The sisters remained silent when they entered the foyer, thankful that Hill had appeared to relieve Mr. Collins of his coat and hat. She informed them that breakfast was prepared and made known that both Mary and Catherine would be joining them soon.

"Your mistress will not then?" Mr. Collins asked.

"No, sir," Hill answered.

Bobbing a quick curtsey, she turned on her heel and made for the kitchen. Elizabeth listened to her retreating steps and wished she could join her, for she wanted nothing more than to be out of Mr. Collins' company. She moved into the hallway and counted her steps into the dining room, taking her customary chair before the chimneypiece. Mr. Collins welcomed himself to the one across from her, and soon after, Mary and Catherine appeared. Their surprise at finding Mr. Collins at their table was palpable, but schooling their features, they each greeted him with more equanimity than Elizabeth felt. They took their chairs, and the party fell into silence, each occupying themselves with the meal in front of them.

"You need not blame yourselves for Miss Lydia's folly, for I am inclined to believe her disposition must be naturally bad, though I did note a shocking degree of indulgence during my visit in the autumn," Mr. Collins asserted, taking up his coffee.

"You believe Mr. Wickham bears no responsibility in the affair?" Elizabeth asked, turning her eyes up toward Mr. Collins' voice.

The coolness of her stare surprised him and he asserted, "I suppose he must, for Lady Catherine has assured me that he is by no means a respectable young man. His transgressions that she mentioned are shocking indeed."

Elizabeth fell silent, for she knew the worst of Mr. Wickham's sins. She took up her toast and idly pulled at it until her cousin added, "Yes; you are all to be pitied. I assume nothing can be done but to insist they marry."

"That seems our only choice," Jane declared evenly.

"Then I fear Lady Catherine is right," Mr. Collins began. "In having such a man as a brother, one must wonder who will connect themselves with your family."

Unable to bear any more, Elizabeth rose from her chair and asserted, "I fear you are right, Mr. Collins, and in light of that observation, you may think it unwise to remain any longer in this house."

Mr. Collins' brow rose at her observation, and uncertain if he should be affronted by so easy a dismissal, he prepared to object. Elizabeth did not give him the opportunity and instead continued, "I believe one in your position cannot be too careful, and Lady Catherine believes we have been irrevocably damaged by this. We would not see you harmed as well."

"Your thoughtfulness does you credit, Cousin Elizabeth," he declared, rising from his seat.

Moving toward Elizabeth, he moved to take her hand, but thought the better of it and continued, "Mrs. Collins asked me to convey her particular hope that you are well and her best wishes on your upcoming nuptials.

Elizabeth's annoyance quieted and her mind turned to her good-natured friend. "Please express my thanks to her," she said.

"I shall," he answered. "I pray that Mr. Darcy has not heard of your sister's foolishness though."

"Why?" Elizabeth asked, though she knew immediately where her cousin's thoughts turned.

"I fear he may realize how detrimental having a connection like Mr. Wickham will be," he declared. "And if he does, he may regret his choice."

Elizabeth paled and her jaw set firmly at her cousin's declaration, but before she could respond, Mary stood from her own seat. "Mr. Darcy is with our father in London," she asserted. "And is aiding our father in his search."

Mary held Mr. Collins' shocked gaze and stepped closer to Elizabeth's side. Catherine, too, stood from her seat and studied the curate in displeasure. Mr. Collins noted the disapproval in their countenances and he stepped backward.

"I am heartily sorry for you all," he said slowly.

He wished them all a good day, and with a final wish for their sister's return, he bowed and departed. Elizabeth listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway, and she released the breath she had been holding when she heard the door open. She lowered herself back into her chair and laid her head in her hands. She felt Jane and Mary on either side of her, inquiring if she was well, as Catherine crossed to the window to watch their cousin's carriage pull away.

"I am well," Elizabeth asserted, straightening and forcing a smile to her face.

Catherine watched the carriage turn out of their father's gate and cried, "Horrible man! Why did no one tell me he was here before I came down? I would have stayed abed!"

The tightness of Elizabeth's smile disappeared and she chuckled. Mary and Jane soon joined her as she declared, "I fear Mr. Collins will avoid our company in the future."

Sighing in relief, Catherine said, "Good, for I would not wish him back again!"

Elizabeth pressed Jane's hand which lay upon her shoulder. She drew a long breath and willed the doubts in her mind to quiet. Shaking her head, she felt hopeful they would hear news from London.

Darcy thanked the maid who took the greatcoat from his shoulders, and stepped fully into the foyer of Mr. Gardiner's home. When the young woman departed to announce him, he set to straightening his cravat and attempting to smooth the deep creases in his waistcoat. Realizing the endeavor was fruitless, he sighed and raked his left hand through his dark curls.

'I must look a fright,' he thought bitterly, moving his hand down his face to feel the prick of the light whiskers there.

The previous night had been an unpleasant one; he discovered that Lydia's devotion to
Wickham was far greater than he had hoped. She would not be swayed, and when he suggested she leave Wickham's company to return to her uncle's house, she held fast to Wickham's arm. Darcy groaned at the memory, and shook his head before moving toward the simple chair at the bottom of the staircase. He lowered himself onto it and drew a breath in relief, and felt his muscles relax in much-needed respite. His eyes traveled to his left hand, and though no serious injury was done to them, he noticed the bruising on his knuckles and fingers had worsened. He curled his fingers and closed his eyes against the slight ache the movement caused. Despite it, he chuckled as he recalled the ugly gash on Wickham's lip and the purple and blackish shadow that surrounded his eye by that morning. Shaking his head, he schooled his features, for he felt it would not do to show any good humor during his interview with Mr. Bennet. The thought of what he needed to relate to Mr. Bennet sobered him immediately, and he turned his mind to his discussion with Wickham during the early hours of the morning.

"That is entirely unreasonable!" Fitzwilliam had bit out, his tired eyes flashing and he sat forward in his seat.

Wickham shrugged and declared, "I only seek to provide a comfortable situation for my young wife. I would not have her live like a pauper."

"A lieutenancy is hardly the life of a pauper," Fitzwilliam asserted. "Perhaps you would not feel your purse was so meager if you refrained from losing all of your money in card games!"

Wickham scoffed and slouched further in his chair, but feeling Darcy's eyes on him, his muscles tensed and he straightened. "Very well, then. Wherever will I hang my hat then? Devonshire? Bristol?"

Darcy's dark gaze settled on him and he said simply, "Newcastle."

Now, as he stood in the Gardiners' foyer, he wondered how the family fared after he had delivered Lydia to them. Mr. Bennet appeared the moment his daughter was announced, and only nodded in thanks when Darcy took his leave, for his attention was entirely riveted on Lydia. Before slipping out into the night, Darcy had glanced back to see Mr. Bennet studying his youngest with a cool stare. He noted that the easiness of his person was entirely altered; his mouth fell in an unhappy line, his grey eyes held no humor, and his shoulders were rigid.

Darcy closed his eyes, and shaking his head, he whispered, "I doubt anything he said to Miss Lydia would make her see the error in what she has done."

"Regretfully, you are right, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet confessed, stepping into the hall to regard his future son. "I fear my youngest will forever be a victim of her own foolishness."

Darcy startled, his eyes widening as he turned to see the gentleman. Stumbling slightly, he stammered, "Forgive me, sir, I did not see you."

He bowed as much as his injury would allow him, and slowly turned his eyes to Mr. Bennet's countenance. Mr. Bennet sighed and passed a tired hand over his eyes.

Darcy's gaze softened and he declared, "I am sorry to hear that, sir."

Mr. Bennet waved his hand dismissively and asserted, "I deserve no pity, for it was my own weakness that caused this."

Before Darcy could argue with him, he gestured for him to follow and made his way down the hallway to Mr. Gardiner's study. Darcy watched for a moment before moving after him. When they entered the room, Mr. Bennet lowered himself onto the chair beside Mr. Gardiner's, and despite the severity of their reason for meeting, Mr. Gardiner smiled when he saw Darcy in the doorframe.

"Will you sit, Mr. Darcy?" he asked.

Darcy shook his head and moved toward the shelves on the far wall. He absently studied the titles there, his mind instead filled with what he must say. He swallowed hard, feeling that Mr. Bennet would not be pleased with his news regarding Wickham's conditions.

'Would not you feel the same?' his mind whispered.

Nodding unconsciously, he admitted he would; to be of no use to his sister would have been unbearable. His thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Bennet lightly clearing his throat, no doubt anxious for him to begin, and impatient with his reticence. Raising his chin, Darcy turned back to them.

"You have something you wish to tell us," Mr. Bennet said, leaving no question in his tone.

"I have spoken with Wickham," Darcy began, swallowing hard. "Everything has been arranged, and he only asks that you allow Miss Lydia what she is promised; one hundred pounds per annum and the one thousand pounds she is to inherit after your death."

Mr. Gardiner's eyes lightened at this news and he exclaimed, "Thank the Lord! I was certain he would demand more! So much so that I feared we would not be able to pay it."

Mr. Bennet remained silent, studying Darcy and noting that his dark eyes turned quickly to the ground. His brow knitted and he asked, "Is there nothing else you wish to tell us, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy felt his color heighten and he closed his eyes, cursing himself for being unable to hide his true feelings. "There is nothing else for you to concern yourself with, sir," he said, his voice low and even.

"I ask that you not patronize me," Mr. Bennet declared, his countenance tightening. "You must let me feel the full force of my own daughter's ignorance."

Releasing the breath he had been holding, Darcy moved to stand before the two men. "I have arranged a position for Wickham in the north, of which I hope you will approve," he said. "He is to have a commission with a regiment in Newcastle."

Mr. Bennet's countenance paled, but Darcy quickly pushed on, adding, "I know you will think the distance quite far, and for that I ask your forgiveness. I only wished to send him somewhere that had little to tempt him, for I believe that will provide your daughter with a greater chance of happiness."

"You purchased the commission?" Mr. Gardiner inquired, his eyes turning to his brother-in-law to see how he received such news.

Darcy could only nod, and Mr. Bennet leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped tightly in thought. "But there is more, is there not?" he asked.

Silence enveloped the room, and the only sounds were the light hissing of the small fire in the hearth and the gentle ticking of the clock above the mantle. Darcy felt an interminable amount of time pass before he trusted his voice not to waver.

"His debts must be paid," he asserted finally, the vehemence in his voice surprising even him. "I have satisfied his creditors here in London, and I ask only that you do the same for those in Hertfordshire. I believe it is all here."

With that, he drew a folded parchment from his waistcoat and held it out to Mr. Bennet, who took it and laid it aside. Darcy was surprised when Mr. Bennet rose from his seat.

"I cannot imagine Wickham is a man who would be so easily satisfied," he declared, holding Darcy's gaze. "What else did he ask of you?"

Darcy shook his head, not wishing to reveal the whole of his conversation with Wickham. "I would not have you feel obligated to do what he asks," he answered.

"How much did he request?" Mr. Bennet pressed, his eyes filling with frustrated tears.

Darcy's jaw tightened and he said, "Ten thousand pounds."

Mr. Bennet pressed a hand to his forehead and lowered himself back onto his chair. "How is half such a sum to be paid?" he breathed out, his grey eyes turning to his brother.

Mr. Gardiner laid a comforting hand on his arm and said, "I will speak with my solicitor at once, and see what aid I might give."

"No, Edward; I will not ask that of you," Mr. Bennet asserted, pressing his hand briefly.

Darcy listened as the two men wondered at what was to be done, and unable to bear the despair that began to enter Mr. Bennet's voice, he confessed simply, "I have paid what he asked."

He lowered his gaze to the floorboards, studying their pattern so that he might avoid Mr. Bennet's reaction. No man would welcome the knowledge that another could do so easily what he could not, but Darcy admitted to himself that he would not be swayed. His mind was filled with Elizabeth; her rosy cheeks wet with tears and her brilliant eyes filled with disappointment and loss.

'It is all for her,' he thought, wishing nothing more than to give Elizabeth comfort.

"You really take too much upon yourself," Mr. Bennet declared, tearing Darcy from his thoughts. "My daughter's future is not yours to secure."

Darcy looked toward him and asserted, "Wickham was able to do what he did because I did nothing to check his behavior years ago. The fault is mine, and so must the remedy be."

Mr. Bennet regarded the young man before him and said, "I will do all I can to pay you…"

"No," Darcy began, holding up his hand to stop Mr. Bennet's offer. "I will not accept it."

"Mr. Darcy, you are too generous," Mr. Gardiner observed. "We cannot possibly allow you to do this for us."

Darcy sighed and took up the chair across from them. Shifting his bandaged arm, he settled back into the cushions and welcomed the relief it gave to his tired limbs.

"I must insist upon this," he declared, raising his tired eyes to them and watching his companions carefully. "I assure you that argument is fruitless, but I must ask that you not tell Elizabeth…Miss Elizabeth."

He blushed at his mistake and continued, "Or any of your family about the extent of my involvement. I do none of this for their gratitude."

Mr. Bennet rose from his seat and began pacing before the hearth. He remained silent, his gaze tracing the shadows on the ceiling as he replayed Darcy's words. Darcy noticed his growing reluctance, and though he knew Mr. Bennet had little hope of securing Wickham for Lydia on his own, he feared that he would not wish to appear so. Standing, Darcy strode the few steps to Mr. Bennet's side.

"Please allow me to do this," he begged softly. "I could never be easy with the knowledge that I did not do all I could to aid you."

"I am heartily ashamed of myself," Mr. Bennet confessed, pulling his spectacles from his nose in frustration. "I should have taken better care of my girls."

Leaving Darcy, he settled himself across from Mr. Gardiner once more and continued, "I, of course, intended to father an heir, but by the time we gave up that hope, it seemed a little late to begin saving. I never imagined I would have to convince one of the most worthless men in all of England to marry one of my daughters."

"You could not have predicted this," Mr. Gardiner asserted, pressing Mr. Bennet's forearm.

Raising his sad eyes to Darcy, Mr. Bennet sighed. "You are a better man than I," he professed.

Uncomfortable with such praise, Darcy's color heightened at his observation and he moved toward the window. He watched the carriages roll by, attempting to turn his mind from Mr. Bennet's unhappiness. From the hallway he heard Lydia's strident laughter followed by her aunt's soft reprimand. Closing his eyes, he prayed that she would at least temper her behavior and not give more pain to her family.

"I will see that Wickham applies for a special license and they can be married by the end of the week if it is agreeable to you," he asserted, returning his attention to his companions.

Settling back into his seat, Mr. Bennet declared, "It is indeed. I would have this dreadful business concluded tomorrow if I could."

Mr. Gardiner placed a comforting hand on his back before standing and extending his hand to Darcy. "We are truly grateful," he said.

Darcy shook his head and moved to return his gesture, but halted when his gaze caught the purple bruises that marred his skin. Reminded of his actions the previous night, he lowered his hand to his side to conceal it, but Mr. Bennet noticed the movement.

"What happened to your hand?" Mr. Bennet asked, his inquiry drawing Mr. Gardiner's attention to the injury as well.

As Darcy's color heightened and he assured them it was nothing. Mr. Bennet watched him move his hand behind his back, and with a slight smirk he continued, "I assume your reason for hurting your hand was a sound one, though I do not know that your physician will approve of it."

Closing his eyes, Darcy recalled Wickham's words and he answered, "It was indeed."

Flexing his fingers behind his back and feeling them ache, he suddenly felt again the sleeplessness he had endured the previous night. He continued, "I hope you will excuse me, gentlemen; I am certain Georgiana is quite anxious for me to return home, and as you say, Mr. Byatt will not be at all pleased with my newest injury. I would be surprised if he does not see me locked in my chambers to prevent any further ones."

For the first time since taking leave of Elizabeth, Darcy's dark eyes glinted with good humor. He bowed as well as he was able, and thanking them once more, he moved toward the doorway. He halted in the doorframe when he heard Mr. Bennet call after him.

"Sir?" he asked, meeting his gaze.

"I hope Mr. Wickham will heal quickly," Mr. Bennet declared, his brow arching in amusement. "I would imagine the reverend would not be pleased if Wickham appeared before him looking like he just escaped a tavern brawl."

Darcy bit back a chuckle, and nodding in acceptance, he professed, "I shall keep that in mind."

With that he turned on his heel and made his way down the hallway. On reaching the foyer, he was grateful to see the maid anticipated him and held his greatcoat out to him. He thanked her quietly as she helped him slide it across his shoulders, and wishing her a good day, he stepped out into the sunlight. He resolved to return home, for he knew Fitzwilliam had enlisted the aid of some of his fellow officers to keep watch on Wickham and the thought made him feel a little easier.

'At least I know he will not be able to fly from London without difficulty,' he reflected.

One of his coachmen swung himself down from his seat to open the carriage door for his master, and the movement drew Darcy from his thoughts. Nodding and giving him instructions, Darcy raised himself into the conveyance and settled himself against the comfortable cushions within. He sighed in relief, and leaning his head back, he allowed his eyes to close. The sounds of the coachmen's calls and the steady beat of the horses' hooves against the stone drifted away as his mind and body sought its much needed respite.

The days that followed at the Gardiner home were busy ones; Darcy secured a special license for the unfortunate couple, Fitzwilliam visited daily to provide Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner with reports of Wickham's activity, and Mrs. Gardiner worked to secure a simple gown for Lydia to wear for the ceremony.

"It is perfectly horrid!" Lydia had cried the morning of her wedding as one of the maids secured the veil at the base of her bonnet.

"You look quite lovely," Mrs. Gardiner admitted, hoping to soothe her niece's temper, for such outburst would do little to calm Mr. Bennet's already strained patience. "The cut of it suits you."

Realizing her mistress' intention, the young maid added, "And I believe it shall look quite well beside Mr. Wickham's blue coat."

Lydia's eyes widened and she cried, "Oh no; George is to wear his regimentals! How will so plain a gown look well beside him?"

Mrs. Gardiner saw the maid's confusion, for she had seen Mr. Wickham that morning in Mr. Gardiner's study, and he wore no uniform. "Of course you will look well," she said quickly. "The gown is of little consequence."

Lydia huffed in response, and studying her reflection once more, she relented and determined there was little to be done about it. "I suppose it will have to do," she said, taking up the small nosegay her aunt had arranged for her.

Within a half hour, they were ascending the marble stairs of the church and entering under its grand arch. As Lydia's excited eyes took in the starkness of the sanctuary, her brows knitted; the brilliant scarlet uniforms she expected to see in the pews were absent. Only her father, uncle, the colonel, and Darcy accompanied Wickham, and before them stood a morose member of the clergy. Though he wore the customary white vestments, they did little to lighten his obvious severity. For a moment, Lydia wavered in the foyer, disturbed by the discomfort she felt permeating the room.

When the reverend beckoned her forward, Wickham rose from his seat followed by Darcy. Lydia moved up the aisle, her pace an awkward procession and her eyes wide with wonder. Darcy watched her arrive at Wickham's side, and he felt his chest tighten with pity for her.

'I hope she finds some happiness in all of this,' he reflected.

Wickham caught his gaze briefly and he shifted uncomfortably beneath Darcy's study of him. Dropping his gaze to the marble floor beneath him, he bid the parson to begin so that he could escape Darcy's scrutiny. The older gentlemen before him bowed his head, and with reverence, opened the large volume he held. Darcy listened to his words as he expressed the joy and comfort that should be found in the sanctity of marriage and he frowned when he realized such meaning was lost on the pair before him. Closing his eyes, he imagined repeating to Elizabeth the vows the curate professed and the thought did much to calm his unsettled mind. He drew a long breath and was thankful that the ceremony passed more swiftly than he anticipated.

"What God has joined together, let no man put asunder," the reverend said, shutting his book with finality.

'It is done then,' Darcy thought sadly.

He was grateful that Lydia at least looked pleased; she smiled brightly and her air was pleasant as she clung to her new husband's arm. Her aunt and uncle congratulated her with all the alacrity they could manage while her father only kissed her cheek briefly before extending his hand to Wickham.

"Congratulations, sir," he declared coolly. "I hope you will endeavor to make my daughter happy."

Darcy was surprised that Mr. Bennet would make so open an admission, and he looked to Wickham to see how he received it. Wickham seemed untouched by it and instead bowed with his usual gallantry.

"It shall be a priority of mine," he answered, his voice sounding tighter than he intended.

When he straightened, he felt Darcy's serious gaze upon him. Meeting his eyes, Wickham extended his hand to him and asked, "Will you not congratulate me, Darcy?"

Darcy was reminded of their meeting at the inn at Meryton all those months ago when Wickham was set to marry Miss King. Reflecting that at least he was able to save that girl from him and not wishing to offend the new Mrs. Wickham, Darcy grasped Wickham's hand.

"Congratulations," he professed evenly, the fingers of his injured arm curling unconsciously.

He breathed out in pain, releasing Wickham's hand so that he might press his hand to his shoulder. Wickham watched the movement, and smirking slightly, he asserted, "Perhaps you should rest."

Fitzwilliam arrived at Darcy's side and bit out, "He will; as soon as you are on your way to the north. We will all rest easier."

With that, Fitzwilliam took Wickham's hand and pressed it painfully, wordlessly conveying that he in no way approved of Wickham's current good fortune. Wickham pulled his fingers from his grasp and thanked him distractedly before abandoning them for Mr. Gardiner's more serene company. Darcy watched him go, and shifting the weight of his arm in its sling, he passed his left hand through his hair.

"He is right, you know," Fitzwilliam whispered.

Darcy's brow knitted in confusion and he asked, "In what way?"

"You should rest," his cousin insisted. "I have let your obstinacy go on for far too long, and surely your activity is delaying your convalescence."

Darcy smiled at his worry and declared, "I have already given my word to Georgiana that as soon as this business is done, I will rest. She wishes me to be well enough for my own wedding."

"Well, I am happy to hear it," Fitzwilliam confessed. "Though I am certain our definition of 'rest' is far different from yours. Perhaps I should have Mr. Byatt insist upon your remaining abed."

Darcy's eyes widened at the suggestion, but before he could answer, he noticed Lydia approach them with a tentative step. They bowed to her and Darcy said, "Congratulations, Mrs. Wickham. I wish you every happiness."

Lydia giggled at his declaration and cried, "Oh, Lord! How very droll that name sounds! I suppose I must get accustomed to it before we travel to Hertfordshire."

Darcy started, her words descending upon him with great force. "But your husband is expected in Newcastle on Wednesday next," he asserted.

Waving her hand dismissively, Lydia said, "Yes; I suppose he is. I only wish a short visit with my mother, and of course my sisters will wish to hear all about the ceremony."

She glanced toward her father, who listened silently to Mr. Gardiner and her husband conversing. "My father has refused the idea, though I cannot imagine why," she wondered.

"Thank God," Darcy breathed out, unconscious of his words until Lydia looked at him quizzically and Fitzwilliam pressed his elbow into his side. Realizing his error, he quickly added, "It would greatly increase the time it would take for you to get to Newcastle, and surely you wish to ready your new home."

Pursing her lips thoughtfully, Lydia declared, "I suppose, but I cannot imagine leaving the area before seeing Longbourn. I shall write to my mother about it and see if she cannot convince my father."

With that, she bobbed an inelegant curtsy and strode back to her husband's side, clinging to his arm and laughing loudly with him. Darcy watched them, his mind filling with the possibilities of Wickham's being unwatched in Hertfordshire. The image of Elizabeth's pale countenance and unshed tears following the ball at Netherfield haunted him, and he could not bear the thought of Wickham having the opportunity to be in her company again.

"Surely if they do travel to Longbourn, Mr. Bennet will watch him closely," Fitzwilliam observed, endeavoring to calm his cousin. "At least Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth know what he is capable of; they will be wary of him."

Darcy nodded, attempting to convince himself that Fitzwilliam spoke the truth. He knew Elizabeth and Jane would remain at a distance should Wickham arrive at Longbourn, but the thought did little to comfort him. His mind worked quickly to find some solution, and returning his gaze to Wickham, he resolved to visit Bingley at the earliest opportunity.

Chapter 54: Returns

Posted on 2010-01-07

The following afternoon brought news of Lydia's wedding to Longbourn, and Mrs. Bennet joined her other daughters in the dining room at luncheon for the first time since Lydia's flight. Her color had returned and her temper was made easier by the knowledge that she had a daughter married. The excitement she felt was palpable and she beamed when she took her customary place at the table. Her eyes moved quickly over the lines of her husband's letter for a second time, and dropping it to the table, she clapped her hands.

"A daughter married!" she cried happily. "And just sixteen! Oh, I must hasten to visit with Mrs. Philips and then Lady Lucas."

"Mama…" Elizabeth began, unfortunately unsurprised by her mother's elation.

"Oh, but how unfortunate she married in London!" Mrs. Bennet continued, entirely unaware of Elizabeth's interjection. "How your father could make such a decision confounds me. Why, she should have been married from Longbourn church, where all her friends could have seen her."

Elizabeth set her fork aside with a clatter and asserted, "But it was impossible; you must see that, Mama. She had been staying with Mr. Wickham in London, and if she had returned home unmarried, what would people have said?"

"Well, when you put it in such a horrible way, I suppose it must be," Mrs. Bennet relented, tossing her napkin to the table. "I do hope they will secure a house in the neighborhood though."

Jane heard Elizabeth huff in frustration, and wishing to quiet her mother's exclamations for her sister's sake, she said calmly, "But we must remember that Papa said Mr. Wickham is expected in Newcastle as soon as may be."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Why ever should they be banished to the north country? They can reside nearby, for the Gouldings are to quit the great house at Stoke, and in that case, it would be quite perfect for them."

"Papa does not wish it," Elizabeth declared, willing her voice to remain even. "And Mr. Wickham cannot possibly remain in Meryton. What of his debts? You cannot imagine any tradesman will wish to do business with him now."

Jane agreed and added, "It is for the best, Mama."

Mrs. Bennet sighed in exasperation, and rising from her seat, she said, "I shall away before you take all the pleasure from this happy day."

With that, she departed, calling for Hill as she entered the hallway. Elizabeth settled back in her seat, shaking her head in dissatisfaction. Mary glanced at Catherine warily, for they knew Lydia's foolishness had affected Elizabeth the most.

"Will she not at least acknowledge that Lydia has done wrong?" Elizabeth asked, her brows rising in wonder. "I give her leave to be happy to have a daughter married, but is she not ashamed at the means by which it was done?"

Jane knew not how to answer, and her light eyes glanced at her mother's empty chair. Her gaze alighted on her father's missive and she swiftly reached for it. Elizabeth heard her movement and the rustle of the pages as Jane unfolded the parchment.

"Will you read it, Jane?" she asked. "I am anxious to hear our father's account rather than just our mother's exclamations over Lydia not having proper wedding clothes."

Jane sighed, and looking about the table to see Mary and Catherine just as eager, she raised the letter and read:

27 February

My dear,

I can at last send you a proper account of our progress in London, for I now have news to impart. You will notice that I do not call it good news, as doing so would imply I am pleased with the outcome of this whole business. Instead, I will only say that our youngest daughter has been found. She and Mr. Wickham were not married, nor did we find there was any intention of their ever being so. After much discussion, we have determined that Lydia should be married from this house, and while I know you will not approve of such a scheme, you must know we have little choice. To allow her to return home unmarried would materially damage us all.

They will marry on Friday, for Mr. Wickham has secured a special license. I have no doubt you are concerned for your daughter's wedding clothes, but I assure you our sister Gardiner will see to those.

"Our father knows our mother too well," Elizabeth observed flatly.

Jane pressed her hand, and raising the letter once more, she continued:

Mr. Wickham has expressed an interest in joining the regulars and thankfully, among his former friends, there are still some who are able and willing to assist him in purchasing a commission. Following the wedding, they will travel directly to Newcastle. It is my hope, and I hope you will agree, that their settling there will afford each of them with the opportunity to begin again. It is for the best.

Mary shook her head and observed, "I hope that is true, but the loss of virtue is too often irretrievable. Lydia's unfortunate fate proves we cannot be too guarded in our actions."

Catherine rolled her eyes heavenward and declared, "Lydia was never one to consider propriety."

Elizabeth sighed, and urging Jane to continue, she rose from her seat and made her way to the window. Jane watched her go before returning her gaze to her father's missive:

Mr. Darcy and his cousin have been very good to us, and I believe we are forever indebted to them. Without their information and knowledge of Mr. Wickham's past activities, my search for our daughter would have been in vain. Though the colonel is due to rejoin his regiment next week, we may look forward to Mr. Darcy's company in Hertfordshire in a few weeks. Until then, it is Mr. Darcy's intention to remain here in Town. Perhaps now that this business is concluded, he will follow the recommendations of his physician and the wishes of his family, and rest.

Elizabeth closed her eyes at these words, recalling very well Darcy's obstinacy. She prayed now he would allow himself time to heal, and that providence would prevent any more hardships for them. Leaning against the window frame, she listened distractedly to the remainder of her father's missive, her mind turning toward what remained unsaid. She imagined that his praise of Darcy stemmed from more than his providing information, and she shuddered when she imagined what degradation he was forced to endure. She was shaken from her reverie by Jane's gentle voice calling for her attention, and turning toward the room, she felt her sisters' gazes studying her.

"Did you not hear what I said, Lizzy?" Jane asked, folding her father's letter and returning it to its place before their mother's seat.

Elizabeth felt her color heighten, and straightening, she confessed that she did not. Jane smiled and declared, "Our father is due home tomorrow."

"Oh, yes; that is good news at least," she said quietly.

She turned again to the window, allowing her mind to return to Darcy. 'Papa, will tell me the whole of it,' she thought, resolving to speak with him at the earliest opportunity. 'But I doubt there is anything I care to hear.'

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the window frame once more. She heard the clinking of glass and silver as her sisters continued their luncheon, and thankful that they did not question her not joining them, she crossed her arms. She felt that the following day could not come quickly enough, and she had no doubt that the preceding afternoon and evening would pass very slowly indeed.

Mr. Byatt fixed his spectacles more securely on his nose as he leaned closer to Darcy's bare shoulder and slowly peeled away the linen that covered the wound. Laying the cloth aside, he raised his eyes to the area. His gaze traced the jagged purple mark that marred Darcy's smooth skin, and huffing in surprise, he settled back in his seat.

"Despite your repeatedly ignoring my recommendations," Mr. Byatt began. "It seems to have closed almost entirely."

Darcy released the breath he had been holding and closed his eyes in relief, and listened as Mr. Byatt leaned toward his bag before saying, "I am glad to hear it."

"You are quite fortunate that it healed at all," the physician observed flatly, his disapproval over the young man's obstinacy still apparent. "And even more remarkable you avoided infection."

Tracing his finger lightly over the soft flesh of the newly formed scar, he continued, "I believe you shall always have this reminder of it."

Darcy grunted in dissatisfaction, his mind unwillingly returning to Wickham. Unaware of his patient's troubled mind, Mr. Byatt slowly moved his hands down Darcy's arm, his fingers moving and testing the muscles there. On reaching Darcy's hand, he pressed the fingers suddenly, curling them and bending the knuckles. The movement caused Darcy to gasp in pain. His left hand flew to his shoulder in an attempt to quiet the throbbing and his dark eyes flashed when he turned to regard Mr. Byatt. He was surprised to see the man's countenance grow more serious.

Lowering Darcy's hand back to his side, Mr. Byatt asserted, "I had hoped this pain would have diminished by now."

Darcy lifted his hand and studied it, straightening his fingers slowly. He ignored the sharp ache and continued moving them, adjusting to the discomfort it caused.

"It will," he said, his voice low and determined as he slowly made a fist.

Mr. Byatt noticed Darcy winced with the movement, and he shook his head at the young man's determination. He lifted Darcy's shirt from where it lay draped over the arm of the chair and held it out so that he might slide his arms into it with more ease. Darcy thanked him, and slowly glided the garment over his head and chest. He closed his eyes as he maneuvered his right arm through its sleeve.

"It will not heal if you do not rest it properly," Mr. Byatt asserted, his grey brow arching.

Settling back into his seat, Darcy smiled ruefully and declared, "You have my word that I shall. My sister has already assured me that she will see me locked in my room if I so much as mention going out of doors."

Releasing a short laugh, Mr. Byatt said, "Well, I am glad that unlike her brother, she will at least consider my recommendations. She is an intelligent young woman."

Darcy bowed his head, and listened as the physician continued, "I understand that I am to congratulate you. You are to marry the very Miss Bennet I visited?

Darcy smiled and declared, "We are to marry in a month's time."

"A month?" cried Mr. Byatt. "Then you must rest, or you will not be fit enough to stand before a curate!"

Rising from his seat, he returned the vials and bandages to his satchel, and taking it up, he bowed. "I shall check on you at the end of the week," he declared. "But send for me if necessary."

"Thank you," Darcy said, extending his left hand to him.

The older gentleman clasped it and smiled before turning on his heel and departing. Darcy watched him go, reflecting on their conversation.

'Will they heal?' he wondered, turning his gaze to his long fingers.

He extended them slowly, pleased when he felt only a slight soreness. Smiling, he rose from his seat and strode to the small desk before the window. He drew a slow breath, and taking up a pen, wrapped his fingers around it. When he moved to tighten his grip, he cried out and released the pen as if bitten before cradling his hand against his chest. He cursed and swept his left hand over the desk in frustration, causing the books and papers there to fall to the ground. He paused when he heard a hesitant knock from his dressing room, and having no doubt it was his valet, he bid him enter.

The older man bowed low and declared, "I hope all is well, sir."

"Yes, Whitten; I am well," he answered before his eyes took in the scattered parchment and volumes that littered the carpet. He blushed and added sheepishly, "I am afraid I had a bit of an accident."

"It is nothing, sir," Whitten asserted.

He quickly crossed the room and knelt to gather up the items. When his arms were full, he stood and set to returning them to their rightful places. Meanwhile, Darcy made his way toward the bed and lowered himself onto it. He allowed himself to fall back, his lean body cushioned by its soft down coverlet. He sighed, and though he no longer had need of the sling, his arm assumed the secured position across his stomach of its own volition. He reflected that it would not do to harm himself further by testing the bounds of his progress. He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to turn to the previous evening.

He had returned from the Gardiners' home with a troubled mind; his mind churned furiously with the day's events and Wickham's continued impudence. On entering the drawing room, he greeted Georgiana gruffly, and crossed the room quickly without so much as looking at her. Throwing himself into one of the large leather chairs before the chimneypiece, he pressed his left hand to his forehead. Georgiana must have feared he felt pained by his injury, for she had quickly crossed the room to kneel before him and inquired if he was well.

Opening his eyes, he reached to press her hand as he declared, "Do not concern yourself with me. I am only a little wearied by what I have witnessed today."

"You said yourself that nothing else could be done," she had asserted.

He pounded his left hand against the chair arm in dissatisfaction and said, "I wish that were not so. She is so young, and he…"

He stopped himself, realizing the uneasiness his revelations may cause Georgiana. He turned his eyes toward the fire to study its flames, but paused when she pressed his hand more tightly.

"He may redeem himself yet," she declared, her color slightly heightened by memories of the previous summer. "Let us hope for the best."

His valet's voice interrupted his thoughts, and opening his eyes, he returned his attention to the man. Noting his master's distraction, Whitten smiled and asked again, "Would you like a bath prepared, sir?"

Imagining the warmth of the water and already feeling comforted by it, Darcy answered, "Yes; that would be much appreciated. Please see that my sister is informed that I shall join her for supper."

Bowing, Whitten assured him that he would, and swiftly slipped from the room. Darcy listened to his footsteps recede as his mind turned over Georgiana's words. He prayed that she was right, but the sudden pit in his stomach warned him otherwise. His jaw set firmly at the thought, and with great effort, for his tired muscles protested against it, he raised himself. Moving toward the desk, he stared at the pile of papers, and sliding away a few sheets of parchment, he found the settlement his solicitor had drawn.

"Ten thousand pounds," he whispered bitterly.

His gaze traced the lines of the document; he had determined to give the sum in an allowance, and should he hear any report of Wickham that harmed the welfare of his wife or the reputation of her family, he would withdraw his support. He would see Wickham in debtor's prison, where he would be made to pay back the sum he had laid out for him.

'Thank God for Richard's foresight,' Darcy thought.

Fitzwilliam was closely acquainted with Wickham's new colonel and had assured him that the man, being of an honorable nature, would apprise them of any misconduct on Wickham's part. Darcy took up the pen beside it, but sighed in frustration when his hand began to shake and ache with the pressure of his hold on it. Grunting, he braced it with his other hand, and with great effort, he scrawled his name across the bottom of the page. Dissatisfied that the customary grace and neatness of his signature had diminished, he set the pen aside and pressed his hand to his forehead. He did not hear Whitten reenter until the gentleman cleared his throat.

"Sir?" he asked tentatively, taking in the tense line of his employer's shoulders.

Darcy slowly folded the parchment, and as he made his way toward the dressing room, he declared, "Please see that this is sent to my solicitor as soon as may be."

Whitten bowed, and assuring him he would, he asked if Darcy required anything else. "No, I shall call if you are needed," he answered. "Please inform my sister that I will not be long."

When the man departed, Darcy slowly made his way into his dressing room and resolved not to think on Wickham anymore that evening.

Georgiana smiled serenely as her fingers flew across the keys of the pianoforte. She glanced over her sheet music to see her brother seated comfortably before the fire, his eyes moving slowly across the pages of the leather volume he held, and his long legs stretched out before him. She was happy to see him thus, for she knew the previous days had been difficult for him to endure. He moved to turn the page, but sensing her gaze on him, he raised his head.

"What is it?" he asked, a small smile softening his countenance.

Pausing her playing, she continued to study him. Her eyes settled on his injured arm where it rested, free of its sling, on the arm of the chair. His brow rose expectantly and he closed his book to await her answer.

Knowing he expected a reason for her inspection of him, she declared, "Seeing you like that is a very welcome sight. You deserve a little tranquility, and I am happy you have agreed to rest."

Darcy smiled and observed, "You and Mr. Byatt gave me little choice."

Her countenance became more serious and she asserted, "We only wish to see you well again."

Darcy noted the worry in her eyes, and cursing himself for being the cause of it, he assured her he would take better care of himself. This seemed to calm her, and she moved to continue playing, but paused when a footman entered to announce Mr. Bingley. That gentleman entered with his usual alacrity, and bobbing a quick bow, he greeted the pair.

"It is good to see you, Mr. Bingley," Georgiana declared, pressing his extended hand before inviting him to sit.

"It is good to see you both," he answered, taking up the chair beside Darcy. "I received your note and determined it best to seek you out immediately."

Darcy nodded and asked, "And what think you of my plan?"

With his eyes twinkling, Bingley asserted, "I am only too happy to oblige. It was my greatest desire to return to Hertfordshire, and now I have an excuse to do so earlier than anticipated."

Georgiana's brow furrowed as she wondered what 'excuse' her brother had given Bingley, but feeling it was not her place to inquire, she remained silent. Bingley clapped his hands and continued, "I will expect you both at least a fortnight before your wedding, Darcy. You shall stay at Netherfield, and we shall be such a merry party!"

Before Darcy could answer, Georgiana's eyes brightened and she declared, "Oh, I should like that very much, for I so look forward to seeing the country. Miss Elizabeth spoke so fondly of it that I find myself quite impatient to experience it."

"And you shall," Bingley said. "I am determined to hold a party to welcome you both to the neighborhood. Though you have already been, Darcy, it would do to reintroduce you. The populace of Hertfordshire was not very impressed with you when last you met."

Darcy colored at his friend's allusion to the reticence he had shown while in company there during the autumn. Georgiana caught her brother's gaze and shook her head slightly in reprimand, for she knew, perhaps better than anyone, how he could act in the company of strangers. As he did not enjoy being the subject of jest and study, Darcy sought to divert his friend's attention.

"Are you certain such a party would be meant for us?" he asked, grinning slightly. "Are not you being reintroduced to the populace as well?"

Bingley laughed and confessed, "Perhaps you are right. I have been away from Netherfield for far too long. No doubt people believed I quit the place entirely!"

His gaze turned wistful then, and Darcy had no doubt his friend's thoughts had turned to Jane Bennet. Wishing to give him some comfort, he declared, "I am certain you will be welcomed back with alacrity; most especially by the Bennets."

Bingley's light gaze met Darcy's swiftly and he blushed at being so transparent. He nodded and said, "I hope so."

Georgiana felt the gentlemen could benefit from a moment of privacy, and rising from her place, she professed a great need to speak with Mrs. Annesley. As she passed her brother's chair, she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. He pressed it until she slid it away and departed the room. Darcy watched her go before returning his attention to Bingley.

"Will you recommend yourself to Jane Bennet?" he asked.

Bingley startled, his surprise at Darcy asking so intimate a question apparent. He blushed and dropped his gaze, studying the pattern of the fine carpet intently. He remained silent as he thought how to answer.

"I do not know how to make amends for my foolishness last November," he said sadly.

"She received your attentions quite well when we met with you at the orchestra and again during her sister's illness. What makes you believe she would not receive them now?" Darcy asked.

Bingley sighed and said, "I was such a fool."

When Darcy did not answer, Bingley smiled slightly and added, "I was hoping you would refute that statement."

Darcy could not prevent the small smirk that fought his way to his countenance. "Forgive me, my friend, but you did act foolishly."

Bingley chuckled, and laid his head in his hands, declaring, "Let us hope Miss Bennet will forgive my stupidity then."

Rising from his seat, Darcy crossed the room to the sideboard and poured out a tumbler of brandy for his friend. He returned to Bingley's side and held it out to him.

"I have no doubt she will," he said as Bingley thanked him for the refreshment.

Darcy retrieved his own glass before taking up his own chair again. He raised the tumbler to his lips, but paused when Bingley declared, "Your business with Wickham is concluded then."

Lowering his drink, Darcy sighed and answered, "I do not know that it will ever be truly concluded. His new position should provide him and Mrs. Wickham with a comfortable living, but Wickham has never been one to be content. I will do no more for him though."

Bingley nodded, sipping his brandy and feeling its warmth spread through him. "He does not deserve all you have done already," he said flatly. "He should be in prison."

Darcy shook his head and declared, "Until I can forget the many days we spent in each other's company in our youth, and my father's affection for him, I can never expose him in such a way."

He ran his finger along the edge his glass thoughtfully and added, "I hope I never forget those things."

Bingley studied his friend, reflecting that he had never met so steady and honorable a man as Darcy. Darcy's sense of duty and devotion to the memory of his father was such that Bingley only hoped he could emulate it. Though Wickham's treatment of him had been deplorable, Darcy still felt it his duty to protect his childhood friend, but no longer was it for Wickham's sake alone. Bingley recognized that Wickham's fate was now irrevocably tied to the Bennets; it was for them that Darcy endured what he did, and for that strength, Bingley admired him even more.

Bingley raised his glass and declared, "To you, Darcy."

Uncomfortable with such attention, Darcy's color heightened and he resolutely clasped the tumbler in his hands at his lap. "Why?" he asked.

"Because you are very deserving of your upcoming happiness," Bingley answered. "And it is an honor to know you."

The following day found Mr. Bennet lowering himself from his carriage and making his way slowly into his home. He was met in the foyer by Jane and Elizabeth, whose hands he pressed in greeting.

"Jane, Lizzy," he declared after lowering his greatcoat from his shoulders. "It is good to see you both."

"We are happy you are home," Elizabeth said, her countenance falling at hearing the exhaustion and disappointment in her father's voice.

She listened to him move past them to make his way to his library, but he paused and inquired, "You mother is above stairs?"

Jane glanced at Elizabeth, who also colored with the knowledge of their mother's whereabouts. "Our mother has gone to visit Lady Lucas again," she said.

"Again?" he repeated. "Well, I am glad someone finds joy in these events."

With that, he turned slowly and continued down the hall. The finality with which he closed the door of his sanctuary kept Elizabeth from immediately following after him. Jane laid a gentle hand on her arm and asked if she wished to return to the parlor with her.

"I shall be along in a moment," she answered.

Jane said nothing in answer, but understanding her sister's intention, she moved down the hallway. Elizabeth listened to her depart and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply as she thought how to broach the subject of her sister's marriage. Unable to bear the anticipation anymore, she bit her lip in resolve and strode down the hallway, sliding her fingertips along the cool wall as she went. She paused before her father's door and raised her hand to knock. She heard him call for her to enter.

Stepping inside, she greeted him quietly. Though she knew not why, she suddenly felt her resolve fade as her sleepless nights and fretting pressed upon her. She suddenly felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and making slow trails down her cheeks. Immediately perceiving his daughter's distress, Mr. Bennet quickly abandoned his chair and crossed the room to embrace her. He was happy to do so, for he, too, required comfort. He stroked her back and waited for her to calm.

"Will you not tell me everything?" she asked when she felt herself somewhat recovered.

Mr. Bennet sighed; he was unsurprised that Elizabeth had perceived that so much was left unsaid in his letter. He agreed, and with arm about her shoulders, he led her to the chair before his desk before seating himself in the one behind it. He fell into it heavily, and passing his hand over his tired eyes, he regarded her over his spectacles.

"You have always been my most discerning child, Lizzy, and I could never deny you anything," he said, bemused. "Though your betrothed will not be pleased with me, I think you should be aware of the magnitude of what he has done for this family."

Settling back into her seat, he added quietly, "And I cannot stand to be forced to be given the credit for it."

Elizabeth breathed in sharply, her suspicions over the degree of Darcy's involvement now confirmed. She listened intently as her father continued, "Nothing would be done that Mr. Darcy would not do himself. He bore the entirety of the expense."

"How much?" she asked.

"A most staggering sum," Mr. Bennet answered. "And all the while, he was forced to put up with Wickham's insolence and thanklessness, and your sister's foolishness. Another man would have washed his hands of the whole affair."

Elizabeth played absently with the edge of her sleeve and declared, "He is the 'friend' who secured Wickham's position in the north."

"He is," he declared. "With his cousin's help, Mr. Darcy was able to find a suitable place for a man of Wickham's character and… talents. He assures me your new brother will be far away from the society that tempts him so."

At the word 'brother,' Elizabeth stood from her seat and began pacing. "I am sorry he was forced to rectify my wrong," Mr. Bennet confessed sadly, his eyes following her.

Elizabeth said nothing to this, for she had often observed her younger sisters' behavior, and wished that her father's reaction had been more than sardonic laughter and rueful acceptance. She halted her pacing and declared, "My mother wishes to welcome Lydia and Mr. Wickham here prior to their going to Newcastle. She believes it would be a great cruelty against them and her should they not be permitted to visit the neighborhood."

"It is a cruelty they shall all have to endure," Mr. Bennet said, his voice dropping and his gaze steady and determined. "Because Mr. and Mrs. Wickham will never be welcome at Longbourn."

Elizabeth released the breath she had been holding, and nodding, she declared, "Thank you, Papa."

"Yes, well; I think you should save your thanks, for you may not feel so grateful when you hear your mother cry out at the injustice when I tell her so later," he asserted, closing his eyes as he imagined his wife's strident exclamations and fanning. "But it is for the best."

Rising from his seat, he moved around the desk to take one of the chairs before the hearth. He studied the chessboard on the small table before him and continued, "While I do not approve of your mother's currently gallivanting about Meryton and spreading the news that her daughter is married, her absence does lend a sort of elegance to our afternoon."

Elizabeth relaxed slightly at hearing her father's light tone; she missed it immensely during his absence. "And how should we spend our afternoon?" she asked, her brow arching in challenge.

"Why, let us see how the pupil fares against the teacher," he declared, moving to set up the black and white pieces. "It has been far too long, and with any luck, your being out of practice will render me the advantage."

Smiling, Elizabeth accepted his challenge and counted her steps toward the chair across from him. She knew sleep would not come easy that evening, for her mind was still heavy with the knowledge of what her beloved had been forced to do.

"Despite Mr. Wickham's fascinating character and unwavering charm," Mr. Bennet began wryly, interrupting Elizabeth's unhappy reflections. "I believe I shall like your husband far more."

Elizabeth bit back a laugh and declared, "I should hope so."

As she settled back into her seat, she closed her eyes and reflected on the events of the last days. When she heard her father's deep chuckling, she welcomed the sound and could not help but join him.

"I shall be kind and offer you the first turn," he said, his grey eyes twinkling.

Welcoming the distraction her father's company provided, Elizabeth slid her hand along the table until her fingers encountered the base of her king. Moving a little further, she found the pawn she sought, and smiling brightly, slid it forward.

Though he did not wish it to be so, Mr. Bennet's prediction of his wife's reaction to the news that the Wickhams were not welcome at Longbourn was absolutely correct. She accused him of cruelty and wailed all the next day of how unjust he was in banishing his youngest child to the north.

"You cannot imagine I wished such an outcome," he said disinterestedly one morning at the breakfast table.

"Then why do you not let them come?" Mrs. Bennet cried, dropping her fork to her plate and fanning herself.

Mr. Bennet sighed and declared, "I have little desire to welcome the man who wreaked such havoc on the tranquility of my home. I am sorry this keeps your daughter from you, but there is little to be done about it now. They are bound for Newcastle tomorrow."

With that, he took a final sip of his coffee, and with an apology to his daughters, he departed. Mrs. Bennet cried for her smelling salts and spent the remainder of the day in her chambers and so she might have remained for all the week had not she recalled that, despite the loss of her favorite daughter, another was still to be married and there was much to be done.

"We must go to Meryton, Lizzy!" cried Mrs. Bennet when she discovered Elizabeth at the pianoforte the following morning. "We must visit the milliner immediately and choose your gown and trousseau. Heaven knows if the shops at Meryton will even suffice! We may have to send to your aunt in London."

Elizabeth paused her playing and listened as her mother paced feverishly across the parlor. She sighed in annoyance when her mother continued, "Are you not at all concerned? You are to marry at the end of the month! Three short weeks? However did your father agree to such a scheme? That is barely enough time to have you fitted for a proper gown!"

Turning on the bench to face her mother, she declared, "Simple muslin will do."

Mrs. Bennet mouth opened in horror at the thought and she exclaimed, "Marry Mr. Darcy wearing muslin?"

Elizabeth imagined her mother's expression and pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. Her mother must have caught the look and cried, "You are determined to break my heart!"

Unable to upset her mother further, Elizabeth rose from her seat and walked tentatively forward, following the sound of her mother's sniffling until she encountered her elbow. She moved to clasp her mother's hand and declared softly, "Of course I am not. It is only that I have never required any finery, and to demand any now would be unlike me."

Mrs. Bennet seemed to calm at this, for Elizabeth heard her exhale in relief. Smirking slightly, she leaned her head against her mother's shoulder and added, "And you know how I delight in vexing you."

"Oh, how you do take after your father," Mrs. Bennet reprimanded as she fought the small smile that threatened to lighten her features.

Elizabeth kissed her lightly on the cheek just as Catherine's voice called for them from the hallway. "Mama, Lizzy!" she cried, running into the room still wearing her bonnet and spencer. "I have such news! Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield!"

Chapter 55: Assumptions and Expectations

Posted on 2010-02-24

At Catherine's words, Mrs. Bennet staggered and gripped Elizabeth's hand more tightly. "What did you say?" she asked, her eyes widening.

Catherine worked the ribbons of her bonnet, and lifting it off, she declared again, "Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield. Maria and Lady Lucas have just told me of it, for Sir William has already called on him!"

Mrs. Bennet's countenance brightened for a moment, but recalling her disappointment the previous autumn, she schooled her features and said indifferently, "What care I if Mr. Bingley has come? I surely have no opinion on the matter."

Catherine's brow furrowed in confusion and she began, "But, Mama…"

Releasing Elizabeth's hand, she crossed the room to a chair near the window. She shook her head, asserting, "Mr. Bingley can do as he likes, and if coming to Netherfield was his wish, then so be it."

Mrs. Bennet twisted her handkerchief thoughtfully for some moments before asking, "Did Sir William say if Mr. Bingley comes alone?"

Catherine nodded and answered, "Mr. Bingley's sisters remain in Town."

"They will be sorely missed, I am sure," Elizabeth observed before biting her lip to fight back a mischievous grin.

Mrs. Bennet nodded and declared, "Well, I hope Mr. Bingley will have a pleasant visit."

The sharp intake of breath from the doorway drew Elizabeth's attention from her mother, and she turned toward the sound. "Mr. Bingley is come to Netherfield?" Jane asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elizabeth perceived the tremble in it, and she moved swiftly toward her sister's voice. Finding her hand, she pressed it in an effort to bring her comfort. "He is, dearest," she breathed.

Jane nodded, and without another word, she turned on her heel and departed. Mrs. Bennet watched her go before crying, "My poor Jane! I will always say that Mr. Bingley used her very ill. Well, she will die of a broken heart and then he will be sorry!"

"Mama, please," Elizabeth said as she followed Jane out into the hallway.

She paused, listening closely for Jane's footsteps. She heard none, but discerned a soft sniffling from further down the hall. She moved toward it, her left hand sliding along the wall as her right was outstretched.

"Jane?" she called tentatively.

Jane pressed her handkerchief to her cheeks in an effort to stop the few tears that fell from her eyes. Not wishing to cause Elizabeth worry, she willed her voice steady, and drawing a shaky breath, stepped to her side.

"I am here, Lizzy," she said, curling her fingers around her sister's.

Elizabeth smiled, and retaining her hold on Jane's hand, she took a few steps to the window seat and drew her sister down beside her. "I am well," Jane asserted, but at Elizabeth's doubtful look she added, "Truly, I am."

She turned her light gaze to the window, watching the landscape beyond it. Her mind turned to her previous meeting with Mr. Bingley in London and how much had passed between them in that brief time they stood together in her uncle's foyer. She sighed, and knowing Elizabeth was waiting for her to speak, she banished these thoughts.

"I am glad of one thing," she began.

"And what is that?" Elizabeth asked, her brow furrowing.

"That he comes alone," she answered. "I think we shall see less of him that way. Not that I am afraid for myself, but I fear other people's remarks."

Jane felt her breath catch and she rose quickly from her seat, wringing her hands in frustration. "I believe there were certain expectations among our friends last autumn, and I would be very sorry if his coming caused such speculation again. He should be allowed to visit his home in peace."

Elizabeth reflected that despite her sister's declarations, Jane was undoubtedly more affected by this news than she revealed. She said slowly, "I wish I could say something that would comfort you, for you have always been at the ready with sage words for me."

"It is all right, Lizzy," Jane asserted, blushing slightly at the compliment.

Before she could continue, Elizabeth discerned their mother's footsteps. Mrs. Bennet entered the room in a flurry, her previous annoyance with Mr. Bingley seemingly forgotten.

"I have just now told your father that it would be unforgivably rude if he did not call on Mr. Bingley," she declared.

Jane was immediately affected by this and her countenance paled. "Surely Mr. Bingley would never expect such a call," she said in the vain hope of deterring her mother's mechanisms.

"But Sir William already has!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "It would not do for Mr. Bingley's closest neighbors not to welcome him back to the neighborhood. And by your father visiting him, he shall return the call. I am quite determined to ask him to dine with us."

She clapped her hands, congratulating herself for such a scheme, and excusing herself, made her way toward the kitchen to speak with Hill regarding the menu. Mrs. Bennet would be very disappointed and Jane very relieved to discover that Mr. Bennet had no intention of paying such a call, for he had been promised once already that if he went to visit Mr. Bingley, the young man would marry one of his daughters.

"I will not be sent on a fool's errand again," he declared, glancing over his paper to regard his wife and echoing a sentiment he had the day before.

It was the third day following the news of Mr. Bingley's arrival, and the family sat to breakfast. Mrs. Bennet had once again entreated her husband to visit him, and she found his steadfast refusal extremely tiresome.

"But Lady Lucas says Sir William is to invite him to go shooting and the Gouldings have invited him to dinner at the end of the week!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "What must he think of us?"

"I am sure his opinion of us is just as it always has been," he answered, untouched by his wife's concern and smiling ruefully at his eldest daughter.

"Oh, Mr. Bennet!" his wife exclaimed in annoyance.

Catherine stood near the window, sipping her tea and shaking her head at her mother's outburst. Her attention was soon drawn by the appearance of a rider entering her father's gate, and setting her cup aside, she studied him more carefully. His horse moved in a slow saunter, though his master seemed impatient to make his way to the front door. He tipped his hat up slightly, revealing more of his brow and unknowingly allowing Catherine to recognize him.

"Mama, look!" she said excitedly. "You need not worry about visiting Mr. Bingley, Papa, for he has just handed his horse's reigns to John."

Mrs. Bennet flew to the window just in time to see their groom bow to Mr. Bingley and gesture for him to enter the house. "Oh, Lord; it is Mr. Bingley!" she cried, watching as the young man removed his hat and pushed a hand through his hair. "All of you to the parlor! I will not have Mr. Bingley thinking he interrupted us!"

Mr. Bennet settled himself more comfortably in his seat and took up his coffee. "But he is interrupting us," he said wryly.

"Do not be so tiresome, Mr. Bennet!" she professed as she pushed Catherine and Mary into the hallway.

Elizabeth had sought out Jane's hand and clasped it tightly as soon as Catherine had announced Mr. Bingley. Jane slowly rose from her seat, her silence revealing the extent of her surprise. Mrs. Bennet huffed in exasperation when she saw her eldest daughters made no move to follow her instructions.

"Lizzy, hurry to join your sisters," she declared, pulling Jane toward the hallway. "Jane, run upstairs and put on your blue gown. We must make the most of this opportunity."

Jane nodded mutely and moved toward the stairs, but Mrs. Bennet took her arm to prevent her after she heard Mr. Bingley's voice greeting Sarah. "It is too late now!" she whispered.

Taking Jane's and Elizabeth's hands in her own she dragged them down the hallway. Mr. Bennet watched them go, and chuckling lightly, he returned his attention to his breakfast, quite thankful for the peace Bingley's arrival had granted him. Meanwhile, Mrs. Bennet urged all her daughters to take up some activity.

"Pull your shoulders back, Jane," she declared, rushing to the small mirror near the sideboard and straightening her lace cap.

Hearing footsteps just outside the door, she rushed toward her own seat, and raising her chin, smiled in anticipation of her guest. Hill appeared in the doorway and announced Bingley, who stepped into the room and bowed.

"Mr. Bingley; what a surprise," Mrs. Bennet said as she stood from her seat and curtseyed gracefully.

"Mrs. Bennet," he returned, bowing before greeting all her daughters.

Mrs. Bennet invited him to sit, pleased at her forethought in choosing a seat for him that afforded the best view of Jane. She noted happily that his gaze drifted often to Jane's and he smiled nervously. Jane would smile shyly, before returning her attention to the needlework she held.

Wishing to have some conversation, Mrs. Bennet declared, "It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away. I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People did say you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope it is not true."

Mr. Bingley attempted to answer, most especially because he wished to do something to assure Jane that he was more constant than his behavior in the autumn made him seem, but Mrs. Bennet continued happily.

"We are very happy you have come. Ring the bell for tea, Kitty," she continued, barely pausing to see if Catherine carried out her request. "So many things have occurred in your absence; Miss Lucas is settled and married and my own daughter, Lydia, is lately married as well."

Mr. Bingley made known that he had heard of it and he offered his congratulations. Elizabeth reflected that his declaration held no alacrity or surprise and she quickly realized it meant his friend must have shared their troubles with him, and perhaps, even enlisted his aid.

"It is a fine thing to have a daughter married," Mrs. Bennet observed. "But we are quite heartbroken they shall be settling so far away. Elizabeth, too, will be so far when she is in Derbyshire. Indeed, one misses a daughter most acutely when there is a great distance between them. It would be a great comfort to me if my daughters could settle more closely to home."

Elizabeth groaned inwardly, immediately perceiving her mother's thinly veiled intention. Wishing to spare Mr. Bingley and Jane any discomfort, she asked, "Your sisters remain in Town?"

"They do indeed," he answered, grateful for Elizabeth's intervention. "They have several obligations that they did not wish to abandon."

"And how long will you stay, Mr. Bingley?" Mrs. Bennet inquired, not at all pleased at the possibility of Elizabeth's question diverting his attention from Jane.

Bingley looked toward Jane, and discerning a light blush on her cheeks, he smiled. "I hope to stay a few weeks," he said softly, his gaze not leaving Jane's countenance.

She raised her eyes to him, a silent understanding passing between them. "At the very least," he added.

Mrs. Bennet was pleased with this answer and she grinned in satisfaction. "It is a very fine day, Mr. Bingley, and the gardens are just beginning to return to their beauty," she observed. "Are they not?"

Bingley shook his head, obviously clearing his mind of the pleasant thoughts that had overtaken him. "I confess I did not notice," he said candidly.

"Then you should take a turn about them," Mrs. Bennet began. "For a morning walk does much for the constitution. Jane and Elizabeth know all the best spots, and I am certain they would be pleased to accompany you."

The sisters agreed readily to the scheme, and within ten minutes, the three young people were prepared to depart. After Jane and Mr. Bingley stepped out onto the drive, Mrs. Bennet drew Elizabeth to the side.

"If an opportunity presents itself, do not hesitate to leave Mr. Bingley and Jane alone," Mrs. Bennet whispered.

"They have only just been reintroduced," Elizabeth asserted, disengaging her arm from her mother's grasp. "For Jane's sake, we should assume nothing. Let them be."

With that, Elizabeth followed after the pair and quickly caught up with them. Mr. Bingley offered his arm to her, for Jane had already taken his left. Smiling, Elizabeth accepted, and they made their way around the house toward the budding rose garden. They walked in silence for a time until Jane inquired after the health of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

Bingley's jaw set at the mention of his sisters' names, for his mind turned immediately to Caroline and her vehement disapproval of his coming to Hertfordshire. Looking toward Elizabeth, he noted that her color heightened, no doubt recalling his sister's letter to Lady Catherine. He sighed, feeling that he could never properly apologize for the trouble Caroline had caused or his own stupidity in believing in her so fully.

Shaking his head, he answered, "They are both well. Louisa and Hurst will join me at Netherfield next week."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed at his omitting mention of his younger sister and she asked, "And Miss Bingley?"

"Caroline has elected to visit our cousins instead," he said, a small smile relaxing his countenance. "Her stay with them will be of some duration, I believe."

To this, Elizabeth and Jane knew not what to say, but each found some small amount of satisfaction in this news. They crossed a small patch of lawn to a pair of stone benches, and after seeing Jane and Elizabeth seated, Bingley sat himself across from them.

Elizabeth was the first to recover from Bingley's revelation, and smiling brightly, she asserted, "I hope she shall have a pleasant trip. Though I am certain there is more to entertain where she is going, I promise there is enough to distract you in Hertfordshire during the spring."

"I am certain you are right," he said, his eyes turning to Jane.

Elizabeth had no doubt she had succeeded in her aim, for she felt Jane's stern gaze on her. She quelled her smile and shrugged innocently in an attempt to appease her sister. Closing her eyes, she turned her face to the sky and enjoyed the heat of the sun.

Willing the warmth in her cheeks to quiet, Jane drew a steadying breath before asking, "Have you had any news of Mr. Darcy and his sister?"

Bingley suddenly stirred from his thoughts, and tearing his gaze from Jane's fair countenance, he declared, "Heavens! You must think me entirely heartless, Miss Elizabeth. Of course you all will want news of him."

Elizabeth's eyes flew open and she nodded vigorously. "I confess that any news would greatly ease my mind."

"Forgive me for not sharing this sooner then," Bingley began. "Darcy sends his fondest regards. Had not his physician and Miss Darcy forbidden him from traveling, I have no doubt he would have accompanied me."

Elizabeth smiled at this and said, "I take it Mr. Darcy is not doing a very good job of acting the part of the patient."

Chuckling, Bingley declared, "You are correct. I have never seen a man so eager to get out of doors as he. I shall be surprised if he does not mount an escape and appear here tomorrow!"

Elizabeth and Jane joined his laughter, and shaking her head, Elizabeth reflected that though such an occurrence was unlikely, she could not help but wish for it. Bingley watched the play of emotion pass over her visage and he continued, "Mr. Byatt is astounded by how well he has healed, and though I know he is still not entirely himself, I have no doubt he shall be by your wedding day."

Elizabeth felt a flush of heat rise to her face as she thought on that day; a day so long anticipated by both of them and so soon upon them. She felt herself suddenly unable to speak, for her throat was choked with happy emotion. She could only nod. Bingley recognized her silence for what it was and smiled. He felt happy for his friend, and allowing his gaze to drift back to Jane's countenance, he prayed that such joy might soon be his.

They passed the next quarter hour in pleasant conversation. When the time came for his departure, Bingley said his farewells to Mrs. Bennet and her daughters. Much to Mrs. Bennet's delight, it was decided that he would return the following day for luncheon. He bore her alacrity with his usual goodness, and despite her entreaties to remain for supper, he excused himself, for he had business with his steward. With a final glance and smile at Jane, he raised himself to his saddle and took up his reins.

Touching his hat, he declared, "Until tomorrow then."

With that, he turned his horse about and goaded the stallion into a swift trot, carrying him swiftly down the drive. Jane's gaze remained on his form until it vanished around the bend in the road. She drew a breath and released it slowly. Thinking on the words they had exchanged, she searched them for some hint as to his reason for returning to the county. Her chest tightened with the hope that it might be for her, but she quickly pushed it back lest she raise her hopes for naught. She shook her head to clear her mind and pressed a hand against her cheek to soothe the warmth there.

"Well, what a fine thing," Mrs. Bennet declared, clapping her hands. "I must speak with Hill; the dining room must be spotless, of course, and I shall see that Sarah polishes the silver."

Moving to stand before Jane, she raised her hand to Jane's cheek. "He is as enamored with you as ever," she continued, beaming happily. "Mark my word, he shall declare himself before the week is out!"

Before Jane could protest, Mrs. Bennet swept her skirts aside and rushed into the house. Jane wrung her hands, and with a frustrated sigh, turned and began walking toward the garden, leaving Elizabeth, Mary, and Catherine looking after her with worry. Catherine made to follow her, but Mary laid a gentle hand on her arm to prevent her.

Elizabeth listened closely to the direction of Jane's footsteps and declared, "Go inside dear ones; I shall speak with Jane. Try and temper our mother's excitement for our sister's sake."

The younger girls agreed, and looking once more to Jane's retreating figure, they followed after their mother. Elizabeth set off down the path she knew Jane had taken, counting her steps, and careful that she found sure footing. She heard the gentle clicking of Jane's heels on the flagstone path begin to slow, and she knew she was not far behind her.

"Jane?" she called, coming to a halt.

"Oh, Lizzy," she heard her sister whisper to her right.

Certain Jane had taken refuge beneath the twisting elm just off the path, Elizabeth counted her steps to the bench that resided in its shade. She was pleased when she felt Jane clasp her fingers and draw her down to sit beside her. Her eyes widened with worry when she heard Jane draw an unsteady breath and fought to stifle a soft sob.

"Dear Jane," she said, putting her arm about her sister's shoulders in an effort to comfort her.

Jane laid her head against Elizabeth and allowed herself to give in to the heartache she had felt since the autumn. She had expressed her disappointment to Elizabeth, but never openly gave in to the emotion, though Elizabeth expected she did so in the privacy of her own room. Elizabeth brushed the soft curls away from Jane's forehead and whispered words of comfort to her. Jane sniffled and wiped desperately at the tears that fell from her eyes.

"Forgive me," she declared, drawing away from Elizabeth and willing her despair to quiet. "I am certain our mother is waiting for us, but I do not feel myself yet equal to being in company."

Elizabeth smiled and said, "Then I must teach you some better hiding places, for I found you quite easily."

"I would never attempt to hide from you, Lizzy," Jane asserted, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes to dry her remaining tears.

Raising her chin, she assumed her customary equanimity. "There; I am better now," she continued. "For a moment I quite forgot myself, but it has passed."

Elizabeth remained silent, forever astonished by Jane's remarkable composure. She reached for Jane's hand and held it between her own.

"Truly, I am well," Jane said, willing her voice steady. "Now that this first meeting is over, we shall be able to meet with no embarrassment. We shall go on as we did before."

"And how was that, my dear?" Elizabeth asked, her brow arching in wonder.

"As friends of course," her sister answered evenly.

Elizabeth smirked slightly and said, "Yes, of course; you will meet only as friends."

Jane shook her head at Elizabeth's teasing and declared, "Believe me, Lizzy; I am in no danger."

She rose from her seat and Elizabeth followed. Smiling, she wound her arm about Jane's and observed, "It is not you I believe to be in danger, but Mr. Bingley."

Jane's eyes widened in surprise and she cried, "Mr. Bingley is in danger?"

Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from laughing, and clearing her throat, she said seriously, "Yes, I think him in a very great danger…"

Only when she felt Jane's grip on her arm tighten in anticipation did she continue, "Of being as much in love with you as ever."

Jane exhaled in surprise and could not help the blush that spread across her cheeks. "You are very wicked, Lizzy," she said when she felt herself composed enough.

Pressing Jane's arm affectionately, she declared, "That may be, but it makes it no less true."

Jane patted her hand, and together, the sisters made their way back to the house.

Georgiana smiled as the young woman at the milliner wished her a good day, and taking up her package, she moved toward the front of the shop. Craning her neck, she saw her brother's tall form near the door. She chuckled lightly as she took in his apprehensive expression and the rigid set of his shoulders. She thought him only impatient to get to the bookseller, but soon realized he was discomforted by the curious glances he received from the other patrons. News of his engagement was novel, and those that knew of him speculated as to the character of his intended. They had heard she was the daughter of a country gentleman, but nothing more was known about her. Indeed, the future Mrs. Darcy was a mystery to the ton.

She watched as he dropped his gaze to the floorboards when he discerned the interested whispers of a pair of women who were not far from him and he unconsciously drew his right arm closer to his body like a shield, laying his left hand on its forearm. Her smile immediately fell, and picking up her skirts, she swiftly crossed the room to stand beside him.

"I am ready, brother," she declared, drawing him from his uncomfortable reverie.

He raised his eyes to her and his mien softened considerably. Nodding, he held out his left arm for her, and together they moved to depart. He guided her through the door, but paused before stepping out into the sunlight. He felt the gaze of the women studying him, and drawing a long breath, he willed his annoyance to quiet before looking toward them. With as much equanimity as he could muster, he touched his hat and nodded. He was pleased when their eyes widened in surprise as they stumbled to greet him. He watched them swiftly glide away, and shaking his head, he followed after Georgiana. She smiled and laid her hand atop his elbow again.

"That was well done," she observed, pressing his arm to comfort him.

Sighing, he said, "I have little patience for gossips."

"I am sorry you are forced to suffer them," she confessed, her mouth setting in a firm line.

Darcy shook his head and declared, "I do not resent them for myself, but for Elizabeth."

They continued on, winding their way past the bustling storefronts. Governesses paused with their charges to gaze through the window at the confectioners while a group of young women no older than Georgiana giggled as they studied the elaborate plumage on a bonnet in another window. Several individuals watched them as they passed, admiring the handsome siblings. The booksellers came into view as they rounded the corner, but Darcy halted when his gaze encountered a familiar pair of women. He released a breath in surprise and unconsciously tightened his hold on Georgiana.

"Fitzwilliam?" she asked in wonder.

He remained silent, his jaw straining when Mrs. Thornton and her daughter looked toward them. He knew they could not avoid the encounter and declared, "I fear we are to be reintroduced to some acquaintances of ours."

Georgiana followed his gaze and noticed the mother and daughter walking toward them. They smiled politely, but Georgiana reflected that their air held the same detachment it did when they had met at the orchestra. When they paused before them, Georgiana unconsciously moved closer to her brother.

"Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Thornton said as she and her daughter dropped into graceful curtsies.

He nodded at each of them in greeting and declared, "Mrs. Thornton, Miss Thornton; I trust you are both well."

"We are indeed, sir," the older woman answered, before greeting Georgiana.

"You are looking well, Miss Darcy," Miss Thornton said, her voice easier than her mother's. "And you have been to Wallace's I see. I am certain your selection is lovely, for you do have such charming taste."

Georgiana felt the heat rise to her cheeks at receiving the attention of the young woman before her. She felt uneasy, and though she could not explain it, the compliment did not feel like one.

She forced herself to smile and declared, "Thank you, but it is only a bit of lace and ribbon."

Miss Thornton shrugged lightly and turned her gaze to Darcy, raising her chin a bit. She knew doing so afforded him the best view of the graceful line of her neck and she smiled pleasantly.

"It is good of you to accompany your sister," she said, her eyes tracing his features before glancing down at his injured arm. "Especially when you are only just recovering."

Darcy groaned inwardly; he had been a fool to hope that his injury would not be talked of, especially when Miss Bingley knew of it. He willed his countenance steady and listened as Miss Thornton continued, "Surely you should rest though. We would be happy to accompany Miss Darcy on the rest of her errands and see her home afterwards, would we not, Mama?"

"It would be our pleasure," Mrs. Thornton said, nodding in agreement.

Darcy thanked them for the offer, but declining, asserted, "I am happy to walk out with my sister, and I believe the air does me good."

Miss Thornton's deportment cooled and she studied him carefully. "But surely you have business that must be attended to also. Indeed, preparing your home for its new mistress must be quite a task," she said smoothly.

'So they have heard then,' Darcy thought, closing his eyes briefly.

He watched one of Miss Thornton's fair brows rise in curiosity as she awaited his answer. He reflected that the same action in Elizabeth was endearing, but in Miss Thornton it was entirely infuriating. He knew she awaited his response so she might judge each word and look. He was grateful when Mrs. Thornton spoke, for it provided a greater opportunity for him to recover from his discomfiture.

"Gwendolyn, dearest; we have not yet congratulated Mr. Darcy," she observed, looking at her daughter sharply.

Miss Thornton's gaze remained on Darcy and her lips formed a small smile. "I had quite forgotten we had not had the opportunity. How rude you must think me, Mr. Darcy," she said, lowering her gaze demurely.

"Not at all," he declared flatly.

Georgiana looked to her brother and noticed the tightness of his countenance and his barely contained anger. She pressed his arm, and was comforted when she heard him draw a calming breath.

"We wish you and the future Mrs. Darcy a blessed marriage," Mrs. Thornton declared, looking toward her daughter expectantly.

She felt her mother's gaze and added, "And we look forward to meeting Mrs. Darcy with great anticipation."

"But you have already met her," Georgiana asserted, raising her chin.

Miss Thornton's smile vanished and Darcy had no doubt it was because Georgiana's declaration had confirmed what she had already heard, but refused to believe. "Have we?" she asked, her gaze hardening in disappointment.

"My brother will marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Georgiana professed. "You were introduced when we all met at the orchestra that evening in January."

Darcy did not miss Mrs. Thornton's stricken expression as she recalled the evening. Remembering their cool reception of Elizabeth and the silent appraisal of her in their eyes, he fought to retain his composure.

"Forgive me, I quite forgot it," Mrs. Thornton answered, recovering and willing her countenance calm. "One meets so many people during the season."

"And it is difficult when you do not have the opportunity to meet again with a new acquaintance," her daughter added. "I do not suppose Miss Bennet would have attended Lord Brockham's party that week? Or Mrs. Allen's assembly?"

Darcy met her gaze steadily and declared, "No; she attended neither."

Miss Thornton pursed her lips in disappointment and said, "That is a great pity, but surely there will many opportunities to meet with the new Mrs. Darcy in the future."

"I am sure there will be," Georgiana answered, watching the woman before her carefully. "Undoubtedly there will be many occasions when I have my season."

"It will surely be a great comfort to you to have your new sister with you," Mrs. Thornton asserted, a polite smile softening her countenance.

Miss Thornton brow arched and she declared, "I would be happy to offer my assistance as well, Miss Darcy, for Miss Bennet will be quite new to town. We do not wish her to become overwhelmed."

"She is not unfamiliar with London," Darcy said tightly.

Mrs. Thornton noticed Darcy's discomfort, and disturbed by her daughter's persistence, she said quickly, "I do recall her having relations in town though. She must visit them often."

Miss Thornton wound her arm about her mother's and added, "Oh yes; they reside in Cheapside, do they not?"

Before Darcy could answer, Georgiana asserted, "They do and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner have a lovely home there. They have become great friends of ours and we have had the pleasure of meeting with them often."

Darcy smiled at the fierceness in his sister's reply. "We have indeed," he said quietly.

Miss Thornton glanced between the brother and sister before settling her eyes on Darcy and declaring, "How fortunate for you."

Mrs. Thornton pressed her daughter's arm to silence her, her countenance growing stern. "I have just remembered Mrs. Allen is expecting us for tea," she asserted. "We must be off, but I will be sure to extend your regards to her if you wish."

Nodding, Darcy thanked her. He returned his gaze to Miss Thornton and was surprised to see her disingenuous smile had returned. His brow furrowed and he braced himself for the reason.

"And we would not wish to keep you from your errands," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes; thank you," he declared, but thinking the better of it and finding he could not resist, he added, "As you said, there is much to be accomplished if I am to welcome the future Mrs. Darcy home at the end of the month."

Miss Thornton paled at his words and her eyes widened in surprise. "The end of the month?" she stammered.

Darcy smiled wide, a small dimple appearing on his cheek. "We will be journeying to Hertfordshire next week," he answered, leveling his gaze on her and holding it. "I wish Georgiana to have the opportunity to become more acquainted with Elizabeth's family."

He tipped his hat to them and said, "If you will excuse us, we were bound for the bookseller and jeweler, for there are some gifts I wish to purchase for Elizabeth."

When Georgiana had curtseyed, they moved away together. Darcy felt the ladies' gazes on his back, but continued on. "What a horrible woman she is!" Georgiana whispered beside him, drawing him from his thoughts.

He chuckled at her hushed outburst. "I cannot disagree with you there," he said, guiding her around a puddle.

"I know our uncle is friends with Mr. Thornton and even our dear father held him in high esteem, but that makes Miss Thornton's behavior all the more remarkable," she declared, picking up her skirts to ensure they did not get muddied. "I suspect Mr. Thornton must be a reasonable and pleasant man then."

"He is," he began. "I have met with him on several occasions."

Arriving in front of the bookseller, Darcy unwound his arm from Georgiana's and lifted the latch before ushering her inside. They were greeted by the proprietor, who noticing the identities of his customers, smiled brightly and assured Darcy he had acquired the volume he requested. Laying the pile of books he held aside, the man quickly shuffled away, leaving Darcy and Georgiana in relative privacy. Darcy glanced around the large room and was comforted to see that they were the only ones within.

"You cannot be as calm as you appear," Georgiana observed as she ran her fingers idly over the leather and cloth spines on the shelf beside her. "You must be unsettled about the things she implied about Elizabeth!"

Darcy felt his color rise, and regarding her seriously, he whispered, "You must have a poor opinion of me indeed if you think I was not. Surely you know I do not find Elizabeth lacking in any way."

Georgiana watched as he turned from her, and realizing he misunderstood her, she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Of course I know," she said quickly. "I am only disturbed that people can speak so of her. They know nothing of her."

"I am afraid that matters little in some circles," he said sadly as his ire quieted. "It unsettles me greatly, so much so I once thought Elizabeth should rethink her choice of accepting me."

"Fitzwilliam," Georgiana declared softly as she watched his countenance fall.

She recalled the day they talked about his fears, and her chest tightened as she remembered the grief that had filled his features. Darcy raised his hand to cover hers and continued, "I told Elizabeth I will never be able to hear such cruelty without feeling so."

"Will it be very difficult for Elizabeth, do you think?" she asked. "I do not want her to be unhappy."

"Nor do I, dearest," he said. "It is my hope that our close acquaintances will value her as we do. Our relations already embrace her, and it is they whose acceptance means the most to her."

Nodding in agreement, Georgiana smiled and observed, "Lady Matlock likes her very much."

Darcy recalled his aunt's words of encouragement and her promise to do all she could to ensure Elizabeth's comfort in society. "I believe she does," he declared. "And she is a powerful ally."

"Our uncle is as well," Georgiana observed.

At this, Darcy's mind turned to Lord Matlock's visit the previous evening. Dinner had passed, and he and Georgiana sat in a companionable silence in the comfort of the drawing room. When a footman entered to announce his uncle, Darcy's surprise was palpable and glancing in wonder at Georgiana, he lowered his book and rose to see the earl in the doorway. His uncle studied him, and realizing his gaze settled on his right arm, Darcy shifted it away from the comfortable position across his stomach and lowered it to his side. He blinked rapidly to prevent himself from wincing, for his shoulder and fingers had been stiff that day.

"Will you sit, uncle?" Darcy had asked in an attempt to distract his uncle.

The earl thanked him and crossed the room to lower himself onto the settee beside Georgiana. "I had a letter from Richard informing me you were on the mend," he began.

"But your aunt insisted I see you myself the moment we returned to London. I trust Mr. Byatt has been to see you?"

"He has," Georgiana answered, for she noted her brother's increasing discomfort under their uncle's scrutiny. "He has been to see us several times, and is very pleased with Fitzwilliam's progress."

Darcy smiled toward her. He was thankful for her presence, for though she had told him of the regret his uncle had expressed during his previous visit, Darcy knew he still feared the repercussions of his match with Elizabeth.

"Your aunt will be much comforted to hear that," the earl declared, though he was equally thankful for the report.

The earl's gaze did not leave Darcy as he continued, "I do not often find myself in the position of needing to apologize for my actions, and even then, there are still fewer times when I feel obligated to do so. This is one of those times, and if I leave here without doing so, your aunt will turn me out of the house."

Darcy pressed his fist against his mouth to hide his smile at the image of his elegant aunt doing such a thing, and he felt that, regardless of the gossip it would cause, she would do so if her husband did not do as she asked. The earl did not miss Darcy's amusement, and sighing, he had declared, "Our previous meeting did not reflect well on either of us, and I am to blame for that. My words were unjust, but my concern was sincere. I have only ever wanted what was good for the both of you."

Georgiana laid a hand on her uncle's and observed, "You have always been good to us, uncle."

Darcy could not deny her statement; since the death of their parents and his undertaking the guardianship of Georgiana and Pemberley, the earl had provided advice and encouragement.

"Thank you, my dear, but you are being too kind," Lord Matlock asserted, his gaze settling on Darcy once again. When his nephew's dark eyes met his, he added, "In this instance, I am afraid I failed you. I should not have spoken so rashly."

"Sir, I…" Darcy began, but was prevented by the earl raising his hand to silence him.

Shaking his head, he declared, "I will welcome meeting the new Mrs. Darcy when she arrives in London. If she has been fortunate enough to earn your affection, then she must be a worthy woman indeed."

Darcy closed his eyes as he remembered his uncle's declaration, a small smile lighting his features. Now, as he heard the clerk returning, he looked toward Georgiana and declared quietly, "He is indeed, and I am grateful to have his blessing."

Before she could answer, the clerk laid a fine volume bound in dark leather before them and professed, "There you are, Mr. Darcy; it is a very fine edition. If I may say so, I would have thought you already in possession of this one and would be heartily surprised if you were not."

Darcy moved the fingers of his left hand over the embossed letters on the cover and smiled. "It is a gift for another," he answered, his mind turning to Elizabeth. "I think she will be delighted with it."

He imagined the joy that would fill her countenance when he presented it to her and told her of its contents. He anticipated the hour when he would see her again, and as his mind turned to their reunion, he reflected that he greatly missed the feeling of her form near his own. As he was so agreeably engaged in his reverie, he did not notice the look of speculation on the clerk's countenance.

The man smiled knowingly and asserted, "May I congratulate you then, sir."

The words snapped Darcy from his thoughts and he blushed as he realized his inattention. He mumbled his thanks before adding, "I will take it."

The man quickly acquiesced and moved away to busy himself with paper and twine. Darcy shook his head in wonder, feeling that months ago he never would have been so unguarded in company. He sighed when he heard Georgiana giggle softly beside him.

"I am glad your brother's embarrassment can give you such pleasure," he said flatly, the heat in his complexion rising further.

Georgiana bit her lip to hide her good humor and she answered, "Not at all."

Glancing at her sideways, Darcy huffed. He was thankful when the clerk returned and turned his attention to laying out his payment. Taking up the parcel, he wished the man a good day, and raising his right arm as well as he could, he offered it to Georgiana. She laid her hand gently over his elbow and they moved outside to rejoin the bustling crowd.

"It is not your embarrassment that gives me pleasure," she said, smiling up at him.

"It is not?" he asked, his brow rising in amusement. "What does make you smile so then?"

"Your obvious happiness," she answered.

She pressed his arm when she saw a small grin spread across his face. He said nothing to this, but tightened his hold on the package under his arm and continued on, looking forward to the day Elizabeth would be walking beside them.