First Love

    By Kata

    Section I, Section II

    Chapter 1

    Posted on Monday, 11 February 2002

    Fitzwilliam Darcy, future master of Pemberley, woke up early on a bright spring morning with plenty on his mind. It was a particularly important day for him because his father had put him in charge of preparing the Pemberley grounds for the ball that his parents were hosting. He quickly got out of bed, got dressed, and headed for the stables.

    "Good morning, sir!" called the stable boy to Darcy.

    "Good morning," answered Darcy. "Would you please saddle up Fury for me?"

    The boy broke into a huge smile. Fury was Darcy's powerful black stallion, and his favorite horse to groom. It was a beautiful horse with a temper to match its name. "Right away, sir," the boy said.

    Soon, Darcy was riding Fury at full speed all over the grounds of Pemberley, stopping every now and then to inspect if the borders were still intact or if the trees and shrubs were properly pruned. Pemberley was impressive at this time of the year. Its breathtaking landscape was rendered even more beautiful by the pink cherry blossoms that graced the path to the great house. The lilacs and azaleas were in full bloom and the apple, pear, and plum blossoms showed great promise of an abundant harvest. The river was filled with fishes, with one or two jumping in the air from time to time. The birds were singing and the air smelled of roses and lavender and clover.

    After going around Pemberley for more than an hour, Darcy decided to head back to the great house for breakfast. He spurred Fury to a mad gallop, enjoying the rush of the air on his face. Exhilaration turned to fear, however, when he saw a figure some slight distance ahead of him, right in his path. He quickly slowed down Fury but did not have time to slow him down to a full stop. When the horse encountered the little figure, who happened to be a girl, he reared and threw Darcy off the saddle. The girl screamed; the horse neighed, and poor Darcy landed on his back with a thud. The world turned upside down for a dizzying second. When Darcy recovered, he saw a pair of innocent, dark eyes peering at him anxiously.

    "Mister, are you all right?" asked the little girl.

    "I suppose so. At least, I think nothing is broken," replied Darcy gruffly. He was not seriously hurt, save for his wounded pride. He hated the indignity of his situation, especially when he prided himself in being a fine horseman. He stared at girl crossly. "What are you doing here? Do you not know this is private property?"

    "No," came a small voice. The girl was scared but she tried not to show it.

    "You should not be out here alone. In fact, you should not even be out here," Darcy said, getting up and groaning. "My back is sore. By the way, what's your name?"

    "I am not supposed to tell you that."

    "Well, why not?" Darcy was becoming more annoyed.

    "Because you are a stranger."

    Darcy scowled and let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, tell me, little girl, how am I supposed to bring you home when you will not even tell me your name."

    "I am not so little and I can find my way home," said the girl impetuously, her eyes flashing in anger. "I'm eleven years old and I can take care of myself."

    The sight of the girl, with her hands on her hips and her face tilted up in defiance made Darcy laugh in spite of himself. The girl was all the more incensed. Her pink cheeks reddened, her pouting lips pressed into a firm line, and her dark brown eyes looked at him with disgust.

    "Well, then, I beg your pardon, miss. I was mistaken. But perhaps I can escort you home?"

    The girl contemplated her situation. Finally, she said, "I do not even know you."

    "Forgive me. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley," said Darcy, holding out his hand.

    "I am Lizzy," answered the girl, placing her small hand in his. Darcy kissed it like a true gentleman.

    Darcy was about to lift Lizzy up the horse when they heard a lady calling.

    "Lizzy! Lizzy! Where are you!"

    "Right here, Aunt Gardiner!" Lizzy called back.

    "Lizzy, where have you been? I have been worried sick about you," cried Mrs. Gardiner. To Darcy, she said, "Sir, I am so sorry to inconvenience you. We were just passing by, and I decided to show her your grounds. She saw the beautiful flowers you have here and she ran off before I could catch her. I am certain she meant no harm. We did not mean to invade your privacy."

    Lizzy concentrated on the ground, waiting for Darcy to tell her aunt of his little mishap because of her. She definitely meant no harm and the tall gentleman was not badly hurt, but he sure looked angry when he first saw her.

    "Pray, do not be uneasy," assured Darcy. "She was no trouble at all."

    Lizzy looked at him in wonder and relief, and he smiled at her. After a pause, Darcy said, "Are you from around here, Ma'am?"

    "I grew up in Lambton. I now live in London, but am just visiting some relatives here," replied Mrs. Gardiner.

    "Please feel free to visit Pemberley anytime you pass this way."

    "Thank you. You are very kind," answered Mrs. Gardiner. She turned to her niece. "I am afraid we have to leave now. Lizzy?"

    Lizzy gathered her flowers and said, "Mr. Darcy, do you mind if I take these with me?"

    "No, not at all."

    Lizzy waved goodbye and walked off with her aunt. Darcy rode back to the stables and walked up the great house. He headed straight to the breakfast table, where his mother, father and Georgiana were already seated.

    "Fitzwilliam! Where have you been?" asked Lady Anne.

    "I took a tour of our grounds to make sure everything is in order for the ball tonight, Mother."

    "Good work, son," said Darcy's father, beaming proudly at his eighteen-year old son. "I know that I can always count on you."

    Darcy's face brightened at his father's compliment. "Thank you, sir."

    "So, how did you find the grounds, Fitzwilliam?" asked his mother. "How come it took you so long to come to breakfast?"

    "The grounds are in good condition. I am afraid I just took some time to enjoy the beauty of nature outside, that is why I am late." Darcy sat down to eat some breakfast, and the conversation drifted towards the upcoming ball that evening.

    "Edward and Richard are coming today for the ball, did you know?" asked Georgiana.

    "Are they? Good, I always look forward to seeing both of my cousins. I am sure George and I can find partners for them," replied Darcy.

    "And maybe you can find a partner for me, too, Fitzwilliam," said Georgiana tentatively.

    "Dear sister, I will be your partner. That is, until you go to bed."

    "Can I stay up late tonight? Mother, can I?" pleaded Georgiana.

    Lady Anne chuckled. "No, because you need sleep so you can grow tall fast and get pleasing partners besides your brother."

    "What is wrong with Fitzwilliam?"

    "Indeed, Mother. What is wrong with me?" Darcy repeated, feigning distress.

    "Nothing is wrong with Fitzwilliam," Lady Anne said to Georgiana. "But someday, you will want a partner other than him and he will want a partner other than you."

    "I do not think so," declared Georgiana. "I am perfectly content with him."

    "And I am perfectly content with you," agreed Darcy, smiling at his sister.

    After breakfast, Darcy left to prepare for his cousins' arrival. He looked forward to seeing them, particularly Richard, with whom he had spent a fair amount of his childhood. Now that they were young men, they were still as close as brothers. And, as most young men, Darcy hoped that there would be enough pretty young ladies at the ball for all of them. He did not wish to disappoint his cousins, nor did he wish to be disappointed himself. Soon, happy thoughts of elegant ladies in silk with swirls of lace danced through his head and he looked forward to the ball with much anticipation.

    Chapter 2

    Posted on Wednesday, 13 February 2002

    The annual spring ball at Pemberley was a grand affair, as always. The whole house, lighted for the occasion, could be seen from afar - an imposing mansion of light outlined against the darkness of the night. Music echoed all over Pemberley grounds, and all the prominent families of Derbyshire mingled with each other.

    Fitzwilliam Darcy, Edward and Richard Fitzwilliam, and George Wickham, son of the elder Mr. Darcy's steward, stood in a corner, watching the ladies enter the huge ballroom. The young men surveyed each group of women as they came in, looking for prospective dance partners. The pleased looks on each man's face showed that they were extremely satisfied with what they saw.

    "Darcy, I must congratulate you," said Richard as he noticed a pretty redhead enter the room. "You have very fine guests and I daresay, I have no objection to meeting everyone of them."

    "Everyone, Richard? Then, I must take this opportunity to introduce you to Lady Witherspoon, who I am sure will be here shortly," teased Darcy. Lady Witherspoon was a rich but cantankerous old widow with a propensity to throwing scathing remarks at anybody who contradicted her.

    "Yes, of course," agreed Edward, who was three years older than Darcy and two years older than Richard. "Especially Lady Witherspoon. I met her once before, brother, and I shudder at the thought of being subjected to her scrutiny once again. But since you and I are of different dispositions, I am certain you will find her quite charming. She compliments your temperament, I would think."

    Richard laughed good-naturedly. "You both are very cruel. Although, I am quite certain that once she is exposed to my amiable disposition, her pleasing personality will show. As you know, gentlemen, women are warmed by my personality," he countered.

    "Warmed, indeed," interjected Wickham, "perhaps like kerosene to fire, eh, Richard?"

    Everyone laughed. Sure enough, Lady Witherspoon entered the room, and all four were entranced by the sight they saw. It was not the old widow that captured their attention, however. It was the beautiful young lady who was right behind her that held their eyes captive. She had fine golden hair, deep blue eyes, a delicate nose, and rosy lips.

    "Darcy, you must introduce me to her," said Richard urgently.

    "To Lady Witherspoon?" asked Wickham.

    Richard only gave him a withering look. "Well, Darcy? Darcy. Darcy!"

    But Darcy was oblivious to everybody, until Edward clapped him on the back and said, "Darcy, man, if you do not get out of that trance we shall have to pour a bucket of cold water on you."

    "Did you see her?" Darcy finally gasped out. "She is an angel."

    The other three young men exchanged knowing looks.

    "Well," Richard said sadly, "there goes our introduction."

    "Our poor cousin - in-love. Nothing could be worse," remarked Edward, shaking his head.

    Wickham merely snickered, but Darcy was already on his way to his mother's side and did not hear any of his companions' reactions. His mother was already talking to Lady Witherspoon, and he did not want to miss the opportunity to be introduced to the young lady standing beside the old woman.

    As soon as Darcy reached her side, Lady Anne said, "Oh, Lady Witherspoon, you remember Fitzwilliam, our eldest."

    Darcy greeted the old lady with great decorum while noticing that the young lady was looking at him.

    Lady Witherspoon said, "Well, he has grown to be a quite a young man, I see. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, may I present to you my niece, Miss Angelica Devane."

    Darcy bowed low as Angelica curtsied. He held out his arms to both Lady Witherspoon and Angelica and escorted them to the center of the ballroom. At this point, Georgiana bounded towards Darcy.

    "Fitzwilliam!" she exclaimed. "The first dance is starting. Edward, Richard, and George all have asked me for a dance. I said yes, but I told them the first dance is for you."

    Darcy looked fondly at Georgiana. "Lady Witherspoon, Miss Angelica, may I present my sister, Miss Georgiana."

    After curtsies were exchanged, Darcy said, "May I have the honor of having the first dance with you, Miss Georgiana?"

    "It would be a pleasure, sir," replied Georgiana, whose eyes were shining in obvious delight.

    Before Darcy led his sister to the floor, however, he turned to Angelica and said, "And it would be an honor, if you reserved the second dance for me, Miss Angelica."

    The young lady acquiesced, and Darcy and Georgiana walked toward the center of the ballroom. After their dance, Georgiana left to dance with his cousins and Wickham, while Darcy danced the next two dances with Angelica. Good breeding forced him to dance the fourth dance with another lady, but so captivated was he with Angelica Devane that he looked wistfully at her as Richard led her to the dance floor. When the fourth dance was over, Darcy and Richard walked over to Edward and Wickham.

    "And how did both of you find your partners?" Darcy asked Edward and Wickham.

    "Very well," replied Edward and Wickham nodded. "And I see that you have enjoyed all your dances, particularly those with a certain Miss Devane."

    "Having danced with her once," said Richard before Darcy could answer, "I must say that she is quite a delightful creature. Unfortunately, one of us here has the selfish propensity to keeping her to himself."

    Darcy laughed. "Save your envy, dear cousin. Your sarcasm is lost upon me."

    To this Wickham said, "But Darcy, as a generous host, you ought to let us dance with her at least once. I am sure your conscience will not allow you to deprive us of such pleasure."

    "I might consider it," Darcy replied.

    Richard chuckled. "She is delightful, but I am quite content to spend my time with a red-haired beauty named Miss Irene. Besides, I heard that Miss Devane's aunt does not take kindly to her suitors. Darcy, you will need some luck in gaining that old lady's good opinion."

    "And I," declared Edward, "will spend my time getting to know that dark beauty called Miss Isabelle."

    "Ah, so then, all my guests are quite satisfied," observed Darcy jovially.

    "You are forgetting someone," said Wickham. "I have yet to choose from five women, and I cannot seem to decide."

    Edward held his hand to his heart and said, "My sympathies go out with you, poor Wickham.

    As luck (or bad luck) would have it, Darcy was seated between Angelica and Lady Witherspoon, who was as ill-tempered and argumentative as ever, though her niece pacified her somewhat. Darcy was fortunate to learn bits of information about Angelica, while trying to dodge her aunt's pointed inquisition. He learned that she was but sixteen (a fact she let slip out unconsciously) and that she would be heir to her aunt's forty thousand pounds. He also learned that she was going to stay with Lady Witherspoon the whole spring and summer, and every spring and summer thereafter. This caused the young man great joy, and he bore Lady Witherspoon's rude remarks with equanimity as he owed her the pleasure of Angelica's company.

    After dinner, Angelica was suddenly in need of some air, and the young and gallant Darcy offered to accompany her to the terrace overlooking the garden. The night was cool, the air fragrant. The stars peppered the sky like diamonds sparkling from a distance. It was the perfect time to fall in love. And that is exactly what Darcy did.

    Darcy gazed at his companion with awe and wonder. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He was the luckiest man in England. His heart beat wildly against his chest. His hands were clammy; his knees felt week. He felt warm and cold at the same time. Could this be love? Darcy believed it was.

    "It is so beautiful out here." Angelica broke into his reverie. "You are lucky, sir, to be living in Pemberley."

    "Not so lucky, really," replied Darcy. "I leave in two days - for Cambridge."

    "Oh, Cambridge! It must be exciting."

    "Yes. I leave with my cousins and Wickham, so there are enough people to keep me company. Unfortunately, it is not their company that would give me utmost pleasure," Darcy said, gazing into the blue depths of Angelica's eyes.

    The young lady blushed deeply. "You will be here for the summer, will you not?"

    Darcy's heart leapt at her hopeful question. "Yes, of course, I will."

    She smiled with a smile that illuminated her face and warmed Darcy's heart. And the night passed knowing it had worked its magic on two young souls.

    Chapter 3

    Posted on Wednesday, 13 February 2002

    Spring evolved into summer. The apple, pear, and plum blossoms turned into sweet red apples, crisp yellow pears, and luscious purple plums on verdant branches. The river subsided into a stream. And the constant summer sun warmed the cool spring air.

    Darcy, who arrived with Wickham the day before, rode Fury at a brisk canter towards Ambercombie Manor, home of Lady Witherspoon. Darcy had been waiting for summer with great anticipation for it was no longer just a relief from school, consisting of eating delicious fruit, riding Fury around Pemberley grounds, and swimming in the lake. It now also meant seeing Angelica Devane.

    Darcy soon found himself seated in the drawing room with Angelica and Lady Witherspoon. Angelica was wearing a beautiful light blue gown while her aunt was wrapped in a hideous bright tangerine outfit that made her pallid face look all the more deathly with the contrast.

    "So, Mr. Darcy, I take it you came to visit my lovely niece," deduced the old woman.

    "Yes, ma'am," replied Darcy truthfully. Then he added, "And you, of course, Lady Witherspoon."

    The old woman snorted disdainfully. "Indeed? I must be frank with you, young man. I do not like men who lie. I tolerate your untruthfulness only because you are a Darcy."

    Darcy colored and mumbled his apologies, and Angelica tried to hide her smile.

    "Young men nowadays," Lady Witherspoon continued, "have nothing in their minds but flattery. Empty-headed. So unlike the gallant and sincere men of our time. Why, my husband was one of the most gentlemanlike men in England. And so in love with me, he was. Now, all young men want is money."

    Angelica was embarrassed but kept quiet, as it was useless to stop her aunt when she was in such a foul mood. Darcy wondered what kind of a man would fall so madly in love with such a crabby lady. Lord Witherspoon love struck over Lady Witherspoon. What a spine-tingling thought!

    "-if you weren't so rich," Darcy heard the old widow say, "I would think you were after my niece's forty thousand pounds."

    "Ah, Mr. Darcy," Angelica interrupted her aunt's litany, "it is such a beautiful day. Why do we not take a turn around Ambercombie?"

    "Yes, I would be delighted," said Darcy.

    "Would you care to join us, Aunt?" offered Angelica, knowing her aunt hated walking outdoors. Her aunt predictably declined the invitation, and Darcy and Angelica gratefully rose to enjoy the summer day outside.

    "Mr. Darcy," said Angelica, as soon as they were outside, "please allow me to apologize for my aunt's behavior. I can just imagine what mortification you must feel during this visit."

    "Pray, think no more about it. I have known her for a long time and I know that her words mean no harm. Besides," Darcy continued, looking at her intently, "I would endure any mortification just to visit you."

    Angelica colored, and looked away. "I am glad you are back home. Are you to spend the whole summer at Pemberley?"

    "Yes." Silence reigned for some time. Finally, Darcy spoke up, "Did you, by any chance receive my last letter."

    "I did. And did you receive mine?"

    "Yes, and I read all of your letters more than once."

    "Your letters were quite entertaining, I must say. I have never heard such funny anecdotes of life in Cambridge. Your cousins are quite amusing, and Mr. Wickham's escapades, well, quite scandalous."

    "Wickham has a propensity to wreak havoc wherever he goes."

    "Are you very close?" asked Angelica.

    "We grew up together. Why do you ask?"

    "He seems quite a curious fellow. So full of life don't you think?"

    Darcy's eyes clouded with jealousy, but when he saw Angelica looking up at him with adoring eyes, waiting for his answer, the green-eyed monster was forgotten.

    "So full of mischief, you mean," Darcy joked and Angelica laughed. He breathed in deeply and said, "Would it be too much to ask if I invite you to a picnic tomorrow? My cousins will be arriving tonight. I have taken the opportunity of inviting some other young ladies. My parents, Georgiana, and Wickham will be there as well.

    The young lady's countenance brightened with enthusiasm as she said, "I'd be delighted. Of course I can only go if my aunt agrees."

    Thus, permission was procured and granted, and the picnic was looked forward to with excitement.
    .

    The next day came with the promise of an exceptionally fine weather. The housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, with the help of Cook, packed all the food and necessary utensils for the party. The precious packages were then carried to the bank of the river that ran across the Pemberley estate. As soon as everything was set up, the party, which also included the Misses Irene, Isabelle, and Patricia, gathered to partake of the sumptuous repast. As soon as lunch was over, the young gentlemen proposed a walk around Pemberley. Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne declined, and Georgiana preferred to play with Captain, the Darcys' pet canine. Thus, the young men and women ventured without them.

    Soon, the walking party broke into pairs. Edward with Isabelle, Richard with Irene, Wickham with Patricia, and Darcy with Angelica. As each young man cleverly decided to point out different areas of Pemberley to his partner, each soon found himself alone with his companion. Darcy was thrilled to have Angelica to himself. He behaved like the perfect gentleman, but his heart acted like a savage let loose in the wilderness.

    "All these will be yours someday?" said Angelica in awe.

    "Someday. But I do not wish to own it alone. I must have someone to share it with."

    "You have Georgiana."

    Darcy smiled at such evasion. He stopped walking and turned to the lady. "Angelica, I can go no longer without telling you how I feel. From the moment I saw you, I have felt a most passionate regard for you. You have filled my every thought, and graced my every dream."

    "Fitzwilliam, I..."

    "I know that I am yet in no position to offer you marriage, but as soon as I finish my studies at Cambridge, I promise to marry you. That is, if you give me your consent," said Darcy with as much urgency as passion. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "I love you, Angelica."

    "And I, you," Angelica replied, fervently. "But how many more years will you be at Cambridge?"

    "Three more years at Cambridge."

    "Three years!" exclaimed Angelica. Then she said, sadly, "'Tis too long to be apart. I know not how I can bear it."

    "We shall see each other during the summer. And we shall write often."

    Angelica's eyes glistened as she repressed the tears that were coming to her eyes. She drew up her courage and bravely said, "I wish to be with you always, Fitzwilliam. But I am willing to bear this if it means we will be together afterwards."

    Darcy wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her, to tell her they will never be apart. But propriety forbade it, and such false assurances were unwise. Their promises to each other were enough for the present.

    The young lovers spent the rest of the summer in each other's company, relating their past, enjoying their present, and contemplating their future. In their minds, their lives would never be blighted by grief or disaster because their love was stronger than any obstacle they could think of. They would face their lives to come with courage and fortitude. Perhaps young love is filled with recklessness and spontaneity because it comes at a time when the youth are at their prime, when sorrows and concerns are burdens of the future, and everything in the present is bright and gay.

    Chapter 4

    Posted on Wednesday, 13 February 2002

    Three years passed swiftly, though for Darcy and Angelica, time dragged like a pebble sinking slowly toward the bottom of a fathomless ocean. The years that have passed were eventful, however. Edward graduated from Cambridge and went back to live with his parents, the Earl and Lady of Matlock. He later married Isabelle. A couple of years after Edward left, Richard graduated and joined the regiment immediately after. And finally, Darcy and Wickham finished their studies and returned to Pemberley.

    At the first opportunity of being alone with Darcy, Angelica said, "Fitzwilliam, I have missed you so much. I can hardly believe we are together at last."

    "Neither can I," he replied with much feeling. "But we're together now, and nothing can separate us."

    Plans were made to procure the consent of Angelica's father, and of course Lady Witherspoon's. And everything settled into a blissful state. Darcy and Angelica's joyful reunion was short-lived, however. Before the couple could make their plans known to anyone, tragedy struck the Darcy family. Lady Anne caught pneumonia and fell seriously ill. A few days later, she died.

    Pemberley was shocked and devastated with the loss of its mistress. The elder Mr. Darcy was grief-stricken; Georgiana was heartbroken. And Darcy bore his mother's death in wretched disbelief, unable to accept the notion that any form of misery could ever befall his beloved family. Angelica comforted him as best as she could, as an impenetrable gloom fell over Pemberley and its residents.

    "Angelica," said Darcy, one day, walking over to the young lady who was standing on the terrace overlooking the garden. "Can we talk?"

    "Yes, of course," she answered softly.

    "Dearest, I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for not fulfilling my promise to you."

    "Please, Fitzwilliam, I do understand..." answered Angelica.

    "I have always prided myself in fulfilling my promises," he said sadly.

    "You should not even be thinking about this. You should not worry about me. It is I who should worry about you."

    Darcy stared out into the garden, placing both hands on the carved balustrade. The petals on the roses were slowly falling off. "I miss her so much," he said quietly.

    Angelica placed one hand on top of his and squeezed it lightly. They stood in silence for a long moment. After a while, she said, "We can make it through, I know we can."

    At this, Darcy drew her close in a tight embrace, and wept.

    The young couple agreed to let the one-year period of mourning pass before pushing through with their plans to marry. Meanwhile, Darcy occupied his time by taking care of Georgiana and learning how to manage Pemberley. Angelica, who wished to help as much as she could, kept Georgiana company whenever she could.

    Georgiana, who was about ten, loved to walk, and on many occasions sought the company of Angelica. The girl needed the friendship of an older woman, and the young lady was more than happy to offer it. Many times, they would chance upon Wickham on their walks, and he would happily join them. On several occasions, however, Georgiana, who was too little to go great distances, would decide to return to the house with Mrs. Reynolds and leave Angelica and Wickham to continue their walk.

    On one such occasion, after Georgiana had left, Wickham said, "Where is Darcy? I never seem to see him anymore."

    "He is very busy," replied Angelica. "I believe his father has taken Lady Anne's death too hard. The elder Mr. Darcy is melancholy most of the time and hardly has enough strength to run the whole estate. He has delegated most of its management to his son."

    "Yes, I agree," said Wickham, nodding sympathetically. "I feel for the whole family. Quite a tragedy. I, myself, was exceedingly fond of Lady Anne, for she reminds me so much of my mother, who died two years ago."

    "I am terribly sorry. I was not here when it happened, and had I known of it in a timely manner, I would have communicated my condolences to you," said Angelica, sincerely.

    "It is quite all right. Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne have been most supportive of my family when my mother died. I owe them a huge debt of gratitude."

    "But you have always been supportive of them as well, you and your father."

    "We consider them family."

    They walked in silence for a few minutes. Then, Angelica suddenly said, "I am glad you keep me company, Mr. Wickham. You seem to be the only one who has kept a positive perspective throughout all this. I can see your grief, but you always seem to possess hope."

    "We cannot live without hope, Miss Devane. It is only thing that keeps us going when times are bleak."

    "That is admirable. I wish Mr. Darcy can see that."

    "The elder or the younger?"

    Angelica smiled unhappily. "Both."

    Angelica left at the end of summer and promised Darcy that she would return in the early spring. The months passed and spring came, bringing forth blossoms of hope and promise. But fate was cruel. Angelica had not been in Derbyshire a fortnight, when the elder Mr. Darcy took ill, and in another fortnight, passed away.

    Darcy was devastated. The young man mourned the loss of his father considerably that even with Angelica's comforting presence, he was inconsolable. He often talked of his father to her, enumerating his many admirable qualities. Darcy was well aware that he was now in full control of Pemberley, and though he had borne the brunt of its management in the past year, the full import of the consequence of his position bore down on him heavily. He had so many responsibilities, and he had to accomplish them without the wisdom and guidance of his father. Darcy became a man the day his father died. Gone were the carefree days of his youth. Passion was replaced with restraint, recklessness with deliberation, and joviality with gravity. He was now Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the proud and dignified master of Pemberley.

    Angelica was miserable and frustrated. She loved Darcy and felt his pain deeply, but years of waiting had taken a toll on her young heart. Once more, they had to wait for a year of mourning to pass before they could get married. It was the appropriate thing to do, and Darcy was insistent upon it. To make matters worse, Darcy had become distant and too absorbed in running Pemberley, in taking care of his sister, in doing everything else except be there for her. She had kept a constant watch over his sister. She had supported him, comforted him in his time of sorrow, but she had no one to lean on in her time of distress.

    On one occasion, after a small argument with Darcy, she sat on one of the benches in the garden and sobbed uncontrollably. Wickham happened upon her, and sat beside her. She wept in his arms for a long time. When she had gathered her composure, she wiped her tears away with Wickham's handkerchief, and smiled at him ruefully.

    She took a deep breath and said, "I apologize, Mr. Wickham, for my behavior. Indeed, I am mortified."

    "Please, Miss Devane, think no more about it. I understand. Darcy can be unbearable at times."

    Angelica was surprised. "H-how did you know?"

    "Anyone who has seen Darcy and you would know that you are both very much in love. Your devotion to him is admirable. You come here almost every day to provide solace for poor Georgiana, and to comfort Darcy. He is a lucky man to have you as his future wife."

    "If I ever become his wife," she remarked bitterly. "We are not even formally engaged, and I know not when that will happen."

    "Still, I am envious. I only wish he could see how lucky he is."

    Angelica merely looked down at her hands.

    Wickham said softly, "Please, Miss Devane. Do not be downhearted."

    "I cannot help it. It is too much to bear."

    "Would it help if I keep you company?" asked Wickham more cheerfully. "Some people say I have the knack for chasing dark clouds away."

    Angelica smiled. "You are very kind to me, Mr. Wickham."

    "Only because I cannot bear to see you unhappy. The first time I saw you, I remember thinking that if I were given the opportunity, I would make it my life purpose to protect you from every misery and sorrow this world can give."

    Angelica was greatly comforted. She enjoyed Wickham's company immensely. He was clever and amiable. He made her laugh. She soon found herself spending more and more time with him. Soon, Wickham was visiting her at Ambercombie Manor, and she found his visits refreshing. He even bore Lady Witherspoon's behavior with equanimity and decorum, and she admired him for it. Yes, Wickham was every bit the gentleman she had hoped for-kind, attentive, and pleasant.

    Chapter 5

    Posted on Wednesday, 13 February 2002

    Darcy paced the drawing room in agitation. He could not explain it, but he was greatly disturbed with Angelica's behavior. Somehow he felt her slipping away slowly from him. He thought guiltily about the way he had neglected her. He loved her dearly, but he just got caught up in all his duties.

    The door flew open as Georgiana bounded in, followed by Angelica.

    "Fitzwilliam, guess what Miss Angelica and I did today?" Georgiana said breathlessly, her face flushed with excitement.

    Darcy smiled at her tenderly and asked, "I cannot venture a guess. What did you do today that has made you so excited?"

    "We went horseback riding!" she exclaimed.

    "Horseback riding! Without an escort?" he asked worriedly.

    "Do not be concerned. Miss Angelica is an excellent rider, and Mr. Wickham was there with us the whole time. He looked after us."

    A curious look came upon Darcy. He then said, "I am glad to hear it, but perhaps you had better change into something more presentable. It looks like your clothes have taken a beating with your exertions."

    Georgiana obediently left to search for her nanny, and Darcy and Angelica were left in the room.

    "It seems that you have been spending much time with Wickham," he observed.

    "Perhaps it is because he is the only one who enjoys my company. Him and Georgiana," answered Angelica, defiantly.

    Darcy looked remorseful. "Angelica, I am truly sorry for neglecting you this past few months. I have had a lot on my mind."

    "But how long will this go on, Fitzwilliam! How long do you expect us to wait? You promised me four years ago that we would be together soon. Soon has turned into eternity!"

    "I did not wish for this to happen to us. If I could undo everything that has happened I would. What did you expect me to do? Neglect Pemberley and turn my back on all my obligations?"

    "So you would choose Pemberley over me? Of course, you cannot neglect Pemberley, but you can bear to push me aside until a more convenient time."

    "Angelica, please, I did not mean it that way. I am truly sorry. Could you ever forgive me?" pleaded Darcy.

    Angelica shook her head. "I do not know, Fitzwilliam. If this is how our future is going to look..." her voice trailed off.

    "Are you leaving me?" Darcy's eyes were full of fear.

    Angelica did not answer.

    "Please, Angelica. I love you so very much. I will not be able to bear it without you."

    "You seem to be doing fine without me."

    "That is not true, and you know it."

    Now it was Angelica's turn to be remorseful. She looked at Darcy with compassion. "I am so sorry," she said simply. And then turned and walked away.

    When Angelica arrived at Ambercombie Manor, she found Wickham waiting for her in the garden. He greeted her cheerfully, but with a touch of anxiety.

    "You look agitated," he said.

    "We had a fight," she said, exasperated.

    "Do you," began Wickham, tentatively, "do you still love him?"

    She bowed her head. "I still care for him," then looking up at Wickham, she said, "but I am in love with you."

    "You do not know how pleased and relieved I am to hear that. I know I need not tell you that my feelings for you are the same."

    "Oh, Wickham! What are we going to do?" cried Angelica desperately. "Fitzwilliam would never forgive us if he found out. You could lose your living! And my aunt-my aunt would never allow this. She had always wanted me to marry a man of fortune. Otherwise, men would be after my money. Oh, this is unbearable!"

    "Hush, my love. I know that there are many obstacles in our path, but I have a plan," said Wickham. "We could at least try to explain to Darcy and Lady Witherspoon that we plan to marry and that we sincerely love each other."

    "My aunt would fly into a rage. She and my father would send me so far away you would not know where to find me!"

    "We could elope," suggested Wickham. "Once we're married, there is nothing they can do but accept our situation."

    "But my aunt would disinherit me. We would have no living."

    "But your mother, when she died when you were little, she left you twenty thousand pounds already, did she not?"

    "Yes, yes, of course," said Angelica, sitting down. "I had forgotten. I have had the money for a long time, I rarely even think about it. I am just not thinking straight."

    "Well?"

    "I haven't touched any of it. My father and Lady Witherspoon have provided for me all my life." She paused to gather her thoughts. Finally she said, "Yes, I believe that elopement is our only recourse."

    The clandestine lovers agreed to meet by the hedge that separated Pemberley and Ambercombie Manor at midnight. They planned to ride horseback until Lambton, where they would procure a carriage to London. From London, they would acquire another carriage to Gretna Green.

    Midnight arrived, and Wickham and Angelica crept out of their respective mansions. Outside, angry clouds poured down a torrent of rain, as if to prevent the lovers from escaping. But the couple was determined, and in the impetuousness of youth, paid no heed to the signs of nature. Wickham saddled one of Darcy's horses and galloped toward Ambercombie. Angelica rode her horse toward Pemberley as fast as she could. The rain drenched them both, but instead of disheartening them, they became all the more resolute in their purpose. The more obstacles in their way, the more they tried to prove that their love could conquer all.

    Wickham saw Angelica riding in the distance, and he spurred his horse toward her. Suddenly, lightning electrified the sky and roaring thunder shook the earth, startling the horses. Wickham held fast to his reigns, but to his horror, Angelica's horse reared and hurled her off the saddle. She landed on the ground and lay still. Fear gripped Wickham. He quickly rode towards her, got down, and knelt beside her. She had a faint pulse and shallow breathing. Indecision plagued him for a second. But he made up his mind quickly and lifted Angelica to his horse. He mounted his horse and held her while they immediately rode towards Pemberley.

    "Darcy! Darcy, wake up!" Wickham pounded on the door with urgency.

    Darcy opened the door, sleepily. When he saw Wickham's appearance, he was shocked. "Wickham, what is the matter? You are all wet! What are you doing at this time of the night?"

    "Darcy, ask me questions later," replied Wickham breathlessly. "It's Angelica! She is hurt. Please, tell the servants to call the doctor at once."

    Darcy blanched at the news. "Angelica!" exclaimed Darcy in confusion, a bewildered expression on his face.

    "Make haste, Darcy! We have no time for interrogation."

    The doctor was then called. Mrs. Reynolds changed Angelica into more comfortable clothes, and laid her in one of the guest rooms. Everyone was ordered out of the bedroom, while the doctor examined his patient.

    Outside, Darcy paced the hallway, while Wickham sat morosely on a chair. When the doctor came out, both men surrounded, anxious for information.

    "How is she, Doctor?" asked Darcy, worriedly.

    "She has taken quite a fall," Doctor Boone replied. "But she will be all right, if she stays in bed for a fortnight at least.

    Both men heaved a deep sigh of relief.

    "I do not understand how this has happened," said Darcy, angrily. "What could she have been doing riding the horse in the middle of the night at such conditions?"

    Wickham did not respond.

    "And, Wickham what were you doing outside?" Darcy looked at him accusingly.

    "Darcy," explained Wickham, "you know how I sometimes survey the grounds at night when I cannot sleep. I think it was even lucky that I chanced upon her when I did. If not..."

    Darcy pushed away the horrible thought of Angelica lying in rain, cold, wet, and dying. His brain was muddled, and he could not think straight. Suspicion was nagging inside him, but as he could not make out exactly why, he chose to accept Wickham's explanation for the meantime. Only Angelica can explain her actions, if she lives to tell it. Oh, Angelica...

    Chapter 6

    Posted on Wednesday, 13 February 2002

    Angelica slept for two days, and Darcy steadfastly sat by her bedside. He was extremely worried. What was she doing out there? He looked down lovingly at her pale face. She still looked like an angel. Darcy did not know what he would do if he lost her. Oh, Angelica, I know I have wronged you. Please forgive me. Please do not leave me.

    Darcy rose and looked out the window. The landscape was as beautiful as ever. Summer had faded away and autumn had arrived. The cool green was replaced with fiery reds, brilliant yellows, and flaming oranges against muted browns. He had never seen Pemberley so breathtaking. And yet, he could not glory in it. His parents were gone; Angelica was in a critical state. He was slowly losing everybody he loved.

    "Mmmm." Angelica stirred from her sleep.

    Darcy ran to her side. "Angelica, it's me, Fitzwilliam. Oh, Angelica, please don't leave me." He held her hand and kissed it gently.

    "Wickham, Wickham," Angelica murmured softly. "I am so sorry, dearest Wickham."

    Darcy reeled from what he heard. He stared at her in shocked disbelief.

    "I am so sorry, I failed you, Wickham," mumbled Angelica, half-consciously. "Forgive me, Fitzwilliam. I did not mean to do this."

    Cold blood ran through Darcy's veins when he heard this and an indescribable pain enveloped his body. Angelica with Wickham! The realization hit him with frightening intensity. He got up and left the room, slamming the door behind. He ran down the hall, searching for Wickham. He searched all of Pemberley like a mad man. His fury was unbounded, and anybody who saw him would not recognize him. There was wild look in his eyes and his manner was impetuous and erratic.

    Darcy found Wickham near the stables. He ran up to him, with fists clenched and jaws tight.

    "Wickham!" he bellowed. "You snake!"

    A fleeting fear passed through Wickham's eyes, but he immediately summoned his courage. "Darcy, you do not understand."

    "Oh, I understand perfectly," said Darcy. He caught Wickham by the lapels and threw him against the wall while keeping his grip on him. "You knew I loved her. How could you? How could you steal her from me!" Desperation edged his voice as he said this.

    "Darcy, get a hold of yourself," Wickham gasped. "What are you going to do? There is nothing you can do!"

    Darcy loosened his grip, and stepped back a little. He breathed in deeply. "I can win her back," he said in between clenched teeth. "You cannot have her without a fight."

    Wickham laughed contemptuously. "The fight is over, Darcy, unless you are stupid enough not to realize it. You have lost, and I have won."

    Darcy felt an urge to punch him, but Wickham stepped away to give more distance between them. They eyed each other intently.

    "She loves me, Darcy. There is nothing you can do. You cannot make her love you when she has already given me her heart."

    "You are lying." Darcy felt defeat hovering over him.

    "If I was, then why are here, accusing me of stealing her?"

    Darcy knew Wickham was right. He hung his head. "Do you love her?"

    When Wickham did not answer, Darcy looked up. "You don't love her, do you?"

    "I may have done a lot of stupid things in my life, Darcy, but this is not one of them."

    "Do you mean loving her is stupid?"

    "You can twist my words to mean whatever you want. If you are determined to think ill of me, then whatever I say will not change your mind." He turned to leave, but changed his mind and added, "By the way, Darcy, that night, we were going to elope." With that, he walked off.

    Darcy watched him walk away for he had not the strength to follow. He felt his knees weaken, and he leaned on the wall of the stable for support. He was weary and numb all over. It seemed that in the past three days he had aged a hundred years. He slowly slid down to the floor, grazing his back on the rough wooden wall. His first love. Gone, just like that. All the years of affection, all the time he had spent loving Angelica-diminished into a single word, "Wickham."

    Darcy was heartbroken. He had lived almost twenty-one years of his life in worry-free bliss, then all of a sudden, all the heartache he can ever experience converged in the last two years following his return to Pemberley, as if to make up for all the happiness he had enjoyed. He was not even twenty-three, and his life seemed over. Darcy wept with a hopelessness he had never felt. Fatigue caught up with him, and soon he fell asleep on the cold, damp floor.

    When he awoke, the sun was just setting behind the hills that bordered Pemberley. The orange and purple sky completed the autumn riot of colors. But Darcy was oblivious to it all. He saddled Fury, and rode long and hard around Pemberley, until the darkness wiped out all color and beauty from the scene.

    When Lady Witherspoon learned of what had happened between her niece and Wickham, she was furious. She and Angelica's father decided that as soon as Angelica was able, she would be removed from Derbyshire, away from Wickham's influence. At first, the old widow begged her niece to reconsider and marry Darcy instead, as it was obvious to her that the young man loved Angelica. But when she refused, her fate was sealed. No one, not even Darcy, was told where they were going to send her, and Darcy did not bother to inquire. He was so hurt that he did not even set foot anywhere near her quarters. From time to time, he would ask his servants of her condition, with strict orders never to divulge that such inquiries were made by him.

    On the day of Angelica's departure, Darcy shut himself in the library. He ordered everyone not to bother him, so he was incensed when he heard a knock on the door.

    "Leave me be. I do not want to be disturbed," he said, but the knocking did not stop.

    He sighed, got up from his chair, and flung the door open. "What do you want?" He started when he saw Angelica standing before him, pale and thin but still beautiful.

    "Are you not going to say goodbye?"

    "I thought we did that long ago," replied Darcy.

    "Fitzwilliam, I am so sorry. I did not want it to end like this."

    "And how did you want it to end?" asked Darcy angrily. "Did you want it to end by me finding out that you had eloped with Wickham in the middle of the night? Or did you want me to just read about your marriage in the papers?"

    "I cannot talk to you when you are like this," Angelica sobbed, but Darcy was unforgiving.

    "I did not ask you to talk to me."

    "I loved you, you know."

    "You have said quite enough, madam. I believe your carriage awaits you." Darcy turned his back, and Angelica reached out her hand to him, but stopped before her fingers touched him. She withdrew her hand, and left quietly, without saying a word.

    Darcy watched her from the window as she got in the carriage. She gave him one sad last look. The carriage drove away, and that was the last time he ever saw her. On that day, he vowed never to love again. "I will marry, but I will never fall in love."

    Wickham left the next day, where he went, nobody knew. His father died a few months later, and though he came back for the funeral, he never said a word to Darcy. He left once more, and was never heard from again for a long time. And so all that was left of the once proud and prominent residents of Pemberley were Darcy and Georgiana, the lonely owner of the estate and his shy, young sister.

    Chapter 7

    Posted on Friday, 15 February 2002

    Sixteen-year old Elizabeth Bennet, bright, spirited, and witty, was enjoying her early morning walk when she ran into James St. Vincent of Netherfield.

    "Lizzy! I mean, Miss Bennet, how are you this morning?" asked James.

    "Very well, thank you," replied Elizabeth, with a twinkle in her eye. "And you, Mr. St. Vincent?"

    "I am fine," said James. He sighed. "Can I call you Lizzy when we are alone? I cannot get used to all this formality. Ever since your coming out last week, I have had to call you Miss Bennet as if I have never met you before."

    "Indeed, it is a little awkward for we have known each other since we were very little. I will allow you to call me Lizzy, if you will allow me to call you James. Whenever I call you Mr. St. Vincent, your father's image comes to mind, instead of yours."

    "I have no objection whatsoever. Rest be assured, no matter how much I am forced to call you Miss Bennet, you will always be Lizzy to me." James said this with an intensity that surprised Elizabeth, and she blushed accordingly.

    "Pray, James, where are you headed at such an early hour?"

    "Why, I came to see you! What other purpose would I have in walking about at such an ungodly hour? I know you like to wander about while the rest of the world sleeps."

    "Your flatter me, so." Elizabeth laughed.

    "Are you heading back to Longbourn? If so, can I join you?"

    "Yes, I am heading back home, and of course, you can join me. In fact, I am inviting you to breakfast with us. I am sure Mama would not mind."

    "Thank you, Miss Bennet. I would be honored," replied James in mock formality. And the two walked towards Longbourn.

    The St. Vincents have resided in Netherfield for as long as Elizabeth can remember. The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. St. Vincent and their three children. The eldest was James, who was six years older than Elizabeth, the second was Rebecca, who was three years younger than James, and the third was Ruth, who was five years younger than Rebecca. The Bennets have always been close with the St. Vincents, as have their children. Rebecca was a dear friend of Jane's, and Ruth was perhaps the only girl in the neighborhood who had the forbearance to stand Mary. James, on the other hand, had picked on Elizabeth for the first thirteen years of her life, until for some strange reason he gradually stopped teasing the young girl and actually befriended her. They got along famously after that, to the surprise of Mrs. St. Vincent and the delight of Mrs. Bennet.

    The children of both families, when joined together with the children of the Lucases, another family within short walking distance of Longbourn, formed a colorful bunch. Their different personalities made for exciting childhood memories, filled with various adventures and mischief. And now that some of them were young adults, the friendships formed then, remained.

    James St. Vincent, who was destined to inherit Netherfield and seven thousand a year if the unfortunate event of his father's death occurred, was a tall, handsome man of twenty and two. He was a man of contradictions, however, and many a person have been puzzled and surprised by his character. Rich but humble, even-tempered but mischievous, responsible yet fun-loving, he was well liked in Hertfordshire in spite of his bewildering characteristics. For some time now, it seemed that only Elizabeth could make him out.

    "Mama," called Elizabeth, as she and James entered Longbourn. "Can James, I mean, Mr. St. Vincent, stay for breakfast?"

    "Well, of course, he can!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "Mr. St. Vincent is always welcome here." For Mrs. Bennet, James was a prospective son-in-law and such a status secured him a place at Longbourn's table, whether it be breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

    "Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet," said James, once the whole family was seated. "My parents have sent me to deliver an invitation to a ball at Netherfield next week."

    "Oh, girls! Did you hear that! How wonderful, indeed! We are honored to accept, Mr. St. Vincent. And to think that they sent you instead of a servant. What say you to that, Lizzy?"

    "I think it very kind of the St. Vincents," said Elizabeth simply, fully expecting her mother's enraptured shrills.

    "A ball! Oh, I am so excited!" cried Lydia. "I do so love a ball." Lydia giggled and Kitty joined her.

    "Unfortunately," said Mary, "both of you are too young to attend one. I would gladly give my place for either of you, for I dislike balls, but propriety forbids it. It is not wise for young girls to be exposed to adult society too early."

    "Mary!" cried Mrs. Bennet in a censuring tone. "We are all grateful for the invitation, are we not girls?"

    "Yes, Mama. Mr. St. Vincent, we are delighted to accept," said Jane.

    "Oh, you see, Mr. St. Vincent! Our gratitude knows no bounds."

    Mr. Bennet, who remained silent until now, said, "I am sure that Mr. St. Vincent feels your gratitude, but if you do not contain yourselves, he will starve to death at this table. I am certain that after such event, the invitation will be revoked and no invitations will be sent thereafter. It will then be known throughout Hertfordshire that we have a tendency to starve ball invitation-bearing individuals. And your dancing days will be over."

    "Oh, Mr. Bennet!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. Her husband shot her a look that calmed her somewhat, and breakfast at Longbourn finally began.

    A week later, the Bennets found themselves at Netherfield with the rest of Hertfordshire. James spotted Elizabeth from the crowd and quickly made his way toward her.

    "Miss Bennet," said James, his light brown eyes sparkling with excitement. "You look very lovely tonight." James bowed low.

    "Thank you, Mr. St. Vincent," replied Elizabeth, dropping into a curtsy.

    James offered his arm, and Elizabeth took it gratefully. "I must say, Lizzy," James whispered, "that you are the most striking lady in the room tonight."

    Elizabeth chuckled softly. "I see you are in the mood to tease me, sir. But no matter, I shall bear your cruelty as best as I can."

    James looked hurt. "That was a genuine compliment, Miss Bennet."

    Elizabeth looked up at him and was surprised to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I-I am so sorry," she stammered, not knowing what to make of his look. For the first time in years, Elizabeth was puzzled.

    James smiled at her tenderly. "Unfortunately," he said, gravely, "an apology is insufficient. You must dance the first two dances with me, or I shan't forgive you."

    "Well, then, I will have to consent, as it seems I have no choice in the matter."

    They parted ways in order to mingle with the other guests, but not before James took her gloved hand and kissed it. Elizabeth stared after him for a few seconds, thinking about his strange behavior. Whatever has come over him? she wondered. She had never seen him act so gallantly towards her before. Even after they had become friends, he was casual and fun, never so gentlemanlike.

    The music started for the first dance, and James claimed Elizabeth's hand. While they were dancing, Elizabeth decided to strike up a conversation.

    "Mr. St. Vincent, may I ask you a rather personal question?"

    "Sure, by all means."

    "Are you feeling all right?"

    James looked confused. "What do you mean?"

    "Um, I mean are you-unwell?"

    James had to complete a turn before he could answer. "May I ask to what these questions tend?"

    "Merely to assure myself that nothing is amiss. You have been acting rather strangely, if I may be so bold observe."

    James gave her a look that was a mixture of compassion, hurt, and affection. Elizabeth could not read the message in his eyes, and it left her very disconcerted.

    "I am sorry, sir, I did not mean to offend you," she said in a more formal manner.

    "Not at all," James replied, and turned away so that Elizabeth could not see the expression in his face.

    After the second dance, Elizabeth went to talk with Charlotte Lucas.

    "You and Mr. St. Vincent looked very good together while you were dancing, Lizzy."

    Elizabeth shook her head. "Something is the matter with him. I can feel it. I used to be able to understand him, even when no one could. But now, I am drawing a blank. Could it be that we are growing apart?"

    "From the way he looks at you, I rather doubt it. He seems to have a lot of affection for you."

    "And I am quite fond of him. It would make me very happy if he were to be my brother."

    "Your brother!"

    "Yes, he and Jane seem to get along very well, do you not think?"

    "He gets along with Jane the way he gets along with the rest of us. But with you, it is different."

    Elizabeth waved her hand, as if to nullify Charlotte's observation. At that point, James came over to their corner.

    "Are you, ladies, enjoying the party?" he asked.

    "Yes, we are," answered Elizabeth. Then seeing Jane happily dancing, she added, "And so is Jane."

    "Yes, she seems to be enjoying herself. I think most of the young men in this ballroom have already reserved dances with her. She will never be in want of a partner."

    "She is very beautiful, is she not?" asked Elizabeth, gauging James's reaction.

    "Very beautiful," he agreed.

    "All the men in this room admire her," said Charlotte, fondly. "I am surprised they do not all ask for her hand."

    James laughed. "Poor Miss Bennet, if that happened. She will find it difficult to turn down anyone. She would have so much trouble deciding that she would never be able to marry. She would have to accept them all, or turn all of them down. It is a good thing that God gave us, men, different tastes in women, or she will be forever pestered by admirers."

    "Whatever do you mean?" asked Elizabeth. She looked up and was surprised to see him staring at her.

    "I mean no offense to anyone," said James, sincerely. "But some prefer blondes and others, brunettes. I prefer...well, it does not matter. I hope you ladies have a wonderful evening." He bowed and left the two women.

    Elizabeth was puzzled, though Charlotte did not appear baffled at all. Poor Elizabeth spent the rest of the evening trying to decipher her friend's weird behavior.

    Chapter 8

    Posted on Friday, 15 February 2002

    One night, a few weeks after the ball, Elizabeth broached the subject of James with Jane. They were in Jane's bedroom having their daily sisterly chat before going to bed.

    Elizabeth said to her sister, "Have you noticed anything different with James?"

    "No, not really. He seems the same to me as he ever was. Why?"

    "I do not know. He has been acting rather strangely around me these past few weeks."

    Jane smiled. "But he is a rather difficult man to decipher. I can never guess what he is thinking. I can hardly explain it. He always seems happy, yet I think he feels deeply."

    "But that is just it! I have never had such difficulty. He has always been honest and forthright to me." Elizabeth knitted her brows together, thinking hard. "I hope I have done nothing to offend him. I cannot bear to lose his friendship."

    "Dear Lizzy, I am sure that will never happen," assured Jane. "He is very amiable. Inscrutable, but very kind. I think he is one of the kindest men I know."

    "Do you like him, Jane?" asked Elizabeth, grinning.

    "I have always liked him. He is a very good friend."

    "No, no. More than a friend. A husband, perhaps."

    "Lizzy!" exclaimed Jane, quite scandalized. "Of all the ideas I have ever heard from you, this is the most ridiculous. I have never thought of James as more than a friend, or a brother. I am sorry to pain you, but he is not my type."

    Elizabeth was grieved. "But you said so yourself that his is the kindest man you know. What do you not like in him? He is quite handsome, in my opinion. He is quite interesting, once you get to know him. We even like to read the same books, talk about the same things, and laugh at the same follies. That is credit enough, is it not?"

    "You forget, I have known him all my life. I am fully aware of his merits, but we do not share the same interests. I do not even understand him, most of the time. But it seems to me, that you and James share the same passions and understand the same things. Perhaps, you should think about that."

    Elizabeth was disturbed by the way the conversation was turning. She quickly got up and kissed Jane goodnight. She left her sister's room and went directly to bed, but she was not able to sleep until much later for she tossed and turned, unable to account for the tumult of her feelings.

    Having slept very late the night before, Elizabeth took her daily walk much later than usual. She walked slowly, a departure from the brisk pace she usually employed, contemplating what Jane said to her last night. Could it be?

    "Lizzy, at last!" a voice from behind startled her. She whirled around and came face to face with the very person that occupied her thoughts.

    "James!" she exclaimed. "You scared me."

    "You are late this morning," he observed. "Seems like you had a rough night last night."

    "How did you know?"

    "I can read you, remember?" He looked at her intently.

    She turned away. "There was a time when I was able to read you, too. Once, long ago," said Elizabeth, wistfully.

    "Long ago," repeated James, bitterly.

    She turned to him and asked, "What has happened to us, James? We used to be such good friends."

    "Friends, yes," said James, sadly.

    "Have you-," began Elizabeth, groping for words, "d-did I do something wrong? I would hate to lose your friendship, James. You are my best friend in whole world."

    "Is that all I will ever be, Lizzy? A friend?" asked James, searching for answers in Elizabeth's dark brown eyes.

    "W-what are you talking about?"

    He threw up his hands in the air in resignation. "I cannot believe you could be so blind! A bright girl such as you!" Frustration edged his voice.

    "Well, perhaps you should spell it out for me, since I am so daft and cannot understand you," demanded Elizabeth, angrily. James can really get on her nerves, at times.

    James sighed. "You want me to spell it out for you?"

    "Yes, that is exactly what I said," replied Elizabeth, still very much annoyed.

    He gazed at her intently for a long moment, and then said softly, "I love you, Lizzy."

    Elizabeth was speechless. She had not expected this at all. She sat on a fallen log by the wayside and gathered her composure.

    "How long now?" she asked, finally.

    "I don't know-a year or so. I have always wanted to tell you, but it would have been inappropriate, especially when you have not been presented to society yet."

    "And now that I am out, you just decided to spring this on me. Were trying to catch me off-balance? Take advantage of my innocence in such matters?" accused Elizabeth.

    "What?" James exclaimed in surprise. "Lizzy, you make it sound as if I was a scheming, calculating blackguard with an ulterior motive."

    "You pretended to be my friend!" Elizabeth shot back. "And all this time you wanted something more. You lied to me, and to think I trusted you!"

    James could hardly believe his ears. How can Elizabeth make such unfair accusations? He was very hurt, and the pained expression on his face clearly showed how he felt. He ran his fingers through his light brown hair, something he did when he was troubled.

    "That is unfair! Lizzy, your friendship is the most important thing to me, and I did not plan to fall in love with you. It just happened. My feelings for you are nothing but honorable and sincere," said James, earnestly. "How can you accuse me of deception? You should know me better than that."

    "I thought I did," came the cold reply.

    James sighed. "Very well. It is obvious what your feelings are for me. I will no longer trouble you on this subject, and I am sorry if I have offended you. But before I go, I just want you to know, that I still love you and I always will. You understood me when no one else could, shared the depths of my sorrow when nobody could fathom it, rejoiced in the heights of my success when others could not appreciate it." He looked at her dejectedly, and said, "Good day, Miss Bennet." He tipped his hat, and walked off.

    Regret filled Elizabeth as she watched him leave. She felt the urge to run after him, but she didn't. All this time he was in love with me! Elizabeth reflected on what had just occurred. Now, she understood his strange behavior. But how could I not have foreseen this? she wondered. As she saw James round the bend and disappear from sight, a feeling of emptiness engulfed her, and she broke down and cried.

    Elizabeth lay in bed that night thinking of James. She knew he was angry and she felt guilty for treating him so abominably. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that she was wrong. James would never hurt her or offend her intentionally. What she did was immature, to say the least. She definitely had a lot of growing up to do. Mourning the loss of her friendship with James, she fell into a fitful sleep, and dreamt of him.

    Chapter 9

    Posted on Friday, 15 February 2002

    For a week now, Elizabeth got up every morning to take her daily walk, not with the purpose of enjoying the beauty of nature, but with the hope of running into James. He had not come to visit her after he told her of his feelings, and she wanted to make amends. At least, that was what she convinced herself she wanted. Truth be told, she missed him terribly. But day after day, she was disappointed. If only it were not inappropriate to call upon him at Netherfield, she would do so. But, alas, she was relegated to dreaming of an encounter with him.

    On the eighth day of not seeing James, Elizabeth found an opportunity to visit Netherfield. Her father wanted to send a book that Mr. St. Vincent wanted to borrow. As no servants could be spared, Mr. Bennet asked Elizabeth to walk the three miles to Netherfield and take the book to him.

    Upon reaching Netherfield, Elizabeth was led to Mr. St. Vincent's study. Mr. St. Vincent greeted her with smile and thanked her for the book. He also informed her that they had some company from London and invited her to stay so she could meet them. Elizabeth, feeling too preoccupied to socialize with strangers, politely declined. She left hoping, fervently, to bump into James in the hallway or in the grounds of Netherfield.

    As soon as she stepped outside the house, she saw James talking to a beautiful girl with auburn hair. He seemed to be enjoying her company because he was smiling and laughing with her. A surge of jealousy took over her, and she turned and marched away from them. Unfortunately, James saw her and caught up with her.

    "Miss Bennet! Lizzy! Please stop!" James called out to her.

    Elizabeth slowed down and turned around to face him. "Mr. St. Vincent."

    "I did not know you were here. Would it be too much to ask if I introduce you to my cousin, Miss Agatha Spencer?"

    Elizabeth, seeing that there was no courteous way to decline such a request, agreed. The introductions were made, and the ladies greeted each other cordially. Elizabeth studied her competition carefully. Miss Agatha had intelligent gray eyes and alabaster skin. Quite pretty, she conceded. No wonder James is enjoying her company so much! she thought ruefully. At this point, Elizabeth was desperately seeking an opportunity to leave. She could not bear to be in the company of James and Miss Agatha.

    "James!" Rebecca called from the steps of the house. When she saw James with the two ladies, she made her way rapidly toward them. "Lizzy! I am so happy to see you. Why don't you, James, and Agatha join Ruth and me in a game of whist? Mother and Aunt Spencer have both been begging us to play with them this past hour!"

    "I am sorry," said Elizabeth, "but I am afraid I must be on my way back to Longbourn. Father needs me. Perhaps some other time, Rebecca."

    "Oh, well, then I shall not keep you. I must confess, however, I am quite disappointed for the game will be much livelier with you."

    "Not as lively as when Lydia is playing."

    Rebecca laughed. "Indeed, she is quite, uhmm, energetic. Give my best to Jane, Lizzy. Well, James, Agatha, shall we?"

    James looked at Elizabeth. "Ah, Miss Bennet, surely you are not walking back to Longbourn alone."

    "Indeed, I am. After all, I did walk to Netherfield alone."

    "Perhaps I should accompany you. It is quite a long walk from here till Longbourn. I hope you do not mind, sister, Miss Agatha?"

    "No, not at all," replied Miss Agatha.

    "You need not trouble yourself, sir," said Elizabeth. A part of her wanted to be with James, and another part did not.

    "It is no trouble at all, Miss Bennet."

    Rebecca shook her head and smiled at her brother knowingly. Taking Miss Agatha's arm, she remarked, "James was never one for playing whist, anyway. He would do anything to weasel his way out of it."

    Rebecca and Miss Agatha went back to the house, while Elizabeth and James made their way back towards Longbourn. Elizabeth felt all the awkwardness of the situation, and it seemed that her companion felt the same way. An uncomfortable silence came between them, for neither person knew what to say. When they came to the fence that stood in the way of the shortcut, James hurdled it with ease, while Elizabeth had to gather her skirt and step carefully over the railings.

    "Oh, allow me," said James, holding out his hand for Elizabeth.

    "Thank you," Elizabeth said, not daring to look at him. The firm yet gentle grip he had on her hand caused her heart flutter. She blushed at her reaction, and immediately withdrew her hand in embarrassment, as soon as her feet touched the ground. James attributed this action to be repulsion on the lady's part, and was deeply hurt. It seemed that lately, every encounter with Elizabeth brought him grief. He said nothing more after that.

    Finally, Elizabeth found the silence unbearable, and forced herself to speak. "Mr. St. Vincent, I can go no longer without asking for your forgiveness. My behavior to you last week was inexcusable, and I cannot think of it without abhorrence."

    James was surprised. "Please," he said with much feeling, "do not be so hard on yourself for you are not to blame."

    "No, no," said Elizabeth, stubbornly. "You are too kind. My manner was impertinent to say the least. I displayed total disregard for your feelings and for that I am truly sorry.

    "Lizzy..."

    "Oh, James, I do not deserve such kindness from you. Indeed, I do not deserve you!"

    "Do not speak so, for it is not true," replied James, quite distressed. "Lizzy, my feelings for you remain unchanged, and there is nothing in the world you can do to make me feel otherwise."

    Elizabeth remained silent for she did not know how to respond. That she felt something for James was evident, but she was not sure if it was love or just something akin to it. James stared at the ground, endeavoring to compose himself. Elizabeth took the opportunity to study him. He was a picture of despondency. His usually upright shoulders were now slightly stooped, his eyes have lost their brilliance, his once sure and steady hand trembled a little, and for a moment Elizabeth feared he would cry. A wave of love washed over her. Oh, James, her heart whispered. James looked up and saw her watching him.

    "Lizzy, would there be any chance that you could love me more than just a friend? Even just a little?" said James softly, almost pleading. James waited expectantly as Elizabeth thought for a few seconds.

    "Perhaps," said Elizabeth in a teasing tone, a smile playing on her lips and mischief dancing in her eyes. "Perhaps a very little."

    This response did wonders for James. His shoulders straightened and he once more stood proud and tall. Amusement lit up his eyes. And when a soft wind blew a stray leaf into Elizabeth's bonnet, James stepped closer to remove it with a gentle but steady hand.

    "It always was so difficult to get a favor from you, Lizzy," he said as he brushed away the offending leaf. He remained in close proximity to her for a long moment. When he stepped back, he said, "I love you very much, and I would never do anything to cause you to regret ever trying to love me back."

    "I do not have to try to love you, James," replied Elizabeth, "because I already do."

    James smiled at her with so much happiness and love, and they continued their walk toward Longbourn.

    "Tell me, James," said Elizabeth, rising to playfulness once more. "How come you never came to visit me this past week? Does a certain Miss Agatha Spencer have anything to do with it?"

    James laughed. "Do I detect a tinge of jealousy in your voice, dearest?"

    "Jealousy? Never!"

    James became a little bit more serious. "I thought you never wanted to see me again."

    Elizabeth looked remorseful. "I missed you very much," she confessed.

    "And so did I," murmured James.

    "James," said Elizabeth, hesitantly, after a while. "This is all so new to me. I have never felt like this before. Do you think we could tread slowly?"

    "Of course, I would not have it any other way," replied James with much understanding.

    And they continued their walk back to Longbourn.

    Chapter 10

    Posted on Friday, 15 February 2002

    The year progressed smoothly for Elizabeth and James. Summer consisted of long walks in the morning, when the air was still cool and the sun had not yet scorched the earth. The warm evenings were spent gazing into the glittering sky in the hopes of wishing on falling stars. Autumn meant watching the trees turn into brilliant hues of red and gold, and trampling on freshly fallen leaves that crunched with every step. Winter was spent playing in the snow that covered all dirt and grime and turned the world into a vision of untainted beauty. The cold evenings passed happily by the fireplace after supper with a good book of poetry. Spring meant picking flowers in the garden and listening to birds twitter their happy songs. The late afternoons were spent watching the orange sun set behind purple hills. For Elizabeth and James, there never was a year more glorious, no time more bereft of sorrow or vexation, no age more full of life, as this one. Love changes all perspective and blinds the eye to life's ugly realities and opens the heart to all its wonders.

    One late spring, as the great ball of fire disappeared behind the hills, and dusk settled over Hertfordshire, James turned to Elizabeth and said, "I think I am the luckiest man in England to end the day like this."

    "It is beautiful, is it not? To watch the sun go down in such splendor secure with the knowledge that it will come up again in the same grandeur as it had left," replied Elizabeth

    "Oh, the sunset is lovely, but I do not mean that. I meant that I am the luckiest man in the country because I get to end the day with you by my side."

    Elizabeth blushed with pleasure, but said nothing.

    James continued, "Lizzy, I would be the luckiest man in the world if you would allow me to spend with you, not only the end of each day, but also every waking moment of every day, for the rest of my life." With this he drew out a velvet box and opened it. Ensconced in the dark cloth was a ring with a sparkling diamond surrounded with deep red rubies. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

    "Oh, James!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Nothing would bring me greater joy than spending my whole life with you."

    James took her hand and, after gently removing her glove, slipped the ring into her finger. "The diamond reminds me of your disposition, clear and bright, and the rubies remind me of your fiery spirit and love of life."

    "It's beautiful," whispered Elizabeth.

    "But nothing compared to you," said James sincerely.

    The next day, James applied to Mr. Bennet for his consent, which was readily granted. Mrs. Bennet, upon learning the news, was enraptured. Jane was pleased, Mary was indifferent, Kitty and Lydia were envious, Charlotte was happy, the St. Vincents, especially Rebecca and Ruth, were thrilled. And all of Hertfordshire rejoiced.

    The delightful news, however, was offset by some bad news. Days after the engagement, Mr. St. Vincent was hurt in a riding accident. He recovered after a few weeks, but because of his injury, he would no longer be able to engage in strenuous activities, such as traveling long distances. It was then decided that the family should move that summer to London, where their warehouses were, and settle there permanently. James was required to move with them, to learn more about the trade and management of their business. It was thus settled that the wedding be postponed until a year later. And Netherfield was to be let as soon as some purchase offers.

    Elizabeth was saddened by the news but her spirits rallied her to optimism. "I hope you have good trip, James," she said bravely, on the day of his departure.

    "I will," James said, smiling sadly at her. "Do not worry, it is but a year, and after that we will be together forever."

    "A year seems too long."

    "I shall write you often, if you promise me not to be melancholy," said James, gently brushing the curly wisps that got in the way of her eyes.

    "Will you not come to see me?"

    "I am afraid that will not be possible. Father needs me. My time will be spent going around the warehouses and learning the trade, so to speak. He looked at her tenderly. " I love you, Lizzy. Let there be no doubt in your mind that I do."

    "I love you, too, James," said Elizabeth, trying her best to keep her tears from falling."

    James kissed both of her hands. The carriage containing Mr. and Mrs. St. Vincent, with their two daughters, rolled away. James climbed onto his horse, gave one last look at Elizabeth, and sped away, leaving Elizabeth waving in the distance.

    A few days later, a letter arrived from James. Elizabeth eagerly opened the seal and took note that the letter was written on the day James had left.

    London, June 10.

    My Dearest Lizzy,

    I hope this letter finds you in good health. We have just arrived in London. Be assured, all of us are well. The streets of London teem with people even at this late hour. It is almost midnight, but I cannot sleep because my thoughts are with you. I fear that I have shown more courage than I had actually felt, because now that you are miles away I feel that I have not the strength to go on without you. I already miss you dearly, and wish you were here with me.

    In cases such as these, I believe a good memory is unpardonable. I remember all the times we were together and my poor heart cannot bear the nostalgia. I can still distinctly hear your laughter, see your beautiful eyes, and smell your fragrance. Oh, what torture it is! Nothing has prepared me for this because my whole life has been spent with you just close by. I hope you will not forget me so easily. While I do not wish you the same pain as I feel now, I pray that you long to be with me as much as I want to be with you.

    I love you, dearest. Please write as soon as you can spare the time, and give my best wishes to your family.

    Yours forever,
    James St. Vincent

    As soon as Elizabeth read James's letter, she immediately took out her paper and pen and wrote back.

    Longbourn, June 12.

    My Dearest James,

    I have just received your letter today, and I cannot tell you how happy I am to read it. We are all well, and my family sends you their regards. Jane longs for Rebecca; Mary, I believe, feels Ruth's loss as well; and I desperately miss you. How will I endure without you? Your compassion, humor, and intelligent conversation have kept me company all these years, and now I find myself without them. Be assured that I long to be with you. You need not fear. I will never forget you for I think of you everyday. Please write me often, as it is the only thing that sustains me, and send my best regards to your family.

    Yours with love and affection,
    Elizabeth Bennet

    The letter was sent posthaste, and with it all the love that Elizabeth could give.

    Chapter 11

    Posted on Friday, 15 February 2002

    James and Elizabeth wrote to each other regularly, without fail. Their affection for each other did not seem to wane as the separation lengthened. One day in April, roughly ten months after James left, Elizabeth waited patiently for the post to come as she was expecting a letter from him that day. The post did come, but without a letter from him. She ascribed the delay to some reasonable cause and waited for it somewhat impatiently the next day. But still, no letter from James. Day after day she waited, only to be disappointed. In between waiting, she also wrote him regularly, inquiring of his condition as well as his family's. After a week, her disappointment turned into anxiety. After two weeks, a sense of foreboding fell upon her, and she prayed earnestly for James's safety.

    At the end of a fortnight, Lizzy was so distraught that she was about to beg her father's assistance in locating James, lest something unfortunate had befallen him or his family. But before she could apply to her father for his help, Lydia and Kitty came bounding into the sitting room, breathless and quite excited.

    "Lizzy!" exclaimed Lydia, panting heavily. "Lizzy, we just came from Meryton and what news we have heard!

    "Yes, oh, Lizzy! Quite shocking, indeed!" added Kitty.

    Before Elizabeth could answer, Jane and their mother entered the room curious as to what the commotion was all about.

    "What news do you bring us?" asked Mrs. Bennet.

    "It's about James," said Lydia, catching her breath. "He-oh, Lizzy, you will not believe this!"

    "What about James? Tell me!" demanded Elizabeth, fearing the worst. "Is he all right?"

    "He is married!" blurted Kitty.

    "Married!" cried Mrs. Bennet. "Impossible! He is engaged to Lizzy."

    "No, no," said Elizabeth in disbelief. "That cannot be true. Surely you must be joking!"

    "It is no joke!" insisted Lydia. "It is all over Meryton, and by evening I am quite certain it will be all over Hertfordshire."

    "Truly, Lizzy," said Kitty, "you have got to believe us for we have nothing to gain by spreading false rumors."

    Elizabeth was speechless, and so was Jane. But Mrs. Bennet flew into hysterics.

    "Lizzy slighted by James! Oh, we are all ruined! Odious, dishonorable man that James St. Vincent! To not keep his promise to Lizzy! This is very vexing! Oh, my poor nerves!" Mrs. Bennet sat down and sobbed vigorously. Jane tried to comfort her, but she decided to continue her ranting. "Poor Lizzy! Such shame, such mortification! How are we to bear this? Oh, Lizzy, why did you let him leave like that? Why did you not get married before he left? If only you had secured him, this could not have happened. Now, nobody of his consequence and fortune will ever want to marry you!"

    "Mama," said Elizabeth when she had regained her senses. "Mama, we are not even sure if the rumors Lydia and Kitty heard in Meryton are true."

    "Indeed, Mama," said Jane, "there must be some explanation for this misunderstanding."

    Mrs. Bennet calmed down a little, but Lydia and Kitty set her off again.

    "There can be no mistake," said Lydia without any sensitivity to the feelings of her sister. "He got married to an Agnes, something or rather, a woman of large fortune."

    "Aunt Philips was not positive about that name," contradicted Kitty. "I think it was, uhm, A-Agatha. Yes, perhaps, it was Agatha. Did not they have a cousin named Agatha?"

    "No, I do not know if it was Agnes or Agatha," replied Lydia crossly. "All she said was that it sounded like that. Agnes or Agatha, what does it matter? Whatever her name is, the point is James is married, but not to Lizzy!"

    Mrs. Bennet went into another fit, and as if on cue, the post came and with it a letter from James. Elizabeth tore open the seal eagerly and read it quickly. She turned pale and did not even finish reading it.

    "Well, what does it say?" demanded Mrs. Bennet.

    Elizabeth did not answer. Instead she ran up to her room and closed the door behind her. Downstairs she could hear her mother's voice, and Jane's comforting tone.

    "I knew it!" cried Mrs. Bennet. "The news is true..."

    Elizabeth drowned out the rest of the sounds below, and opened the letter once more. As always, it was written on expensive paper in his neat handwriting.

    London, April 29.

    Dear Miss Bennet,

    It gives me great pain to write this, and as much as I would wish to tell you this news personally, I fear that my courage would falter and my purpose would not be accomplished. As I cannot find a way of telling you this without causing you sorrow, I shall go about it directly. I am now married. The wedding took place yesterday morning, here in London. I know that I have wronged you greatly, and I do not think I even have the right to ask for your forgiveness. But I ask you just the same. If I were at liberty to explain my actions, I would, but it is not in my power to do so. Even if it were, I do not think there is any excuse for my behavior. I can only ask for your forgiveness.

    Yours sincerely,
    James St. Vincent

    When Elizabeth realized the full import of his letter, she wept bitterly. The mixture of shock, confusion, and pain was too much for her to bear, and she did not leave her room for the rest of the day. She could not understand how such a thing could happen. Where did I go wrong? How come he does not love me anymore when I still love him so very much? Why? Oh, James, why? There was no reasonable explanation for James's behavior, but love does not always depend on logic. People have done the most outrageous things in the name of love. Perhaps he never loved me. Perhaps all this time, he has loved her. Not me. Never me.

    Elizabeth brought out all the letters James ever wrote her. And she pored over them, reading each letter carefully. In all his letters, even the last, he seemed sincere in his regard for her, and she never had cause to doubt him. His last three letters hinted of distraction, but when Elizabeth had asked him about it in her letters, he never gave her a concrete answer. Whatever his motives or reasons were, she would never know. And there was no greater pain than uncertainty. This, Elizabeth had to live with.

    Jane inquired as to her condition two or three times during the day, and even offered to bring supper to her, but Elizabeth was not hungry. Jane was filled with concern and compassion for her sister, but she was sensible enough to leave Elizabeth alone in sorrow. Mrs. Bennet was still hysterical, and Mr. Bennet was angry. Mary started moralizing, and Kitty and Lydia were still gossiping about the news. And Elizabeth spent the night crying in her room.

    Elizabeth was melancholy for the rest of the week. Thankfully, she was endowed with a good dose of bright spirits that cannot be totally used up by a broken heart. After a week, she showed signs of becoming herself once again. While her heart mended very slowly, her disposition improved quickly. She was, after all, not formed for ill humor, and it was not in her nature to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. For the first seventeen years of her life, she had not fretted over unavoidable evils, or augmented them by anxiety, for it was not a part of her disposition. To do so now went against the grain of her character. It was, however, the first time she had felt pain as deeply as this, and though she will recover in time, a part of her will never be the same again. After a few months, Elizabeth seemed her old self once more, especially in the midst of her family and friends, whom she did not wish to trouble or vex unnecessarily. But in her unguarded moments, when she was alone, she always thought of James, and shed a tear or two for him.

    Continued In Next Section

    © 2002 Copyright held by the author.