Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter 3 (continued)

"I grow weary of town, Charles. Why do we not go to the country next week?" she cooed. Mr. Bingley barely heard his sister, as he replayed over and over again his last conversation with Jane. Caroline watched him for a while, then, suppressing a smile, she repeated her remark.

"Leave town, Caroline? In March? No one goes to the country in March. As soon as we had arrived, you would be pleading with me to return to London. The whole notion is ridiculous." Having said his piece, Mr. Bingley slid closer to the window furthest away from his sister, effectively signaling the end to all conversation. Caroline was quite put out by his response to her suggestion, and decided to speak with Mr. Darcy as soon as she reached _____ Street.

In the Darcy carriage, the two cousins sat opposite each other, their emotions equally divided. Colonel Fitzwilliam nurtured in his breast a ray of hope that Olivia had forgiven him for whatever he had said that so vexed her that morning. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, was slowly relinquishing all hope. He struggled to accept the harsh reality that he might never see Elizabeth Bennet again. When the carriage drew to a stop outside his home, Mr. Darcy bolted from the carriage like a caged beast set free. He sprang up the steps and strode purposefully into the drawing room, a concerned Colonel Fitzwilliam at his heels.

"Are you all right, Darcy?" the Colonel asked, as his cousin paced before the fireplace.

"I am fine," Mr. Darcy growled. "I just have very little inclination for spending the next three hours in the company of... ah, Miss Bingley...where is your brother?" Mr. Darcy asked as Caroline entered the room unannounced.

"He stopped to speak with Mr. Harris, which gives me the opportunity to have a word with you Mr. Darcy," she replied, gripping his arm dramatically. Colonel Fitzwilliam furrowed his eyebrows suspiciously, but before Caroline could speak, Mr. Bingley entered the room and Caroline retreated.

Due to the late hour, the small party immediately went into the dining room and sat down to a light informal supper. Caroline placed herself, not unexpectedly, on Mr. Darcy's right, much to the Colonel's amusement. He took a seat opposite her, as her brother claimed a chair to Caroline's right. The meal was consumed with a minimum of conversation, each member of the party occupied with his or her own thoughts. As the table was cleared, Caroline brought up the subject of Mr. Darcy's accident.

"Mr. Darcy, my brother told me of your accident, but he did not tell me how it came about. Pray tell me how you came to injure your head," she smiled sweetly, placing a hand on his and effectively arresting his progress with his pudding. Mr. Darcy's jaw tightened visibly as he carefully extricated his hand, laid down his spoon and placed the clenched fist in his lap. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was Colonel Fitzwilliam who provided an answer.

"He was injured in pursuit of a lady," the Colonel said innocently, before taking a slow sip of wine to allow his words to take their effect. Mr. Darcy glared dangerously at him, and Caroline's mouth fell open. Again, Mr. Darcy began to open his mouth, but the Colonel continued his narrative.

"You see, Darcy and I were in the park with a lady friend--."

"A lady friend of yours?" Caroline asked a bit too eagerly.

"I would say she was a good friend to both of us, although I think her connection to the Darcy family is much stronger than it is to the Fitzwilliams." Colonel Fitzwilliam paused again, and smiled benignly at his cousin's eloquent body language. The Colonel glanced at Mr. Bingley, who was carefully averting his eyes toward the far end of the long table.

"As I was saying, we were speaking with Mr. Darcy's lady friend, when she suddenly realized that she had become separated from her companion. Naturally, we offered our assistance in finding Miss Brown." Mr. Darcy's face spoke volumes, but he could not bring himself to interrupt. It had occurred to him that he while had no desire for Miss Bingley's good opinion, no possible good could come from his cousin's teasing.

"Do you mean Miss Hinckley-Brown of Sussex?" asked Caroline. The Colonel's smile was irresistible as Caroline swallowed his bait.

"No, it was simply a Miss Brown. Perhaps you are acquainted with her. I understand that Darcy met her last year in Hertfordshire." Mr. Bingley shoved a spoonful of trifle into his mouth and then fought to keep it there as his sister whirled on Mr. Darcy accusingly. She did not utter a word, but returned her attention to the Colonel. Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes, and then clamped his hand over them to stop the searing pain that welled up there.

"Anyway," the Colonel went on, "you know, Darcy. He has the eyes of a hawk. He spotted Miss Brown right off and in his eagerness to...uh, secure her, he walked right into a tree." The Colonel shrugged his shoulders as if the end of his tale was the most logical thing in the world. He picked up his glass and took a sip as he caught Mr. Bingley's wink. Even Mr. Darcy had to admire the Colonel's bravado, although he fully intended to avenge himself on his cousin at his earliest convenience. Caroline turned to Mr. Darcy with a look that bespoke betrayal and anger. Mr. Darcy simply rose and suggested that the party adjourn to the drawing room.

"Since Miss Bingley is the only lady present, I suggest we forgo the usual rituals and have our brandy in the drawing room." Caroline immediately rose to take his arm, but Mr. Bingley claimed that privilege, much to her displeasure. As the Colonel rose to follow the others, he turned to his cousin and admitted his guilt.

"I cannot remember the last time I had so much fun at your expense," he sighed. Mr. Darcy slapped the Colonel on the back and pushed him toward the door.

"As soon as I have sufficiently recovered. I will make sure you never forget it," he intoned. The Colonel laughed as Mr. Darcy cradled his aching head. In the drawing room, Caroline could not resist pursuing the matter.

"Whatever became of Miss Brown, Mr. Darcy?" she asked politely. "I take it you did find her eventually."

"Oh, I am afraid she got away. We were so intent on helping Darcy we completely lost track of her," the Colonel said helpfully. But Caroline was not satisfied.

"You do not mean that she is still out there roaming the park?" she laughed, hoping that such was the case.

"Oh, do not worry, Caroline, she is quite well," Mr. Bingley said, determined to have his share of the fun. "In fact, Miss Brown was in the theatre tonight, in the box with Miss Bennet." Caroline spun on Mr. Darcy again, suddenly cognizant of the fact that he had spent the majority of the evening staring into that box.

"Well, perhaps," she said, with an edge of bitterness to her voice, "I hope I shall have an opportunity to meet this Miss Brown, who somehow escaped my notice in Hertfordshire. I should like to know how she survived her ordeal in the park."

"I am afraid she is leaving town tomorrow," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Perhaps she is traveling with Miss Bennet!" the Colonel added brightly, as if suddenly struck by the idea. Mr. Darcy threw himself on the nearest settee helplessly.

"Oh, is dear Jane leaving town? And we have not had a chance to visit with her," she pouted unconvincingly. Mr. Bingley glared darkly at his sister's back as the Colonel delivered the coup de grace that restored Mr. Bingley's pleasant countenance.

"Oh, it is not Jane Bennet who is leaving town tomorrow. It is Miss Elizabeth Bennet who is going to the country to stay with friends," said the Colonel smoothly, unaware of the extent of the pain he was inflicting on Mr. Darcy.

The Bennet sisters arrived at Gracechurch Street united in their ambivalence about the men who had captured their attention that evening. Elizabeth quickly shook off her concerns as she regaled her Aunt Gardiner with a description of the performance. Jane, however, remained quiet and pensive, eliciting the concern of her uncle.

"And you, Jane...did you enjoy the play?" her Uncle Gardiner asked as he carefully observed his favorite niece.

"The play was very good, uncle," was all she ventured.

"And did you see Mr. Bingley?" he prodded gently. At Jane's nod, he asked how things went.

"Not very well, Uncle. He...he seemed distracted...as though his mind was somewhere else," Jane said dejectedly. "I think it had something to do with Mr. Darcy's presence."

"Mr. Darcy was there?" Mr. Gardiner asked. His comment momentarily drew Elizabeth's attention, but she quickly returned to her discussion with her aunt.

"I do not think that Mr. Darcy approves of our...friendship. And to make matters worse, Miss Bingley arrived during the second act, and I am certain she prevented him from speaking with me again...at least...." Jane's voice drifted off, and Mr. Gardiner eyed her sadly.

"Well," he said. "Mr. Bingley is coming to tea tomorrow and neither Mr. Darcy nor Miss Bingley will be present to interfere." Jane raised her head.

"Mr. Bingley is coming here?" Jane looked at her uncle meaningfully, then threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Uncle Gardiner," she whispered in his ear. Jane bade a hasty good night and dashed upstairs to bed.

Elizabeth felt compelled to spend a little more time with her relations on her last evening in town. She discussed Jane's situation with her uncle and aunt, and all were agreed that all must be done to spare Jane a second heartbreak.

"Do not fear, Lizzy," assured Mr. Gardiner. "I shall make it my personal responsibility to see that Jane is protected from harm. You can go to your cousins, Mr. and Mrs. Collins, safe in the knowledge that I shant allow Miss Bingley or Mr. Darcy to abuse our dear girl again."

Elizabeth felt a surge of emotion at the mention of Mr. Darcy's name. He had been so pleasant at the theatre that this reminder of his perfidy regarding Jane was nearly forgotten. Her uncle's comment sobered her, and whatever inclination she had had to think better of Mr. Darcy quickly faded. Elizabeth went up to her bed concerned about Jane. She knew that the Gardiners would do everything in their power to protect her sister, but she lay awake for hours nonetheless.

Chapter 4

"Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Gardiner, dear, dear Jane," Caroline gushed at her bewildered hosts as Mr. Bingley rolled his eyes. "When my brother told me that Jane was still in town and that he was to visit you this afternoon, I simply had to insist on attending him. It has been ages since I have seen you, Jane." No one was fooled by Caroline's performance. Even Jane saw through her charade. Her color rose as she realized for the first time just how much she had been taken in by Caroline's false protestations of friendship in the past. She made a brief curtsey and kept her civilities to a minimum.

"You are very welcome, Miss Bingley," Mrs. Gardiner managed, with a glance to her spouse. Mr. Gardiner returned her gaze grimly. He bowed to Caroline in silence, in marked contrast to his warm greeting to her brother. Caroline's blood ran cold as she realized her error in choosing to appear before Mr. Gardiner after her subterfuge of the previous day. It was plainly obvious that she had lied and that Mr. Gardiner had resorted to other means to reach her brother. Caroline did not insult Mr. Gardiner's intelligence by feigning some misunderstanding to cover her attempted sabotage. She merely smiled at the gentleman and followed the others to the parlor. Mr. Bingley observed the exchange between the two and was confused by it, but he dismissed that thought in favor of an opportunity to converse with Jane. But he had no sooner turned in her direction than Caroline literally pulled Jane from within his grasp.

"Oh, Jane, do sit by me. We have so much to catch up on," Caroline said sweetly. She sat Jane beside herself on the settee and proceeded to monopolize her attention for the better part of a half hour.

"How much longer do you intend to be in town? Charles and I are planning to leave in a week or two," she added hastily, much to her brother's consternation. "We have decided between us that there is nothing of interest to keep us here."

"I for one," Mr. Bingley declared from across the room, "Have no intention of leaving town for two months at least, in spite of what my sister says."

"But Charles," she countered through gritted teeth, "We discussed this just last night."

"Yes, and I told you then that it was a ridiculous idea. I am staying in town, Caroline. There is plenty here to engage my attention. If you wish to go the country, you may please yourself." He smiled meaningfully at Jane, who blushed becomingly. A furious Caroline, however, asserted herself to forestall any further interaction between them.

"But Charles, I distinctly heard you speaking Mr. Darcy last night about going to the country--."

"You heard Mr. Darcy saying that HE was going to the country. He leaves for Kent at the end of next week," Mr. Bingley said with no small amount of satisfaction at his sister's look of surprise.

"Kent?" said Jane. "That is where Lizzy will be. Perhaps they will see something of each other there." Caroline was momentarily alarmed, but she suppressed her instinct to indulge her obsession to pursue her current object.

"I doubt it, Jane. Mr. Darcy and Eliza will travel in very different circles. They will probably have no opportunity or reason to meet at all." Caroline quickly regained her composure. "You must forgive my brother, Jane. He is so changeable. Last night he seemed quite eager for the country; today he despises the notion. I daresay he will change his mind again before the day is out and we will be off to Sussex by week's end. You recall how suddenly he decided to abandon Netherfield?" Caroline spoke in a voice just low enough to elude her brother's hearing. Jane shifted uneasily in her chair, and Caroline barely suppressed a triumphant sneer, before turning the subject to the latest fashions from the Continent.

Jane could only look to her uncle and Mr. Bingley helplessly. Mrs. Gardiner tried to distract Caroline away from Jane, but Miss Bingley clung tenaciously to her prey. Oddly enough, Mr. Gardiner seemed equally intent on keeping Mr. Bingley from his niece. Mrs. Gardiner occasionally made a silent appeal to her husband, but rather than intervene on behalf of the young would-be lovers, he persisted in his dogged pursuit of Mr. Bingley's opinions on art, politics, and his taste in nearly everything under the sun. Jane sighed in despair. Mr. Bingley grew quite frustrated, but at the precise moment that his patience failed him and the perverse tug of war between Mr. Gardiner and Caroline was about to give way, that lady abruptly rose and declared her intention to leave.

"Look at the time! We must depart. I have a pressing engagement with Miss Lucinda Courtney and if we leave now," she said with a decided emphasis on the word "we," "I will only be a bit late." Caroline made a show of comparing the hour on the elegant timepiece on the mantel against the tiny delicate one affixed to her bodice. "Oh dear, Charles! We must leave immediately!" Mr. Bingley swallowed his anger in deference to his hosts and after a long wistful look at Jane he made his goodbyes and sullenly followed his sister to his carriage. He paused, one foot on the step as the truth dawned upon him.

"Lucinda Courtney!" Mr. Bingley fairly shouted. "Lucinda Courtney has been on the Continent since that nasty business with Henry Crawford six months ago. I daresay you would not be caught dead with her even if she was in town," Mr. Bingley hissed. Caroline reached for her brother's lapel and dragged him into the carriage. She slapped at the ceiling to start the carriage before slumping back in her seat and engaging her brother.

"Well, I had to say something to get us out of there! Such tedious people, those Gardiners...and putting on such airs of gentility...." Mr. Bingley was fit to burst.

"Us? Us!?! I was in no hurry to leave, Caroline, and as I distinctly recall, you were not invited yet insisted on coming with. Then you complain of boredom so that we have to leave?" Caroline was shocked by the vehemence in her brother's tone.

"Lower your voice, Charles. The servants will hear you," she said in a low voice with a meaningful glance upward.

"What difference does it make?" Mr. Bingley bellowed. "They are already well aware that you are an insufferable, meddlesome busybody!" The words escaped Mr. Bingley's lips before he could prevent them. He was immediately contrite. Mr. Bingley took a deep breath and apologized. "Caroline...I am sorry. I did not mean to say that." His sister, who had blanched at his words, simply gaped at him in shock. "Please, Caroline, you know I would never--." The look in Caroline's eyes stilled his tongue and pair rode the rest of the way home in silence, save for Marsters' smug laughter, of which neither sibling was cognizant.

"Well, I never!" huffed Mrs. Gardiner. "The nerve of that insufferable, meddlesome--."

"There, there, my love," Mr. Gardiner said soothingly, "Calm yourself. Miss Bingley is not worthy of your anger or your contempt." Mrs. Gardiner was incredulous.

"You deign to defend that, that...feather-crested busybody?" Mrs. Gardiner's eyes fairly bulged with rage, while Jane's looked sad and forlorn. It was his niece that Mr. Gardiner was concerned about and he eyed her closely. "She would not allow Jane more than a dozen words with Mr. Bingley!"

"Uncle..."Jane said so softly that Mr. Gardiner had to step forward to hear her. Jane started to say something, but instead only looked her question.

"Do not fret, my dear. You must trust me." Mrs. Gardiner furrowed her brows.

"Trust you...why? What are you about? Why did you not say or do something? You were nearly as bad a she was, keeping Mr. Bingley all to yourself!" Mrs. Gardiner's anger threatened to spread to her spouse. "I thought you wanted to help them--." Mr. Gardiner silenced his wife with a finger to her lips. His smile annoyed her even further, but she waited for his explanation.

"It would have done no good to leave Mr. Bingley to his own devices. It would simply have provoked Miss Bingley further. No, it was better that they be kept apart in her presence. If she thinks us eager to further the match she will guard him like a mother hen." Jane opened her mouth to protest. "There is a method to my madness, my dear. Trust me."

"I trusted you before, and you promised...." Jane found and lost her voice in one breath. She nodded in resignation and turned left the room. Mrs. Gardiner took up her cause.

"I do not see how you intend to help them by keeping them apart, Edward."

"I have no intention of keeping them apart, my love. In the next two weeks, Jane and Mr. Bingley will see more of each other than either of them imagined possible," Mr. Gardiner smiled.

"And how do intend to pull that off?" said his doubting wife.

"With Mr. Bingley's unwitting assistance," Mr. Gardiner replied enigmatically. He kissed his wife on the forward and left her to her ruminations on the machinations of a woman she detested and a man she adored.

The Bingleys entered their house and went their separate ways. Caroline fled to her chambers while Mr. Bingley repaired to his study, where he threw himself into a chair. In the next instant he rose and went to the cabinet in search of a large brandy. A familiar knock on the door distracted him, and he went to admit his housekeeper. He closed the door behind her, retrieved his brandy and returned to the chair. Gesturing for Mrs. Stewart to sit, he took a large gulp from his glass. Like a child confessing to his nanny, Mr. Bingley told Mrs. Stewart all that had happened since he and Caroline had left the house. When he had purged himself, the glass was empty and Mr. Bingley looked emotionally drained.

"I would never do anything to hurt her intentionally, Mrs. Stewart. It is just that...well..." Mr. Bingley shrugged and slid down in the roomy chair.

"She deserved every word of your reproach." Mr. Bingley began to protest, but Mrs. Stewart went on. "Your sister had no right to say the things she did or to interfere in your affairs." Mr. Bingley rose.

"I should go up and speak with her." Mrs. Stewart gently caught him by the arm as he rose to leave.

"I do not think that is a good idea, Mr. B. I know you love your sister, and that you feel badly because you hurt her feelings, but going to her now would be the worst mistake you could possibly make. If she sees any sign of weakness in you now, she will use it to her advantage, mark my words." Mr. Bingley looked at his housekeeper quizzically.

"How so?"

"She will use your guilt to persuade you to do something...such as leave town?"

"I am not leaving town under any circumstances! And I will not give up Jane Bennet, either," Mr. Bingley declared stonily. Mrs. Stewart smiled.

"There you are, sir. Hold firmly to your resolve and your sister will learn to accept it." She patted Mr. Bingley on the shoulder and left him alone to think.

Mr. Bingley poured another brandy and went to his desk. He pulled out his notebook and wrote down, "Hold firmly to your resolve." Then he read through the notes he had been compiling. He decided that they were disorderly and rambling, too much like the Mr. Bingley of old. He went through his desk drawers until he found a new notebook. He carefully sharpened the tip of his new pencil and began to transcribe his notes. After a few seconds, however, he stopped, threw down his pencil and went to the window. Like his friend, Mr. Darcy, he stared out at nothing in particular as he thought.

Exactly what was Mr. Gardiner about, holding him hostage for an hour and plying him with questions? On his first meeting with the Gardiners, Mr. Bingley had thought them very encouraging and supportive of his attentions toward their niece. Had something changed their opinion? Mr. Bingley feared that Caroline's performance would put them off Bingleys entirely, but he soon abandoned that thought to worry about Jane's impression after the afternoon's fiasco.

Caroline entered the dining room cautiously a while later, and found her brother waiting for her. The two exchanged an awkward glance before retreating to opposite ends of the table. After the meal was served and the servants had left the room, Caroline looked purposefully at her brother, who tucked into his soup with more than his usual gusto.

"Well, Charles?" Mr. Bingley laid down his spoon.

"Yes, Caroline?"

"Have you nothing to say to me?" she said with an affected sadness.

"After what I said this afternoon, I am not sure I should trust myself to speak."

"You might apologize, Charles." Mr. Bingley picked up his spoon.

"I did apologize--this afternoon."

"That hardly suffices, Charles. You did not mean it." The spoon was again abandoned.

"I did mean it...Look, Caroline, no matter how much I apologized, I could not undo the pain I inflicted upon you."

"Will you not even try?" Mr. Bingley abandoned his soup entirely.

"What is the point?" he said with a tinge of exasperation in his voice in spite of his sincerity. "I have grievously injured my dearest relation and I am heartily sorry for it. What else is there for me to say?" Caroline smiled coyly.

"You might try to make up for it." Mr. Bingley cringed inwardly, knowing what would follow. Arguments with Caroline over the years had already cost him his weight in silk and lace.

"Let us go to Sussex this weekend." Mr. Bingley felt himself grow angry again. He tried to control his ire as much as two large brandies would allow.

"I am not leaving London, Caroline," he growled. Her pout was met with an uncharacteristically steely blue-eyed gaze. Caroline almost laughed at it, until she realized that he was in earnest.

"But Charles..." she persisted. "I know how you love Mr. Hurst's grounds. We could invite Mr. Darcy and the two of you could hunt and fish, or even ride, if he is sufficiently recovered. The change would do both of you a world of good. I know that Mr. Darcy--."

"Mr. Darcy goes to Kent next week to visit his aunt, Caroline, as I have already told you. And, as I have already told you, I am staying in London. I have no craving for Mr. Hurst's trout." His tone was mild, but inside he was furious. Mrs. Stewart's warning had proved true, and he was very displeased. Caroline signaled for a servant to come and remove her soup.

"It is Jane Bennet that keeps you here, is it not?" Caroline accused. "Good God, Charles, you seem determined to be made a fool of by that woman!"

"On the contrary, Caroline," growled Mr. Bingley as he rose and threw down his napkin. "I am determined that no woman shall make a fool of me!" With that he strode from the room, stopping only to bark an order to a footman to bring the remainder of his supper to his study. Mortified, Caroline remained where she sat. Her appetite gone, she toyed with her meal as she pondered the sudden change in her brother's usually tractable demeanor. Finally, she withdrew to her sitting room, where she took up pen and paper and wrote a note. Moments later, a footman carried the note to the home of Mr. Darcy.

"Edward?" Mr. Gardiner looked up and saw his wife standing in the doorway. Mrs. Gardiner made it a point to never violate her husband's "inner sanctum" without his permission. Mr. Gardiner smiled and rose to meet her as she stepped into the study. The couple repaired to a window seat and Mr. Gardiner sighed as he awaited the inevitable interrogation.

"How do you intend to bring those two together, Edward? I am very concerned that Miss Bingley will do something rash and Jane's heart will be broken again." Mr. Gardiner placed an arm about his wife's shoulders and spoke reassuringly.

"She will not succeed. Trust me, my love. All will work out in the end."

"But how...what are you about, Edward?" Mr. Gardiner laughed softly.

"I see, you persist in doubting me. But I assure you, there is a method to my madness."

"You said that before...well, I certainly do not understand what you intend to do. Will you not reveal your plan to me?" Mrs. Gardiner asked.

"And spoil the surprise?" Mr. Gardiner teased. Before Mrs. Gardiner could form an answer, a soft knock was heard at the door. Mr. Gardiner gave permission for the visitor to enter, and Jane stepped into the room.

"Here you are, both of you," she said. "I have been looking for you, Aunt. I am glad I found you both together. It," and here she paused, to avert her eyes, "will make it easier. I have given the matter some thought and I...Uncle, I wish to return home to Hertfordshire." The Gardiners were stunned.

"Return home?" Mrs. Gardiner managed.

"Yes, immediately, if possible. I do not want to be any more of a burden than--."

"Nonsense, child! You could never be a burden to Madeline or to me. We love you as much as any of our own children, and we insist that you stay," asserted Mr. Gardiner.

"But, Uncle...." Mr. Gardiner would brook no refusal.

"I know what this is about, and I think you are acting too hastily."

"But, Uncle, I do not think--."

"I will do the thinking, Jane. All I ask is that you give me a little time. Two weeks...yes, give me two weeks to try and straighten things out. If nothing improves by then, I will transport you home myself." Mr. Gardiner kissed Jane on her forehead, and she hugged him tightly, unable to suppress her tears. Mrs. Gardiner gently pulled Jane from her husband's arms and led her to her room, where the ladies had a long talk.

"I will take them, Harris," Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he scooped up the small pile of letters and cards from the butler's tray.

"You will find Mr. Darcy in the--," he began unnecessarily, as the Colonel was halfway through the door to the morning room before he could finish.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Darcy said as Colonel Fitzwilliam dropped the mail on the table before him and went to the sideboard in search of sustenance.

"Am I not allowed to pay my respects to my dear, injured cousin?" he asked with a smile. "I have come to deliver a message. Write a letter to Mama. She says that she has not heard from you in months," the Colonel replied as he piled his plate. Mr. Darcy meticulously refolded his newspaper and laid it aside as the Colonel came to the table. He waited while the Colonel gaped incredulously at the young maid who shamelessly batted her eyelashes at him while she poured his coffee.

"Where did she come from?" the Colonel asked as he dug into his eggs. Mr. Darcy sipped his coffee as he sifted through the mail before him.

"Hmmm? Oh, she is the cook's younger daughter. She will not be here for very long," he replied.

"You will not dismiss her for flirting with me, surely," said the Colonel with his mouth full. Mr. Darcy smirked.

"If I were to fire every servant girl who flirted with you, this would be a houseful of men only!" Mr. Darcy murmured as he opened Caroline's note. He furrowed his brow as he read.

"Something serious?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked when he noticed his cousin's expression.

"No...nothing of import," Mr. Darcy replied absently, although the Colonel noticed that Mr. Darcy stuffed the note into his pocket. The Colonel smiled knowingly.

"Who is she?"

"What?" The Colonel nodded toward Mr. Darcy's pocket. "Oh. Caroline Bingley. And before you get the wrong idea," he added hastily, "She wrote to me only out of concern for her brother."

"Do tell," said the Colonel as she sipped his coffee. He wanted to know exactly what Caroline was up to.

"It is nothing...some girl he is involved with." Colonel Fitzwilliam felt a pang of righteous anger.

"Jane Bennet?"

"How did you know? Yes, it is Jane Bennet. Caroline seems to think that she has set her cap at him again," Mr. Darcy said as he looked over his other mail.

"You mean that Bingley has set his sights on Jane Bennet again and his sister does not approve," the Colonel spat, earning a surprised look from his cousin.

"What do you know of it?"

"Only that you and Miss Bingley very nearly ruined Bingley's best chance of happiness and that you had absolutely no right to do so."

"You know nothing of the matter, Fitz," Mr. Darcy declared, rising from his chair and striding to the window. "Jane Bennet is unsuitable."

"By your criteria...who are you to decide how your friend is to be made happy? Of all the arrogant...never mind." The Colonel rose to take his leave. "Forgive me, cousin, I misspoke. I have no more right to interfere in this matter than either you or Miss Bingley." With that, the Colonel made a curt bow and departed, leaving a stunned Mr. Darcy and a very disappointed young maid with a plate of sweet rolls. He stared after Colonel Fitzwilliam for some time, before shrugging his shoulders dismissively. What was that about? He pulled out Caroline's note and read it again. He sent a footman to collect his hat and coat and headed for the door.

"I am going out for a while, Mr. Harris." He paused at the top of the steps and thought about the Colonel's comments once more, before he went down to the carriage and headed for Mr. Bingley's house.

Caroline was quite vexed to find that Mr. Bingley had already left the house before she came down to breakfast. She strongly suspected that he had gone to the Gardiners' and had half a mind to follow him. But Mrs. Stewart insisted that Mr. Bingley had gone shopping. Caroline needled Mrs. Stewart for details, but Mrs. Stewart could offer no information. Caroline suspected the housekeeper of lying, but lacking proof, she could do nothing but await his return. As it turned out, Caroline was at home when Mr. Darcy arrived, and she considered his appearance something of a reward for her forbearance.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, how good of you to come to me so promptly. Charles has gone out, so we may speak privately." She took him by the arm and led the reluctant man into the parlor.

"Miss Bingley...perhaps...it would not be proper for us to meet--."

"You are too good, Mr. Darcy. To be concerned for my honor at a time such as this. But there is no need, I assure you. We are old friends. Surely we can bend the rules of propriety just a bit?" she smiled slyly. Mr. Darcy flinched.

"I make it a habit to never bend the rules of propriety where a lady is concerned. Perhaps your housekeeper--."

"No, Mr. Darcy!" Caroline declared, closing the door behind them. "Mrs. Stewart is absolutely not to be trusted. I suspect she is in league with Charles, or perhaps even with the Bennets." Mr. Darcy sighed impatiently.

"I sincerely doubt it, Miss Bingley. Why would Mrs. Stewart--?" Caroline, still clamped to Mr. Darcy's arm, answered in conspiratorial tones.

"Charles closets himself in his study with her for hours at a time...."

"She is his housekeeper, Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy intoned. "Perhaps they are simply going over accounts, or ordering supplies, or...."

"And he tells her everything, things he does not wish his own sister to know."

"Everyone needs a confidant, Miss Bingley. His is a fifty year-old woman," Mr. Darcy said lamely, unwilling to concede any of Caroline's argument.

"Surely you do not think that Charles should confide in a servant. They are all notorious gossips. And why should he not trust his own sister, or his closest friend?"

Why not, indeed? thought Mr. Darcy. Perhaps because he feels he can no longer trust us after what we did to him last fall. Fitzwilliam said that we had no right to interfere. Perhaps he has said as much to Bingley...no. There is no reason for Bingley to have spoken to Fitzwilliam about this. What was he so upset about? Miss Crenshaw...she is a friend of the Bennets. Perhaps...no, how should Miss Crenshaw come to discuss such a thing with Fitzwilliam, even if ...impossible!

"Mr. Darcy?" Caroline was staring into his eyes and when he realized it he blinked and abruptly stood up. "Where are you going, Mr. Darcy? We have not yet formulated a strategy!" Mr. Darcy had instinctively summoned his flight response and was at the door before he was even aware of it. He turned to address Miss Bingley.

"I...I do not think that...Miss Bingley, allow me to make a few inquiries on your behalf. I want to understand your brother's...danger before proceeding."

"Danger?" Caroline repeated, rising and advancing on Mr. Darcy. "He is in grave danger, Mr. Darcy I assure you. You need make no inquiries to see that. The Bennets are determined to have him as a son in law and have marshaled the Gardiners as their allies. You are my only ally, Mr. Darcy." Caroline stroked his lapel gently. "I am depending on you." Mr. Darcy felt his spine make contact with the mahogany paneled door.

"I...I am not sure that there is much I can do. I am leaving town very soon. I will in all likelihood only see Bingley once before I leave--at dinner tomorrow night. I can try to speak with him then," Mr. Darcy said uneasily. His conscience suddenly plagued him, as though his cousin's words had pierced his soul and the realization of what he had done came pouring out. Mr. Darcy bid a hasty farewell and fled to the security of his carriage. He gave his coachman a direction, and sat back to consider his sins.

Mr. Bingley entered the establishment and was impressed by the fine items on display. The scent of cardamom, mace, and allspice wafted its way to his senses. He breathed it in deeply and was instantly transported to the exotic lands he had only read about in books. China, furnishings, textiles, and objets d'art from all the British Isles and the Orient were displayed all around him in beautiful cases. A fine woolen shawl from the Aran Islands was draped over a mahogany chest from the West Indies. Chinese porcelain sat amid carvings of ivory and jade. Shelves containing silks, laces, and ribbons beckoned the eye. The sight of so many exotic trinkets and treasures always enchanted Mr. Bingley. He peered into a large case at the back of the warehouse and was instantly drawn to a small bowl of fine crystal. As he closely examined its faceted design, a clerk quietly approached.

"Good day to you, sir. I am Mr. Pierce. May I be of service?" Mr. Bingley turned to face the man and smiled. The clerk nodded toward the bowl. "Beautiful, is it not? The finest Irish crystal. They arrived only days ago and already they are nearly all spoken for."

"Then I shall not hesitate. I will take one." The clerk bowed, and called for an assistant to wrap up the prize.

"May I show you something else, Mr.--?"

"Bingley. Yes, actually. I would like to speak with the proprietor." If the clerk was surprised by this request, he did not show it.

"There are two, Mr. Bingley. May I summon Mr. Finch or Mr. Gardiner?"

"This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Darcy. Do have a seat."

"Thank you, Mr. Crenshaw." Mr. Darcy suddenly felt silly. Why had he come here? What could Miss Crenshaw possibly tell him? Mr. Crenshaw, as garrulous as ever, carried most of the conversation while Mr. Darcy squirmed uncomfortably, occasionally offering a brief comment. After a few minutes, the doors opened, and Olivia Crenshaw entered, followed by Jane Bennet.

"Mr. Darcy! I did not expect to find you here. I believe you know Miss Bennet," Olivia said in an arch manner reminiscent of Elizabeth Bennet, a point that was not lost on the recipient of her comment.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said automatically, his mind instantly on the absent sister rather than the one before him.

"Good morning to you, Mr. Darcy," replied Jane demurely. She took a seat some distance away from him and he found himself momentarily staring after her.

"What brings you to _____ Street, Mr. Darcy?" Olivia asked, continuing to provoke Mr. Darcy's interest. It was little wonder to him that she and Elizabeth should be good friends. They seemed so alike in manner and temperament. He wondered whether one of the ladies had influenced the other, or if their similar natures were mutually attractive.

"I was visiting the Bingleys and thought that I should stop in while I was in the neighborhood to remind you of my invitation for the day after tomorrow." Olivia's teasing laughter tormented him. It held that same mocking tone...the sound of Elizabeth's laughter one night at Netherfield came to mind, and he tried to suppress the memory.

"We have not forgotten. Jane and I have spent the entire morning planning our attire for the event," she said in a manner that told Mr. Darcy that they had done no such thing. He wondered if they had spent the morning plotting a strategy for securing Mr. Bingley's affections, then discarded the notion. Elizabeth would never resort to such arts, nor would her friend. Mr. Darcy glanced at Jane once more and knew that she was above such behavior as well. Miss Bingley had been completely wrong in her assumptions about Jane Bennet.

"You need not go to too much trouble. It is only a small affair...your family, Miss Bennet, my cousin Fitzwilliam...oh, and the Bingleys," he said with a surreptitious glance toward Jane. Jane's reaction, however, surprised him. She did not appear too eager to see the Bingleys. Mr. Darcy began to fear that Caroline was making up the whole story about her brother simply to get her clutches on him. After all, Jane had spent nearly an hour in Mr. Bingley's company at the theatre and had shown no apparent interest in the man.

"I understand that you are soon to go to Kent, Mr. Darcy," Jane was saying. Mr. Darcy looked his surprise. Jane laughed shyly. "Mr. Bingley mentioned it." Mr. Darcy nodded slowly. "You may encounter Lizzy there. She is visiting our relation in Hunsford." Mr. Darcy was all attention.

"Hunsford?" he said with a slight cough, as he resisted every urge to beg Jane for details. "I will not be far from Hunsford. My aunt's estate is a short distance from the town." Jane smiled politely and turned her attention elsewhere. Mr. Darcy eyed her curiously. She had obviously not meant to rouse him. She was just making conversation. Mr. Darcy silently cursed Miss Bingley's paranoia. Shortly thereafter, Mr. Darcy rose to take his leave. He had not learned anything of use to Caroline Bingley, but he had heard something to give his heart wings. As his carriage drove off Mr. Darcy smiled self-indulgently. Well, perhaps this has not been a total waste of time, after all. So, Elizabeth Bennet is in Hunsford....

"Mr. Bingley, do come in," said Edward Gardiner, extending his hand in greeting as the young man was shown into the finely appointed office. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected call?" he asked as he steered his visitor to a chair. Actually, Mr. Gardiner was not at all surprised to see Mr. Bingley. He simply had not expected to see him so soon or in his place of business.

"This is quite a lovely emporium, Mr. Gardiner. My family has been shopping here for years. I had no idea that you were the proprietor," he said ingenuously.

"Well, until this week, I doubt that such knowledge would have been of much interest to you. May I offer you some tea? I often take 'elevenses" as my staff do." Mr. Gardiner reached behind his desk for a velvet pull, and summoned a servant. In minutes the men were sipping tea and chatting easily.

"I now know that you prefer shortbread to ginger biscuits, Mr. Bingley," said Mr. Gardiner after a while, "But you still have not told me what brings you to Finch and Gardiner." Mr. Gardiner's smile showed no evidence of suspicion, merely curiosity. Nonetheless, Mr. Bingley grew nervous.

"I...I came about yesterday, Mr. Gardiner. I wanted to...apologize...for my sister's behavior," Mr. Bingley began.

"I assure you, there is no need, sir. We had a splendid time yesterday. I do hope that we can persuade you to join us again sometime soon." Mr. Bingley eyed Mr. Gardiner doubtingly.

"Yes...yes, I should like that. I should like that very much. I do wish to see more of you...." Mr. Bingley's throat went dry and his mind went blank. What was it he had planned to say?

"You mean you wish to see more of my niece," Mr. Gardiner offered helpfully. Mr. Bingley blushed and smiled.

"Yes. Yes, I do wish to see more of Jane...uh, Miss Bennet." Mr. Bingley's cheeks were in a fair way to become redder than the burgundy upholstery on which he sat. Mr. Gardiner could not help but smile at the hapless lover.

"Mr. Gardiner, I realize that you are only her uncle...I mean...that is...I wish to--."

"You are in love with Jane and would like to court her."

"Yes!" Mr. Bingley's face fell. "Am I that transparent?" he asked in awe. Mr. Gardiner could not help laughing aloud as he nodded.

"Any fool with eyes can see that, Mr. Bingley." Mr. Bingley lowered is eyes to his lap. "Forgive me, sir. I meant no offense. But it is patently plain to me that you are very much in love with my niece and that she is in love with you. I cannot for the--."

"She is?" Once again, Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up and a smile beamed across the large rosewood desk.

"I should have thought that you realized that in Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley," Mr. Gardiner said seriously.

"I did. At least I thought I did, but I was persuaded otherwise." Mr. Gardiner leaned forward in his seat.

"What are you saying, sir?" He wanted to hear the truth from Mr. Bingley's own lips. Elizabeth had told him of her suspicions, but Mr. Gardiner wanted the facts. He wanted to know exactly what he would be going up against. So, for the second time in a matter of days, Mr. Bingley told the tale he had kept a dark secret for five months.

"I allowed my friend...and my own sisters...to talk me out of asking for her hand. I have regretted it ever since." Mr. Bingley looked up determinedly. "But I am determined to make up for my mistake, if she will still have me."

"Your sister remains opposed to the match," Mr. Gardiner stated. Mr. Bingley nodded. "How do intend to deal with her objections?" Mr. Bingley smiled and pulled out his new notebook.

Chapter 5

Shortly after Mr. Darcy's departure, Olivia and Jane took their leave of Mr. Crenshaw and headed for an exhibition of Italian sculpture at the Royal Academy. They alit from the carriage and plunged into the throng of patrons who had also come for the opening. The ladies struggled through the crowded hall until they were well away from the entrance and the crowd thinned considerably.

"I daresay the ton is more concerned about being seen here than seeing anything of the art," Olivia sniped as she adjusted her hat. Jane seemed unperturbed by the crush of people.

"It was good of you to invite me out today, Livy. I do believe I was driving my dear aunt and uncle insane hanging about the house," she confessed.

"Actually, your Uncle Gardiner should have the credit. It was he who suggested that I get you out of the house. He even provided the tickets to the exhibition." Jane smiled at Olivia's revelation. It was just like her uncle to be so thoughtful. He knew that Jane had been depressed of late, and he knew that Jane would have refused an outing if he or Mrs. Gardiner had suggested it. So he had discretely enlisted Olivia's help in coaxing Jane out of her lethargy. The pair strolled through the halls of the gallery and admired the art, stopping on occasion to read about one or another of the works from the exhibition catalogue. Their progress was slow and leisurely, and both ladies were enjoying themselves.

"Livy," asked Jane after a while. "Do you think Mr. Darcy is handsome?" Olivia was completely caught off guard by Jane's wholly unexpected question.

"Jane?" was all the reply Olivia could manage as Jane stopped before an imposing sculpture modeled on Michelangelo's David.

"I think he is very handsome," Jane said with a slight blush of her cheeks. "I must confess that there are times when he looks at me that I feel a chill run up my spine," she giggled. Jane walked on to the next statue, while Olivia remained riveted where she stood, not quite knowing what to make of what she had heard. Had Jane transferred her affections from one man to another? Olivia recovered from her reverie and closed the distance between herself and Jane, who was still speaking.

"Admit it, Olivia Crenshaw, you think him very handsome as well."

"Yes...very handsome," Olivia said obligingly. "Of course, I prefer the looks of a man like Colonel Fitzwilliam...that is, I prefer smiling, lively men to the somber, brooding variety," Olivia revealed with a blush of her own.

"Oh, the Colonel is very handsome, especially when he smiles--which he seems to do a great deal in your company. He obviously thinks very well of you. I could tell by the way he looked at you that night at the theatre," Jane sighed. "If Mr. Darcy ever looked at me the way the Colonel looked at you, I think I should melt away entirely!" Jane giggled again as Olivia gaped at her. "It would be wonderful to be so admired...dare I say, loved?" Never in all their acquaintance had she heard Jane speak so boldly. And rather than understand that Jane was attempting to tease more of a confession from Olivia about her feelings for the Colonel, Olivia could only hear Jane profess her love for Mr. Darcy.

"Jane, what are you saying?" she gasped. "You cannot be..." Olivia paused and grabbed Jane by the wrist and drew her to a relatively secluded spot. "You cannot mean that you are falling for Mr. Darcy!" she whispered. Jane's eyes opened wide, and she burst into laughter, which led Olivia to shake her impatiently. "Jane!"

"No, Livy, no! Really, Olivia, the idea is too absurd! Anyone can plainly see that he is in love with Lizzy." Olivia exhaled. "I was just trying to imagine what it would be like to be admired by such a man." Jane's expression clouded over, all signs of laughter gone. "I should not wish to be in love with someone who did not love me in return. I just wish...I would wish...for someone to love me-." Jane averted her eyes as tears welled up and threatened to spill over. Olivia offered her a handkerchief. "I have been trying not to think about it," Jane began. "But I have been so wretched ever since-."

"Jane? Is this about Mr. Bingley?" Olivia asked gently. Jane nodded and a tear stained her cheek.

"Put this somewhere secure, Marsters," Mr. Bingley ordered, handing a small box to the footman as he entered the carriage. "Carefully, man!" he called out. "It is very fragile."

"Home, sir?" asked Marsters.

"Not just yet, old man. I have another stop to make." He gave the direction to the coachman and the carriage sped off, Mr. Bingley humming contentedly to himself.

"I suppose I was wrong to think that he would still harbor a fond regard for me after all this time. I thought it was so when he appeared at my uncle's door with Lizzy. He stayed to supper that night and was very attentive." Jane seemed to find courage and lifted her head. "And then at the theatre I realized my error."

"What are you talking about? Mr. Bingley paid you particular attention that night. He even sat with you in our box through the whole first act."

"During which he spoke barely a word and studied Mr. Darcy's countenance for the space of an hour. His 'particular attention'," Jane said bitterly, "Extended to escorting me to our box and occasionally offering me lemon drops."

"Oh, dear," said Olivia, trying to reconcile this account of Mr. Bingley with that of the lovesick swain portrayed by Elizabeth just a week earlier.

"And then yesterday," Jane said, as she began to walk toward a small bronze on a pedestal, "Mr. Bingley came to tea and again barely addressed me, although his sister is probably to blame for that."

"His sister?" Jane studied the bronze as she spoke.

"Caroline Bingley forced herself on our company and proceeded to ruin the entire afternoon. Livy, it was so awful and I am sure that it was done deliberately. By the time they left I was ready to pack my things and return to Hertfordshire. I might have left this morning had not my uncle begged me to remain another two weeks."

"I am very glad that he did, and you should too, Jane," Olivia said with a sudden smile. Jane looked at her quizzically.

"Why?" For an answer, Olivia grasped her by the shoulders and turned her around. A short distance away, admiring the statue of David, stood Mr. Bingley. Jane gasped and turned back to Olivia, but she had disappeared into another gallery. At that moment, Mr. Bingley noticed Jane and swiftly made his way to her. Jane took a deep breath and awaited his address.

"Miss Bennet," he smiled and bowed formally. "I am delighted to see you here. Are you an aficionado of the Italians, as well?" Jane's heart was beating wildly; she nodded more out of instinct than conscious thought. She opened her mouth and closed it again, before she found words.

"I am equally happy to see you, Mr. Bingley. You must have been put on this earth to come to the rescue of the Bennet sisters." Now it was Mr. Bingley's turn to be confused. He raised his eyebrows in question.

"I believe I am lost, sir," Jane said, her cheeks glowing.

"Are you here all alone, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked, looking about for any sign of Mrs. Gardiner.

"Well, to own the truth, I was with Miss Crenshaw, but she appears to have abandoned me." A wry smile played about Mr. Bingley's lips as he offered his arm.

"Shall we try and find her?" The couple strolled away, and within minutes--after Mr. Bingley observed: "Very elusive, your Miss Crenshaw"--the object of their search was completely forgotten. So it came to pass that through the careful maneuvers of Olivia to stay just out of sight (not to mention Mr. Gardiner's excellent foresight in procuring a pair of tickets to an exhibition that he knew Mr. Bingley was wild to see that very afternoon) Jane and Mr. Bingley toured the exhibit together. They made pleasant conversation, renewed their unspoken understanding, and on occasion, saw a bit of the art. They spent twenty minutes amid the throng in pure bliss. Mr. Bingley stared into Jane's eyes with but one thought: She loves me! Jane's heart made no such assumptions of her companion, but her own love for Mr. Bingley ruled her emotions.

When Olivia grew weary of dodging the couple and felt assured that Jane no longer coveted the welcoming arms of Hertfordshire, she reappeared before the pair and exclaimed dramatically about how long she had been scouring the halls. Mr. Bingley was frankly unconvinced by her performance but he was nonetheless extremely grateful for her presence of mind. He invited the ladies to tea and, as he sipped, decided that if Jane was an angel, Miss Crenshaw must be some sort of saint.

Mr. Bingley handed his butler his hat, coat, gloves, and walking stick before accepting the parcel from Marsters' hands. Mr. Bingley gingerly carried his precious cargo to his study, where he placed the box on his mantel.

"Is that for me?"

"I am afraid not, Caroline," Mr. Bingley replied as he turned to his sister. "This is a gift for a friend."

"A 'friend'? Anyone I know?" she asked sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact, Caroline, you do know the lady," Mr. Bingley responded as he went to his desk and began to sort through the stack of mail Mrs. Stewart had left for him. Caroline glowered at him.

"Really, Charles! You go too far! I beg you to leave off this crazy notion of yours...." Caroline paused to take in Mr. Bingley's surprised expression. "I am saying this for your own good. And Mr. Darcy agrees with me on this," she added pleadingly.

"Darcy! He does not even know her!" Mr. Bingley laughed, realizing his sister's mistake. He decided to keep it to himself for the time being.

"Not know her? Charles, I am beginning to worry about you."

"I assure you, dear sister, I am quite well." Mr. Bingley sat down and broke the seal on a letter from his solicitor. "What I want to know..." he said as her perused the letter, "Is why... you and Darcy...should have cause to discuss ...Miss Wheldon." He threw down the letter and awaited Caroline's reply.

"Miss Wheldon? I am not talking about that dotty old nurse! I am speaking of Jane Bennet!"

"What of Jane Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked mildly.

"You are buying her gifts!" Caroline launched into a diatribe about the scheming Bennets, flailing her arms about as she ranted on for several minutes. Mr. Bingley showed great calm in the face of her storm. In fact, he did not hear a word of her speech as he read his mail. Caroline stopped mid-sentence when she realized that she was being ignored. When the room fell silent, Mr. Bingley looked up.

"So Darcy came by while I was out? I am very sorry to have missed him," he said as he rang for a servant. Caroline gaped at him as he drew out pen and paper and wrote a brief note. In a few moments, he looked up again at the sound of a familiar knock and bade Mrs. Stewart to enter.

"Ah, Mrs. Stewart. Any chance of an early dinner? I am famished." Mrs. Stewart assured him that a hot meal could be on the table in minutes. Satisfied, Mr. Bingley dismissed the housekeeper, only to call her back as soon as she closed the door. Mr. Bingley rose and retrieved the box.

"Would you be so kind, Mrs. Stewart, as to see to this?" Mr. Bingley handed her his note. "The direction is on the letter."

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Stewart curtseyed and would have left, but Mr. Bingley hailed her yet again.

"Perhaps you should send it express. Miss Wheldon's birthday is in just two days' time." Mr. Bingley stole a glance at Caroline. He straightened his collar before offering his arm to his red-faced and irate sister.

"Shall we go in to dinner? Caroline glared at him and stomped out of the room. Mr. Bingley followed her, chuckling softly all the way to the table.

Mr. Gardiner had been absolutely charmed by his visitor, although hours later he was still unable to make very much of Mr. Bingley's animated discussion about "strategies," nor could he grasp exactly how his niece Elizabeth--who was some thirty miles away in Kent--could possibly be of any use to Mr. Bingley's cause. Mr. Gardiner was nonetheless impressed by Mr. Bingley's determination and enthusiasm. He obviously loved Jane very much and was willing to do whatever was necessary to win her. Even so, Mr. Gardiner decided not to tip his hand and offer his assistance directly. He would rather not intervene at all, if he could help it, and if he did he would rather that the couple believed that fate--and not a meddling uncle--had played a role in bringing them together.

So Mr. Gardiner allowed Mr. Bingley to rant on for several minutes about his intentions towards Jane, until the clock struck two. Mr. Bingley quickly ended his audience then, claiming that he was scheduled to attend a reception to mark the opening of a new exhibit at the Royal Academy. Mr. Gardiner smiled to himself as Mr. Bingley left his office, and when he arrived home that evening and learned that Jane had met Mr. Bingley at the exhibition, he was very pleased with his own strategy. Jane fairly floated for the next twenty-four hours, her spirits buoyed by her "chance meeting" with Mr. Bingley. She smiled radiantly as she darned her cousins' socks. She smiled as she assisted Mrs. Gardiner with her charity work, and she smiled herself to sleep, looking forward to seeing Mr. Bingley the next day.

Caroline was shocked the following evening to find that Mr. Darcy had not only invited her brother and herself to dinner but Jane Bennet as well, accompanied by Mr. Crenshaw and his daughter. Caroline was quite put out, even after Mr. Bingley explained to her that the dinner invitation had originally been extended to the Crenshaws and Miss Bennet and that he and Caroline were later additions to the party. She would not accept the notion that Mr. Darcy would actually invite a Bennet into his own house. She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least Eliza Bennet was not part of the party.

Mr. Darcy, his concussion now a distant memory, didn't bat an eyelash when Mr. Bingley took a seat at the dinner table next to Jane, but Caroline was visibly upset. Mr. Crenshaw was given the place of honor at the table, and Olivia was at Mr. Darcy's other side. Caroline did not deign to perceive Olivia as a threat, but she fumed at being separated from her dearest object and took out her frustration on her nearest neighbor, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He, on the other hand, was oblivious to her rudeness. The Colonel had spoken to Miss Crenshaw, not to any more significant purpose than to exchange greetings, but her reception had been more than civil. It was balm to his bruised heart and he was in too good a mood to let Miss Bingley spoil it. The Colonel repeatedly attempted to engage Miss Bingley in conversation, which she either responded to tersely or not at all, to the secret amusement of Mr. Darcy and Olivia.

"So, Mr. Bingley: Did you make your selection?" Jane asked as the dishes were cleared.

"Yes. I went back to the Royal Academy this morning and was able to speak with the artist himself. I am to meet with him next week to look at more of his work," Mr. Bingley replied proudly, drawing Caroline's attention.

"What are you speaking of, Charles?" she inquired suspiciously.

"Oh," Mr. Bingley returned casually, "I saw a small figure yesterday that I thought would make a nice addition to my collection." Caroline practically snorted.

"Collection? Whatever do you mean, Charles? Do not be so pretentious," Caroline sneered. "The few pieces you have managed to find on your own are not very good, and could scarcely be called a 'collection'. Perhaps you should consult Mr. Darcy before you acquire anything more. His taste is impeccable." There was momentary silence as everyone at the table was taken aback by Caroline's vicious and unnecessary put down of her brother. Caroline grew uncomfortable. "Mr. Darcy, have you been to the exhibition?" she assayed.

"No, Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy answered tightly. "But I would be very interested in what Bingley found there, however. Your earlier acquisitions in Milan proved to be very good investments," he added, turning toward Mr. Bingley. The conversation quickly turned to art, and soon all were engaged in a lively discussion save for the Colonel, whose interest in art had long ago been subsumed by his fascination with military history. If a painting or a sculpture did not depict a famous general or commemorate a significant battle, Colonel Fitzwilliam's interest extended only as far as its colors held his attention.

Caroline only feigned interest in the conversation, having only pretended to pay attention to her art master during his boring lectures. Art collecting was fashionable and Caroline was never one to ignore fashion, but that did not mean that she actually cared about art. In fact, she had no idea that her brother's collection was small but quite impressive until Mr. Darcy had corrected her opinion. Now she sought to interject a comment here and there in the conversation to convince Mr. Darcy that she, too, was a connoisseur of art. She found herself, however, unable to capture Mr. Darcy's attention, so she turned her attention to Jane.

"Jane, you should try and go to the exhibition at the Royal Academy. A new exhibit of French sculpture just opened a few days ago. You would be exposed to whole new level of artistic experience, dear," she said smugly. Olivia rolled her eyes and hoped that Jane would say something, but that lady just smiled politely and tucked into her pudding. Olivia started to speak up, but was distracted by a question from Mr. Darcy. All too soon, Olivia lost her chance to turn the tables on Caroline.

Oblivious to Olivia's frustration, Mr. Darcy enjoyed his dinner conversation with the Crenshaws, and although he could still not condone his friend's budding romance with Jane Bennet, he was able to appreciate the dramatic improvement in Mr. Bingley's spirits. Chastened by his cousin's set down a few days earlier, Mr. Darcy chose to ignore the apparent renewal of affections between the pair as he observed Miss Bennet carefully, looking for traces of the younger sister in her manners. Caroline caught him staring and took it as a sign of Mr. Darcy's disapproval. A smug smile suffused her features and she was sufficiently mollified as to answer one of the Colonel's questions with a complete sentence.

When dinner was over, the ladies retired to the music room while the four men remained behind for cigars and port. Caroline led the way down the hall with a proprietary air, pointing out minute and intimate details about the portraits on the walls and relating the history of some object or another. She clearly meant to convince her companions of her intimacy with Mr. Darcy, but neither Olivia nor Jane was terribly impressed. Upon entering the drawing room, Caroline remarked that she would change the décor of the room at her earliest opportunity. "I do despise pale blue, you know. It is so...juvenile," she said, cognizant of the fact that both Jane and Olivia were dressed in that shade. "I would do something far more dramatic in here, perhaps in red, with dark mahogany furniture-"

"I should think that Miss Darcy should prefer the room to stay as it is, Miss Bingley. After all, I believe that Mr. Darcy recently had this room especially redone according to her taste." Olivia's smile was innocence itself, as she watched Caroline's artificial smile freeze.

"Have you met Miss Darcy, Jane?" Olivia asked.

"I have not had that pleasure," Jane replied, taking a seat near the fire.

"Oh, Miss Darcy is a lovely girl," Caroline chimed in. "You would adore her. So pretty, so charming. She's quite a favorite of Charles' you know. And, unless I am mistaken, she is excessively fond of him as well. I have high hopes of--but I speak prematurely," cooed Miss Bingley, taking a seat opposite Jane to observe the effect of her words. Jane had gone pale, but she held her head high and refused to give Caroline the satisfaction of a greater display.

So that is to be your game, is it, Miss Bingley? Olivia had never met Caroline Bingley before, although she had seen her numerous times at various gatherings. She certainly knew of her; Olivia had spent that very morning gathering intelligence from a mutual acquaintance and had learned of Caroline's ambitious plans to ensnare Mr. Darcy. Olivia had been instantly disposed to dislike the woman from the moment Miss Bingley had looked down her arrogant little nose and condescendingly greeted her upon her arrival. She was not about to let Caroline ruin Jane's evening. An appropriate retort was forming in Olivia's mind when the door opened and the men entered the room, led by Mr. Darcy. Olivia immediately shifted her strategy.

"Jane, have you heard from Lizzy?" she asked as soon as Mr. Darcy was within her hearing. Like a moth to a flame, Mr. Darcy was immediately drawn in.

"Oh, yes, Livy. I received a letter from her just this morning. She has arrived safely and sends her love," Jane said, "She also asked me to tell you that you should be receiving your own letter shortly."

"I trust, then, that she had a pleasant journey?" Mr. Darcy said, coming to stand near Jane's chair. Caroline's senses were aroused; why should Mr. Darcy be asking about Eliza Bennet?

"Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy wrote that she had a lovely trip into the country and she seems to be enjoying her stay with our cousin," Jane replied. Mr. Bingley drew near to Jane and she ducked her head to avoid his eyes. Olivia noticed the movement, and her resentment of Miss Bingley increased. Mr. Bingley stood nearby and tried without success to catch Jane's eye.

"It is a pity she could not spend more time in London," Mr. Darcy said. "But then, as you said, she is enjoying herself among her relations." Olivia rejoiced inwardly. Good, show, Mr. Darcy! Banish that smug smile from Miss Bingley's face. She looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam significantly, but the Colonel was observing Caroline, his expression unreadable.

"Oh! Was Miss Eliza Bennet in town?" asked Caroline. "How delightful it must have been for you to see her again, Jane, dear. Was she in town long?" she asked, her eyes fixed on Mr. Darcy.

"She was here but three days. She only stopped in town to visit with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner before going on to--"

"Oh, but it is such a shame that you had so little time with her here. Dear Eliza! I am sure she would have loved to have had time to go to all the shops, to attend balls, go to the theatre--all the little things a girl cannot do in the country."

You are all kindness, madam, Olivia glowered and crossed her arms. Across the room, Colonel Fitzwilliam could see the sour expression on Olivia's face. He furrowed his brows and drew closer to the conversation. Mr. Bingley left Jane and went to join Mr. Crenshaw at the table where a servant was pouring coffee. Jane looked after him, and with a pang of longing, lowered her head once more.

"It is a pity I did not have a chance to see her. It has been an age since we have spoken," Caroline continued, voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you saw her, Mr. Darcy. I know that must have been a treat for you, being such an admirer of her fine eyes." Mr. Darcy walked away from Jane and went to set his coffee cup down on a table just behind the settee where Caroline sat. He wasn't about to make himself an easy target.

"Oh, but you must have seen her as well, Miss Bingley," the Colonel offered, beginning to understand Olivia's anger. "She was at the theatre last week when we saw 'Twelfth Night.'" Caroline's mouth fell open.

"Miss Eliza Bennet was at the theatre? Why did you not tell me, Mr. Darcy?" she asked, twisting around in an effort to catch his eye.

"I should not have thought it necessary to inform you, Miss Bingley," the Colonel said. "She was sitting directly opposite you the whole evening." Caroline glanced at Mr. Darcy and instantly understood the Colonel's meaning. She blanched, and was virtually silent for the remainder of the evening. When Mr. Bingley approached Jane, Caroline glowered at her brother but did not interfere. Jane, however, had taken Caroline's hint about Miss Darcy just seriously enough to become insecure. As soon as it was possible to do so, Olivia went to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Her smile told him that he was back in her good graces.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I could kiss you," she whispered. His eyebrows shot up and he did not trust himself to speak. She laughed at his sheepish expression and explained. "You silenced Miss Bingley better than I ever could have done." She quickly retreated, leaving the confused Colonel to wonder if it would be proper to claim his reward.

The Crenshaws, along with Jane, were the first to leave, and Mr. Darcy saw his guests to the door. When he returned to the drawing room, he found Caroline waiting for him just outside the door. She hissed with exasperation, "Is this how you plan to keep my brother from losing his head over that girl? You invite her into your house?"

"Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy replied tightly, "I could no more stop your brother from 'losing his head' over a girl than you could stop me." Caroline paled, and a knot formed in her stomach. "I am not pleased with this development, but I am in no position to do anything about it. I will be leaving town at the end of the week. I am afraid you will have to deal with the matter by yourself," Mr. Darcy said as he strode into the room.

Chapter 6

"Months of anguish and suffering, all for naught!" he grumbled. "Jane did love me, I am sure of that now. Why did I ever listen to any of them?" Mr. Bingley fondly recalled his conversation with Jane at the gallery, where she had made as much of an admission of her feelings as she dared. Mr. Bingley had offered her a somewhat cryptic explanation for his long absence from Hertfordshire, stating that he had gone to London on business and was detained there by a mysterious "conspiracy of circumstances."

"By the time I was able to free myself from the clutches of my captors," he said playfully so that Jane had no idea of his double meaning, "I feared that I would no longer find a welcome in Hertfordshire."

"Oh, Mr. Bingley, friends such as yourself would always be welcome," Jane replied with a glowing smile, "Although had you returned there I might have missed you entirely. I have been in London since January."

"So I have recently learned. I cannot forgive my sisters for keeping that information from me. I would have liked to have been able to call upon you much sooner." Jane's heart was fit to burst at his declaration, to which he added, "Can you ever forgive me for such neglectful behavior?"

"I cannot hold you accountable for circumstances of which you were completely unaware. Suffice to say I am very grateful for your current attentions," Jane said with a becoming blush of her cheek.

"We have much lost time to make up for."

"Let us not worry about time lost and simply start afresh," Jane suggested as she hazarded a glance at Mr. Bingley and saw his frown.

"I should like that," he said, brightening. "I should like to start afresh, and this time, if you will allow me, I will court you properly, Miss Bennet." Jane was too modest to answer him with words, but her smile was all the encouragement he needed.

Mr. Bingley reached his house and breezed past Mrs. Stewart on his way to his study. He greeted her cheerfully and requested that tea be brought to him there.

"Sir," Mrs. Stewart replied. Mr. Bingley turned to look at her. Her response was a question rather than an acknowledgment of his request.

"Miss Bingley asked me to tell you that she is entertaining guests this morning. She asked me to have you join her in the parlor as soon as you returned, sir." Mr. Bingley sighed and redirected his steps toward the parlor. When he entered the room he found himself adrift in a sea of females. There were at least five present, not counting his sister, who rose to greet him effusively.

"Dear Charles, do come in. You remember my dear friends, do you not?" Charles smiled weakly at the assemblage, but he could only put a name to two of the women. The first was Louisa Appleton, a woman whose elegant bearing, exquisite taste and 80,000 pounds did nothing to dispel her reputation as the dullest women in the British Empire. She was sitting beside Clarissa Simpson, who could best be described as a giggling bit of insignificance from Sussex. Caroline made introductions to all her guests, and Charles murmured whatever was expected of him, highly suspicious of Caroline's little circle of "friends." Caroline rarely took pains to say a decent word about either Miss Simpson or Miss Appleton, although she actively courted the favor of the latter, whose wealth and connections rendered her important among the ton. Mr. Bingley had once had a mild flirtation with Miss Simpson in his youth, but Mr. Darcy had declared the girl a simpleton and that was the end of it.

"Do sit down and join us, Mr. Bingley," Miss Northam cooed. Mr. Bingley reluctantly complied, only to rise again a moment later when the butler announced two more arrivals. The parlor was quickly becoming rather crowded. It was obvious to Mr. Bingley that his sister intended to divert his attentions away from Jane Bennet and toward what she considered to be more suitable marriage candidates. He sighed and looked at the door expectantly as another of Caroline's "dear friends" entered the room.

"I hope you do not mind," Amelia Parsons said as she breezed into the room. "I was already on my way out with a friend when I received your note. I am afraid we can stay but a few minutes," the prettiest and most socially accomplished of Caroline's guests continued. Caroline was about to step forward and insist that Amelia and her friend stay for a while (the more girls to distract her brother the better, she concluded) when she looked up and saw Amelia's companion. "Allow me to introduce my friend, Olivia Crenshaw."

"We have met," Olivia said with an arch look. Caroline paled, as Mr. Bingley stepped forward eagerly.

"Miss Parsons," he said with a cursory bow, "And Miss Crenshaw, how delightful to see you again," he said with genuine enthusiasm. "Do sit down. Foster, bring in a few more chairs, will you?"

"Mr. Bingley," Olivia said as she and Amelia took seats on a settee near Mr. Bingley, "Amelia did not tell me that we were coming to see you this morning. Perhaps we might postpone our business today after all." And with that she gave Caroline a triumphant smile and made herself comfortable.

Olivia was well aware of the fact that her friend Amelia had more than a passing interest in Mr. Bingley. She had confessed as much when she ran into Olivia at the gallery the previous afternoon. Olivia was confident that Amelia posed no obstacle for Jane, but when she arrived at Olivia's house the next morning waving an invitation from Caroline Bingley, Olivia became very curious, especially when Amelia confided that she'd never received such an invitation before. Hence Olivia--who had little inclination to be in Caroline's company again--had insisted on accompanying her friend and convinced Amelia that she had an errand to run which could not be long delayed. The call at Mr. Bingley's house was to be a brief one. Upon her arrival, however, Olivia assessed the situation and decided that Caroline was up to something and she was determined not to leave until she knew exactly what it was. For her part, Caroline was not at all pleased to see Olivia Crenshaw again, although she knew nothing of Olivia's interest in promoting a match between Jane and Mr. Bingley. However, anyone who was not Jane Bennet was welcome, as far as she was concerned.

"Jane and I so enjoyed our visit to the gallery yesterday, Mr. Bingley," Olivia said. "And of course we were so fortunate as to meet with you again at Mr. Darcy's home last evening." Mr. Bingley smiled radiantly.

"It was a most pleasant day all around," he concurred. "I cannot remember ever spending a more pleasant afternoon at a gallery," he replied. Olivia understood his meaning and smiled broadly.

"I spent a very pleasant afternoon at the gallery, myself," Amelia offered.

"Oh, do you mean the new exhibit at the National Gallery?" Miss Appleton asked. "Mother and I attended the preview the night before last. I must confess I have little interest in Italian sculpture, but..." Caroline ceased to listen, her mind on Olivia's earlier statement that she and Jane had encountered her brother at the gallery. She resolved to guard him more closely in future. She flinched when Miss Appleton touched her arm and forced herself to listen to her drone on for several minutes about the decline of Italian sculpture since the era of Michelangelo.

"I think..." Mr. Bingley assayed, but aborted his effort to comment when he realized that Miss Appleton had only paused to draw breath. She prattled on for another two minutes, by which time everyone in the room had forgotten whatever it was he or she wished to say.

"So, Mr. Darcy is safely off to Kent this morning," Olivia said to Mr. Bingley, confident of having chosen a new topic about which Miss Appleton could have no opinion.

"Yes," Caroline replied, happy to see her neighbor silenced at last. "London society lost one of its brightest ornaments to Kent for the next few weeks."

"I daresay it lost two, Miss Bingley," Olivia said with a sigh that betrayed her affection for one of the men in question.

"I am surprised that you do not accompany him, sir," Amelia said, turning to Mr. Bingley. "Do you not often travel together?"

"Yes," Mr. Bingley replied. "Yes, we do often travel together, but Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, are only making a brief visit to Kent to spend time with their relations." Olivia scanned the room and noticed a flutter of interest in this new topic of discussion, ranging from sighs of admiration to looks of disappointment at London society's loss of the two gentlemen.

"Kent is lovely," Miss Simpson ventured with a slight giggle. "But its beauties cannot compare with those of Sussex." Being a native of Kent, Miss Appleton could not allow the slight to go unanswered and she immediately set out to defend the honor of her home county. Miss Appleton's rapturous treatise on the superiority of the Kent countryside in spring led even the affable Mr. Bingley to roll his eyes after three minutes of monotone recitation.

Olivia found herself torn between a desire to flee the tedium of Miss Appleton and a desire to stay and talk to Mr. Bingley so that she could keep an eye on Caroline. However, she lucked into a third alternative, when she could stand it no longer and announced her intention to depart. Mr. Bingley, pleading an appointment of his own, rose to leave with her, much to his sister's displeasure. Furthermore, upon seeing that Amelia and Olivia had walked to his house from _____ Street, he offered them a lift in his carriage. Olivia was happy to accept. Amelia--assuming that his gesture was meant as a compliment to herself--smiled coquettishly as he handed her into the carriage. Mr. Bingley looked back at the house, where Caroline glared at him from the window before her stepped into his carriage and signaled the driver. It was then that he confessed to having no appointment at all.

"Why, Mr. Bingley, you sly thing," Amelia giggled. Olivia rolled her eyes, but then inspiration struck.

"Perhaps, then, you might accompany us on our errand to Gracechurch Street. I have something to deliver to a friend there," she said meaningfully. Mr. Bingley beamed.

"I should be delighted."

Caroline, meanwhile, was furious at her brother for slipping away and angry at herself for having no ready excuse with which to detain him. As soon as she was able to dispose of her company she summoned Mrs. Stewart and demanded to see her brother's schedule for the day.

"He does not give me a schedule, ma'am," Mrs. Stewart said. "Mr. Bingley only tells me his plans when there is some special reason to." It wasn't a total lie, but enough to put Caroline off the scent, at least temporarily. In truth, she had no idea where the master had gone. He had spoken with her before his morning walk and told her that he would be at home all day.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the Gardiner residence and Mr. Bingley emerged to hand out the ladies even before his footman had dismounted. Olivia was amused by his eagerness. She decidedly liked Mr. Bingley and she was as eager to see him succeed with Jane as he was. She watched him march smartly up the steps and rap on the door with the head of his walking stick. In moments the threesome were being greeted by the lady of the house.

"Hello, Olivia. And Mr. Bingley! What an unexpected pleasure to see you again. You are most welcome," she said. Olivia looked around for Jane, but saw no sign of her. "And Amelia Parsons, you grow lovelier each time I see you." Mrs. Gardiner saw Olivia's questioning glance. "Olivia, my dear, do go upstairs and let Jane know we have visitors."

Olivia smiled and rushed up the stairs as quickly as her skirts would allow. She knocked lightly on Jane's door and peered into the room in time to see Jane hastily close a book, most likely a diary, and slip it into a drawer. She rose from her seat and straightened her gown before she turned to welcome her friend.

"Well, this is a fine way to show your gratitude! I manage to drag Mr. Bingley all the way over here to see you and you are not even downstairs to greet him!" Olivia said with a grin. "At the very least you might have been poised dramatically at the top of the stairs when we came through the door," she teased.

"Mr. Bingley!" Jane's face registered surprise, pleasure and doubt, which Olivia read with concern.

"What is the matter?" Jane turned away.

"Miss Bingley said--. You heard her last night, Livy."

"I heard Mr. Bingley yesterday afternoon," Olivia confessed. "If I recall correctly, he said something about wanting to court you."

"Olivia Crenshaw, you are shameless!" Jane cried.

"Perhaps I am. But I am glad I did eavesdrop if it spares you any further needless worrying. Miss Bingley is as reliable a source of information regarding her brother's emotions as a Gypsy soothsayer. Now, get downstairs before he grows bored and leaves!" Jane smiled and, pausing to catch her breath, descended the stairs. She entered the parlor and smiled radiantly when she saw her Mr. Bingley. But the visit did not go as smoothly as Olivia had hoped. Within a few minutes of Jane's arrival in the parlor she realized her error in bringing Amelia Parsons along to Gracechurch Street. Olivia had grossly underestimated the strength of Amelia's infatuation with Mr. Bingley, and she and Mrs. Gardiner were witness to a verbal tug of war for the unfortunate man. Every time he uttered a word to Jane, Amelia sought to gain his attention by commenting before Jane could answer. Jane, undaunted, waited her turn before speaking, but Amelia relentlessly intercepted her responses before they could be answered by Mr. Bingley. To Jane's credit, she did not show her frustration, but it was writ plain upon Mr. Bingley's handsome face. He looked to Olivia and Mrs. Gardiner helplessly.

"Amelia, now that I have dispensed with my errand, perhaps we should go on to our shopping trip," Olivia said, rising to her feet and pulling her gloves out of her reticule. "We bid you good day, Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, Mr. Bingley." She tried to ignore the look that came over Amelia's face.

"But we have only arrived," Amelia managed, frowning.

"Yes, yes, but as I told you earlier, I must be back home by two. Truly, Amelia, we must go. We cannot impose on our hostess any further. I am sure we already interrupted her plans for this morning," Olivia said with a look to Mrs. Gardiner.

"Will you join us, Mr. Bingley?" Amelia asked desperately, reaching for his arm as if to drag him from his chair. Olivia gave him a look that froze him in his place.

"I...I would like to have a word with Mr. Gardiner first, I think. Yes, I have a...matter of business I wish to discuss with him before I go." He smiled satisfactorily at this bit of cleverness. Being deceitful was getting easier with practice. It was no wonder that his sister was so accomplished at it.

"My husband--." Mrs. Gardiner paused as Olivia clamped her hand on her arm. Mrs. Gardiner understood. "My husband will be delighted to see you again, Mr. Bingley. Shall I direct you to the study?" She rose from her seat and led Mr. Bingley out of the room. Olivia sighed in relief and said her goodbye to Jane before she headed toward the door.

"Should we not wait for Mr. Bingley?" Amelia asked plaintively.

"Why? He may be some time with Mr. Gardiner," Olivia said as she walked out of the house with Amelia at her heels. "And besides, he was kind enough to give us a ride here. We cannot impose further on his kindness. Come, Amelia," Olivia commanded. The pair walked the few blocks to the shopping district, Amelia with visions of Mr. Bingley dancing in her head and Olivia with plans to erase them.

"Forgive me, Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Gardiner said as she paused in the hall. "I just remembered; my husband went out early this morning. I am afraid your matter of business must wait for another time." She smiled sweetly as she suggested that they return to the parlor. Jane was sitting where everyone left her, working on a piece of embroidery. She looked up in surprise when the pair returned.

"Done already?"

"Uh..."

"He is not at home," Mrs. Gardiner said calmly as she resumed her seat and pulled out her knitting. Jane smiled and Mr. Bingley was drawn to her like moth to flame. He stayed and visited with her for another half hour.

"How does Mr. Bingley come to know the Gardiners?" Amelia asked conversationally as she casually examined a pair of kid gloves.

"Mr. Bingley is the Bennets' neighbor in Hertfordshire. They continued the acquaintance when Lizzy and Jane came to town," Olivia answered simply.

"Then they know each other well," Amelia continued.

"Look at these gloves, Amelia," Olivia said with feigned enthusiasm. "They are a perfect complement to your new hat!" Amelia was thus distracted from her inquiry, but Olivia could not be complacent. And she was soon to learn that her fears were well founded.

"You should have seen her, Edward! The girl all but pushed Jane out of the room!"

"Amelia Parsons?"

"Yes, little Amelia Parsons, only she is not so little anymore and not so sweet as she used to be."

"And how did our Jane react to all of this?" Mr. Gardiner asked.

"She was rather stoic about it. And, of course, whatever she may have felt at the time, her spirits were restored after Olivia took Amelia away and she was able to have a little time with Mr. Bingley. But I am afraid that if Amelia views Jane as her rival--."

"It would be to no avail, my dear. Mr. Bingley clearly loves Jane."

"I wish I could be as sure as you seem to be, Edward." Mr. Gardiner patted his beloved wife's hand.

"He loves her, Madeline. The man told me so himself." Mrs. Gardiner's mouth fell open and she covered it to contain her surprise.

"I saw him yesterday. He came by the shop to see me."

"I did not know he was even aware that you owned a shop."

"Well," Mr. Gardiner smiled, "I may have mentioned it during one of his visits." Mrs. Gardiner smiled back at him.

"Why, Edward, I am surprised at you. There is more going in that devious mind of yours than you've let on."

"Yes, I am afraid there is. I am determined to see our Jane happily married to that man, and I readily admit that I am not averse to lowering myself to Caroline Bingley's level to do it."

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Gardiner asked, slightly alarmed at her husband's declaration.

"Do not worry, my love. I have done nothing more than encourage Mr. Bingley's friendship. It should come in very handy."

"I am not sure I understand."

"His sister is bound to interfere again if he attempts to visit Jane here. But if he were to meet me at the club, or at my establishment--."

"That is well and good for you, but how does that help Jane?" Mr. Gardiner looked up at his wife.

"You will just have to trust me, my love. Trust me."

The next morning, Mr. Bingley retreated to his study after breakfast and asked not to be disturbed. Mrs. Stewart was the only person permitted to enter, as he was going over household accounts. Caroline took comfort in the knowledge that her brother was safely sequestered down the hall. She worried that he might slip out again for some planned liaison with Jane Bennet. The butler entered the sitting room where she was embroidering a pillow, and announced Amelia Parsons. Caroline was not interested in having any company that morning, but she pasted on a smile and greeted her guest with false humility.

"How kind of you to come to see me again so soon after your last visit," she scolded the younger woman, who was completely oblivious to her annoyance. "I am afraid you find me all alone this morning. My brother locked himself away to take care of business and I am quite desolate."

"I just came to apologize for my abrupt departure yesterday. I would not have left so soon had it not been for Miss Crenshaw's errand. She had something to deliver to Gracechurch Street, she said."

"Gracechurch Street," Caroline repeatedly dully.

"Of course, I have known the Gardiners for years so the visit was no trial. But I had no idea that you and your brother were friends with that family."

"We are not," Caroline declared.

"Oh? Well, Mr. Bingley is certainly friendly with the Gardiners," Amelia said.

"Charles? What? Did he say something about them?" Caroline demanded, her suspicions aroused.

"No, no, it was not anything he said. It is just that he was welcomed by the Gardiners like an old friend--." Caroline leapt to her feet, her needlework falling to the floor.

"He went with you to the Gardiners' house yesterday?" Amelia nodded. Then she gasped and covered her mouth.

"Oh, forgive me. Perhaps I should not have--."

"What should you not have said, Miss Parsons? That my brother went with you to the Gardiners' house?"

"Well, no," Amelia blushed. "It is just that, well, he told you he had an appointment..."

"With the Gardiners," Caroline angrily surmised.

"No, no. He offered us a ride in his carriage yesterday and then admitted that he had only said that he had an appointment to get away...from Miss Appleton, I think. And then Miss Crenshaw invited him to accompany us to the Gardiners'--."

"How very convenient!" Caroline fumed. Amelia tried to understand why she was so upset.

"Am I to understand that you disapprove of his friendship with the Gardiners?"

"I do most certainly disapprove! He is nothing more than a tradesman, and his plain little wife goes around putting on airs of being fashionable."

"The Gardiners are not at all like that!" Amelia laughed. "I have known that family since--." Caroline's look silenced her.

"And they mean to have their niece, Jane, marry my brother to assure them entrée into proper society." Amelia gasped again. She could hardly believe Caroline's accusations. Her familiarity with the Gardiners told her that it was a blatant lie. But another part of her saw an opportunity and she stifled her conscience to take advantage of it.

"Well, now that you mention it, Mrs. Gardiner did rather push Jane forward every chance she could. I was barely able to say a word to your brother for all her interference in the conversation." Caroline nodded.

"You see? That is precisely what I want to protect my brother from. I am very glad you came to see me today, Amelia. You understand my concern; my brother is an innocent creature. He has no idea what danger the Gardiners pose to him. They will entrap him into a marriage with Jane Bennet. It is only a matter of time before they trick him into something he will regret the rest of his days." Amelia nodded. "I implore you, Amelia. You must help me."

"What can I do?" she asked.

"You are friends with Olivia Crenshaw. She obviously is on the Gardiners' side. You must keep an eye on her. I am certain she will try to manipulate things again to get my brother and Jane Bennet together. You must not let it happen."

"Me?" Caroline nodded solemnly.

"I want to see my brother happy, of course. But Charles will only be happy with the right sort of girl," Caroline said with a smile meant to encourage Amelia's hopes in that direction. "But he must be protected from those grasping Gardiners." Amelia smiled.

"You may rely upon me, Caroline," she said. "I will see to it that Jane Bennet does not win your brother's heart."

"Mrs. Stewart, Jane Bennet is the most beautiful, wonderful, incredible--." He sighed as words failed to capture the swell of emotions that surged inside his heart.

"You love her, Mr. Bingley?" Mrs. Stewart summarized. Mr. Bingley nodded.

"I love her with all my heart."

Continued in Next Section