Jump to new as of March 18, 2001
Jump to new as of March 20, 2001
Jump to new as of April 6, 2001

Author's Note --- Dedicated to the real Alexander: I've long since forgiven you, but I never moved on. To all those people who are sitting there wondering if I'm completely off my head, I have to write it down even if he won't ever be able to read it. So long Paul babe :(.

Chapter One

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the first, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the lipgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a cloud of stars.

-- W.B.Yeats

"I cannot understand why you are not excited, Rowan!"

Miss Bingley smiled at her cousin's enthusiasm. "You remind me of Diana so much! She would be just as excited as you if she were here."

"Then I wish she were... It's frightfully dull to be the only excited person."

"Dearest, it is only an informal dinner party. I cannot imagine why you are so excited to see the Gardiners and the Andersons, for though they are indeed all very good people, we see so much of them anyway," she teased, knowing full well the reason for her desire to see the Andersons.

"Rowan, you oughtn't to tease me!"

"My dear, I am not teasing you, I am encouraging you. Mr. Alexander Anderson will soon see you as something other than the young friend of his sister, and then you shall be able to bask in all the glory of love."

Emma smiled at her sentimentality, before continuing, "But Rowan, this is our first dinner party as young ladies! Are you not enthralled with the idea? My mamma shall make a young lady of me yet!" She turned back to the mirror, and her smile faded somewhat. She was but three months into her fifteenth year, but she was mentally and physically mature, and her body was well on the way to being fully formed. She wasn't sure how it had happened, but somehow she had gone from being a thin, shy little creature to the present Emma Darcy: assertive, confident -- and anything but little. She took great delight in sweet things, and not much delight in exercise, and as a result her face still had the roundness of childhood from which she wished to be free. Her relations often informed her that they were envious of her figure, but she keenly felt that, while it was not all it could be, she lacked the motivation to change this. Neither was her complexion by any means perfect, but she again lacked the will to act on it. Her parents cared nothing for such things and while her brothers teased her, any sign of her distress would prompt Simon to close his mouth, and to make his brother do likewise.

Tonight Emma was wearing an elegant blue muslin, and felt like a queen with her hair styled for eveningwear for the first time. She knew that she had barely a fraction of Rowan's beauty, unaffected grace or easy manners, but she felt that she had done well for herself tonight. Emma was a strange creature. By nature vain and over-confident, but by practice self-conscious and uneasy, she was always in two minds about her every action. The cruelty of her brothers when she was young -- long forgotten now to all but herself -- had left her scarred and uncertain, which she hid behind a façade of confidence and self-assurance. The only betrayal of these insecurities was in music, and it was likewise here that she sought and found relief from her emotional unbalance. Whether performing or practising, there was a sign of her unease on every instrument. Whilst playing the pianoforte, her posture became slumped; whilst playing the violin or viola, she did not stand, as she ought, on two feet, but restlessly shifted her weight continually from one to the other as she played; and whilst singing, she played with her hands fretfully and could not be trained to keep them still.

Rowan envied her ability and her dedication to her music, and she envied Rowan her beauty, but they were close friends, and this mutual envy did nothing to hamper their relationship.

Tonight, as they sat at the table, Emma's wit running free and sparkling like the diamonds on her mother's neck that she had sighed over when young, her attention was often caught by the young Mr. Alexander Anderson, and each time it lifted her spirits a little further. Young Miss Bingley saw this, and smiled, for she alone, as Emma's particular friend, and a guest of the Darcys for unknown duration, had been entrusted with the secret of Miss Darcy's heart, which had been lost since she had first met him at the tender age of eleven. However, Mr. Anderson was recently turned nineteen years old -- how old he seemed compared to her! -- and, of course, Emma was fond of finery and pretty things, while he would have to work for a living. But these things mattered not to her and she was content to nourish her attachment with sugary dreams and silent prayers.

Their guests were Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Mr. Anderson, of Ashton, Shropshire, and their children. The former were dearly loved relations of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, though they would not explain to the children why they should be so indebted, as they obviously felt themselves to be, to these two relatives in particular. The latter was the father of Emma's dearest friend Louise, who consequently became well acquainted with her and her family. The Anderson family was composed of Mr. Anderson, a respectable gentleman of noble descent, his sons, Messrs. Alexander and James Anderson, and his daughter, an accomplished, attractive young lady who had fascinated Emma, when first they met, with her modern and flirtatious ways. They had soon become almost inseparable, and this was the reason for Miss Darcy's being permitted to stay down that evening, though she was not yet out, and, of course, Miss Bingley was invited to be with her cousin, as they were fast becoming inseparable too.

The evening had been a success until the arrival of the express, which event took place just as Mrs. Darcy was about to lead the ladies out. It was Mr. Darcy who opened it -- Mr. Darcy who read it -- and then, shock in his eyes, glanced first at his niece, and then at his wife. She excused herself from her seat at the opposite end of the table and hurried to her husband to ask him what was wrong. He wordlessly handed it to her; and she returned to her place with it. Sitting down, she opened it:

Darcy, Lizzy.

Our precious Diana has taken a fall from her horse. Her neck is broken. Tell Rowan to come to us as soon as possible. Give her the news gently -- she is a sweet creature. Come to us soon.

Jane.

Her guests fell silent and looked at her with curiosity and concern. "What is it, Mamma?" asked George quickly, looking to his father for further information.

Miss Bingley had recognised the hand and stood up, meaning to go to her aunt. "What news from Hawthorn? What has happened?" she asked, her agitation extreme.

"Trouble at Hawthorn. Rowan, dear, come with me." Mrs. Darcy, beckoning for her niece to follow her, left the room hastily. Once into the privacy of the closest drawing room, she showed the express to her, and gently gave her to understand the terrible misfortune that had come to her family. It was all too much for one so young, and tender Miss Bingley collapsed in a faint. Mrs. Darcy saw to it that she was sent to her suite, and accompanied her throughout the night. She was a pillar of strength to her young charge for the next few days, until she was sufficiently recovered for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy to take her back to Hawthorn. On the young ladies' pressing, Miss Darcy was also allowed to attend her return, though her parents were a little uneasy about this, as she bore both a physical and a mental resemblance to her late cousin that may disturb her aunt and uncle.

They, however, were beyond noticing such things, and Miss Darcy was safe to comfort her cousin for as long as she needed her attentions. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, their daughter and Miss Bingley all arrived at Hawthorn as soon as possible, and they were greeted by a sombre Mr. Bingley, and his pale, exhausted wife. Such changes brought pain to their guests, but it was inevitable; and Mrs. Darcy found herself thanking God that it was not she who had lost a child.

"My dearest Lizzy!" Jane ran forward with a cry, propelling herself into her sister's arms. Elizabeth held her tightly, fighting back tears and trying to be strong for her sister. When Jane drew away, smoothing the folds in her dress self-consciously, Elizabeth turned to the other. "Bingley -- my dear Charles -- what can I say that will make you feel any better?"

"Your presence is better than any amount of words -- you know that," he smiled wanly, and she ran forward and embraced him as well, as her husband helped their daughter and niece out of the carriage.

When Jane and her husband caught sight of their daughter, they hugged her tightly, answering the torrent of questions that poured from her lips, "What happened? Was it quick? Did she miss her absent sister? Was she conscious of her absence?"

The Bingleys evidently felt all the better for being reunited again, and the two Bingley boys joined them at this moment, completing the group. That the death of the lively girl who had been daughter and sister to them was a source of quite unimaginable pain was evident, but what was equally evident was that it should only make them closer and should forge stronger bonds than ever. Elizabeth was perturbed therefore to see Jane shrink from her husband's hand, and walk apart from him as they entered the house.

Chapter Two

The family seemed to be coping as well as could be expected, and the Darcys were almost finished with their preparations to return to Pemberley some days later, when Mr. Darcy noticed that his sister-in-law was missing, and searched for her. He found her sitting on a bench in the gardens looking eagerly through some papers; and he somewhat awkwardly joined her. "Jane, what is the matter, if that is not too thoughtless a question?"

Jane looked up suddenly, startled; but she smiled at him, and gestured for him to join her. "I found this," she explained. "We were to have kept it in the nursery until Diana's twenty-first birthday. - She would have received it next year. Do you recall that we all left a message for her, telling her everything that had happened, and how special she was, as the first of her generation?"

Darcy smiled.

"Yes, I see you recall it now. How little we suspected then...! But it is no matter. I remember how proud I was of her when she was born - proud of myself - and happy to be the first mother. My mind was wholly occupied then with the dear little family we made." Jane laughed bitterly. "Myself, and my husband, and my baby. We were to live in a garden of roses and be happy for the rest of our lives. I suppose I considered each of us immortal."

"Of course you did," he said soothingly. "Elizabeth and I were the same, and so was Bingley, I daresay. It is always the way with newly-weds and recent parents."

"But we are not immortal." She gazed at him, her eyes filled with a strange mixture of despair and desperate hope. "I am very mortal - all my life I have been told that I am as good as an angel, and I have suddenly realised that I am not." She took his hands, crying, "My brother - shall you be surprised at my behaviour now?" and reached up and locked him in a passionate kiss.

He was too stunned to act at first; but, quickly regaining his senses, he pulled away from her and stood up. "Mrs. Bingley! - What on earth do you mean by this?"

Jane wept bitterly, and flung herself down on the bench. Darcy detected a strange taste in his mouth, and suddenly realised Jane had been drinking. He sat down, considerably softened towards her, and took her in his arms. "Jane, dear, it isn't to me that you ought to say and do these things," he reprimanded her gently.

"If you mean Charles, he would be shocked to - to see me like this!" She burst into renewed tears.

"Not as shocked as he and Elizabeth would be if he thought you were coming to me, and not your husband," he reminded her, his voice soft and unassuming. "Jane, yours is a pain I hope I'll never know, and you must therefore forgive me my ignorant piety; but I must say that now is the time for you and your husband to grow closer, not more distant. And do make the mistake, as others have before you, of turning to alcohol instead of someone you love."

Jane calmed herself, and blushed at her behaviour. "It is I who am to be forgiven," she murmured, humiliated.

"Not at all," he said kindly; and, standing up, he offered her his arm, saying, "it is going to rain, I think; and Elizabeth, Emma and I must be off soon anyway."

"You are leaving us? - So soon?"

"Yes; we must fetch our other children for the funeral, and attend to our affairs back at Pemberley before our return. I shall miss Rowan - you have made quite a young lady out of her."

"Rowan...Charles and I have been discussing her, and we think...that is, we should not be selfish, although the idea of losing two daughters at the same time is very painful - though, of course, we should not be truly losing her. However, she has come on quite well in the little time she has been with Emma, and we have decided that she needs the further encouragement of female companionship."

Mr. Darcy understood her, and admired the delicacy of her awkwardness and embarrassment in bringing the subject up. "You wish her to return with us to Pemberley?"

"I confess, it is exactly what we had hoped: Emma certainly has had a most wonderful effect on Rowan."

Jane's joy, and her visible relief and relaxation, was certainly compensation enough for the small cost of his young charge, and he airily dismissed her talk of payments. Perhaps he had his own, lonely sister Georgiana, now Lady Allthrope, in mind when he suggested it; and perhaps his wife later supported the scheme, because she thought how delighted everyone would be if there were a union between the two families.

Mr. Darcy had the further pleasure of seeing Jane become her old affectionate self towards her Charles again, and of witnessing Bingley's evident happiness at this restoration of mutual confidence. The Darcys returned to Pemberley to bring their other children, and they all attended the funeral together. It came and went, and ten months passed before the next event of any interest in the Darcy family's life. During this time, Miss Darcy and Miss Bingley had been growing ever closer; and they had been provided with adjoining bedchambers, with a dressing room joining the two where they would sit and talk and dream together, the latter watching with amusement as the former, inspired by the suggestion of Mr. Alexander's affection, began to use rosewater to heal her complexion, and to take vigorous exercise and watch how she ate. They had no foreboding feelings then, which is perhaps a surprise.

Chapter One

Miss Anne Darcy had just joined the rest of her family at the breakfast table when a letter arrived for her mother. As this was of no infrequent occurrence, they did not turn their attention to it, but left her to read it in privacy as they continued their conversation. However, something in Mrs. Darcy's face told her husband that all was not well, and he left his place at the head of the table and went to her where she sat at the opposite end. "What is the matter, sweet?" he asked quietly.

"It is from my sister," she murmured, folding up the letter and placing it in her pocket. "She and my parents are to join us tomorrow in order that they may be with us for my birthday."

"Grandmother and Grandfather Bennet?" cried George, catching their quiet words. "They are coming to Pemberley again?"

"George!" his father reprimanded him sternly. "Mr. and Mrs. Bennet have always been welcome here during our marriage, and I hope you will always have the same respect for your wife's parents. Indeed, I should think it rather remiss of her, if she said the same thing about us. Rowan, ring the bell for Mrs. Reynolds, if you would."

Miss Bingley obligingly did as her uncle bid her, and Elizabeth smilingly thanked her. She made a point of treating her children equally but she could not deny to herself that, should she herself have been blessed with her, Rowan should have been her favourite. Apart from her beauty, she was the image of her mother when young, and had inherited her sweetness of temper and her goodness of nature. She carried herself well, was all that was elegant and refined, but did not put on airs or graces, as Elizabeth's eldest daughter was sometimes prone to do without intention.

Miss Bingley still lived with the Darcys, and was to do so for as long as her parents could possibly do without her. She and her cousin Emma spent much of their time together, growing ever dearer to one another.

Mrs. Reynolds arrived, and it was with some surprise that she received the information from Mr. Darcy. She could not hide her feelings from the man she had called "Master" since the day he was born, and he stated firmly, "They are coming to be with my wife, Mrs. Reynolds. You know it to be her birthday next week."

"Why must everyone remind me?" groaned Elizabeth. "I have no desire to be forty. I should much rather I was one-and-twenty again and just married, with all my life to look forward to."

"But Mama, if you were one-and-twenty again, none of us should yet be born," pointed out Miss Darcy.

Mrs. Darcy smiled, "Another blessing." She dismissed Mrs. Reynolds after saying that she knew better than anybody which suite to open up, etc., and that the entire operation of receiving the Bennets was in her hands. Mrs. Reynolds did, indeed, know better than anybody the folly of Mrs. Bennet, the eccentricity of Mr. Bennet, and their inappropriateness as parents to Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley, and she also knew just how to manage them by now.

The day passed quickly for the Darcys, trying to enjoy the peace of Pemberley before it was invaded once again. Elizabeth felt more than a little irate at her parents, for coming again so soon. Their last visit had been of duration of almost three months, and had only finished five weeks ago. That evening, the last preparations endured on every occasion of the Bennets' coming, took place: Mrs. Darcy toured the bedchambers of their children, inspecting their clothes and jewelry, knowing that they all had to be in their best attire for the arrival of Mrs. Bennet. Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy made a tour of Pemberley, making sure that all was as it should be and finishing up in the suite that the Bennets always used. Although she had been settled better than anyone else in her family, still she felt that her mother judged her, and always stood firm that everything had to be at its best for her visit. Then, that night, the children (as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy always thought of them, though the eldest, George, was eighteen) were sent to their bedchambers at an unreasonably early hour, that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy might have one last night of peace and pleasure.

Chapter Two

The next day arrived all too soon, and at midday, the Bennets arrived. Mr. Bennet stepped out first, and rushed to be greeted by his affectionate daughter, leaving Mr. Darcy to help Mrs. and Miss Bennet out of the carriage. The former gave her son-in-law an enthusiastic kiss and embrace, and then rushed to greet her daughter, crying: "My dear Lizzy, how delighted I am! Is this not a wonderful surprise for you all?"

"It is just as well that our aunt wrote to inform us of your coming," announced Miss Darcy tartly; "else we should not have been able to make Pemberley as wonderful as only you deserve it to be."

Mrs. Darcy looked sharply at her daughter; but her countenance was perfectly innocent, and Mrs. Bennet had not taken offence. Miss Darcy was a strange combination of her grandfather's wry ridicule of folly, and her father's resigned duty towards unwelcome relations; and this resulted in a constant effort to keep the retorts that were forever on her tongue, inside her head.

"Did you write to them? Why, whatever did you do that for, child?" asked Mrs. Bennet, her disappointment at their not receiving such a wonderful surprise causing her to be furious.

"So that they should be well prepared for our arrival."

"And it was much appreciated," announced Elizabeth, stepping forward to meet her sister with a grateful smile. "I have long suspected you to be the wisest of us all."

"Not at all - I didn't get married."

"Yes, and it was when I first realised this intention of yours, that I discovered just how wise you are!"

"It wasn't her own choice," insisted Mrs. Bennet. "Someone had to stay with Mr. Bennet and I, and that just happened to fall to her. Had you married before the last of your sisters, it should not have done so; but now you are stuck with the responsibility, child. "

"Lucky you, Aunt Bennet!" cried Miss Darcy, unable to refrain from comment, but managing to make it sound sincere. Mrs. Bennet favoured her with a beam of approval, and hurried forth to bestow an affectionate kiss and embrace on her, and then on all her other grandchildren. George, a handsome, charming, and very tall young man of eighteen, was certainly her favourite; but she also adored Simon, who was easily as handsome and almost as tall as his brother, though only fifteen. Rowan and Emma, both sixteen, took the place in her heart that Jane and Lydia had once held. She considered Anne, a small, pretty girl of thirteen, and Charlotte, a heavy but not unattractive girl of eleven, far beneath her notice just yet. After all, the beautiful and charming Miss Darcy and the elegant and lovely Miss Bingley needed her attentions just now until they were married. When that time came, there would be plenty of opportunities to treat her other granddaughters. Mrs. Bennet could only think of the young Wickhams when she was not with the offspring of her more successful children: for Mr. and Mrs. Bingley's daughter was so very beautiful, and their two sons were so very handsome and lively! And then, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were the proud parents of a very beautiful daughter, and two such well-favoured, charming, sophisticated young men! So tall! Such favourites in society! Of course, there were also little Anne and Charlotte, and also Mr. and Mrs. Duff's children (one son and one daughter), but Mrs. Bennet only had so much attention to give, and so much of her heart that needed to be filled. What were they to do, therefore, but wait until their more desirable relations were married?

However, Mrs. Bennet was gracious enough to greet the Misses Anne and Charlotte Darcy with a kiss on the cheek for each, before scurrying off to admire the cut of her granddaughter's dress. "Oh! My dear Rowan, your dress is always so exquisitely fashionable," she exclaimed enviously. "How well that colour looks on you! - I should never have thought of so pale a hue against your lovely blonde hair and pale skin, but I will say that you look quite delightful in it! And, my dear Emma, what a change it is to see you in the latest fashions! You look very well, my dear, and were I to see you dressed so every day, I should have my wish, though I know your mother is not interested in such things. That blue looks so pretty with your eyes."

"Thank you, ma'am; but I shouldn't care to be so very fashionable every day, for then, after a while, no one should notice if I had made an effort or not."

"I should notice, my love," chided her grandfather.

"Oh! Well, of course you should, sir," she returned, and entered his affectionate embrace very gladly.

Mr. Darcy saw that his wife looked a little strained, and extended his arm to her, suggesting that they all go into the house for tea. She wearily agreed, and, taking his offered arm, led them all into the parlour.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully: by now Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had grown used to the antics of her father and the silliness of her mother, and there was no novelty in their being there. But that night, as Elizabeth was preparing for bed, there was a knock at her chamber door. Expecting it to be her husband, she called, "Your politeness will never cease to amaze me, Fitzwilliam. I am quite ready for you to come into my bedchamber tonight, as I have been every night since Christmas Night, 1813."

When she turned, however, it was not to greet her husband, but her eldest daughter, who stood, blushing and laughing, in the doorway, in her nightgown. Elizabeth had not seen her daughter in so little dress for many years, and she was struck with the womanly figure that her little girl possessed. Although only sixteen, Emma's figure was full and mature, and the flimsy silk nightgown only served to exaggerate her curves, rendering the sight of her indecent to anyone. Elizabeth was startled, and hoped that her husband should not come to her just yet, as his was not a habit of knocking politely before his entrance every night.

"Mamma, I shan't be long. Only tell me this, why is Aunt Bennet unmarried?"

"Emma, I hardly think this the time or the place - "

"Don't worry - Father shan't come yet. He is still below with my grandfather and George and Simon in the drawing room; we ladies are the only ones to have fulfilled the scheme of retiring early, it seems. Anyhow, I must know why. Was it decided by her being left behind, as Mrs. Bennet said earlier on?"

"In a way, yes. You see, none of us ever believed that my sister Mary should marry: she was always the plainest, and it could be said that her personality was the least attractive of us all. So Kitty rather laid back and waited for marriage to come to her, believing that it should, given time. But Mary found a very good sort of gentleman, but very severe, having fallen recently on very hard times, who was a widower with two children, and who was seeking a sensible wife who could bring them up and keep her family on a limited income. He came to Hertfordshire and did indeed find the wife he had been looking for, but not in Kitty. So she was the last one of us left, and therefore had been handed the unpleasant and unrewarding task of staying at home to look after my parents."

"Mamma, you and Father won't do that to Lottie, will you?"

"Of course not! And why Lottie in particular, pray?"

"Why, she is some five years younger than me, and Anne - "

"Don't make the same mistake that your aunt did, Emma: don't think love and marriage and security will come to you, and sit back and watch your life drain away, as you contemplate on how lucky you are because you are beautiful and talented and witty. It may not turn out that way at all. Now, off to your chamber, before your papa comes and finds you here, and throws you out!"

Miss Darcy refrained from making any kind of vulgar comment, but collected herself up with great dignity as her mother gather her up in her arms for a kiss, then commented disparagingly that she needed a new nightgown. Mr. Darcy arrived a little later, and greeted his wife wearily. "Those boys have had me up playing cards. I declare, Elizabeth, I'm too old for that sort of thing."

"I agree," she murmured quietly, thinking about her own advice to her daughter. "Why spend your time doing something you have no wish to do? You and I are mature creatures now, I hope; and we should be able to stand up for ourselves. After all, wasn't there something else you should have preferred to have been doing during that time, when you were down there with your cards, and I was up here, waiting for you?"

The next few days passed uneventfully; but the sudden arrival of an express from Rosings stunned the whole family. They were all fifteen taking breakfast on the fourth day of the Bennets' visit, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley and their sons having come over to join them for a few days, when Mrs. Reynolds brought it to her master. It was clear to his wife from the turn of his countenance that the news he received was not pleasant, and she took the first opportunity to make her way over to him and ask him about it, as he had done for her just a few days ago.

"It is from Rosings," he explained in hushed tones; "my aunt writes to inform me that Anne has died."

"Great God," Elizabeth murmured before she could stop herself.

"Lizzy!" her mother cried indignantly. "What an idea you will give of yourself to Mr. Darcy!"

"It matters very little, mamma, as we have been married these last twenty years." Elizabeth sat down in her place again and watched her husband keenly, eager to know what else his aunt said. She supposed that it could only be polite to have her at Pemberley to stay, now that she was alone at Rosings.

Mr. Darcy waited only for a pause in the conversation before announcing to them all: "This express is from my aunt, Lady Catherine. She writes in order that we be the first to know, she says: our cousin Miss de Bourgh is dead. She died last night from some kind of fever, it says here."

"A fever is never fatal," Miss Darcy claimed.

"Emma! Hold your tongue!" snapped Elizabeth. "It evidently was, in this case. What else does she say, my love?"

"She wants to come to Pemberley for a while, to 'discuss financial matters'."

"Why, of course she must come! I would not have her alone at Rosings - I would not wish that on anyone."

"Elizabeth, are you sure? I doubt that her temper will be any the sweeter for this death."

"I suppose I shall just have to learn from my cousin Collins, and say many pretty things about poor Anne. Fitzwilliam, you had better reply to that immediately, while we go to sort out mourning clothes for everyone."

"Thank you, sweet" (still reading the express) "but that will not be necessary. She writes that she intends to leave at six o'clock. That means she will be here in about an hour."

"Fitzwilliam, why did you not tell us that to begin with?" Elizabeth jumped up. "We had better get you sorted out for mourning clothes. Mamma, I think you and my father had better go with Jane and Charles to Hawthorn, if they would be so kind as to have you; and perhaps Rowan ought to go as well. What do you think, my love?"

"I think Rowan is quite welcome to stay - Lady Catherine shall certainly take to her, as we have done. I cannot imagine life without her here, now. You must be very angry at yourselves for giving her up, now that you have heard that she shall never be returned to you."

Mr. and Mrs. Bingley hurriedly said their good-byes, and left immediately with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet (though the latter complained bitterly and hinted strongly about her having to leave so suddenly and after so short a visit). Perhaps their swift exit was more to do with their fear of seeing again the mourning clothes that their relatives had worn so recently, than any usual speed of action. Mrs. Bingley still wore her mourning broach, though it was a rather unusual combination with her fashionable coloured silks; and Mr. Bingley was a little more sombre now than he had used to be: the Bingleys had not yet learned to recover from the emptiness caused by the death of this dearly loved girl, and did not feel that they ever would.

Chapter Three

Lady Catherine did, indeed, arrive almost exactly an hour later; she was admitted into Mrs. Darcy's morning room, where the family was congregated, she sat down, and she was at once a member of the Pemberley family. Elizabeth knew instantly that she would have to get used to her being there for a long, long time; and, wishing to make everything quite clear at the very start, she drew up a chair beside Lady Catherine, and demurely murmured: "Lady Catherine, we were very sorry to hear about your sad loss; and if there is anything we can do, I would like you to know that, be it within our power, we will do it."

"That is very gracious of you," Lady Catherine announced in somewhat surprised tones. "Mrs. Darcy, what I want most in the world just now, is to be with my family. Anne - poor dear - should have been mistress of this house - but I see now that it is better, perhaps, that she was not. You have fathered several not unattractive children with your wife, Darcy; and Anne, God bless her, may not have been able to do the same. Of course, I do not mean that they should have been unattractive - they should have possessed the characteristics of noble birth - I merely mean that her health would not permit of such...things."

"Thank you, Lady Catherine," murmured Elizabeth, supposing that she should be grateful for such praise.

"Now, let me see your children properly. You must introduce me, Mrs. Darcy, as I have not previously had the pleasure of meeting them - which I now regret, as their looks are quite creditable."

"Lady Catherine, these are my sons, George and Simon; and this is my eldest daughter Emma, and Miss Bingley, her cousin who lives with us now; and these are my younger daughters, Anne and Charlotte. George is eighteen years old, Emma and Miss Bingley are sixteen, Simon is fifteen, Anne is thirteen, and Lottie is eleven. Children, Rowan, this is your great-aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

"Hmm. - yes. I must say that George and Simon appear to be very handsome, and very gentleman-like. They certainly take after their father," she said, with great pride. "Miss Darcy is very lovely, and looks very well in that dark colour. What is it exactly?"

"Violet cré - "

"Oh yes, violet crépe de chine, of course. I know that you are wearing it because you are in mourning, but tell me: do you ever wear dark colours, as a rule?"

"I tend to wear blue of varying shades, your Ladyship."

"To match your eyes, I suppose? Well, blue will do. What I was going to say was that you ought to wear dark colours. You have the mousy brown hair of your Bennet aunts (sniffing ostentatiously) and dark shades would make it more interesting. You would look very well in a midnight-blue damask; and perhaps a crimson silk? I shall take you to London as soon as you are out of mourning for poor dear Anne."

"Your Ladyship is very kind," said Emma warmly; her mother had never been interested in trips to London to acquire the latest fashions, but Miss Darcy was a woman of the world, and had often longed to do so. Mrs. Darcy saw how the land lay, and was amused: Lady Catherine had found as devoted a follower as even she could wish for.

"And Miss Bingley is also very lovely - more so than her cousin, I think. Come here, child, and let me look at you."

Miss Bingley approached rather fearfully; for her courage was not great, and Lady Catherine was more imperious by far than anyone she had previously met. She stood before her, feeling rather awkward in her grey dress, in case Lady Catherine should think her impertinent in wearing mourning clothes herself; for she had only recently discarded her own blacks, and was still just coming out into the light violets and greys which formed the transition stage between mourning and normality. Lady Catherine studied her, and said at length,

"Yes, you are very beautiful, my dear. You are the daughter, I take it, of Mrs. Darcy's sister, who married so advantageously?"

"I am the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, of Hawthorn Manner, Cheshire; and my mother is the sister of my Aunt Darcy," replied Miss Bingley levelly.

"Yes, that is the lady to whom I refer. Well! She must be quite a beauty if she has passed on such looks to her daughter. Now for your younger daughters, Darcy. Hmm...Anne would not look at all bad is only she were to make the effort to clear her complexion. While I am here, I shall buy you some rosewater, and see to it that you use it three times a day; and there is nothing like healthy eating for the complexion."

"Anne already uses rosewater," Elizabeth announced softly; "and we all eat very healthily at this house."

"Well, well, that's as may be; but by your account, there is no reason at all for her poor complexion, when there certainly must be."

"She is young; her aunt Duff had the same problem in her youth; she will grow out of it."

"But she will be scarred - "

"Lady Catherine," murmured Mr. Darcy warningly; but he was interrupted by his eldest daughter, who exclaimed,

"Indeed, ma'am, I myself had a poor complexion until but a year ago; yet you find no fault with it now. Besides, even if it were not the case that Anne should outgrow this stage in her life, do not her other beauties more than compensate for this single deficiency? Her hair, for instance: how lovely it is!"

Her Ladyship settled back in her chair with a look of displeasure. "Very well. I concede that she has beautiful hair. Quite sensational; there is nothing like it on our side of the family."

"I had hair that shade of auburn when I was very young," Elizabeth agreed proudly. "Is it not lovely? It comes from my father, who had hair that colour."

"Charlotte is also possessed of excellent hair; it is just the shade of blonde that Lady Anne's was. Georgiana was always of that colouring: pale, with hair of that particular blonde. If only your daughter were not so heavy - "

"Lady Catherine!" thundered Mr. Darcy, taking his daughter in his arms. "Lottie is just eleven years old, and has only recently become this age. I do not care about her figure just now. When she is older, doubtless it will even out, as this is only the result of childhood - "

"It is the result of indulgence," snapped his aunt. "If your wife had seen to it that this child ate as she ought - "

"Lady Catherine, may I remind you that you are a guest in my house, and that I will not hesitate to put an end to your visit here with us, should you forget that," returned Elizabeth. "While you are in my house, you will respect me, you will respect my husband, and you will respect our children."

Charlotte turned and left the room, murmuring something about finding her governess; and Anne joined her. Miss Darcy and Miss Bingley were unsure of what they should do: the latter, because she was an outsider; and the former, because she was torn between the attractions of London, and her indignation that her little sister should be treated so. The young Messrs Darcy were rescued at this moment by the arrival of Mrs. Reynolds, announcing that they had visitors in the hall, friends who were come to invite them to hunt. They left instantly, barely staying to listen to Elizabeth's plea that they be careful (her niece's accident still lay heavily on her mind).

Emma decided that she could only speak now, and answer for her actions later: "Your Ladyship, I feel I must venture to say that I was also not as light as I now am, just a year ago; and the figure that you a moment ago so affably complimented, is testimony to my mother's care."

Lady Catherine saw only that Miss Darcy had stayed, and not that any others had left; and she barely heeded her words, only muttering in irritation, "Well, you seem to have improved immensely in a single year. Pray, what do you recommend?"

"Falling in love, your Ladyship," returned she, bold as brass.

Her aunt was intrigued by such courageous impudence, and she beckoned to her. Emma approached dubiously. "Yes, Lady Catherine?"

"My dear, are you at all in the habit of leaving Pemberley?"

"Oh, yes - I have often been to visit my friends. I especially go often to see my particular friends at their estate in Shropshire."

"Their names?"

"My particular friend is Miss Anderson, and I am also acquainted with - her brothers and her father. The latter is, I am sorry to say, very ill, and all that prevents me from going up there myself is my own delicacy - I fear it would not be the done thing, with only Louise and I there with her brothers, for her mother died some years ago."

"The Anderson family, of Shropshire...no, I am not familiar with the name. However, I am sure that they are respectable people, and Shropshire is a not unfashionable area in which to live."

"No, indeed, ma'am! I consider Shropshire quite as my second home, and I love to go there, for the countryside is so beautiful."

"You have a taste for the beauty of nature, then?"

"Not usually, your Ladyship; but who could be ignorant of the beauties of that county? I love to got there and sit and draw flowers for hours on end."

"You can draw, then?"

"Only flowers and plants, and very ill; but it gives me pleasure."

"Emma is too modest," put in her mother fondly; "she is a very talented artist, and, although she usually uses vegetation, she has done some excellent portraits."

"May I see your portfolio, Emma?"

"Well...certainly, if you so desire - "

"I do."

Miss Darcy hesitantly produced her portfolio; and it was discovered that she did, indeed, have talent. Two portraits in particular struck Lady Catherine, as quite outstanding, considering her tender age: one was of the face and neck of another cousin, with excellent use of colour and shape to make her face alive and lovely. The other, done much more recently, had evidently taken heart as well as physical talent: it was of a handsome young man, with a sweet face and caring, expressive dark eyes, and well-groomed hair. His complexion was, perhaps, not perfect; and, if the picture was anything to go by, he was a very short young man; but so much love had obviously gone into it, that Lady Catherine hadn't the heart to object to his shortcomings, but merely asked: "Who is this fine-looking gentleman?"

"Do you think him fine-looking?" she asked with a thrill. "He is Mr. Alexander Anderson, the heir to Ashton - the elder brother of the friend I mentioned. I am sure, he is quite the best-favoured man of my acquaintance, and so amiable and affectionate! and then he is so talented and clever! He is to begin at Cambridge this autumn, and is going to earn his living in music."

"He will earn his own living?" questioned her aunt frostily. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy exchanged troubled looks.

"Yes; he is a pianist, and is to make a career out of his music; for, though the family is old, it is not very wealthy. Alexander is to change all that!"

"You seem to be on very familiar terms with this 'Alexander' - and you seem to have adopted a modern method of speaking. I have never in my life called a gentleman by his given name - except, of course Sir Lewis; and then I should not have done, but for the nature of his title meaning that I could not address him as Mr. de Bourgh."

"Why, yes, I am very familiar with him! Louise has been like a sister to me, and I have known her and her brothers these past five years. They are all very dear friends of mine," replied Miss Darcy, ignoring her aunt's other remarks.

"Perhaps so, perhaps so. - But, my dear, you oughtn't to make friends with everyone who comes your way. Had old Mr. Anderson made his money through music, and been able to add to his son's reputation of being from a good line, the more substantial quality of seven or eight thousand a year, I should hardly be adverse to the match; but as it is, there cannot be any kind of alliance between your family and his."

"Ma'am! I had not thought of such a thing! (blushing furiously) Mr. Anderson is but nineteen!"

"All the more reason for you to put him out of your head, and turn your attention on someone else. In a few months I will take you to town, where you will be the belle of every ball, and where you will meet some very eligible young men, who will make you quite forget young Mr. Anderson. Now, we were discussing your accomplishments. Do you play or sing at all?"

"I play the pianoforte and the viola; and I sing."

"Emma is a very accomplished musician," her father interjected proudly; "she is astonishing at the pianoforte, and very good at the viola; and her voice has a range of three octaves at her best moments, and she sings so beautifully!"

"Then I shall hear you this evening. Come, Miss Bingley, will you and your cousin not conduct me on a tour of the house? I have not been to Pemberley for over twenty years, and you must refresh my memory."

Miss Darcy and her companion were keen to do so, as the former knew that her mother was eager for Lady Catherine to understand all the changes that had taken place since her last visit there; and the tour mainly consisted of explaining which rooms belonged to which people. "The west and north wings," she explained, "are used for entertaining: the first and second floors include all the main drawing rooms and parlours, the dance-hall and the library, while the third and fourth floors are used for guest suites, and so forth. The south wing holds the kitchens and the staff's quarters. The east wing is our own: my father's study is here, and the old nursery and the schoolroom, and all our bedchambers and the Master Suite; and, of course, mamma's morning room, where we just were. Because you are family, I suppose you shall be placed in one of the rooms here, in your old suite."

"Is it still disused? - But it was always Georgiana's favourite - she loved the view from the window of the lake. I thought it should have been reserved for her?"

"Oh! no, Lady Allthrope never stays in that room: my mamma and father have kept it open for you."

"Well...that is very gracious of your mother, I suppose..." murmured Lady Catherine, a little put out by such a display of hospitality.

"Why do you so dislike my mamma?" asked Miss Darcy, more than a little vexed.
Her bluntness of manner made her companion blush; but there was an arch sweetness in her manner that made her father think of his wife when young; and caused her aunt to answer with no display of surprise at such a question. "My daughter was always meant to be Mrs. Darcy - it was the fondest wish of his mother as well as of hers. But then Elizabeth came along, and enticed him away from her. After all my attentions to her, she went and displeased me thus! I should have been very grateful, and made something of my gratitude, had she agreed not to marry him, after I enforced my suit; but, as it was, she was determined to vex me, and so it all come to this. Your father is happy, I'll grant you that - but what is the result of that little upstart getting her claws into him? Now you, Fitzwilliam Darcy's eldest daughter, are evidently in love with a penniless country gentleman, forced to make a career for himself out of his music! That is not the fate of a Darcy, my child, and I hope you remember it in future."

"Lady Catherine, I love him," Emma stated simply. "There is nothing to be done about my heart. - However, he has never acknowledged me as anything other than the friend of his sister. He has never courted anyone, and has no plans at present to settle down."

"That cannot last," her aunt predicted gloomily. "You are so beautiful, and he cannot stay blind forever. If he knew you loved him, he would not be so complacent about matrimony, believe me. He would be more than happy to have earned the affections of an heiress, such as yourself."

"I believe you mistake his motives, ma'am," announced Miss Darcy stiffly.

Perhaps she was numbed by the death of her daughter; perhaps she saw in her niece a fragment of her own past, torn between her duty and her heart, as she had been; but whatever the reason, Lady Catherine did not rise to the occasion with an argument, or even any kind of reproach. Instead, she began to make light conversation with Miss Bingley about the best art masters to be had, and her plans to take them both to London as soon as delicacy would permit it.

Lady Catherine was indeed informed over dinner that evening that her old suite was the one to which she had been assigned on this occasion. During the meal Mr. Darcy was all that was curt and polite, and Charlotte and Anne studiously ignored her; but George and Simon and their mother attempted to draw her into their conversation, and Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy were full of things to say that they knew would please her. Lady Catherine felt their efforts, and was pleased; and she continued to mark the eldest Miss Darcy with peculiar regard, though her manner to Miss Bingley was warm, and to the young Messrs Darcy and their mother, more than civil. Mrs. Darcy saw this, and was astonished; and she attempted to persuade her husband into the conversation, knowing this to be the only way to form a reconciliation.

By the time they came to the third course, Lady Catherine had already made up her mind; and she announced that she wished to discuss the details of the settlement of Rosings. "For," she explained, "a little before Anne died so suddenly, I consulted my own physician, and it seems that it shall not be long before I follow her." During the stunned silence that followed this, she went on: "At the time, I thought that Anne would simply be heiress to my entire fortune; but now, of course, this is not possible. So, I decided to come here instead, and see what good I could do among you.

"Emma, you strike me as a very capable, very beautiful young woman - perhaps rather too much possessed of a keen spirit, like your mother - but nonetheless, deserving of a happy marriage. My decision is as follows: I have heard all that you have to say, and have come to a conclusion. I wish you to invite your Mr. Anderson here, with his sister and brother, after the death of their father, and I will observe him. If I think him unfit as a husband, I will tell you; but, if he seems to be a respectable young man, then I will do everything in my power to promote the match. Here, I come to the point at last: I will promise you Rosings after my death, and all my fortune, in order that you may support yourselves without your husband's degrading himself. How does this offer sound?"

"Oh! why, Lady Catherine, I am quite speechless!"

"Not entirely, I think; however, I am the last person in the world to condemn you for this. I would much rather be thanked, than see you shocked beyond the ability to use your own mouth."

"Then thank you! From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, and thank you again, a dozen times - nay, an hundred times! How can there be enough words in the world to express the gratitude I feel - how can there be enough gratitude when your kindness and generosity seem without limits? Oh, aunt, I feel that, should I try for a hundred years, I could never be worthy of the honour of your notice!"

"Now listen to me, young lady: I did not do this to be thanked, or to earn a place here at Pemberley until my death - I expect that anyway."

Elizabeth glanced uneasily at her husband as he scraped his fork over his plate. Lady Catherine chose not to notice this slight interruption.

"I am doing this to right a wrong - because I feel it is my duty to do so. When I was your age, I was advised against marrying the man I loved, simply because he was socially my inferior. How can this be right, for a young girl of deep feelings, such as I was then? I was forced into marrying your Uncle de Bourgh, not by threats or conscience, but by the incessant hint that I could never learn to live in any other circumstances. I will not stand by and see the same happen to you. I know that I am a bitter old woman, and that my only daughter became ill under my sharp, tyrannical reign; and the same curse will fall to you, if you let your love slip away for monetary reasons."

"Aunt, you are an absolute angel!" and Emma leapt up to embrace Lady Catherine.

"Yes, yes, all right." But her Ladyship was gratified, even as she warded off further attack from her niece: it had been a long time since anyone had thought her an angel, or dared to attempt to make physical contact. Young Miss Darcy seemed to be quite made as her companion until her death; and she would be richly rewarded for her loyalty.