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Chapter 11

Bingley's sisters agreed most readily to Darcy's plan and almost before he knew it he found himself in London. Bingley was staying in Darcy's town house and was quite surprised to see them. Though his arrival was unexpected and the house was not prepared for him, Darcy was quite happy to be home. It was especially nice to send Miss Bingley and the Hursts to the Hurst town house after dinner. These pleasures were somewhat tempered, however, by the prospect of the talk he had to have with Bingley.

Bingley saved Darcy the trouble of beginning the subject by inquiring, as they sat down to port in the library.

"So, tell me Darcy, why have you come to town? I was planning on returning to Netherfield in two day. Couldn't you get on without me? Or did you think I couldn't get on without you? That is more likely, you know."

Darcy did know it and was depending on it. "No, nothing like that, Bingley," he replied, "we just decided it was time for us all to come back to town. You know I have to join Georgiana at Pemberley soon."

"Yes, but surely you could have waited for me to return. You know, I promised Mrs. Bennet I would dine with them when I returned."

Darcy shifted slightly in his seat. "Umm, about Miss Bennet."

"Yes, what about her?" asked Bingley brightening.

"Well, what are your intentions towards her, Bingley?"

"Isn't her father supposed to ask that?" laughed Bingley.

"I'm serious, Bingley," Darcy said gravely. "What are your intentions?"

Bingley beamed as he replied, "I am going to ask her to marry me."

Bingley was so happy at the prospect that Darcy almost changed his mind. But the pain Bingley would feel at his disappointment now, would be less than the pain he would eventually feel in a marriage where the affection was all on his side.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Why?" said Bingley suddenly suspicious.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Bingley, but she does not love you."

"You must be mistaken. I'm sure she does."

"No, I'm sorry. I watched you at the ball and the affection is all on your side."

Pain flickered across Bingley's face but after only a few moments a glimmer of hope appeared.

"Perhaps you are wrong. If you are right she will refuse me."

"I'm not wrong, Bingley. And you must realize her mother would never allow her to refuse. If you love her you cannot desire her to be forced into a marriage she does not want."

Bingley sat in stunned silence for a few moments, then whispered, "Are you sure she does not love me?"

"Yes," said Darcy firmly and without hesitation. He watched as Bingley visibly deflated. After several minutes of silence, Bingley said in a rather strangled voice,

"Thank you, Darcy. If you do not mind I shall retire now."

"No, of course not. Good night, Bingley."

Bingley mumbled his own good night and left the room completely dejected.

Darcy felt awful as he sipped his port and contemplated the encounter, but it was for the best. It had gone as well as could be expected. Bingley had not been difficult to convince. He was rather despondent now, but that was to be expected. Bingley had been in these situations before and was always his usual self after a day or two. It would probably take a bit longer this time, but, surely it wouldn't be long before another pretty girl caught his eye.

Darcy decided he would have to make sure they had plenty of engagements over the next few weeks. As much as he disliked the prospect, it would do them both good and help them to forget the last few weeks in Hertfordshire.

Over the next few weeks, Darcy watched Bingley carefully. He was morose for a time but soon seemed to improve. He was as agreeable as ever though perhaps not quite as cheerful. By the time Darcy was to leave for Pemberley to join Georgiana for Christmas, he was confident that Bingley would be his old self before long.

Darcy was not doing so well himself. Try as he might he could not forget Miss Elizabeth. He thought of her every day and often dreamt of her at night. He tried to interest himself in other women but, the qualities he had always despised in London's society ladies were only emphasized by a comparison to Miss Elizabeth. He was looking forward to his escape to Pemberley. Perhaps devoting himself to Georgiana would help him forget.

Chapter 12

Darcy hoped to bring Georgiana out into society in a year or two but knew that would be impossible if she did not overcome a great deal of her shyness. He planned to bring her out of her shell this winter and hoped that endeavor would provide the distraction he need to forget Miss Elizabeth.

When Darcy returned to Pemberley for Christmas, it had been several months since Georgiana had seen him. The first order of business, as always, was to review her progress in her studies. Georgiana was a diligent scholar and Darcy was pleased with her work. Afterwards she showed him her latest drawings and played for him on the pianoforte. She had improved in these activities as well and Darcy planned to draw her out by encouraging her in them.

Soon they sat down to tea and Darcy asked about what Georgiana had been doing since they had last seen each other. When that topic was exhausted, Georgiana said,

"Now, Fitz, tell me about you. How was your stay at Mr. Bingley's new estate?"

Darcy did not want to talk about that and answered in a guarded voice, "Netherfield is lovely but the neighborhood was rather dull. We went to a few parties and assemblies but the people were are quite provincial. They are nothing to the set we are used to in London." He hoped she would drop the subject but it was not to be and she instead took it in a direction he most certainly did not want to go.

"What of the young lady you wrote me about?"

Darcy involuntarily stiffened. "What young lady?" he replied, though he knew perfectly well to whom she referred.

"The one who stayed at Netherfield while her sister was ill. You said she was quite lively and seemed to like her."

"Yes," he replied hoping desperately that he would not betray anything. "Perhaps she and her sister were a cut above the rest [this sounds too modern to me can you think of another way to say it] but their family was dreadful."

"Oh." Georgiana realized her brother was not in a talkative mood and dropped the subject. Darcy was relieved and hoped Georgiana had not noticed his agitation at the mention of Miss Elizabeth. He would never be able to forget if Georgiana had taken an interest in her.

Darcy and Georgiana spent a quiet Christmas as they always did since their father had died. They remained at Pemberley for some weeks afterwards. Darcy needed to catch up on estate business and visit his tenants. The rest of his time was spent devoted to Georgiana. In this way, he soon began to think less and less of Miss Elizabeth and luckily Georgiana did not mention her again. At the end of January, Darcy returned to town taking Georgiana with him.

One of the first things Darcy did upon his arrival was to catch up on the London papers. He found himself searching the society section. He was not even consciously aware of what he was looking for until he found it; a wedding announcement from a few weeks back:

Miss Charlotte Lucas, daughter of Sir William and Lady Lucas of Hertfordshire to the Reverend Mr. William Collins of Kent.

Darcy was also surprised to find that he had not ceased to think of Miss Elizabeth but had merely pushed thoughts of her to the back of his mind. He would have to redouble his efforts.

A couple of weeks later, the Bingleys and Hursts came to dine at the Darcy town house. Almost as soon as they were in the house, Miss Bingley whispered to Darcy that she had an important matter to discuss with him in private. Darcy did not want a private conference with Miss Bingley but she was insistent and he took her to his study being careful to leave the door open.

"Mr. Darcy," she began, "a most unfortunate event has occurred. Jane Bennet is in town." The mention of Miss Bennet instantly brought her sister to the front of Darcy's thoughts and he had to struggle to comprehend the rest of Miss Bingley's speech. "I never answered her letters informing me of her plans and arrival but today she called on Louisa and myself. My Darcy, you must tell me what to do."

Darcy considered carefully. Bingley was doing well now, but Darcy was by no means certain that he could withstand seeing Miss Bennet.

"Did your brother see her?"

"No, he was out."

"Where is she staying?"

"With some of her low relatives in Cheapside."

Darcy sighed at her unnecessary distress and urgency and suspected that it was at least partially staged for his benefit.

"There is no need to distress yourself, Miss Bingley," said he, "your brother is never in that part of town and he need never know she is in London. You do not even need to drop the acquaintance if you take a little care about when she calls."

Miss Bingley expressed a few more concerns but Darcy soon reassured her and escorted her back to the drawing-room.

That evening, when he had time to reflect, Darcy began to feel uneasy about this recent turn of events. Perhaps concealing Miss Bennet's presence in London from Bingley was high-handed. But it was done now and was done for the best.

When he had made himself comfortable on this point, Darcy turned his reflections to the disturbance of his own equanimity. The mere mention of Miss Bennet had brought all the attractions and perfections of Miss Elizabeth flooding back into his mind and heart. Despite all his efforts to forget her, he had merely learned to think of her less and he was as much in love with her as ever.

Chapter 13

The next few months passed rather uneventfully and it was soon time for Darcy to travel into Kent to visit Lady Catherine. Darcy decided to take his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, with him.

Darcy's visits with Lady Catherine were never very pleasant. She was authoritative and demanding, considered herself an expert on everything, and talked so much that no one else could. The house was gaudy and uncomfortable. And, worst of all, she had always planned for Darcy to marry her daughter, Anne. Anne was sickly, thin, and sallow, and, though not shy like Georgiana, she was timid in the presence of her mother. Darcy liked her well enough, she was certainly better company than Lady Catherine, but he had absolutely no intention of marrying her and he knew she felt the same. Lady Catherine's expectations always left them both feeling uncomfortable.

Darcy's design in bringing Fitzwilliam was to deflect some of the attention from himself. Fitzwilliam did not mind. He was also expected at Rosings Park for an annual visit and both young men found it easier to visit together giving them more leisure to enjoy the only pleasant aspect of Rosings, it's beautiful extensive ground.

The two cousins left for Rosings the Monday before Easter with plans to arrive in time for dinner. Darcy and Fitzwilliam were great friends and they enjoyed pleasant conversation on the journey. Darcy soon found himself talking of Miss Elizabeth. This surprised him. His feelings for her had not changed and he no longer tried to deceive himself on that point, but he no longer struggled to control his thoughts of her and had not thought of her in several days. Now he had begun speaking of her before he even realized she was on his mind. When he realized what he was doing he became anxious that he may have revealed to the Colonel feelings that he dared not reveal to anyone. Reviewing exactly what he had said, however, he was convinced that he had spoken moderately and revealed nothing more than a slight admiration.

Darcy decided he must turn the conversation before he said too much. He told Fitzwilliam, though without mentioning any names, about how he had rescued Bingley from Miss Bennet. This also served to remind him of why he must forget about Miss Elizabeth.

They arrived at Rosings in good time and were greeted most cordially by Lady Catherine. After dinner they had to endure a lengthy discourse on the concerns of the neighborhood. She soon came to the Collinses and after detailing all their affairs, added,

"They are currently entertaining visitors, Mrs. Collins' young sister and a friend of hers, who is also Mr. Collins' cousin, a rather pretty, gentile sort of girl, Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Darcy started and heard nothing more. Elizabeth! Miss Elizabeth was in Kent, in Hunsford. This must be why he had been thinking of her all day. Somehow, he must have sensed that she was nearby. What was he going to do? This would be a major set back in his attempts to move past her.

Colonel Fitzwilliam observed his cousin closely at this extraordinary piece of information. For, though Darcy believed he had revealed nothing, his glowing description of Miss Elizabeth had indeed rendered the Colonel suspicious. Darcy's reaction to the news that Miss Elizabeth was currently residing in the neighborhood confirmed everything. The Colonel was now convinced that his austere, reserved, cousin was actually in love with this Miss Bennet. Fitzwilliam was delighted with the prospect and was anxious to meet that extraordinary lady.

The next morning, Mr. Collins called early to pay his respects to Darcy and Fitzwilliam. Marriage had not improved him, he was exactly as Darcy remembered. Fitzwilliam, however, seemed to find him very amusing.

Darcy wanted to be in company again with Miss Elizabeth and to that end suggested that they call on the ladies at the parsonage. The Colonel most readily agreed. Mr. Collins was surprised and extremely profuse in both his own and his wife's thanks.

When they arrived at the parsonage, Darcy paid his compliments to Mrs. Collins and was somehow able to meet Miss Elizabeth with composure. She merely curtseyed to him without saying a word. He could think of nothing to say to her and contented himself to simply look at her. She was as lovely as ever. He made a slight observation on the house and garden to Mrs. Collins and then listened to the Colonel's conversation with Miss Elizabeth. At length he roused himself enough to enquire after her family. She answered him in the usual way and, after a moments pause, added,

"My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?"

Darcy felt some consciousness as to what he had done concerning Miss Bennets being in London, but after a moment's confusion, he answered, "No, I have not been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet." the subject was pursued no farther and Darcy and Miss Elizabeth did not exchange another word save for polite farewells when the gentlemen returned to Rosings.

Colonel Fitzwilliam visited the parsonage several times during the next week but Darcy could not bring himself to go back. His one visit there had proven unsatisfactory. He could not fathom why he was unable to speak with Miss Elizabeth and upon reflection he decided that perhaps it was best not to seek out her company. The Colonel always invited him along and seemed perplexed when he refused.

The next time Darcy saw Miss Elizabeth was in church. He was usually most attentive in church but today he could remember nothing of Mr. Collins' sermon. After the service, Lady Catherine invited the family from the parsonage to take tea with them that evening and the invitation was readily accepted. Despite all his efforts to convince himself otherwise, Darcy was pleased that Miss Elizabeth would be coming.

Chapter 14

"What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is."

"We are speaking of music, Madam," said he, when no longer able to avoid a reply.

"Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation, if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?"

Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency.

"I am very glad to hear such a good account of her," said Lady Catherine; "and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel, if she does not practice a great deal."

"I assure you, Madam," he replied, "that she does not need such advice. She practices very constantly."

"So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often tell young ladies, that no excellence in music is to be acquired, without constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she will never play really well, unless she practices more; and though Mrs. Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the piano forte in Mrs Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house."

Darcy made no answer and was quite ashamed of his aunt's ill breeding.

When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Miss Elizabeth of having promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then talked, as before, to Darcy. He felt her rudeness to Miss Elizabeth most keenly, and really wishing to listen himself, walked away from her, and moving with deliberation towards the piano forte, stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's countenance. Miss Elizabeth noticed what he was doing, and at the first convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said,

"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."

"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own."

Miss Elizabeth laughed heartily, and said to Colonel Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire--and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too--for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out, as will shock your relations to hear."

"I am not afraid of you," said he, smilingly.

"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers."

Darcy glared at Fitzwilliam, but really wished to know what she would say.

"You shall hear then--but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball--and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances! I am sorry to pain you--but so it was. He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact."

"I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party."

"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders."

But Darcy was not ready to let the subject drop, however. He had to let her know that he was sorry. "Perhaps," said he, "I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction, but I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers."

"Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?" said Miss Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?"

"I can answer your question," said Fitzwilliam, "without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble."

"I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said Darcy, "of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done."

"My fingers," said Miss Elizabeth, "do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault--because I would not take the trouble of practicing. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman's of superior execution."

Darcy smiled, and said, "You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can think any thing wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers."

Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, much to Darcy's annoyance. She called out to know what they were talking of. Miss Elizabeth immediately began playing again. Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said to Darcy,

"Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss, if she practiced more, and could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn."

Darcy noticed Miss Elizabeth looking at him intently and wondered if she had heard of Lady Catherine's expectations and hoped not. Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Miss Elizabeth's performance, mixing with them many instructions on execution and taste. Darcy was indignant for Miss Elizabeth's sake. As he had said, he found nothing lacking in her performance, either at the piano-forte or in regards to Lady Catherine for she received all that lady's impertinent instructions with forbearance and civility. At the request of himself and the Colonel, she remained at the instrument till the departure of the parsonage party.

That night, Darcy could not sleep. He was haunted by Miss Elizabeth. Her loveliness, her wit, her performance on the piano-forte, his pleasure in conversing, and even dancing, with her, her caring, and forbearance. As the first light of morning began to touch the sky, he came to a realization and a decision. He realized that he had been foolish to think that he could ever forget Miss Elizabeth, ever stop loving her. He decided that he must have her for his wife.

Chapter 15

When he arrived at the parsonage, Darcy was told the ladies were in the drawing-room, but on entering he found only Elizabeth and immediately apologized for his intrusion. They then sat down, and when her enquiries after Rosings were made, seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to think of something, but he could not. After a few minutes, Elizabeth rescued him by observing,

"How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London."

"Perfectly so--I thank you."

He could say no more--and, after a short pause, she added,

"I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?"

"I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing."

"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But perhaps Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same principle."

"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if he were to give it up, as soon as any eligible purchase offers."

Elizabeth made no answer and he soon realized that she wished him to begin the next subject. He obliged her with "This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford."

"I believe she did--and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object."

"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife."

"Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding--though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her."

"It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends."

"An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles."

"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance."

"I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family."

He decided to determine her own feeling on the subject and with a sort of smile said, "It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Any thing beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far."

Elizabeth blushed as she answered, "I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expense of travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys--and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance."

This answer pleased Darcy and he drew his chair a little towards her, and said, "You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn."

Elizabeth looked surprised. Darcy suddenly felt nervous and drew back his chair. He took a newspaper from the table, and, glancing over it, said, in a stiff voice,

"Are you pleased with Kent?"

A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side calm and concise--and soon put an end to by the entrance of Mrs. Collins and her sister, just returned from their walk. The tête-à-tête surprised them. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying much to any body, went away.

Darcy was much pleased with this conference and returned to Rosings in better spirits than he had been in in many weeks.

Darcy knew that Elizabeth was fond of walking in the park so he took to walking there himself at the times she was most likely to be out. It was a large park, however, and several days passed without his meeting her there. On the fourth day of his walking out he decided to try one of the less frequented walks and finally he happened upon her.

She seemed surprised to meet him and even more surprised when he turned back to walk with her. She then made a special point of telling him that this was a favourite haunt of hers. He was glad of the information and took the opportunity of meeting her there again twice more in the week that followed. They did not talk much, especially Elizabeth, but she politely answered all his questions--about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins' happiness. He also spoke particularly of Rosings and somewhat incoherently expressed his desire that she would someday visit there.

Darcy was perfectly satisfied with these interviews and determined on the conclusion of the third that he was now ready, and upon the earliest opportunity he would extend his proposals to her. Proposals which he was certain she was expecting and that any woman would be most happy to accept.

Chapter 16

Two days later, the Collinses and their guests were engaged to dine at Rosings. Darcy doubted that his opportunity would present itself at one of Lady Catherine's dinner parties, but he was glad of the chance to see Elizabeth. When the party arrived, however, Elizabeth was not with them. Mr. Collins, in an overly long, over apologetic speech, explained that she was not feeling well. Both Darcy and Fitzwilliam expressed their concern and Mrs. Collins assured them it was only a headache but she had not felt up to dining out. Darcy suddenly realized that this was his opportunity if he could only think of an excuse to get away himself. He made his apologies to Lady Catherine saying he had just remembered some urgent business and departed before she could protest.

He quickly collected his hat and gloves and walked purposely to the parsonage. When he arrived, he was shown directly into the drawing-room and he could clearly see that Elizabeth was surprised to see him. In a hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her health expressing a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered that she was and he realized he had no idea what he was going to say next. He sat down for a few moments and then getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth said nothing and after a silence of several minutes he finally moved towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began,

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Elizabeth stared at him and he saw her blush, but she said nothing and he continued. He told her everything. How much and for how long he had loved her. He then felt it necessary to tell her of his struggles, all the reasons he had for not marrying her that she might understand how strong his affection was and that he knew what he was doing. He ended by begging her to become his wife.

She blushed as he finished and the moment of silence before she replied seemed an hour to him, but she finally said,

"In such cases as these, it is, I believe, the established mode is to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot--I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation."

During the whole of this, Darcy had been leaning against the mantle-piece with his eyes fixed on her face. He was stunned. It took a few moments for him to comprehend what she had said. The realization slowly dawned on him, she was refusing him. This realization brought on a variety of emotions. First he felt a great surprise mingled with resentment that she could possibly refuse him. This soon turned to anger. And underneath it all was a great pain that she would not be his. Through all this he struggled for composure and there was a long pause till he had obtained it. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said,

"And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance."

"I might as well enquire,". replied she, "why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?"

Darcy changed colour. How did she know? was it possible Miss Bennet did love Bingley? She continued and he listened without attempting to interrupt her.

"I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind."

He was desperately trying to figure out how she knew all this and said nothing.

"Can you deny that you have done it?" she repeated.

With assumed tranquillity he then replied, "I have no wish of denying that I did every thing in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself."

"But it is not merely this affair," she continued, "on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? or under what misrepresentation, can you here impose upon others?"

Darcy felt his colour heighten and could no longer completely cover up his agitation as he said, "You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns."

"Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?"

"His misfortunes!" repeated Darcy contemptuously; "yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed."

"And of your infliction," cried Elizabeth with energy. "You have reduced him to his present state of poverty, comparative poverty. You have withheld the advantages, which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life, of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule."

"And this," cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, "is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps," added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, "these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I with greater policy concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination--by reason, by reflection, by every thing. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?"

"You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner."

He started at this, but he said nothing, and she continued,

"You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it."

He was absolutely astonished and completely mortified. She continued,

"From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that ground-work of disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry."

"You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness."

And with these words he hastily left the room and the house.

Chapter 17

What had happened? How could he not have seen that Elizabeth so disliked him? No, not disliked him, she actually hated him. He was angry. Angry at her, angry at himself, and, most of all, angry at Wickham. Why did that man keep turning up to destroy his life?

She hated him; his lovely Elizabeth hated him. He had to explain himself to her. But how? He was tempted to return directly to the parsonage; but he doubted she would even entertain him now, and if she did, he didn't think he could stand another tête-a-tête just now. How then? He would write her a letter. He would tell her everything; everything about Bingley and Miss Bennet, everything about Wickham, and even everything about Georgiana. He hurried directly to Rosings to write this formidable missive.

Darcy counted himself lucky that he was able to slip into the house and up to his chamber without being detected by Lady Catherine. He would have to come up with an explanation in the morning but he couldn't think about that now.

As he sat down at his desk, he realized this would most likely be the most important and the most painful letter he would ever write. It would likely also be extremely painful for Elizabeth; but as much as he hated to inflict more pain on her than he already had it was necessary. He wrote as follows:

The Letter is quoted exactly from the book so feel free to skip it.

Be not alarmed, Madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice.

Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley from your sister;--and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate prosperity, and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham.--Willfully and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favourite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity to which the separation of two young persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison.--But from the severity of that blame which was last night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in future secured, when the following account of my actions and their motives has been read.--If, in the explanation of them which is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry.--The necessity must be obeyed--and farther apology would be absurd.--I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley preferred your eldest sister to any other young woman in the country.--But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment.--I had often seen him in love before.--At that ball, while I had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental information, that Bingley's attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also watched. -Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening's scrutiny, that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment.--If you have not been mistaken here, I must have been in an error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter probable.--If it be so, if I have been misled by such error, to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched.--That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is certain,--but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears.--I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it;--I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason.--My objections to the marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside in my own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me.--But there were other causes of repugnance;- causes which, though still existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before me.--These causes must be stated, though briefly.- The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father.--Pardon me.--It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both.--I will only say farther that, from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection.--He left Netherfield for London, on the day following, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning. -- The part which I acted is now to be explained.--His sisters' uneasiness had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered; and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in London.--We accordingly went -and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend, the certain evils of such a choice.--I described, and enforced them earnestly. -But, however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been seconded by the assurance, which I hesitated not in giving, of your sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal, regard.--But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgment than on his own.--To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment.--I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister's being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant of it.--That they might have met without ill consequence is, perhaps, probable;--but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger.--Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me.--It is done, however, and it was done for the best.--On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn them. --With respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. Of what he has particularly accused me, I am ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity. Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates; and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to be of service to him; and on George Wickham, who was his god-son, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge;--most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman's education. My father was not only fond of this young man's society, whose manners were always engaging; he had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different manner. The vicious propensities -the want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. Darcy could not have. Here again I shall give you pain--to what degree you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding his real character. It adds even another motive. My excellent father died about five years ago; and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that in his will he particularly recommended it to me to promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow, and, if he took orders, desired that a valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. His own father did not long survive mine, and within half a year from these events Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment by which he could not be benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying the law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished than believed him to be sincere; but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. The business was therefore soon settled. He resigned all claim to assistance in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town, I believe, he chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present him to the living in question--of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered father's intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition of it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances--and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others, as in his reproaches to myself. After this period, every appearance of acquaintance was dropt. How he lived I know not. But last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice. I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself. About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and by her connivance and aid he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add that I owed the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement; and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure, but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed. This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood, he has imposed on you; but his success is not, perhaps, to be wondered at. Ignorant as you previously were of every thing concerning either, detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination. You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night. But I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of every thing here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and still more as one of the executors of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Knowing that the events of yesterday combined with the emotional labour of writing the letter and his sleepless night had left him in a less than presentable state, Darcy called his valet to prepare a bath. As soon as he had bathed and dressed, he set out to Elizabeth's favourite walk in the hopes of encountering her. He knew it was yet too early and he would most likely have to wait several hours but he had thought it best to leave the house before Lady Catherine was up.

He did indeed have to wait, but his patience was rewarded at last when he saw her enter the park. She must have seen him for she immediately retreated. Afraid of losing this opportunity, he called out her name. Her sense of politeness returned her to him. He held out the letter and she took it. He then said with what he hoped was composure, "I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?" And then, with a slight bow, he turned again into the plantation and had soon left her behind.

Chapter 18

Fitzwilliam was in the billiard room and was pleased when Darcy entered the room. He was curious about Darcy's absence last evening and this morning, certain it had something to do with Miss Bennet. He was however puzzled by the dark mood Darcy was obviously in.

Darcy entered the room and, not knowing how to begin the conversation, poured himself a drink and sat down. He was silent for several minutes. Fitzwilliam seemed to be waiting for him to begin but finally began himself by asking,

"Where have you been, Darcy? Lady Catherine was not at all pleased when you did not come back last night or show up for breakfast this morning."

"I told you last night," replied Darcy, still unwilling to communicate, "I had business."

Fitzwilliam left this alone for a minute, then added, "Did this business have anything to do with Miss Bennet?"

Darcy stiffened and in the most nonchalant tone he could muster, said, "Why do you ask?"

Fitzwilliam was tempted to chuckle at Darcy's reluctance to admit what was so dreadfully obvious, but knowing that would not help, simply said,

"You are in love with her, Darcy."

Darcy gasped and coloured and in a barely audible voice squeaked out, "How do you know?"

"I've known from the day we arrived at Rosings from the way you spoke of her in the carriage." Darcy looked startled. "Good God! Darcy," continued the Colonel, "it is obvious every time you look at her, every time you speak of her."

Darcy stared into his drink and whispered, "It wasn't obvious to her."

Fitzwilliam was startled at this; he sat down in the chair opposite Darcy's and asked, "Come Darcy, what is the matter? What has happened."

Darcy sighed realizing the time had come to confide in his cousin.

"You asked about my business and if it had anything to do with Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet was my business. When she did not arrive for tea yesterday, I went to the parsonage to see her and . . . I proposed to her."

Fitzwilliam was confused and began, "But . . .," Darcy silenced him.

"She refused me, Fitzwilliam." So saying, Darcy buried his head in his hands and began to silently sob.

Fitzwilliam was surprised, he had a thousand questions. He waited for his cousin to compose himself and asked, "But why?"

"She hates me, Fitzwilliam."

"Hates you!" cried the Colonel, "How can she hate you?"

"It would seem she has very good reasons. Do you remember when I told how I had rescued a friend from a very unfortunate match?" Fitzwilliam paled slightly and nodded. Darcy continued, "Well the lady was Miss Bennet's sister and somehow she found out about it."

Here Darcy stopped for Fitzwilliam had begun pacing about the room. After a moment he stopped, turned to Darcy and said,

"I'm sorry, Darcy, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I had no idea Miss Bennet was involved in that and I told her about it yesterday. I'm so sorry, Darcy."

Darcy felt a sudden flash of anger but quickly realized it wasn't the Colonel's fault.

"Don't trouble yourself, Fitzwilliam, it's probably best that she know. Besides, that was not her only reason. Wickham showed up in Meryton, the small town near her father's estate. They became quite well acquainted and he told Miss Bennet his usual lies about me. You can have no doubt, knowing Wickham as you do, that she had no difficulty believing him."

"Oh! Darcy. But didn't you tell her what he really is?"

"I couldn't, I didn't have the presence of mind at the time. But I have since written her a letter explaining everything. I even told her about Georgiana. I have just returned from delivering it to her. Fitzwilliam, I told her, if my word isn't good enough, she could consult you for confirmation. So do not be surprised if she seeks your confidence and please tell her any thing she wants to know."

"Of course, Darcy. Do we still depart tomorrow?"

"Yes, I had planned oh postponing indefinitely, but now I can not bear to stay here any longer."

"Then let us go pay our farewell call at the parsonage. I may have an opportunity of speaking with Miss Bennet."

Darcy was stricken at the thought of encountering Elizabeth again so soon, but Fitzwilliam convinced him of the necessity of the visit and they set off.

To Darcy's relief, Elizabeth was not there. He took his leave of Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas, expressed polite sorrow at having missed Elizabeth, and departed. Fitzwilliam remained in the hopes of Elizabeth's return. However, when the Colonel returned to Rosings after more than an hour, Darcy found that she had not.

Chapter 19

Thinking of her integrity he began to reconsider the manner of her refusal. Her words had been echoing in his head ever since she had uttered them. Until now, however, he had been angry and considered them as baseless. Now that his anger had subsided he began to wonder if those words were justified, if Elizabeth had been right about him. She had said that he was arrogant and conceited and that he was not a gentleman. Could this be true? His high regard for her understanding and integrity forced him to consider it. After pondering for quite some time, he decided to solicit Colonel Fitzwilliam's opinion.

"Fitzwilliam," he said, "if I ask you a question will you answer me honestly?"

"Yes, of course," answered a confused Fitzwilliam.

Darcy hesitated a moment then asked, "Do you find me arrogant and conceited?"

"What!?" cried Fitzwilliam.

Darcy repeated the question and once Fitzwilliam comprehended his meaning, he answered,

"I do not personally find you such, but I believe your manners often give that impression. Why do you ask?"

"I have not told you everything that occurred during my interview with Miss Bennet. The reasons I told you of her refusal of me, I believe, were merely examples of the true reason. She told me that from the very beginning of our acquaintance I had impressed her with the fullest belief of my arrogance, conceit, and selfish disdain for the feelings of others. She also told me that I had not behaved in a gentleman like manner."

"Darcy, what did you say that provoked Miss Bennet to say such things?"

Darcy, who had begun to feel that perhaps the manner of his proposal had been not quite right, told Fitzwilliam everything he had said. The Colonel was astonished and when Darcy had finished, he replied,

"Good God! Darcy! THAT is how you propose marriage. I believe Miss Bennet is right. You are conceited and arrogant. I don't have any experience in these matters, but I don't believe insulting your lady is the best method of recommending your suit."

Darcy buried his head in his hands and said, "Oh! Fitzwilliam, what am I going to do? Elizabeth is the only woman I'll ever love, she hates me, and now I'll probably never see her again."

"You can improve. Hopefully, your letter will make her better disposed towards you by clearing up your misunderstandings. Then if you ever do see her again you can show her you have listened to her with improved manners. And then, perhaps, try to win her in a proper manner. And even if you if you never see her again you will be a better man for having known her.

Darcy considered for several minutes, then said, "You're right. Thank you, Fitzwilliam."

Chapter 20

Darcy returned to town in depressed spirits but determined to make himself more agreeable to Elizabeth Bennet. When he was not engaged in business or with Georgiana, he spent his time locked away in his study contemplating his character.

As Elizabeth was the only person who had ever called his character into question he carefully reviewed every one of their interactions.

And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody.

All these she had said to him and all had been said before she had met Wickham and had her views tainted by his slander.

How could he have been so blind? At the time he had thought she was teazing but with open eyes it was clear that she had been serious.

But he wasn't really like that, was he? How had she misunderstood him?

She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.

If she only knew how he had regretted it later. He should have apologized. And he hadn't even meant it. It was just that he was uncomfortable among strangers. But that was no excuse, she had told him so.

My fingers do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault--because I would not take the trouble of practicing.

Could it be as simple as that? Could he become the man Elizabeth wanted him to be by learning to perform for strangers. He wasn't sure but it was worth a try and it couldn't hurt.

Darcy started accepting the invitations he hadn't even looked at before. He forced himself to dance with the young ladies and converse with their mothers. It was difficult at first and there were many awkward moments when he had nothing to say. but eventually it got easier.

Darcy was pleased with this progress but felt that it was all superficial. He knew he hadn't really changed inside and he knew that Elizabeth wasn't impressed by outward appearances. He began to consider her accusations against his character.

Why with so evident a design of offending and insulting me you chose to tell me that you like me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character?

It was true. He had disdained the feelings of the woman he claimed to be violently in love with. What was he thinking to have proposed by way of an insult? At the time, he had convinced himself that it would prove to her the violence of his affections. But he could now admit that it was really to show her what a great favour he was bestowing on her. He was fool, a blind fool. He should have known that Elizabeth would not take kindly to that even if she had liked him. And really why should any woman take kindly to it?

And why was he so opposed to her family? That her relatives were in trade was of little consequence to him, but the behaviour of her immediate family was atrocious. It was a miracle Elizabeth and Miss Bennet had turned out so well. But, what of his own family? Lady Catherine's behaviour was equally atrocious in its own way.

Chapter 21

Forgetting Elizabeth was not an option. He was haunted by her. Thoughts of her kept him from sleeping much of the time. When he did manage to sleep she filled his dreams. Occasionally he dreamt he had been given a second chance and she was his wife. More often, however, he had nightmares. Grotesque versions of his proposal, visions of her married to someone else, and, worst of all, visions of her unhappy and ruined married to George Wickham. He spent all his free hours secluded in his study or library and though he joined Georgiana for meals he ate very little.

Georgiana was worried by Darcy's behavior. She had never seen him like this before and did not know how to help him as he had not confided his troubles to her. She finally went to Colonel Fitzwilliam and asked for his help.

Fitzwilliam found Darcy in the library nursing a brandy. "Darcy," he said, "we need to talk."

"I would rather be left alone, Fitzwilliam."

"Georgiana tells me you are spending entirely too much time alone and she is worried about you. She also says you are not eating or sleeping. This isn't healthy, Darcy. It is time to move on. You cannot continue this way."

"Without Elizabeth, it doesn't matter."

"I thought you were attempting to become a better man?"

"I am," replied Darcy, rising and moving to the window, "I'm different now. Have not you noticed?"

"I thought I had, but it turns out you still think only of yourself."

"What?" cried Darcy, turning to face the Colonel. "I have been most conscientious to consider the feelings others in all my dealings. That was Elizabeth's chief charge against me."

"Perhaps, but allowing yourself to wallow in misery is incredibly selfish. And if anything, you are worse now. You would never have allowed your concerns to affect Georgiana before."

"Georgiana is fine."

"No, she's not. She is worried about you and does not understand what is wrong. I have tried to comfort her but she needs you, Darcy."

Darcy started. He had not noticed that he was affecting Georgiana and that seemed to confirm what Fitzwilliam had said.

"Have I really been neglecting her?" he asked as he sank into a chair.

"Not exactly, but you are shutting her out. You need to talk to her, confide in her."

"About Elizabeth?" Darcy asked warily.

"Yes."

"I can't discuss my broken heart with my little sister."

"Why not? She isn't a little girl anymore. She has had her own disastrous love affair, much more so than yours. You might find it helpful."

"I'll think about it," replied Darcy.

Fitzwilliam knew that was all he would get out of his cousin and turned the conversation to more trivial things. Before he left, however, he had one more suggestion. As he was on his way out, he said, "Darcy, I think you should go to Pemberley. You haven't spent much time there lately. Take Georgiana with you. The country will do you both good."

"I would like to go to Pemberley. I will consider that as well. Thank you, Fitzwilliam."

Chapter 22

Fitzwilliam was right about Pemberley as well. It would be good to get out of London for awhile, especially during the summer months. Darcy did not wish to go alone, however, and decided to include Bingley in the party. Unfortunately that would require including Miss Bingley and the Hursts as well, but Darcy could endure their company for the pleasure of Bingley's.

About a week after the Colonel's visit. Darcy approached Georgiana in the music room while she was practicing the piano-forte. She was surprised to see him and he realized, guiltily, that he had not actively sought her company in many weeks. She stopt playing and he said, "Georgie, dearest, it has recently come to my attention that I have been neglecting you of late and I apologize."

"It has not been so bad, Fitz," she replied softly.

"Come sit with me, Georgie, we must talk." She joined him on the sofa and he began. "I know I have not been myself since I returned from Kent and that you have been worried. I have been reminded that you are not a little girl anymore and that I can confide in you. May I confide in you Georgie? Would you like to know about my troubles?"

"Oh yes, Fitz! Please. I have been so worried. I may be able to help."

"Perhaps you may," he replied as he kissed her on the forehead.

Darcy was unsure what to say now and began to pace about the room. Georgiana did not press and waited patiently for him to begin on his own. He finally decided to start at the beginning.

"Do you remember when I went into Hertfordshire with Mr. Bingley last fall?" Georgiana was slightly confused by this opening having thought his troubles originated in Kent, but she simply nodded and he continued. "Well, while I was there, I became acquainted with a young lady. I believe I mentioned her once or twice in my letters. She and her sisters stayed at Netherfield for a few days."

"Yes, I remember. But you never told me her name."

Darcy knew very well that he hadn't. "Elizabeth," he said gently. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet." He then catalogued to Georgiana all Elizabeth's charms and perfections.

When he finished, she said, "She sounds lovely. I would like to meet her."

"I wish you could," Darcy replied almost inaudibly.

"Fitz?" Georgiana asked after a few minutes, "Are you in love with her?"

"Yes. I have been hopelessly in love with her for quite some time now."

"But . . ."

"Hush, Georgie, I must finish. You may remember that we left Hertfordshire rather suddenly. One reason for our removal was my desire to distance myself from Elizabeth but I could not forget her. Then when I went into Kent, she was there. I had been there no longer than a week before I know forgetting her was impossible. Two days before I returned to London, I proposed. She refused."

"Refused! Fitz, how could anyone refuse you?"

"She hates me, Georgie. She accused me, among other things, of prideful conceit and arrogance."

"But, how could anyone accuse you of such things?"

"She was right, Georgie. Before you protest, let me assure you, though you may have seen nothing of it yourself, she was absolutely right."

"Oh, Fitz, how miserable you must be."

"Yes, but I am endeavoring to be better and improve myself. Though my recent behavior towards you shows I still have a ways to go. You must help me, dearest."

"I will try, Fitz."

Chapter 23

Two weeks later, Darcy was on his way to Pemberley. Georgiana and the rest of the party would follow the next day. He had originally planned to travel with them but some business with his steward had come up unexpectedly and he had decided to travel on ahead.

Things had improved since his talk with Georgiana. It had helped just to talk of Elizabeth and his sister was an eager listener. Now, however, he was feeling pensive as he approached his beloved home. He had dreamt of showing Pemberley to Elizabeth. If things had been different, he might have been bringing her there now as his bride.

He tried to control his thoughts and keep his mood form sinking into despair as he dismounted and left his horse in the care of a stable hand. He headed towards the house and as he rounded the stable, the object of his thoughts was before him.

At first, he thought he was dreaming, but she turned, and, seeing him, exclaimed, "Mr. Darcy!"

The cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush as he stammered back, "Miss Bennet."

What was she doing here? Here at Pemberley where his fondest wishes had always placed her? Could it be that the strength of those had brought her here? Was this the second chance he has so longed for?

He determined not to waste this opportunity and after a moment of immobility, he recovered himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.

He enquired after her family, as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her stay in Derbyshire. Elizabeth received his compliments and answered his questions but she would not raise her eyes to look at him. He suddenly realized he was repeating his questions and lapsed into silence. This would not do, but unable to think of anything else to say, he excused himself and took leave.

As Darcy entered the house, his mind was reeling. What to do? He could not let this opportunity pass him by. He would join them on their tour of the park. Hopefully by the time he changed his clothes and found them, he would be better composed and able to converse with Elizabeth without making a fool of himself.

As soon as he was dressed, Darcy set off in search of Elizabeth. He headed for the path that followed the stream into the woods and he was not disappointed. There she was. she seemed surprised at seeing him again but immediately began to admire the beauty of Pemberley. After a moment, however, she suddenly stopt and changed colour. He thought he understood.

He then took note again of the couple who accompanied her, and asked, "Miss Bennet, would you do me the honour of introducing me to your friends?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Darcy. This is my aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Gardiner." He was surprised. This was the brother of Mrs. Bennet. He was a perfect gentleman and not at all silly or nervous. He saw Elizabeth observing his reaction and knew that she must think that he would object to Mr. Gardiner's being in trade. This was the first test and he hoped that he had acquitted himself well.

He turned back with them, and entered into conversation with Mr. Gardiner while the ladies walked ahead. The conversation soon turned upon fishing. Mr. Gardiner was extremely fond of fishing and Darcy also enjoyed the sport. He invited Mr. Gardiner to fish there as often as he chose while he continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same time to supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of the stream where there was usually most sport.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not the walker her niece was, grew fatigued and found Elizabeth's arm inadequate to her support, and consequently claimed her husband's.

Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on together. After a short silence, the lady spoke, "Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to apologize for intruding. Your arrival was been very unexpected for your housekeeper informed us that you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country."

"Please do not be uneasy, Miss Bennet, that was indeed the plan but some unexpected business with my steward occasioned my coming a day ahead of the rest of the party." He then recollected who were of the party and added, "They will join me early tomorrow and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you,--Mr. Bingley and his sisters."

Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. His thoughts were instantly driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been last mentioned between them; and if he might judge from her complexion, her mind was not very differently engaged.

"There is also one other person in the party," he continued after a pause, "who more particularly wishes to be known to you,--Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?" He held his breath till she acceded to this application of which she seemed quite surprised.

They now walked on in silence; each of them deep in thought. Darcy began to hope that perhaps Elizabeth could come to love him. She seemed not to resent the manner of his proposals and was pleased with the impending acquaintance with Georgiana. It seemed likely that his letter had indeed improved her opinion of him. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.

He then asked her to walk into the house--but she declared herself not tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time, much might have been said, and silence was very awkward. He wanted to talk, but there seemed an embargo on every subject. At last Elizabeth began a discussion of her travels and they talked of Matlock and Dove-Dale with great perseverance. The time passed all too quickly and the tête-à-tête was over. On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming up, they were all pressed to go into the house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted on each side with the utmost politeness. Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage, and watched as it drove off. He then walked slowly towards the house.

The rest of the day Darcy thought of nothing but Elizabeth. He pictured her at the inn at Lambton and wondered what she was doing and what she was thinking of the days events. Perhaps she was thinking of him.

Chapter 24

When the carriages arrived, Darcy was anxiously awaiting them in the drive. Miss Bingley and the Hursts greeted him politely and went immediately into the house. Georgiana and Bingley, however, noticed his greatly improved spirits and stayed to inquire.

"Georgie," Darcy burst forth, "Miss Elizabeth Bennet is staying in Lambton. she was here touring Pemberley when I arrived yesterday. She has agreed to meet you and I should like to take you into Lambton as soon as you can be ready."

Georgiana was shocked and pleased. She immediately answered, "Of course, Fitz. I have dreamed of meeting her, but I never thought it possible. Let me just run into the house and change out of my travelling clothes. I shall be ready in ten minutes." With that she ran into the house.

Bingley now spoke up, "Miss Bennet! Really Darcy, is she in the neighborhood? I should like to see her again. May I accompany you?"

"Of course, Bingley, I should be glad to have you."

"I am afraid I cannot be ready as quickly as Miss Georgiana. You two go on without me, I shall follow in half an hour."

To this plan, Darcy readily agreed and Bingley departed into the house. Darcy called for the curricle he had ordered to be ready at a moments notice. Georgiana was true to her word and, as soon as she came out, they departed. As they drove along, Darcy related to her everything that has occurred the day before. and they soon pulled up at the inn.

They were shown into the parlour, where Elizabeth and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were waiting. Darcy made all the appropriate greetings, and then said, "Miss Bennet, may I present my sister, Georgiana? Georgiana this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner." He then began a conversation with the Gardiners leaving Elizabeth and Georgiana to get acquainted. Only half of Darcy's attention was on his own conversation, the other half being on that of the ladies. To his delight, they seemed to get on well. Georgiana indeed said little but more than she usually did on such occasions.

He then remembered Bingley, and said, "Miss Bennet, Mr. Bingley is very desirous of waiting on you as well. He should be here shortly."

Almost as soon as this was uttered, when Bingley's quick step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. He immediately entered into a conversation with Elizabeth and Georgiana returned to her brother. Darcy could tell from what he heard of Bingley's conversation with Elizabeth that Bingley's thoughts were on Miss Jane Bennet. Darcy felt a pang of guilt and determined the he would do everything he could to reverse their separation.

They staid above half an hour, and when they arose to depart, Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet to dinner at Pemberley before they left the country. Georgiana, though nervous, readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner accepted for the whole party, and the day after the next was fixed on. Before they departed, Darcy renewed the fishing scheme, and made a positive engagement for Mr. Gardiner to meet then at Pemberley the next day by noon.

Chapter 25

When Darcy entered the saloon, he found the ladies gathered round the table eating fruit, cold meats, and cake. He joined Elizabeth and Georgiana and endeavored to improve their acquaintance by forwarding, as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side.

Unfortunately, they were soon interrupted by Miss Bingley, who said with sneering civility, "Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the militia removed from Meryton? They must be a great loss to your family."

Darcy knew she was referring to Wickham and was incensed. How could Miss Bingley so callously bring up so sensitive a subject? He knew not what to do. He glanced at Georgiana who was overcome with confusion and unable to lift up her eyes. He then looked earnestly at Elizabeth, and, amazingly, she rescued them. He saw her glance at himself and then at Georgiana; she then calmly and concisely answered Miss Bingley's question and changed the subject. From this point on, Darcy's eyes were fixed on Elizabeth as much as possible. He found himself more in love with her than ever and with more hope than ever that she could someday return his love.

The visit did not continue long after this and Darcy attended the ladies to their carriage. Miss Bingley, immediately upon his return to the room, said, "How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy. I never in my life saw any one so much altered as she is since the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again."

Darcy did not like this at all, but, he contented himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration than her being rather tanned--no miraculous consequence of travelling in the summer.

"For my own part," she rejoined, "I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive any thing extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion which is intolerable."

Darcy was getting angrier with every word. He was resolutely silent however; and, Miss Bingley continued, "I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, 'She a beauty!--I should as soon call her mother a wit.' But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time."

She had gone too far now and Darcy, could contain himself no longer. "Yes," he replied, "but that was only when I first knew her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance." He then left the room and returned to the other gentlemen at the river.

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