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Chapter 9 (cont.)

"Fitzwilliam! This is an unexpected pleasure," Mr. Darcy replied with genuine surprise as he rose to welcome the new arrival.

"No more unexpected than your failure to show up at my solicitor's office last week," the Colonel said dryly. Mr. Darcy blanched.

"Oh! Oh, I am sorry, Fitzwilliam. In my eagerness to leave town I completely forgot about the appointment."

"So Harris and I surmised. Really, Darcy, you're a bit young for senility, aren't you?" the Colonel replied wryly. "Tell me, what was so important that you had to leave town three days ahead of schedule?" The Colonel regretted the question as soon as it left his lips. He saw Mr. Darcy's pained expression and opened his mouth to apologize. But Mr. Darcy's next words threw him completely.

"It was good news, actually," he said with a smile. "Such good news, in fact, that it seemed too good to be true."

"Pray tell! I'd dearly like to hear such news," the Colonel prompted.

"Bingley and Jane Bennet are to be married."

"Married! When did that happen?" asked a surprised Colonel Fitzwilliam as he took a seat.

"Just a few days ago. I had it from Bingley himself. He asked me to call upon him when I returned to London and gave me the news." Mr. Darcy poured out two glasses of port and offered one to his cousin.

"This is good news, indeed," the Colonel replied, thinking of how Miss Crenshaw would react. It had been months since he'd seen her, although he had been able to hear news of her now and again through her brother. The Colonel intended to remedy that as soon as he returned to London. "When is the happy event to take place?"

"I do not know yet. Bingley--or rather Miss Bennet--has yet to decide on a date. I expect they will send out invitations when they have decided," Mr. Darcy said, somewhat absently. His mind appeared to be elsewhere.

"And do you approve of the match?" the Colonel asked, trying to divine the source of his distraction.

"Why should I disapprove? Jane Bennet is a lovely girl, and she and Bingley should make each other very happy." Mr. Darcy seemed a bit affronted by the question, and he felt a twinge of guilt as the Colonel pursued his point.

"I heard it said somewhere that you had objections to the lady," he said mildly, recalling the day he blew up at his cousin when he learned of his interference in his friend's romance.

"Perhaps I did at one point, but I was wrong about Miss Bennet and I was wrong to try to influence Bingley's opinion of her." The Colonel's shock at this declaration barely registered on the outside, but the Colonel tried to decipher a curious mix of clues in his mind that did not quite add up. Not yet.

"Speaking of happy events, when are you going to propose to Miss Crenshaw?" Mr. Darcy said, abruptly turning the tables on his cousin.

"Propose?" the Colonel managed to choke out. "What makes you think I was considering proposing?" It was Mr. Darcy's turn to consider the evidence. He came out from behind his desk to sit in a chair opposite Colonel Fitzwilliam's.

"Oh, come, man! You spoke of little else in Kent!" Mr. Darcy laughed.

"I may have spoken of Miss Crenshaw, but I do not recall saying anything about marriage."

"Well, why else does a man unceasingly bring up the name of a woman in every conversation, day, evening, over tea, out walking..."

"Speaking of unceasing devotion, have you given any thought to what you are going to do about Miss Bennet?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, as he rose and went to tend the fire. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he knew, in spite of his cousin's superficially cheerful demeanor, that the matter still weighed heavily on his heart. The Colonel, for one, believed that the issue was far from resolved. His cousin and Miss Bennet were far from being through with one another.

"Do about it? There is nothing to be done about it! I have lost her forever, Fitzwilliam. There is nothing left to do," Mr. Darcy replied dejectedly. He rose and began to pace impatiently. "I made a complete ass of myself, Fitzwilliam. I went to her with every confidence that she was expecting my advances, that she wanted me as much as I did her." He stopped mid-stride, recalling his confrontation with Elizabeth. "I declared my love for her in a manner that no sensible woman would have accepted. I made plain my disdain for her relations, I reminded her of her social inferiority, and told her that I loved her in spite of these faults. In short, I did everything possible to make it perfectly reasonable that she would not only refuse my offer of marriage but never admit me into her presence again!" Drained by the effort of his confession, Mr. Darcy threw himself into the nearest chair and drained his glass. The Colonel stood and turned to his cousin; the façade that Mr. Darcy had so carefully constructed to greet him on his arrival had crumbled to dust. Mr. Darcy was a pitiable creature and the Colonel bit back the words that had come unbidden to his tongue. He knew that his cousin was penitent; his own rebuke was superfluous.

"You will attend Bingley's wedding?" he asked gently.

"Of course! I am to be his--." Mr. Darcy covered his face with his hands. "Good lord! I had not thought about that."

"Meeting Miss Bennet again is inevitable, Darcy. I daresay that as long as you and Bingley are friends and the Miss Bennets are sisters, it will be impossible to avoid seeing her."

"We shall be in Hertfordshire well before evening," Jane said to her companion. "It is a shame, though; I should like to sneak in under cover of darkness and avoid all the calamity my return is sure to excite." Olivia laughed at the remark.

"Well, it would be even more of a surprise if we did, I grant you. But I suspect that your father would not appreciate our being on these roads after dark."

"Indeed, neither would I, come to think of it," Jane said with a mild shudder. "Oh, I am glad to be going home," she said, visibly brightening. "I cannot wait to see Mama and Papa and all my sisters." Olivia smiled benignly. In truth she was only interested in a reunion with one of Jane's sisters. She was very eager to know why Elizabeth had suddenly become a poor correspondent and worried that her something had gone terribly wrong.

Olivia was not blind to the looks exchanged between Jane and the Gardiners whenever Elizabeth's name was mentioned. Each time she saw it, her blood ran cold. Something very bad had happened; she was certain of it. Olivia did not pry. Instead she decided to go straight to the source. After a few days spent restlessly awaiting a letter that never came, Olivia convinced her father to let her take Jane back into Hertfordshire. She promised to make it a very short trip--just overnight, long enough for Olivia to ascertain for herself that her dearest friend was all right. The following day, the two women set off for Hertfordshire with a double surprise; Jane would arrive home unexpectedly and with Olivia as her company.

"I shall be returning to Hertfordshire myself, shortly," Mr. Bingley said evenly, ignoring his sister's caustic comment to his announcement that Jane had left town. Caroline looked up sharply.

"Oh, Charles! Please promise me that you will not rush into anything foolish! Remain here in town for a while, reconsider this wild notion you have of--."

"That is quite enough, Caroline!" Mr. Bingley said crisply. "I am going to marry Jane Bennet and neither you nor anyone else is going to convince me otherwise." Mr. Bingley rose from his seat and left the breakfast room. He walked to his study with fond memories of his last visit with Jane playing in his mind.

"I will be leaving London tomorrow," she announced out of the blue. The couple was walking a short distance ahead of the Gardiners in the park. Mr. Bingley stopped and looked at Jane in complete shock. "I'll be returning to Hertfordshire with Olivia Crenshaw, who has kindly offered to take me home. I realize it is rather sudden," Jane said with a slight blush, "But I have to go home sooner or later, my love. I have been postponing my return home for weeks." It was Mr. Bingley's turn to blush as he realized that he was responsible for Jane's decision to tarry in London.

"Perhaps Miss Crenshaw was correct. I should have proposed sooner," he said with a smile. "Instead, I took my time about it and turned you into a malingerer." Jane laughed. "But it is probably for the best. The sooner I speak with your father the sooner we can be married."

"When do you plan to speak with him?"

"I think...well, I think I shall follow you into Hertfordshire by a few days. I have some business to attend to, but I think I shall be able to make my appearance by Friday. Yes, I shall be there on Friday." The slight squeeze Jane gave his arm was all the encouragement his smile needed. He beamed back at Jane, whose radiant smile lifted his heart. Before he left Gracechurch Street, the Gardiners had discretely left the couple alone so that they might say their goodbyes in private. The kiss they had shared still warmed his heart like the last embers of a roaring fire.

"Excuse me, sir," Mrs. Stewart said as she entered the study. Mr. Bingley looked up and gestured for the elderly woman to take a seat.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Stewart?" Mr. Bingley smiled at his servant and confidant. She had been the first to hear his good news and had been thus far the only person to unconditionally wish him joy.

"I have been working on your schedule for next week, sir," the lady began as she pulled a small notebook from under her apron.

"Cancel everything." Mrs. Stewart looked up sharply. "I am going into Hertfordshire on Friday, Mrs. Stewart. I don not know yet how long I will be there, but I imagine that if all goes well it shall be for some time." Mrs. Stewart nodded her understanding. She rose to her feet. "Is there anything that cannot wait?" Mr. Bingley asked as his conscience nudged him. But Mrs. Stewart shook her head.

"There is nothing we cannot manage on our own, sir. Don't you worry about a thing. You go into Hertfordshire and secure your lady's hand and I will deal with things here." Mr. Bingley endorsed her suggestion with a curt nod and Mrs. Stewart left the room. He pulled out his little notebook and his pencil. At some point over the last several weeks, the book had changed from a strategic planning tool to a chronicle of his personal affairs. It had happened so gradually that Mr. Bingley never seemed to notice that he'd made the change from recording his actions to capturing his feelings. He was nonetheless glad of it as he was able to read his thoughts on that fateful day when Jane Bennet had agreed to become his wife. Perhaps that was the day everything had changed. No matter; Mr. Bingley was not in a mood to worry about such things. He applied his pencil to a clean page and wrote a few lines about Caroline's stubbornness and how he was determined not to rise to her bait.

For too long have I allowed willfulness and tantrums to dictate my actions, but those days are over. Henceforth, if I am to be led by a woman, let her be Jane Bingley.

Mr. Bingley sat back and smiled at what he had written. Jane Bingley, the love of his life, would soon become the mistress of his household, the mother of his children the key to his future happiness. Mr. Bingley allowed his thoughts to wander as he absently wrote her name over and over again on the page.

"Charles." Mr. Bingley looked up and met his sister's exasperated gaze. "Mrs. Stewart has just informed me that you plan on leaving town on Friday."

"Yes," Mr. Bingley said as he sat back. "I am sorry, Caroline, I should have told you that myself." Caroline took the opportunity to play the slighted party, although Mr. Bingley was not impressed by her display.

"When you said you would be going into Hertfordshire soon, I--."

"Can you be ready by then?" Mr. Bingley interjected. Caroline's eyes opened wide.

"Do you wish for me to accompany you?" Mr. Bingley stifled a laugh. His sister had spent the previous month forcing her company on him and now she was prepared to be deferential?

"But of course, Caroline," he said with a straight face. "Until my marriage you will remain the mistress of Netherfield. I assume you will want to return with me and play hostess at the social events that will inevitably ensue after our engagement is announced. It will also, of course, give you an opportunity to visit with all your friends in Hertfordshire again." At this, a hint of a smirk briefly touched Mr. Bingley's lips. But his words had had their proper effect; Caroline was sufficiently mollified to rush off to speak with her maid and begin making plans for her departure. Mr. Bingley sat back in his chair for a moment and smiled.

"I wonder that this talent of mine for deception did not reveal itself sooner," he muttered as he looked at the notebook. "Good lord, I am behaving like a schoolboy," he laughed. Mr. Bingley turned the page and grew serious. "Now I have to figure out what to do about Darcy. I can easily forgive him for his transgression. Nothing he did in the past means anything in light of my current happiness. But I know him far too well. He will not soon forgive himself. Arrogant man; he is so convinced of his own superior judgment that even admitting that he was wrong to interfere must have cost him greatly." Mr. Bingley rose from his desk and went to the window to stand before it, much as he had often seen Mr. Darcy do in that very room.

"He was a haunted man when he came to see me. Was it worth it, Darcy? Was your determination to save me from myself so great that you--no wait. There had to be something more to it. Miss Elizabeth; yes, surely! You are envious, dear boy! You have seen how I have succeeded with the sister and in spite of your earlier stance you find that you still covet her. Well, it is high time you came down from that lofty pedestal of yours, my friend and admitted defeat. If you found courage enough to make your confession to me you must have the heart to pursue Miss Elizabeth. You must! And I shall make it easier for you." Mr. Bingley returned to his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. He dipped his pen into ink and began to write a letter to his friend.

Chapter 10

Elizabeth was more than a little surprised to receive not one, but two expresses on the same morning. The first was from Jane, and she opened it with no small amount of trepidation. The news it contained made her weep with joy. She immediately grabbed her hat and pelisse and took a walk, the better to avoid her mother's curiosity. Fortunately for Elizabeth, her mother had gone into Meryton to see her sister, Mrs. Philips, but Elizabeth knew that she was due to return shortly. Her mother would be informed by one of the maids that a post had come for Elizabeth, and Mrs. Bennet would not rest until she had perused the missive for herself.

Elizabeth sought the isolation of a sunlit meadow a short distance from Longbourn. Once she was alone, she sat down beneath a tree to savor every detail of Jane's letter. When she had read it through twice, she put it down and turned her attention to the small parcel in her lap. It bore no distinctive markings, but she recognized the hand immediately. Elizabeth hesitated. A lump rose in her throat and she found herself fighting tears. She could not imagine what the parcel held, but she was overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding.

She picked up the parcel and Jane's letter and began to wander the meadow aimlessly, willing her heart to slow down. Finally, when she could bear the suspense no longer, Elizabeth sat on a cropping of rocks near a stream and tore open the package. Inside, carefully wrapped in a man's linen handkerchief, Elizabeth found her grandmother's Sterling silver vial that she thought she had lost months ago in London. How had it come into Mr. Darcy's possession? With trembling hands she unfolded the letter that accompanied it and began to read its contents. The first paragraph was written in Mr. Darcy's impeccable hand, as was the letter she had received from him in Hunsford.

Dear Miss Bennet,

I can only imagine that given the circumstances of our last two meetings you would wish never to see or hear of me again. I must beg your indulgence as I perform this one last service on your behalf. The enclosed item, I believe, belongs to you. It has a patina of age, which suggests that it must be an object of great sentimental value to you. My dear mother carried such a vial, a legacy of her own mother. She was rarely without it. I hope that its absence did not cause you much anguish and I hope its safe return gives you comfort.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Elizabeth sighed deeply and read on, for the letter continued. From this point, however, the penmanship was careless, written in a manner that bespoke great agitation. Elizabeth could only wonder what was going through his mind as he wrote his next words. She was halfway through the missive, her hands trembling, her heart in her throat, when she was interrupted by the shrill cry of her youngest sister.

"Lizzy!" Elizabeth started, then hastily refolded the letter and stuffed it into her pelisse as her sister Lydia approached. Elizabeth rose to her feet, secreted the parcel in her pocket and reached for her bonnet as Lydia arrived at her side.

"Lord, Lizzy! I have been calling for you these last five minutes. Did you not hear me?"

"I am sorry, Lydia. No, I am afraid I was quite distracted," Elizabeth replied, trying to compose herself. Her emotions were in a jumble and she wanted nothing more than for Lydia to disappear so that she could return to her reading of Mr. Darcy's letter.

"I have been sent to look for you. I have the most wonderful surprise!" Lydia giggled in that manner that so often infuriated her elder sister. Elizabeth was not interested in surprises and her impatience showed.

"Well? What is it?" she snapped. Lydia's smile immediately disappeared.

"If you are going to take that tone, Lizzy, I may decide not to tell you about it after all," she said coyly. Elizabeth grew more perverse.

"Do not tell me then," she said, plopping back down upon the rock. "I am sure that I can endure the loss." Elizabeth looked away from Lydia, hoping the girl would take the hint and leave.

"Very well, then, Miss Lizzy," Lydia said sweetly, knowing that she held the upper hand. "I will simply tell Jane and Olivia that you do not want to see them." She turned and started back toward the house. But Elizabeth immediately rose, silently mouthed the names, and much to her sister's surprise, took off toward Longbourn as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Lizzy!" Olivia and Jane shouted in unison, as the breathless lady made her appearance. A flurry of greetings, hugs, and exclamations of surprise ensued, and it was nearly five minutes before things settled. Mrs. Bennet bustled about, greeting her daughter and making preparations for her unexpected houseguest. Elizabeth wanted to ask a million questions but she thought it best to wait until her mother had left the room.

"Jane! I only received your express this morning! You made no mention of planning to return to Hertfordshire," she said, as soon as her mother had gone to the kitchen to order a special dinner.

"Did you really expect me to allow Mr. Bingley to face Mama all alone?" Jane laughed, as she took a seat next to her dearest sibling.

"Mr. Bingley is coming?" gushed Lydia, whose presence had been temporarily forgotten.

Elizabeth cast her sister a worried glance.

"Yes, Lydia. Mr. Bingley is returning to Netherfield," Jane said calmly. She knew she would have to speak with her mother before Lydia spread this intelligence across the county. Mrs. Bennet reentered the room, and before Jane could open her mouth, Lydia cried out the news.

"Mr. Bingley returning to Longbourn!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "This is a complement to you, Jane, I am sure. Did you see him in town? You never mentioned him in your letters, you sly thing, but I know you must have seen him. And now he is determined to follow you back to Hertfordshire and claim you as his bride. Oooh! I am certain of it. Mark my words he will be at your father's door begging for your hand within a fortnight." Elizabeth looked at Jane and sighed. Olivia, who had been watching the proceedings with great interest, attempted to suppress an urge to laugh.

"Mama, Mr. Bingley will be here on Friday to ask for my hand. He has already proposed and I have already accepted him," Jane said patiently.

"On Friday, you say? Oh, but you should have told me before, Jane! There's so much to be done. I will have to see to the meal and have Cook prepare all of Mr. Bingley's favorite dishes. I must have Hill go up to the attic and find my best linens, for you know, I had them put away for the summer since we do not entertain so very often in warm weather at Longbourn. Oh! Lady Lucas will be quite put out! And I must tell Mrs. Phillips," she said wandering out of the room, her brain awhirl with plans and schemes. "And you must have a special license! Five thousand a year..." Mrs. Bennet's voice trailed off as she mounted the stairs. Olivia burst out laughing. Mrs. Bennet's outburst was even more entertaining than Jane had predicted to her. Elizabeth just shook her head.

"Jane, are you sure that was wise? By the time poor Mr. Bingley arrives--."

"By the time he arrives, she will have calmed down a bit," Jane said. But Elizabeth, rolling her eyes, feared that by the time Mr. Bingley arrived, her mother would be even more excited than she was at present. She told Jane so, but Jane shrugged her shoulders.

"I did warn him, Lizzy. He will have to put up with her after we are married, so he shall have to get used to it sometime," she replied with a laugh.

Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice pierced the air with cries of "Jane! Jane!" and the eldest Bennet sister reluctantly rose and left the room. Olivia moved to the spot Jane had vacated and took Elizabeth's hands.

"Dear Livy," Elizabeth said, "It is so good to see you again." Olivia looked deep into Elizabeth's eyes, and although she wanted to turn away, Elizabeth knew that Olivia was not to be evaded. She wasted no time in getting to the point.

"I persuaded Jane to come home a few days early because I was worried about you. You did not respond to my last two letters. Is there something wrong?" Elizabeth knew that the conversation that must ensue could not take place inside the house, and certainly not while Lydia was still lurking about.

"I am fine, Livy," she said with a look in her eye that forestalled Olivia's inevitable rebuttal. "But I want to hear about you. How was your time in Bath?" Elizabeth asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Oh, Bath was tedious. A Mr. Eliot pursued me without cease, but --."

"Really? Was he very handsome?" Lydia had thrown aside her pretense of trimming a hat to cross the room and join the conversation. Olivia looked askance at the interloper.

"...But," Olivia continued, "He seemed to be far more interested in the size of my dowry and my grandmother's inheritance gift than in my person," Olivia said with a sidelong glance at Lydia, who became even more interested.

"And you were far more interested in a certain Colonel than in a penniless rake," Elizabeth laughed. Lydia's eyes grew wide.

"A colonel! Oh, I do love a man in uniform! I hope your colonel is young and handsome, not stodgy and old like that Colonel Forster." Elizabeth could not resist a smirk.

"You had better act fast to secure your Colonel Fitzwilliam before Lydia gets hold of him," she said. Her mother's voice cried out for Lydia upstairs and she responded to the summons even more reluctantly than Jane did. "Let us make our escape," said Elizabeth, and the two ladies made their way into the garden furthest away from the house. They linked arms and strolled to a bench beneath a tree, where they sat down to talk.

"Now that I have you to myself," Olivia began, "Tell me the truth, Lizzy, how are you?"

"I am well, Livy," Elizabeth replied unconvincingly.

"You have dark circles under your eyes, your face is pale and your eyes have lost their sparkle." Olivia's critique was ruthless and unstinting. "You have been biting your nails, and unless I am greatly mistaken, you have been crying recently." Actually she did not know this to be fact, but it seemed to fit with Elizabeth's overall appearance. Elizabeth looked a way, a silently acknowledging all of which she had been accused. "Lizzy, what has happened?" Elizabeth remained mute, unable to begin. "Has this anything to do with that letter I saw you pull from your breast and crumble into your pocket when you came into the house?" Olivia said mildly, but there was a glint of triumph in her eyes. Elizabeth had to laugh at her friend's accurate assessment. She rose and paced in front of the bench.

"I knew I would not be able to hide anything from you. That is why I hesitated to write earlier. I needed time..." her voice drifted off. Elizabeth was overwhelmed by a burning desire to finish Mr. Darcy's letter. Until she knew what he'd had to say she could not put her own feelings into perspective.

"What do you have to hide?" Olivia asked gently. Elizabeth grew silent again, and Olivia sympathetically allowed her a moment to compose her thoughts. Elizabeth sat down and began her tale.

"He wrote to me," she said when the worst of it was over, pulling the handkerchief from her pocket. "He found my grandmother's perfume vial and wanted to return it to me." Olivia stood and took the tiny vial from Elizabeth's outstretched hand.

"I thought you had lost this in London. How did he come to be in possession of it?" she asked.

"I do not know. Perhaps I was mistaken. I could not find it the night we went to the theatre but maybe it was among my things and I just could not locate it. I must have lost it in Hunsford."

"I wonder why he sent it back," Olivia said as she took a whiff of the lavender water. "I should have thought that he would keep it as a remembrance of you."

"He returned it because he sensed that it would be something important to me," Elizabeth said, as she took the vial from Olivia and carefully folded it back into Mr. Darcy's handkerchief. For just a second, she ran her thumb across the fine linen and smiled. She had her own trophy to cherish. Olivia watched as Elizabeth carefully returned the treasure to her pocket and shook her head. One minute she berates him for doing something heinous, the next she calls him honorable. She certainly does not know her own mind. She wondered what had actually passed between them that day, and how two people so obviously suited to one another could have come to their present circumstances. She went to Elizabeth and hugged her tightly.

Olivia came forward and hugged Elizabeth tightly. "Oh, Lizzy," she sighed. "I am sorry. I thought the two of you were meant for each other." Elizabeth pulled away and looked at her friend.

"Why do you say so?" she was curious to know. The two ladies began to walk, but not toward the house. "I thought you did not know Mr. Darcy very well."

"Oh, it has nothing to do with knowing him. It has more to do with--well for lack of a better explanation--the way he looks at you." Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and squinted at Olivia.

"How does he...did he look at me?"

"Like no man I ever saw look at woman," she replied cryptically, her eye fixed on the memory. "The first time I noticed it was in the park that afternoon. He saw you and knew you from a hundred yards away. I am certain of it." Olivia recalled the look in his eyes before he and Colonel took off across the great lawn and the look in his eyes after he'd hit his head and was fixated on Elizabeth. Olivia was convinced at that moment that, had the Colonel let him, Mr. Darcy would have tracked Lizzy all the way to Mr. Bingley's house. "I also remember how he looked at you in the theatre that night. He barely looked at anything else after you smiled at him. If a man looked at me the way he looked at you..."

"As I recall, you were also closely observed that night," Elizabeth said slyly, a hint of her old spirit returning.

"A lot of good that did me. I did not see the Colonel again for a week and the next thing I knew he had gone to see his aunt with Mr. Darcy. You have seen more of him these last few months than I have," Olivia pouted.

"You are in love with him, are you not?" Elizabeth didn't wait for an answer. "You have my sympathies. 'The course of true love never did run smooth,' to quote the 'Bard of Avon.' At least you did not have to bear the..." Elizabeth covered her mouth suddenly as tears welled up in her eyes and began to cloud her vision.

"Lizzy!" Elizabeth looked up and saw Lydia beckoning her to come inside the house.

"I cannot go in like this," she said, turning away.

"I will make your apologies, but you had better come in quickly or Lydia is likely to come out after you again." Elizabeth nodded and with a last squeeze of hands, Olivia made her way back to the house. Elizabeth judged it best to wait until another time to continue the letter. She dried her tears and pinched her cheeks and then, putting on a brave face, went into the house.

Mr. Bingley stepped out of his townhouse barely an hour after sunrise and inhaled deeply. It was a lovely morning in his estimation. The sky was clear, the air crisp and cool, and Mr. Bingley was on his way to meet his destiny in Hertfordshire. The day could not be more perfect as far as he was concerned. His sister Caroline was far less enthusiastic. She had arrived in the breakfast room complaining about the early hour and what she saw as an unnecessary rush to return to the country. Mr. Bingley had only further infuriated her by pointing out that she had only recently expressed an interest in returning to the country. She now sat in the carriage impatiently awaiting her brother.

"Come on, if we are to go, then." Mr. Bingley smiled and entered the carriage, only too happy to accommodate her.

Jane was sitting with Elizabeth in the parlor at Longbourn putting ungainly stitches in the handkerchief she intended to present to her new fiancé. She pricked her finger and looked down at her work as though seeing it for the first time.

"Jane! Take care or that fine piece of linen will become a bandage instead of a betrothal gift," Elizabeth teased. "I do believe that is the third time you have pricked your finger in this hour."

"It is no use. I am too nervous to do this," Jane admitted as she examined the tiny wound. "And the stitch work is so clumsy Mr. Bingley will probably throw it back in my face."

"Your Mr. Bingley? He would cherish what you gave him, even if it was spattered with your blood." Jane blushed slightly and reached for a tiny pair of scissors. She painstakingly began to cut away the uneven stitches.

"At the risk of causing you to do further injury to your hand," Elizabeth said after watching Jane for a few minutes, "I would like to know how your proposal came about."

"I told you and Livy all about it days ago, Lizzy," Jane said as she laid aside the scissors and carefully examined the square of cloth.

"You told me about the proposal, yes. I want to know what came before. When I received your last letter in Kent you wrote that Mr. Bingley had been courting you in a most extraordinary manner. I should dearly like to know what you meant by that." Jane smiled.

"You should be asking Livy about this, or Uncle Gardiner. Between them they contrived to bring Mr. Bingley and myself together in the strangest places. We met at the shop, at our uncle's chess club, the library--we even met one morning at Harley's, where Mr. Bingley insisted on buying his sister a most atrocious hat." Jane laughed. "Moreover, he reported the next day that Miss Bingley adored it!" Lizzy arched an eyebrow and smiled.

"And what did you do? What was it like?" Jane shrugged, curious as to why her sister wanted to know. It suddenly occurred to her that in spite of the fact that Elizabeth had received and rejected a marriage proposal, she had yet to be properly courted by a suitor and attempted to give her an answer.

"I cannot say, exactly. It was not so much a matter of what we did or what we said; the important thing was that we were together. I think that at that point we were beyond words and deeds. We wanted to focus on feeling."

"Feeling?"

"Yes, Lizzy. It is difficult to explain. All we needed was to be together, to see each other. I wanted to be by his side and feel his presence. I lived for the moments when I could be in his company. Even on those days when his sister insisted on intruding on our visits, just knowing that he was nearby was enough. I was content." Elizabeth stared at her sister for a moment and then burst into laughter.

"Dear Jane, that does not make any sense!"

"I know, but it is true, Lizzy. Mr. Bingley and I had reached an understanding; there was no need for dramatic protestations of love. We simply needed to be together. We needed time. Some day you will--." Jane caught herself and blushed self-consciously. "Oh, Lizzy, I am sorry."

"No, Jane, it is all right. I know you did not mean to cause me pain. And you are right. Perhaps one day I shall understand what you mean." Jane gave her a small, wistful smile but she did not attempt to gainsay her sister as she took up needle and thread once more.

"Lizzy, you do realize that as Mr. Bingley's particular friend, you are very likely to see him again." It wasn't necessary to say more. Elizabeth knew exactly whom she meant. She sighed heavily and laid aside her own needlework.

"I am aware of it, Jane, and I shall have to deal with it when the time comes. I am hoping that by the time you and Mr. Bingley are married all this will be forgotten and...Mr. Darcy...and I will be able to meet as...disinterested acquaintances." Elizabeth did not dare look at her sister. Jane arched an eyebrow that betrayed her opinion. She seriously doubted that any stretch of time would undo the emotions she had witnessed at the theatre that night in London. She had seen the passion in Mr. Darcy's ardent gaze. It was not the fleeting sort of admiration with which Jane was all too familiar. Mr. Darcy truly loved Elizabeth, of that Jane was certain, and she very seriously doubted that his feelings would soon be altered in spite of his disappointment.

Of course he would very likely deny his continued obsession with Elizabeth Bennet, Jane supposed. His pride and self-esteem would demand it. Jane idly wondered what lies Mr. Bingley had told himself once his friends convinced him that she didn't love him. For her effort, she pricked her finger yet again, earning a hearty laugh from her sister.

"I am very glad to see you in good humor, even if it must be at my expense," Jane said as she attended to her finger. Elizabeth rose to go to the window, drawn by the sound of a carriage.

"You shall be in good humor very soon, Jane. Your Mr. Bingley has come." She turned to Jane and the sisters shared a smile. Jane set aside her sewing kit and took a deep breath to compose herself. Elizabeth observed her serene smile with satisfaction. Her moment of quiet contemplation on Jane's happiness was brief. Mrs. Bennet, alerted to the imminent arrival of her future son-in-law, burst into the room calling for Jane to prepare herself, for Elizabeth and her sisters to assemble to greet Mr. Bingley and for the servants to bring refreshments. Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a wary look, but smiled on their mother tolerantly as she wondered aloud whether Mr. Bingley's "elegant sisters" would also be visiting. Mrs. Bennet barely had time to collapse into a chair, her heart aflutter with ill-concealed excitement, before Mr. Bingley entered the room.

"Good morning, ma'am," he said with a smart bow to the lady of the house. "Ladies."

"You are very welcome, Mr. Bingley. Very welcome, indeed! It has been far too long that you have been out of our company. Please, have a seat," Mrs. Bennet cried effusively. "Lydia! Go and tell your father that Mr. Bingley is here. Perhaps Mr. Bingley would like to have a word with him," she said with a sly look at Jane. Elizabeth covered her mouth to hide her smile as Mrs. Bennet practically impelled Mr. Bingley across the room toward her eldest. "Lizzy, you come and sit by me. The light is better for your needlework." Elizabeth sighed and rose to her feet. Mr. Bingley scarcely had time to acknowledge Elizabeth's curtsey before Mrs. Bennet tugged her arm and led her away from the settee. Jane blushed as Mr. Bingley took the vacated seat beside her.

"Hello, Miss Bennet."

"It is very good to see you again, Mr. Bingley," Jane replied with a shy gaze at her beloved. Across the room, Lydia and Kitty giggled. Mr. Bingley tore his eyes away from Jane and saw three pairs of eyes watching the couple with eager anticipation. Only Elizabeth and Mary kept their eyes averted; Elizabeth was sewing and Mary had her face buried in a book.

"Well, well, Mr. Bingley," said the voluble Mrs. Bennet. "You have been away from our country for so very long we thought we might never see you again. Pray tell, sir, what has kept you away?" Jane turned crimson and Elizabeth opened her mouth in protest of her mother's bluntness.

"Stupidity," Mr. Bingley replied simply. Absolute silence ensued; even Mary was diverted by the remark. "I was an absolute fool to stay away for so long. I shall not repeat the mistake," he said with a smile for Jane.

"I admire a man who knows his limitations," Mr. Bennet said as he entered the room. "We are well met, sir," he added. "Am I too late to offer a civil greeting on behalf of the family?" Elizabeth ducked her head to hide her smile as Mr. Bingley rose to take Mr. Bennet's offered hand. "Probably so; my dear wife moves surprisingly fast for a woman of her years. Well, when you have sated your curiosity about the latest fashions in Meryton and the litany of who has done what to whom over the past half year in your absence, come into my library for a glass of port and a bit of male companionship." With that, Mr. Bennet withdrew, leaving Elizabeth in a struggle to maintain a straight face. Mrs. Bennet wore a look of confusion, as did her youngest. But Jane was oblivious to it all. Her heart was full; Mr. Bingley was at her side and he was about to be given her father's formal consent to make Jane the happiest woman in the world. Her eyes welled up with tears, which Elizabeth noticed with alarm. She prayed that Mrs. Bennet didn't notice and create a fuss. Mr. Bingley, however, feeling the strain of his own heart, suggested that he and Jane take a walk in the garden. Elizabeth leapt to her feet in an effort to rush block her mother's view of Jane and rush the couple out of the room.

"He did not invite you, Lizzy. Do sit down," Mrs. Bennet said as Elizabeth escorted Jane to the door.

"No, do join us, Lizzy," Jane said in a small voice. "I am sure Mr. Bingley would not mind." She pulled her sister out of the room before Mrs. Bennet could speak. Elizabeth was hesitant, but Mr. Bingley smiled. The trio stepped into the hall and Mr. Bingley closed the door behind them.

"That is an excellent idea. Would you be so kind as to escort your sister into the garden? I will join you both presently," he said with a nod toward the library. Elizabeth nodded and reached for Jane's hand. The two sisters escaped into the garden, not stopping until they had gone a good distance from the house.

"Dear Jane, are you all right? You looked as though you were about to cry just now!" an anxious Elizabeth said. Jane shook her head.

"I am fine, Lizzy. I am only too happy to contain my joy! For so many months I believed this day would never come and now it has! I cannot help but weep for joy." She embraced her sister and Elizabeth found that she, too, was shedding tears. "Father has already promised to give his consent. He thinks Mr. Bingley very worthy of me."

"Oh, he is, he is, Jane. There is no man more worthy of your love!" Elizabeth said fiercely. "And no two people are more deserving of such happiness." The pair linked arms and walked over to a bench under a large shade tree.

"I should like to see you equally happy one day, Lizzy," Jane said soberly. Elizabeth's face fell, but she quickly rallied, unwilling to let her own broken heart ruin her sister's joy.

"Perhaps I shall. Perhaps another young man of five thousand pounds a year will come into the neighborhood, spy me from across a crowded assembly and fall hopelessly in love with me," she said archly. "And perhaps he will have Mr. Bingley's charm and amiability. He may even have--." Elizabeth could no longer keep up the pretense. She felt tears begin to sting her eyes anew. She would not be able to cajole Jane into thinking that those new tears were for her engagement. Elizabeth bent as if to remove an imaginary speck of something from her shoe. "Dear me, I should really consider buying a new pair," she muttered in an effort to change the subject. Jane watched Elizabeth carefully and could sense her sister's heart aching for the man she lost and could not admit she loved. Jane was not blind to Mr. Darcy's attentions to Elizabeth. Nor was she blind to her sister's distraction with the man she claimed to despise. Jane silently vowed to do something about the situation. Perhaps she would speak about it with Mr. Bingley after the engagement was announced. Then he might persuade Mr. Bingley to invite Mr. Darcy back to Netherfield; perhaps--. Jane's line of thinking faltered. Her younger sister's stubbornness was legendary. But perhaps with Mr. Bingley's help, perhaps... Elizabeth abruptly rose to her feet and Jane came out of her reverie. She followed Elizabeth's line of vision and saw that Mr. Bingley was approaching. Jane grabbed her sister's arm for support. Mr. Bingley was smiling broadly as he closed the distance.

"What would you say to a wedding next month?" Jane had no voice with which to reply to her fiancé's inquiry. She squeezed Elizabeth's arm.

"I think she says yes," Elizabeth beamed.

Chapter 11

Do come to Hertfordshire soon, Darcy! Mr. Bingley repeated the thought for the third time as he watched his future sister-in-law listlessly pushing a piece of fish around her plate. Although he knew in his heart that Elizabeth was truly happy for the newly engaged couple, Mr. Bingley could not help noticing that she seemed uncharacteristically quiet and dull since his return to the country. She had never struck him as quiet or dull in the past. He thought of Elizabeth Bennet as spirited and lively, and she could not be less spirited and lively than she was at that moment. Mr. Bingley could not help but wonder what had happened to change her demeanor so. He would have given anything to see her smile again. Mr. Darcy would be a help. Miss Elizabeth was never dull when in his company. Mr. Darcy would provide a good distraction for whatever ailed the girl, and perhaps...perhaps he could be more than a cure for what ailed her; far more, if Mr. Bingley had his way. Yes, Darcy! Get thee to Hertfordshire. There is a maiden here in need of you, and you need her more than you can say as well.

"I have been considering his invitation," Mr. Darcy said as his eyes surveyed the herb garden below the window of his study. "What do you think, Fitzwilliam?"

"What I think does not matter, Darcy," the Colonel said, joining him at the window. "Do you want to go to Hertfordshire? Are you ready to meet Miss Bennet again? We had spoken about it as a distant possibility, but this is far sooner than you might have hoped for. Are you ready to face her?" Colonel Fitzwilliam searched Mr. Darcy's eyes, hoping that he would agree to go. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he would be able to get on with his life. Mr. Darcy turned away from the view, still leaning on the frame.

"There is something I have not told you, Fitz," he said in a low voice. He closed his eyes and sighed as the Colonel waited. "I have written to Miss Bennet." The Colonel looked at his cousin a moment, confused.

"You mean you have written to her again?"

"Yes. A few days ago; in fact, I sent her an express." Even as Colonel Fitzwilliam tried to form a question, Mr. Darcy continued. "I had something I had to return to her, you see," he said with a hint of a smile on his lips. "A debt of honor, you might say." Mr. Darcy straightened up and headed for the door. "It is a long story, Fitzwilliam. Let us get cleaned up and I will explain it over dinner."

"Why did you wait so long?" the Colonel asked as the servants departed with the last of the dinner dishes. "You might have returned it to her at the theatre." The swirling dark red wine at the bottom of his glass momentarily mesmerized Mr. Darcy.

"I did not know that I would see her there," he said, then he smiled. "I confess I did have a fantasy about returning it to her after she accepted my proposal." Mr. Darcy blushed at his boyish romanticism, and Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled.

"So you carried that vial with you the whole time you were in Kent?" he asked. Mr. Darcy nodded, and put down the glass.

"Whenever I held it, or looked upon it, or opened it and breathed its scent...her scent..." Mr. Darcy caught himself and flushed again.

"So what did you say in the letter?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked as he dug into his trifle.

"Surely you did not attempt to renew your advances to the lady."

"No, no, of course not. I wrote at first simply to tell Miss Bennet that I had found the vial and was returning it to her."

"And then?"

"And then...I realized that I had an opportunity, perhaps my last opportunity to tell her how I felt about her." Mr. Darcy stabbed at his trifle with his spoon. "If...when I see her again, I will not be able to speak what is and will always be in my heart. I wanted her to know that although I went about things badly, I truly..." he ran a hand over the lower half of his face, feeling his emotions begin to well up in his throat. The sentence remained unfinished. Colonel Fitzwilliam rose, patted Mr. Darcy on the shoulder, and left him to his sorrow. A few minutes later, Mr. Darcy joined the Colonel in the library and accepted a glass of brandy. The Colonel poked at the fire in the grate as Mr. Darcy went to look out the window.

"I am going to Hertfordshire," he declared. The Colonel paused at his task for a second and smiled to himself. Good show, Darcy. Good show.

"So, Eliza, my brother's...future wife tells me that you spent some time in Kent this spring," Caroline said as her brother absently toyed with a theory at the far end of Longbourn's dining table.

"Yes," Elizabeth said quietly. "I went to visit our cousins Mr. and Mrs. Collins in Hunsford." Elizabeth was in no humor to be fodder for Caroline's thinly veiled insults, so she said no more.

"Mr. Darcy was also in Kent these past several weeks. I do not suppose you saw anything of each other?" Caroline smiled, confident that Elizabeth would reply in the negative.

"Actually, we saw a good deal of each other. As you are no doubt aware, Mr. Darcy's aunt is my cousin's patron, and so we were frequently thrown into each other's company," Elizabeth replied, but she had merely spoken the truth and could take no satisfaction in the shocked expression on her inquisitor's face.

"Really? I am surprised that Mr. Darcy said nothing of you then, when we saw him in London last week," Caroline smiled, concluding that the interaction between the pair must have been trivial.

"I am not surprised at all," Elizabeth replied softly. Beside her, Jane frowned and took hold of her sister's hand under the table.

"Oh, he mentioned Miss Elizabeth in his correspondence," Mr. Bingley offered, earning a look from the lady under discussion. "In his first letter he said she was in remarkably good looks." Mr. Bingley had exaggerated a bit, but if he was to get his friend a wife, he ought not waste any opportunity to plead his suit.

"Mr. Darcy said that of Eliza Bennet?" All eyes turned to Caroline, whose shrill tone had disrupted all talk at the table. Only Elizabeth could not meet her eyes, although her reaction had been much the same.

"In another letter he mentioned he mentioned your being a frequent guest at his aunt's estate," Mr. Bingley said significantly. Elizabeth found herself blushing, and Mr. Bingley saw that as sufficient encouragement. "He said he also encountered you frequently on the grounds of his aunt's park during his morning exercise."

"Yes, yes that is true. We seemed incapable of venturing out onto those expansive grounds without encountering one another," Elizabeth said with some asperity. Mr. Bingley was amused by the outburst and by Elizabeth's subsequent blush. It was her first display of emotion that evening, and though she seemed less than pleased at the recollection she was nonetheless animated and for that Mr. Bingley was grateful. Unfortunately, Jane was equally aware of her sister's state and chose that moment to turn the conversation in another direction. Mr. Bingley noticed that Elizabeth smiled at her sister gratefully and was confused. He wanted to better understand what the look between them signified.

Later, when the Bennets' guests moved into the parlor and tables had been set up for the evening's entertainments, Mr. Bingley drew Jane over to a small settee. No one would object to the newly engaged couple stealing a moment to themselves, would they?

"Tell me about your sister," Mr. Bingley said without overture. If Jane was surprised by the question she did not say so. Instead, she fumbled for words that would satisfy Mr. Bingley's curiosity and not betray her sister's confidence.

"She has been rather quiet of late."

"Since her return from Kent, I take it." Jane could only nod and pray that her fiancé did not ask questions she could not answer. "Has something happened? Was she ill?"

"I do not think so," Jane said hesitantly.

"Perhaps she has suffered some disappointment. I cannot imagine it was easy for her, seeing her friend married and settled..." Jane raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"You believe her to be jealous of Charlotte Collins?" she asked, too stunned for the moment to recall the true reason for her sister's misery.

"No, no...envious, perhaps. I am certain that after seeing her friend so comfortably situated, and now her beloved sister equally destined to be happy, she would naturally feel some desire to be settled herself."

"That would not...make her unhappy," Jane said uneasily.

"Then why does she...forgive me, my dear. I do not mean to pry, but I am concerned for Miss Elizabeth's well being." Jane smiled at her Mr. Bingley.

"I understand, and I am touched by your concern. In truth, she is unhappy, although I am not at liberty to explain the reason for it." Mr. Bingley nodded.

"Do you think...is there any chance that I am correct in my assumption?" Jane averted her eyes and Mr. Bingley had his answer. "I have invited Mr. Darcy to join us at Netherfield. If all goes well he will be here by month's end." Jane turned her face back to Mr. Bingley. Her mouth opened to speak, but her words were forestalled by Mrs. Bennet's summons.

"Do join us at whist, Mr. Bingley. Your sister tells us that you are an excellent player and we would not see our guest deprived of an opportunity," she tittered. Mr. Bingley reluctantly rose to his feet. He shot his sister a venomous look, forcing the smile of triumph from her face and causing Caroline to blanch as drew near.

"I thank you for your kindness, ma'am," Mr. Bingley said as he took a seat opposite his sister and continued to glare at her. He finally withdrew his eyes as Mr. Philips dealt the cards. Elizabeth took the opportunity to leave the table from which she was serving coffee to her parents' guests and joined her sister on the settee.

"I see Miss Bingley is up to her usual tricks," she said sotto voce.

"What do you mean?" Jane said, still affected by her fiancé's revelation. She looked at Elizabeth and wondered if she should tell her his news.

"Are you all right Jane? You look pale." Jane blushed and tried to compose herself.

"Forgive me...it is something Mr. Bingley said just now." Elizabeth smiled knowingly and Jane grew redder. But she did not attempt to correct her sister's mistaken assumption about the nature of their private interview.

"Jane! You do look the part of the blushing bride," Elizabeth teased. Jane quickly changed the subject and the sisters engaged in light-hearted conversation about Lydia's attire until both the subjects of Jane's engagement and the imminent arrival of Mr. Darcy were forgotten.

"Ah!" Mr. Bingley said with satisfaction. "Darcy is to come after all." Mr. Bingley had been a week at Netherfield before he received a reply to his friend's letter. Mr. Bingley's confidence in his erudition had paid off. "Like a bee to honey, he said. "Darcy could no more stay away from Miss Elizabeth than I could bear to be parted from Jane."

Mr. Bingley frowned then, as he recalled that he had indeed avoided Jane for the better part of four months due to his friend's intervention. But he quickly shrugged that off. Jane was his; all could be forgiven and forgotten. All he could look forward to now was making his dear friend equally happy.

Olivia sat at her desk pondering the wisdom of her actions. She had returned to town after seeing Jane safely in the arms of her family, but her thoughts were with her closest friend. Olivia had done her best to convince Elizabeth to join her, but Elizabeth declined, claiming that the quietude and serenity of Hertfordshire was far more conducive to recovering from a broken heart than London. That Elizabeth feared the possibility of encountering Mr. Darcy in town, she kept to herself. Olivia was reluctantly forced to leave her friend behind, and thought about Elizabeth all the way back to town. When she arrived she encountered Colonel Fitzwilliam on her doorstep. But what had begun as a happy reunion had somehow gone awry. She set aside the letter she was writing to her aunt and recalled the events of that day.

As her carriage drew to a stop, she spied Colonel Fitzwilliam coming down the steps of the Crenshaw townhouse. The Colonel opened the carriage door and handed out the greatly surprised and delighted Olivia.

"Why Colonel Fitzwilliam! This is a most unexpected pleasure. Have you been visiting with my father, or have you been posted here as a sentry?" she asked with her most beguiling smile. The Colonel looked down at his uniform and frowned.

"Madam," he said, in a condescending tone, "Colonels do not stand sentry!" Olivia could not suppress her laughter and the Colonel could not maintain a straight face for very long.

"Forgive me, Colonel! Would you care to remain here and debate military protocol or can I persuade you to return with me into the house?" The Colonel needed no persuasion. He offered Miss Crenshaw his arm and escorted her into the parlor.

Olivia's father received her warmly and she delivered greetings from all of his friends in Hertfordshire. After a very few minutes, Mr. Crenshaw excused himself and retired to his study. Olivia looked after her father suspiciously. It was unlike her father to leave her alone with a visitor and especially, as in this case, with a young man. She looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam and wondered what exactly had occasioned his visit to Olivia's father. She tried not to jump to the obvious conclusion, and asked with just a hint of nervousness in her voice if the Colonel would care for tea.

"Thank you, no. I had tea with your father a short while ago, and besides I cannot stay for very long." The Colonel sat beside Olivia on the settee and her heart began to flutter wildly. The Colonel smiled at her and said, "I understand you were lately in Hertfordshire." Olivia nodded. The Colonel moved a wee bit closer to her. "Excellent. I would like to speak to you about Elizabeth Bennet." Olivia didn't quite understand.

"Lizzy? Wh...what about her?" she said, perplexed by his line of questioning.

"I would like to know if she is as in love with my cousin Darcy as he is with her." Olivia stared at the Colonel for a second, then looked away and bit back her disappointment. She berated herself for expecting a proposal from the Colonel. After all, it had been nearly three months since she had seen him and it was highly unlikely that he would seek permission to ask for her hand while she was out of town. She tried to focus on the Colonel's question and put all other thoughts out of her mind. But she found it difficult to do so. She wished--but wishes would not do.

"I am not sure I can answer that question, Colonel," she said reluctantly.

"Surely, Miss Bennet confided in you..."

"Yes, she did. But I cannot betray a confidence," Olivia declared. The Colonel was a bit taken back by Miss Crenshaw's reluctance. After all, it was she who had inspired the plot he had been hatching since he left his cousin Darcy in Derbyshire.

"Miss Crenshaw," he said rising and walking to the window. He always thought more clearly when Miss Crenshaw was not quite so close. "Three months ago you were determined to bring Miss Bennet and Darcy together. Are you going to tell me now that you have changed your mind?"

"Much has happened since we last spoke, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Olivia said quietly.

"You are aware, then, that Darcy proposed to Miss Bennet and was rejected."

"Yes," Olivia said, unable to meet the Colonel's eyes. Her own sense of disappointment mingled with memories of that afternoon when Elizabeth had cried in her arms. The Colonel looked out of the window at a passing carriage, unaware of the turbulence of Olivia's thoughts.

"I have spent the last week in Darcy's company. He confessed that he made a terrible blunder in proposing to Miss Bennet in the manner that he did--" The Colonel paused briefly, as memories of Mr. Darcy's anguished confession flashed through his mind. "He regrets it terribly and has no hope of ever being able to undo the damage he has caused Miss Bennet." The Colonel turned to face Olivia, but she kept her face averted from him. "I came here today, on his behalf, to try and find out if there is any chance that this sad state of affairs can somehow be put right and that there can be a happy ending to all this." Olivia glanced at the Colonel then, and quickly turned away. She could not trust herself to look into his eyes. She rose and wandered about the room, trying to focus on her dear Lizzy. She wanted to act as Elizabeth would wish her to under the circumstances. But she could not completely swallow her bitterness, and replied a bit harshly.

"Did Mr. Darcy send you, then? For I recall that you refused once before to intervene where that man was concerned." Colonel Fitzwilliam ran a hand through his hair, and was forced to confess that he had changed his mind.

"When last we spoke on this matter, Miss Crenshaw, I was not convinced--as you were--that there was anything serious between my cousin and Miss Bennet." The Colonel began to pace in front of the window. "I knew that he admired her, as any man might admire an attractive and charming woman. It was not until we left London that I became convinced that Darcy was truly in love. I had an opportunity to see them together in Kent. I now agree with you that Darcy loves Elizabeth Bennet and that she has feelings for him, although she seemed unwilling to admit them at the time. I need to know that she--." The Colonel stopped in his tracks, for he noticed that tears were running down Olivia's cheeks. Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately went to her side.

"Miss Crenshaw, what is wrong?" He gently took hold of her arms and looked into her eyes, silently pleading, but Olivia did not speak. The Colonel led her back to the settee and sat her down. Olivia sighed heavily and finally began to speak, but her message reflected a combination of anguish over Elizabeth's plight and her own frustration and anger at Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"What Mr. Darcy did to Lizzy was unconscionable! How can he claim to love her and do such things as he did to her sister? And now he would wish to make things right! The arrogance of men, believing that they can do one thing one day and have a change of heart the next. Three months ago I begged for your assistance and you refused to give it--on principle, you said. You come to me today and ask me to betray a friend's confidence because you now deem them worthy of aid. Now that you see things clearly you suddenly have no scruples about interfering in the lives of your dearest relations, and yet three months ago, I was silly and manipulative to consider trying to make two deserving people happy. But now that you have had a change of heart..." The Colonel squinted at Miss Crenshaw, trying to untangle her message, which came out in a rush, punctuated by sobs. She looked up at him and he smiled. She glowered.

"Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel said, "I am guilty on all counts--at least I think I am," he said with a frown, "Save one. I have had no change of heart where you are concerned." Olivia looked into his eyes then, and held her breath. "But I am afraid we will have to discuss that at another time. I am overdue back at my office and the general will have my head if I do not return to our encampment immediately."

But he made no move to leave. The Colonel drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and as he had done once before, he gently and carefully wiped away Olivia's tears. He put away the handkerchief, kissed Olivia on the mouth ever so gently, and disappeared before her heart dared to beat again. Olivia did not move for a brief eternity.

Olivia put her fingers to her lips as she recalled that brief kiss. The Colonel was once again far from London, having been sent on an inspection tour. But as always he was in her heart and thoughts, even as she tried to think of ways to help her friend. After the Colonel had left her that day she had written to Elizabeth to renew her invitation. Only time would tell if she would come to town.

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Do come along, child. I cannot wait to get to the shops. Mrs. Tarrant informs me that a new shipment of lace has arrived and I do intend to get a hold of some very fine lace for Jane's gown." Elizabeth sighed and said a silent prayer for patience with her all too excitable mother. She stepped out of the house and joined her sisters, who, save for Lydia, seemed to be calmly awaiting her. As the six women walked purposefully toward Meryton, Jane drew close to her sister.

"Do you suppose mother would allow you to go with me to London to choose my wedding clothes?" Elizabeth shrugged.

"I do not see why she should not. But why do you want my company? Lydia is so much better at such things," Elizabeth said flippantly. Jane nudged her arm in response to the tease. "When do you plan to go?"

"I do not know, Lizzy," Jane said, quickly sobering and wondering if she should plan the trip to coincide with Mr. Darcy's arrival in Hertfordshire or wait and see what happened once he arrived. "I have yet to receive Aunt Gardiner's reply to my last letter."

"Lizzy! Jane! Do walk on! We will be the last to arrive at the shops and will get nothing for Jane's party dress!" The two sisters sighed and obeyed their mother.

"We are to have a guest in a few weeks," Mr. Bingley informed Netherfield's housekeeper, a stern woman whose manners and personality bore no resemblance to those of Mrs. Stewart. "Please see to it that the best guest accommodations are prepared."

"Can you tell me exactly when we are to expect your visitor, sir?"

"No," Mr. Bingley replied gravely. "But I want all to be in readiness whenever he does appear."

"Very good, sir," the housekeeper replied and departed with a small curtsey. Mr. Bingley sighed. He missed Mrs. Stewart. She would never have asked such a silly question. Indeed, he would not have had to ask that a room be made ready. His townhouse was always ready to receive guests. More than that, Mr. Bingley found himself missing her quiet competence. She was not haughty as some servants were. Mr. Bingley had always found such behavior peculiar; they seemed to put on airs that rivaled their masters. Mrs. Stewart went about her business with dignity and humility, with wisdom and foresight that he'd come to rely upon. Mr. Bingley could have used a bit of her wisdom at that moment. He'd been having second thoughts about his scheme to bring Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy together. After all, it was the meddling of one person in another's affairs that had overturned his plan for happiness, if only temporarily. Perhaps it would be best if he left things as they were.

Oh, but for a chance to bring two dear friends he thought so very well of together...if there was one chance in a thousand that they could find the same happiness he now enjoyed. A chance at such happiness, however slight, was worth that risk. He would not interfere. He would merely bring the two of them together. Yes; Mr. Bingley would simply provide them with an opportunity. He would leave it to Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth to do the rest. That much he could do for his friends. Mr. Bingley sighed at the prospect and hoped.

"Guests, Charles?" Mr. Bingley looked up and saw his sister descending the stairs. "Mrs. Worth tells me we are to have guests?" Mr. Bingley sighed once more. There was no point in withholding the truth.

"I have invited Darcy to join us here." Caroline lit up at the news.

"Why did you not tell me? Must I learn everything from the servants?"

"I have not told you as yet because as yet I have had no reply from him. I expect that he will reply and that he will come, but I thought it best to wait until I had his answer."

"Of course he will come! Why should he not come?" Caroline demanded. "It is true that Hertfordshire is a dull place with but little to recommend it, but he would come to see his friends, would he not?" Mr. Bingley shrugged and Caroline's face fell as she considered the possibility that the invitation would be refused. "He must come."

It was a beautiful clear late June morning when Mr. Darcy arrived at Netherfield. He had spent another week at Pemberley putting his affairs in order, and he had also spent a week at the home of Colonel Fitzwilliam's parents, the Earl of Matlock and his lady, where he visited with his sister Georgiana, who was spending her summer there. When he stepped from his carriage all the memories of the past autumn came flooding back and with them the knowledge that Elizabeth was near, very near to him once more.

Mr. Bingley and his sister Caroline greeted Mr. Darcy and saw to it that he was properly settled. When Mr. Darcy came downstairs, a servant informed him that Mr. Bingley was in the parlor with his fiancée and her sister. Mr. Darcy panicked momentarily. He had not expected his reunion to come so soon, but no sooner did he enter the room than he realized that the sister in question was not his Elizabeth, but Catherine. She greeted Mr. Darcy with an air of formality that fairly proclaimed her dislike of him. He was slightly taken aback by her aloofness, but he was more concerned about how Jane Bennet might receive him. Mr. Darcy had given considerable thought to how she might react upon meeting him again. Undoubtedly, Elizabeth had told Jane all about Mr. Darcy's interference and he had decided that if Jane Bennet had any misgivings or objections to his presence in the wedding party, he would withdraw. He had cost Jane and his friend a great deal of pain and would trouble them no more. To his surprise, however, Jane greeted Mr. Darcy like an old friend, leaving Mr. Darcy to conclude that Elizabeth had not spoken of his interference as he had assumed. At first he could not believe it, but he gradually accepted that Elizabeth had decided not to pain her sister or Mr. Bingley with what was now to be relegated to the past.

"You are most welcome back to Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy. It is a very long time since your last visit," Jane said with a sincere and unaffected smile that embarrassed Mr. Darcy. Even if Elizabeth had spared Jane the details of his involvement in Jane and Mr. Bingley's travails, he could not forget the injuries he had done to her and Bingley, and he could not imagine that Jane was unaware of Mr. Darcy's own involvement with Elizabeth. But he made an effort to respond in kind and soon felt more at ease.

Miss Bingley exploited her earliest opportunity to ingratiate herself with Mr. Darcy. She had been observing him closely since his arrival, and sensing his discomfort, ascribed it to his distaste for Hertfordshire and in particular, Jane Bennet.

"I do wish," she said conspiratorially, "That you would say something to Charles. He is determined to throw himself away on this nobody of a girl. There is still time--." Mr. Darcy withdrew his arm, which she had wrapped herself around, and turned to confront Miss Bingley.

"And why should I wish to do that, Miss Bingley? My feelings about Bingley's marriage are the same as they were last month in London."

"You do not mean to say you really approve of this match? I thought you only said that to placate him! Oh, do reconsider, Mr. Darcy. I am quite desperate for your assistance." She gripped his arm as she entreated him, and Mr. Darcy became quite disgusted. Barely restraining his temper, he wrested his arm away once more.

"Miss Bingley! I have made my feelings on this matter quite clear and I will brook no further interference in Bingley and Miss Bennet's affairs!" His tone was menacing. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?" Miss Bingley blanched and stepped back. Mr. Darcy stormed out of the house. He strolled the grounds for some time, until he encountered Mr. Bingley, Jane, and Catherine at the edge of the wood. The ladies were picking flowers and all three were engaged in pleasant conversation. When Catherine saw Mr. Darcy, she changed her direction to give him wide berth. Mr. Bingley sauntered after her, leaving Jane to greet Mr. Darcy. He offered her his arm and they followed the others.

"You must forgive Kitty, Mr. Darcy. She is somewhat in awe of you," she said with an apologetic smile. Mr. Darcy looked a bit surprised, but Jane did not comment on it.

"And you, Miss Bennet, I cannot imagine that you can be very glad to see me either," he said somewhat sheepishly. It was Jane's turn to be surprised.

"Why Mr. Darcy, why do you say so? I cannot imagine why I should not be glad to see the closest friend of my future husband."

"I have not always been a good friend to your future husband," Mr. Darcy replied, his head lowered in shame. "In fact, both you and he have every right to consider me an enemy."

"Mr. Darcy!" Jane cried, her eyes wide. "What terrible crime are you guilty of that would make us no longer friends?" Mr. Darcy looked at Jane and realized that he had been right in concluding that neither Elizabeth nor Bingley had betrayed him. They started walking again and when they reached the main garden Mr. Darcy invited her to sit on a teak bench a short distance from the rest of the party. Mr. Bingley looked over at them and saw that they were engaged in a serious discussion, and understanding his friend's need to deal with the past, did not intrude.

"Miss Bennet, I have a confession to make. What I am about to tell you may rightfully make you hate me, and if after you have heard what I am about to say you do not want me to be further connected with your wedding--or for that matter with Bingley--I will understand." Jane immediately began to protest, but he silenced her with a hand. "Please hear me out, Miss Bennet."

"I know about you and Lizzy," she said simply. Mr. Darcy's head jerked up. He would have to tell Jane about that as well.

"What I have to speak about goes beyond my dealings with your sister, Miss Bennet." He paused to gather his thoughts, and then clearing his throat, he began his tale.

"I had not been two weeks in Hertfordshire before I became aware of Bingley's feelings for you. In fact," he said with a chuckle, "I would be very surprised if I was the only one who noticed it. I have known Bingley since we were boys, and I have seen him lose his head over a pretty girl more times than I can count." Mr. Darcy smiled at the memories of his Cambridge days, and Jane smiled as well. When Mr. Darcy saw this, his face abruptly fell. He knew that what came next would be painful for both of them. "But I knew that what he felt for you was different. It was serious, and I grew very concerned that he might be making a big mistake."

"Mistake, Mr. Darcy?" Jane's question carried no anger or malice, simply an inquiry.

"I thought that--I was afraid that although you seemed to enjoy his company, that you did not share his feelings. I was afraid that you wanted him for his money," he said in a rush, no longer able to look Jane in the eye. "You would not have been the first girl to encourage a man she did not love in order to secure a home and a position in society." He drew a heavy sigh. Beside him, Jane sat quietly, patiently listening. Mr. Darcy almost wished for her to lash out at him. Her composure made him uncomfortable; he remembered Lizzy saying to him in Hunsford that Jane was not a person to let her feelings show. He tried not to think of Jane's sister as he continued. "I mistook your quiet nature, Miss Bennet. I observed you closely and saw no particular signs of regard for my friend, and I took it upon myself to inform him of my suspicions that you did not love him and were seeking to marry him only for his money." Jane turned to look at him now, but her face bespoke understanding rather than rage.

"Then it was your doing. It was your advice that led him to suddenly quit Netherfield and return to town."

"It was my unasked for interference that unnecessarily separated you from Bingley all that time. If it had not been for me you and Bingley might have been married months ago. He had planned a short trip to London, expecting to return in but a few days' time. Miss Bingley, her brother, sister, and I followed after him, and convinced him to remain in town and to forget you. I convinced him that you were no more than an adventuress." Jane bowed her head, and Mr. Darcy, who had risen and begun pacing as his agitation grew, sat beside Jane, took her hand in his, and said softly, "I believe that Bingley went to London to purchase this very ring. He would have returned to Hertfordshire and asked for your hand before the year was out." He let her hand go and rubbed his hands over his face. "I have offered my apologies to Bingley, and good man that he is, he has forgiven me. I hope that someday I may be worthy to be called your friend again, Miss Bennet."

"You did what you thought was in the best interest of your friend," Jane countered, "and while you erred in your judgment--."

"I had absolutely no right to pass judgment," Mr. Darcy blurted out, causing Jane to shudder and his friends across the lawn to turn in his direction. It was Jane's turn to be agitated, but unlike Mr. Darcy, no evidence of her inner turmoil was visible to the naked eye. Lizzy would have known Jane's heart at that moment, but Lizzy was not there. After a moment of pained silence, Jane turned to Mr. Darcy and asked about her sister.

"Did Lizzy know of this?" The simple question pierced Mr. Darcy's soul. He could only nod in reply. "And that is why she refused your proposal?" Mr. Darcy heaved another sigh and told her everything that had transpired between himself and Elizabeth in Hunsford.

"Even as I thought you unworthy of my friend's regard, I could not help falling in love with your sister. I fought it every way I could, but to no avail. I accused Bingley of contemplating a marriage to someone of little fortune, no connections, and--forgive me for saying so--an unsuitable family." Jane bowed her head, but made no protest. Mr. Darcy rose and began to pace again, aware that Miss Bingley and her brother were watching his every move. "I was arrogant, self-righteous, and conceited, Miss Bennet. I felt that in marrying you, Bingley would be marrying beneath himself. Yet even as I persuaded Bingley to leave off his romance with you, I found myself falling hopelessly in love with Eliz--Miss Elizabeth. I grew more wretched every time I saw her. I could not will myself to forget her. Every time I looked upon Bingley's miserable face in London, I felt like a complete hypocrite.

"Finally, when I encountered your sister again in Kent I could no longer deny what I felt, and I went to Miss Elizabeth and proposed." He stopped pacing and stared at a patch of verdant grass. "I botched it terribly. I fancied myself to be desired by her. I loved her so much--we seemed so alike in heart and mind, I assumed that she felt for me what I felt for her. I had no idea how much she despised me..." Jane began to protest but Mr. Darcy spoke on. "In my blindness, I could not see that I destroyed every chance of succeeding with her when I separated you from Bingley. Nor did I understand that she saw me very differently than I saw her. My proposal was a travesty. I insulted her, your family...I gave her every reason to never want to see or hear from me again. She told me that I was the last man she could ever wish to marry." Mr. Darcy paused, his breathing ragged, he looked pale, spent, and dejected. Jane rose, took hold of his arm and tried to comfort him.

"Mr. Darcy, I am so very sorry for you. I had such hopes that you and Lizzy..." Mr. Darcy looked at Jane, his eyes almost feral. He laughed bitterly.

"No, Miss Bennet. Do not attempt to deprive me of my due. I do not deserve your sympathy. I do not deserve your saintly kindness. And I most certainly do not deserve your sister." He gently pulled away from her, and went indoors. Mr. Bingley went to Jane and she laid her head on his arm, tears welling up in her eyes.

Miss Bingley swept past the footman who held the door open for her and ran after Mr. Darcy calling out his name. He stopped, but did not turn to face her.

"Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy! A word, sir, if you please." Miss Bingley's appeal was met with silence, as Mr. Darcy focused on the stairs that lay before him.

"Mr. Darcy, I could not help but see your confrontation with Miss Bennet just now." Miss Bingley paused, and Mr. Darcy turned his head slightly to listen. When she remained silent he said, "Yes?"

"I do not know what you said to her, but she seems very upset. I want to apologize for speaking to you as I did before..." Mr. Darcy was confused by the juxtaposition of these two statements. He turned and faced her fully.

"Madam, I do not grasp your meaning." Miss Bingley looked at Mr. Darcy's face and was astonished by what she saw there. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face was drawn and he was pale. For a moment she could not speak, and Mr. Darcy made as if to turn away.

"Mr. Darcy, I was wrong to ask you to lie to my brother. How much more clever, not to mention effective," she said slyly, "To speak to the prospective 'bride' directly?" Mr. Darcy's face turned beet red and his lethargic demeanor was replaced by rage. But instead of lashing out at the frightened woman, he abruptly turned and sought the solitude of his room, where he stayed until it was time for dinner.

For a while, Jane and Mr. Bingley simply stood there in the garden, Jane too emotional to speak and Mr. Bingley unwilling to further upset his fiancée. Jane grew restless, however, and so they began to wander aimlessly about the grounds. Mr. Bingley was extremely curious as to what had transpired between his future bride and his dearest friend and could only surmise that it had something to do with Mr. Darcy's revelation in London. But he refused to pry--he simply waited to be of use, ready to support Jane in any way he could. After a few minutes, Mr. Bingley noticed that Jane was crying. He offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully, but she continued to let her tears flow freely.

"I wish there was a way to turn back the clock and undo all of this," Jane said finally, with a sigh. Mr. Bingley did not quite know what to make of her comment, but he was prepared to listen patiently. "Mr. Darcy," she continued, wiping at her eyes and cheeks, "Lizzy, you, me...I wish there was someway to put things right."

"Things are quite 'right' between us, I should say," Mr. Bingley offered. Jane smiled at him indulgently.

"Yes, they are my love," she said, stroking his cheek. "But your friendship with Mr. Darcy must have suffered for this...and Lizzy..." Mr. Bingley frowned.

"What of Miss Elizabeth," he began to ask, but Jane suddenly froze. She glanced at Mr. Bingley and her eyes grew wide.

"Forgive me, Charles. I must leave at once. I know I was supposed to dine with you this evening, but believe me, I have an urgent matter to attend to and I must go at once." Jane turned and would have run back toward the house, but Mr. Bingley caught her arm. Jane turned back.

"Please, Charles. You must assure Mr. Darcy that I bear him no malice for what has occurred and that I am not leaving Netherfield to avoid his company. He will probably not believe you, but you must convince him because it is true." She looked Mr. Bingley in the eye and exacted a silent promise. He wanted to speak, but instead kissed her and let her go. Jane ran off, stopping only to turn back once more and assure Mr. Bingley that she loved him and would return on the morrow.

Chapter 12

Olivia was absorbed in practicing a difficult piece on the pianoforte when the parlor door opened to admit Colonel Fitzwilliam. She blushed furiously, for she had resorted to the instrument to distract herself from the almost constant temptation to fantasize about her reunion with the man who now stood before her, resplendent in his red coat, with the improbable addition of a large basket over his arm. Olivia rose and went to greet him, suddenly unsure of herself. The Colonel, however, putting the basket aside, grasped Olivia's hands and drew her very close. Then he flushed, slightly and stepped back with an embarrassed laugh in which Olivia joined him. Mr. Crenshaw came into the room and greeted the Colonel warmly.

"How are you, my boy? None the worst for your travels, I gather," he said. He made small talk for a few minutes, as Mr. Crenshaw was wont to do, then he pointedly suggested that the Colonel take Olivia for a walk. Colonel Fitzwilliam obeyed immediately.

"How was your trip, Colonel?" Olivia asked, as she and the Colonel strolled arm in arm.

"It was mercifully tedious and uneventful," the Colonel replied with a smile. Olivia squinted at him quizzically. "Had it been interesting and eventful, I might still be in Brighton, rather than here in the presence of far pleasanter company," the Colonel explained with that smile that made Olivia's knees grow weak. "What have you been up to in my absence?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, since Olivia seemed unequal to keeping up her end of the conversation. But she suddenly came out of her trance and spoke up excitedly.

"I have convinced Lizzy to come to town. She is to arrive tomorrow, and if you would now do your part--"

"You did what?" the Colonel cried, stopping in his tracks to turn on the bewildered lady. Around them, people stared as they walked by.

"I convinced Lizzy to come to town," Olivia replied reasonably. "You asked for my help in reuniting her with your cousin. I have invited Lizzy to stay with me until the wedding. I reckoned that you could persuade Mr. Darcy to come to London--." Before she was able to complete her sentence, the Colonel had rolled his eyes and walked off. He abruptly came back and erupted.

"You fool! You silly, scheming little... Why on earth did you do that? Do you have any idea what you just did?" Olivia's eyes were wide and beginning to brim with tears and Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately regretted his outburst. "I am sorry, Miss Crenshaw," he said, reaching for his handkerchief. "I seem to have a penchant for making you cry..." Olivia snatched the handkerchief from him and turned away. The Colonel sighed.

"Miss Crenshaw...Olivia...I am sorry. It is just that you have ruined--." Olivia spun around.

"Ruined what?" she demanded. She looked into the Colonel's eyes and he felt awful. He took her arm and led her to a bench where they could speak more privately. "Well? What have I done that is so terrible? You did ask for my help," Olivia reminded the Colonel. He shook his head.

"So I did. But I did not ask you to invite Miss Bennet to town!"

"So I was to help you, but I was not permitted to show any initiative," Olivia replied. "Forgive me, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I am unused to following orders," she said sarcastically. The Colonel smiled.

"Well, you had better get used to it, young lady." Olivia's eyebrows shot up.

"What is that supposed to mean? And what is it that I am supposed to have ruined?" The Colonel ran a hand through his hair.

"I just had a letter from my cousin Georgiana telling me that Darcy went into Hertfordshire a few days ago to visit Bingley." Olivia's mouth formed a small "O." "I knew that he had an invitation from Bingley before I left Derbyshire and that he planned on accepting it, but I did not know when he would be going. When I last spoke with Darcy, he said something about getting some major piece of estate business taken care of before leaving Pemberley." Olivia looked at the Colonel with a smirk.

"Perhaps," she said, "You are not as good an officer as you think. I may be a civilian-- and a girl civilian at that--but it seems to me that the officer in charge should inform his troops of his strategy if he expects them to carry out his commands." The Colonel stared at Olivia for a moment, lost in the beauty of her smile. Then he gathered his wits about him and suggested that they go back to the house and map a new strategy--together.

Mr. Darcy lay prostrate on the huge four poster bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt wretched, physically spent by the afternoon's exertions. He considered summoning his valet to pack his things, but he thought better of it. He would give his host the satisfaction of throwing him out of Netherfield, if Mr. Bingley chose to do so. Mr. Darcy slowly realized that he actually felt better about himself than he had in some weeks. He had atoned for his sins and while his heart was still mourning the loss of his beloved Elizabeth, he was able to find some comfort in knowing that she now knew that he truly loved her. Mr. Darcy knew that Elizabeth would give his letter a fair hearing, even if she chose to never speak to him again. He turned over on his stomach and tried to nap, but just as his eyes closed there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened to admit Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy sat up and braced himself for an ugly scene.

"Are you all right, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley asked mildly, coming to sit beside him on the bed. The question disarmed Mr. Darcy, who was unprepared for such an inquiry.

"I feel better knowing that the truth is out, for all the good it will do any of us. I am sorry, Bingley. I know my confession must have hurt Miss Bennet deeply but I could not allow her to go on believing--." Mr. Darcy stopped and bowed his head. Mr. Bingley put a fraternal hand on his shoulder. Mr. Darcy stiffened momentarily, then relaxed.

"Jane would not say what you spoke of, but I believe she was more concerned for you than herself," Mr. Bingley said. He hesitated a moment before adding, "What did you tell her?"

"I told her the plain, unvarnished truth about how I had separated you two." Mr. Darcy threw his head back and glanced at the ceiling before squeezing his eyes shut. "I am sorry, Bingley, heartily sorry for all the trouble I have--"

"We have been through this before. What is done is done. I am only concerned now about the future." Mr. Darcy's bitter, ironic smile made Mr. Bingley cock his head to one side in question.

"You, at least, have a future to look forward to," Mr. Darcy said softly. He stood and strode to the window. "As for myself..."

"Does this concern another Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked, rising to join him at the window.

"Yes, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said with an edge of exasperation. "Elizabeth Bennet learned of my interference between you and her sister, and I have paid the ultimate price for it. I have lost her forever."

"How did she learn of it?"

"Who knows--sometimes I think that woman knows more about me than I do," Mr. Darcy answered abstractedly, more to himself than his friend. Mr. Bingley interposed himself between Mr. Darcy and the window, grabbing the man by the shoulders.

"Are you in love with her?" Mr. Darcy knew he didn't need to reply. "Well, what are you going to do about it, man? Go to Longbourn; talk to her! Beg her forgiveness!" He shook Mr. Darcy's shoulders for emphasis. Mr. Darcy was slightly amused by this sudden display of passion, but he pulled away from Mr. Bingley and walked away.

"I cannot!" He shouted. "Not yet," he said in a much softer tone.

...My dear friend, you simply must come to town. My dear Colonel Fitzwilliam (I now feel that I may rightly refer to him as "my Colonel," but you must come to London if you would know why!) has gone off to Brighton or some other dreadful place for a few weeks and I am desolate...

Elizabeth smiled and refolded Olivia's letter, placing it on the bureau before returning to her chore. She and the maid had laid out a number of dresses and she was trying to decide which to take with her to London. It was now late June, and Elizabeth would have to make alterations to a few of the gowns she was considering if they were to be worn in the hot weather. She sat on the bed and picked up the first gown and using a tiny pair of scissors, began to clip the threads that attached the long sleeves to its bodice. Elizabeth was some time at her task, and as she finished the second sleeve, she heard the sounds of someone running up the stairs.

"Lizzy?" cried Jane as she burst into the room. Elizabeth, alarmed, jumped up, scattering the contents of her sewing box on the floor. "Oh, I am so sorry," Jane said, stooping to pick up the fallen items.

"Jane! Whatever is the matter?" Elizabeth said, looking at her sister quizzically. Jane seemed abnormally agitated, even nervous. Elizabeth stooped to help Jane pick up the pins and spools of thread then took the box from her and led her to the bed. "What is it, Jane? Has Mr. Bingley--"

"Oh, no! It is not Mr. Bingley," she said with a blush. Jane had ridden home from Netherfield intent on preventing Elizabeth from leaving Hertfordshire, but now that she had Elizabeth before her, she knew not how to proceed. It was quite possible that Elizabeth would have no wish to speak with Mr. Darcy, or that she knew of his coming and had purposefully planned to leave. Elizabeth, for her part, grew more worried with each second of silence. Finally she blurted out her frustration and bade Jane to speak.

"What is it, then? Jane! Tell me something! You have me half scared out of my wits," Elizabeth cried.

"It is Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth was surprised by Jane's mention of his name, but was still in the dark. Jane took Elizabeth's hands and looked into her eyes meaningfully. "He is here, Lizzy. At Netherfield." Elizabeth paled. She withdrew her hands from her sister's and sat numbly.

"You must leave off your plans of going to London tomorrow, Lizzy," Jane asserted in her quiet yet insistent tone. Elizabeth glanced at her, then rose slowly and went to the window that faced west, toward Netherfield.

"Why should I, Jane?" Elizabeth said with a voice that betrayed her emotions. "He is here to see his friend, Mr. Bingley. Why should that concern me?" Jane rose and went to her sister. She once again took hold of Elizabeth's hands.

"He told me everything, Lizzy." Elizabeth began to pull away, but Jane held fast. "He told me of how he had felt contempt for our family, how he separated Charles and me, how much he loved you...and how you refused his proposal because of what he had done. Oh, Lizzy, why did you not tell me before?"

"To what end?" she replied, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "It could do nothing but add to your pain." Jane squeezed Elizabeth's hands tightly as confronted the frustration she had felt since she had spoken with Mr. Darcy.

"Do you think it would have given me no comfort to know that Charles loved me, even if I never saw him again? Do you think I can stand by now and watch you suffer a broken heart because of me?" Elizabeth tried to pull away, but Jane doggedly persisted. "It broke my own heart to see Mr. Darcy so bereaved and inconsolable. Lizzy you must speak with him. The two of you have to resolve your feelings for each other, one way or another, for both your sakes." Elizabeth turned away and collapsed on the bed in tears.

Continued in Next Section