Section I, Section II, Section III

Chapter 12

Posted on Sunday, 17 February 2002

Netherfield was let at last. And to a single man of good fortune, no less. This knowledge threw Mrs. Bennet in such rapturous spirits as to render the air in Longbourn quite volatile. Had a match been inadvertently lit, the whole house would have exploded in a frenzy of fireworks that would have aptly accompanied Mrs. Bennet's joy. Mr. Bennet, as always, received the news with equanimity, while his daughters greeted it with curiosity. For Elizabeth, however, the mention of Netherfield always brought her some pain. But as she was not one to dampen the spirits of her family, she took it upon herself to look curious to avoid any sympathetic look her father or Jane might give her.

Perhaps the only good thing that arose from such news was that James St. Vincent was momentarily forgotten. Mrs. Bennet had never forgiven Elizabeth for allowing such a good catch to swim off to matrimonial bliss with another, and she never let her daughter forget it. For the past two years, Elizabeth bore her mother's ire with surprising grace. She had two choices. Either she became resentful and bitter or indifferent and unaffected. She chose the latter for she dreaded becoming one of those cantankerous old maids whose neighbors gossiped about. No doubt her unfortunate love affair would be whispered about and exaggerated to increase its dramatic effect. The incident would then be used to explain her acerbic countenance. No, it would never do. An old maid, she would be, but a bitter spinster? Never!

Three miles away, at Netherfield, the air was a mixture of sorts. Bingley, Hertfordshire's newest resident, was quite pleased with his new home and exalted the country's quaint atmosphere and its people's charming manners. His sisters, Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst, were less pleased for they thought the area too backward for their tastes. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, was fairly indifferent. And his friend, Darcy, thought the society quite savage.

It must be said, however, that while Darcy was not extremely fond of Hertfordshire's society, he was not too opposed to the repose the countryside afforded him. He had just saved his sister from an unfortunate attachment with Wickham, an incident that had given him much stress and grief. So, when Bingley invited him to stay with his family at Netherfield, he readily agreed for he greatly needed a change of scene and some time away from the management of estate affairs.

An opportunity for the two households to meet finally came at the town assembly. The Longbourn party immediately took a liking to Bingley and his sisters. But Darcy disgusted the whole group, except perhaps Jane, with his haughty manners and proud countenance. And when everyone thought that there was nothing else he could do to further increase his already disagreeable image, he did.

Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit down for two dances. During part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been standing near enough for her to overhear a conversation between him and Mr. Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes to press his friend to join it.

"Come, Darcy," said Bingley, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."

"I certainly shall not," replied Darcy. Ever since Angelica left him, he had found dancing quite distasteful. "You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with."

"I would not be so fastidious as you are for a kingdom! Upon my honor I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening. And there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty."

"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet. As much as he hated to admit it, Jane reminded him of Angelica.

"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."

"Which do you mean?" he asked, turning round. He looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said, "She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me. I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

Bingley followed his advice, and Darcy walked off, quite irritated at his friend's attempt at matchmaking. The last thing he needed was another penniless girl running after his money or another broken heart. Unbeknownst to him, Darcy's comment struck a nerve with Elizabeth, who was once more reminded of James, and she remained with no very cordial feelings towards him. Had his manners been less absurd, she would have taken his insult to heart. But as it was, she already disliked him and his opinion mattered little to her. She told the story however with great spirit among her friends, for she still had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in any thing ridiculous.

"I must say, Jane," said Elizabeth the next day, "that I like Mr. Bingley for he has shown great intelligence by paying particular attention to you."

"Lizzy!" protested Jane, though her pleasure showed.

"However," continued Elizabeth, "I must say that his friend is quite disagreeable."

"I think Mr. Darcy improves upon closer acquaintance."

"Does he, indeed! Perhaps if he added more feeling to his insult, then he would have been more likable. The way he said it was quite dull. She is tolerable," mimicked Elizabeth, "but not handsome enough to tempt me."

Jane laughed. "It was very wrong of him to say so."

Elizabeth joined Jane in laughter. "I heartily agree. Why, if James were here..." Elizabeth stopped short, realizing what she had said. Then, she said more quietly, "I was going to say, if James were here, he would have found it most ridiculous."

Jane, seeing her sister's discomposure, tactfully changed the subject. "We arrived quite late last night that I was quite exhausted. I think I fell asleep as soon as I hit the pillow."

Elizabeth, regaining her spirits, replied, "You were no doubt exhausted from all that dancing with Mr. Bingley."

"Oh, Lizzy! We only danced two dances. And you? Did you sleep well last night?"

"I suppose I did. But the only thing I remember this morning was the dream I had. It was very strange, for it seemed to me more of a vague memory than a dream. In my dream, I am still a little girl, in a park of some sort, picking up some flowers strewn on the ground. When I look up, I see a tall gentleman standing with a black horse beside him. Then Aunt Gardiner calls me and I take one last look at him and my dream ends."

"What did he look like?"

"I do not know. His face was a blur, one of the faceless people we see in our dreams. I feel like I should know him, though. I really should not think more about it. It is probably just one of those senseless dreams that come from time to time."

Jane agreed, and they talked about more interesting topics.

At Netherfield, Bingley was asking Darcy a similar question. "So, Darcy, did you sleep well last night? I sincerely hope you were comfortable."

"I was, thank you."

"You do not look very well rested, however."

"No, I am fine," denied Darcy. "I probably just found last night's activities quite exhausting."

"How can you be fatigued?" asked Bingley. "You hardly even danced last night."

Darcy did not answer for he was thinking about the rather strange dream he had the night before. He dreamt that he was riding Fury through Pemberley, when the horse rears and throws him off the saddle. Everything was a blur, until he looks up and sees a pair of innocent eyes looking at him. The dream ended there, but he could not help but feel disconcerted about it. A senseless dream, he thought. That was all it was.

Chapter 13

Posted on Sunday, 17 February 2002

Elizabeth was at Netherfield. And as much as she disliked the situation, there was nothing she could do. Jane fell sick after riding to Netherfield in the rain (compliments of Mrs. Bennet) and Elizabeth's concern for her sister was far greater than her discomfort in being there. Bingley invited her to stay and keep Jane company, and so here she was.

It was already deep into the night, but Elizabeth could not sleep. She had engaged in some verbal sparring with Darcy that evening and her mind was still very much alive because of it. There was one other reason for her wakefulness, however. As fate would have it, the bedroom she was given used to be James's. She remembered the room from the time when they were still little, when she, her sisters, and his sisters were still allowed in his room. The arrangement and decor had changed since the last time she was there, but the furniture was still the same for Bingley decided to keep most of the furniture at Netherfield. She could still feel James's presence in the room, however, and it overwhelmed her. Feeling that she could take it no longer, she took her lantern and made her way down the stairs to the library. She picked up the first book she saw, which was a mistake, for it was Romeo and Juliet. Sighing deeply, she put the book down again. The stillness of the night was suddenly broken by heavy, dull footsteps that seemed to walk toward her. Her heart stopped for a second as she watched the door creak open, revealing a gentleman in nightclothes with a lantern in his hand.

"Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed. "You gave me quite a fright."

Darcy was equally surprised, and the pallor of his skin against the light of the lantern showed it. "Miss Bennet! Forgive me. I did not expect you to be here."

Elizabeth smiled wryly when she had recovered. "You need not apologize. I am sure my presence was entirely unexpected. I could not sleep and so headed here to pick up a book that could lull me to sleep."

Darcy sat down across her. "And did you have any success?" he asked, noticing Romeo and Juliet lying on the table.

"No such luck, sir. A tale of tragedy is hardly the thing to inspire sleep," she answered. "And you, Mr. Darcy. Sleep does not come to you as well?"

He shook his head and smiled, a rare occurrence for him. "Yes, it is quite elusive this evening."

She nodded in understanding and looked out the window. The drapes were still parted, and she stared out into the dark nothingness. Darcy silently observed her. She looked pale against the dim light, her dark curls cascading over her shoulders. She looked beautiful, almost surreal. Then he noticed something in her he had not seen before. It was her eyes. Her usually bright eyes had a touch of sadness that wasn't there before. She turned suddenly and saw Darcy gazing at her. He looked away quickly, quite embarrassed.

"So, Mr. Darcy," said Elizabeth, interrupting the silence. "Have you chosen which book you will read tonight?"

"No, I have not," he replied.

Elizabeth got up, realizing the impropriety of the situation. "Well, then perhaps you would not object if I suggest Fordyce's Sermons. I can guarantee its ability to dull the senses."

Darcy smiled again. "Perhaps I will take your suggestion."

"Goodnight, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy bowed and watched her leave, wondering what could have brought such sadness to one so spirited and bright.

Alone once more, Elizabeth sat at the writing desk and ran her hands along the smooth wood surface. This is the same desk where James once wrote his letters, she thought. Pulling out the top drawer, she felt underneath it and found the spring that opened its secret panel. James taught her that long ago. She pushed the spring, and the panel opened. In it were a bundle of papers tied by a white ribbon. She carefully opened the bundle. One of the papers was a sketch of Elizabeth and James drawn by Rebecca when they were very young. The rest were all the letters she had written him during their childhood. A wave of sorrow came over her, and she wept uncontrollably.

Darcy left the library shortly after Elizabeth left. He passed her room, for his quarters were just next to hers. It was an unusually humid night, and he threw open the window to let some air in. Standing by the window for a few minutes, he thought he heard someone crying and it seemed to come from Elizabeth's bedroom. His curiosity was piqued, and he found himself thinking more of her than he wished to.

That night, Elizabeth and Darcy both fell into a restless sleep, with each dreaming their respective dreams. The former dreamt about the tall gentleman and his horse and the latter about the dark innocent eyes that looked at him anxiously.

The next morning was bright and shiny, and the sorrows of the night before were temporarily forgotten. Elizabeth decided to take a walk since Jane was resting and she desperately needed to get out of the house. As she walked around Netherfield grounds, however, memories of James kept intruding, and soon the melancholy that enveloped her the night before descended upon her once more. Deciding to go back into the house to check if Jane needed anything, Elizabeth took the route that passed by the stables.

At the same moment, Darcy was inside the stables getting ready to saddle one of Bingley's horses. As he opened the stall, he noticed something carved on one of the wooden posts. "James and Lizzy" it read.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," said Elizabeth, and Darcy turned around in surprise. She laughed. "I beg your pardon, sir. We always seem to catch each other unawares."

"Yes, it seems that way."

"I did not mean to startle you, but I heard some noise here in the stables and decided to check it out."

"Do not make yourself uneasy, it is quite all right," said Darcy. After some silence, he said, suddenly, "You must have known the former residents of Netherfield quite well, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth glanced at the post and realized that Darcy noticed the inscription on it. "Yes," she replied coldly. "Quite well."

Darcy ignored her icy response, for he felt an urge to extract some knowledge about the estate's former residents. "Then you were quite close with the family."

Elizabeth was slightly surprised at his perseverance. He usually avoided conversation and she wondered why he would instigate this one. "I have known them all my life."

"You must miss them greatly."

"They now reside in London. I have not heard from them for a long time. Excuse me, sir, I must get back to my sister," she said, ending the conversation abruptly.

Darcy watched her march back to the house. He was about to saddle the horse, when the stable boy entered.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," said the boy brightly.

"Good morning," he replied. "Do you by any chance know the family who used to live here?"

"The St. Vincents, sir? Why, yes, of course. I worked for them for a long time. Mr. Bingley was kind enough to hire me for my knowledge of the grounds and the stables."

So like Bingley, he thought. "Can you tell me more about them? What were they like?"

"Well, they were a very nice family, sir. All of them quite amiable. There was Mr. and Mrs. St. Vincent, Master James, and Misses Rebecca and Ruth."
"And what sort of man was Mr. James St. Vincent?"

"Oh, very amiable, but quite enigmatic. Nobody could understand him, but Miss Bennet. For a while there we were sure they would marry. But it was not to be. He got married to a lady in London, instead."

"Miss Bennet?" asked Darcy. "You mean, Miss Jane Bennet?"

"Oh, no, sir. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. They were engaged for a while."

"I see," said Darcy, feeling a sense of compassion for Elizabeth. "Well, if Bingley asks for me, tell him I went riding."

He tossed the lad a sixpence and rode off into the distance.

Chapter 14

Posted on Wednesday, 20 February 2002

About half an hour after Darcy returned from riding, Mrs. Bennet and her two daughters came to visit Netherfield. This proved to be a trying moment for Darcy, especially when Mrs. Bennet reacted to his comment about the country neighborhood offering a confined and unvarying society. The exchanged that followed embarrassed Elizabeth greatly and she tried to steer the conversation in another direction.

"Did Charlotte dine with you, Mama?" she asked upon learning that Charlotte and Sir William had called on the Bennets.

"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up differently. But every body is to judge for themselves, and the Lucases are very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so very plain -- but then she is our particular friend."

"She seems a very pleasant young woman," said Bingley.

"Oh! Dear, yes. But you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Jane-one does not often see any body better looking. It is what every body says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But however he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were."

"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"

"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy, coloring slightly when he remembered the times he had composed sonnets for Angelica. For a brief moment, a ridiculous thought came over him. His sonnets may not have starved his affection for Angelica but what if it had driven away Angelica's love for him? He brushed away the notion angrily, silently chiding himself for even thinking such absurd thoughts.

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may," maintained Elizabeth. "Every thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."

Darcy only smiled, and silence ensued. After a while, Mrs. Bennet and her two daughters took their leave, but not before Mrs. Bennet had thanked Bingley profusely for his kindness to Jane. Elizabeth immediately returned to Jane, and Darcy repaired to the library.

Darcy stared out the window, deep in thought. For some reason, Elizabeth's comments about sonnet writing disturbed him. Had his relationship with Angelica ended in a happier manner, he would have found his exchange with Elizabeth quite humorous. But there was no humor in a broken heart. He sighed. How long has it been? More than four years now. Almost all the leaves outside had fallen, and Darcy remembered that beautiful autumn day when he first learned of Angelica and Wickham. What a dreadful memory! And now Wickham had once more reopened wounds by luring Georgiana into his evil scheme. He must really hate me, he thought, though I have more reason to hate him! Darcy wondered if Wickham ever really loved Angelica. He shook his head. At this point, any conjecture was useless.

His thoughts turned to Elizabeth. She was slowly turning into an enigma, a mystery to be solved. He wondered what happened between her and James St. Vincent. From what the stable boy said, the relationship could not have ended happily. But who ended it? Elizabeth or James? Darcy figured it had to have been Elizabeth for she did not appear to suffer from a broken heart. She had a bright and playful countenance. She exuded happiness and life. Then, he remembered what transpired in the library the night before. The sound of weeping wafting through his window. Perhaps she regretted her decision. After all, one can never really realize the full worth of a person until that person is gone, he reflected sadly. Thinking back to Elizabeth's comments about poetry, he now wondered if she said it out humor or bitterness. With her, it was hard to say.

Darcy instinctively picked up a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets to read some good poems that have the ability to starve love entirely away. Opening the book, he found himself staring at Sonnet CXVI and CXVII, and the piece of paper lodged in between them. It was a letter. Curiosity got the better of Darcy. He took the letter, and discovered that it was addressed to no one. Feeling that this was justification enough, he opened it. Dated three and a half years ago, it read:

Netherfield, April 10, 18-.

My Dearest Lizzy,

This is a letter you will probably never receive, but I write it just the same. For the past year I find myself feeling a deeper regard for you than friendship. I love you, Lizzy. I have struggled against it, for fear of losing your friendship, and have invented many reasons why I should not feel this way. I have always prided myself in being a rational man, but in this case, reason gives way to emotion. But why should I not love you? You have trusted me, believed in me, and understood me. You have shared my dreams and passions and everything important to me. Are these not enough justification for my feelings? But perhaps I am a selfish man who thinks only of his happiness.

Will you not be happy with me? Is friendship all I can ever hope to receive from you? If you could only find it in your heart to love me even just a very little, I would change my selfish ways and think only of your happiness. If only you will give me a chance. Dare I hope? Indeed, I do! Even at the risk of pain and sorrow, I do. For I would prefer the pain that comes from love than happiness that comes from indifference. I must tell you of my feelings, or I will never be able to forgive myself for such cowardice.

Yours sincerely,
James St. Vincent

Darcy put the letter down. It was obvious that the letter was written long before James and Elizabeth became engaged. The depth of James St. Vincent's emotion was apparent and his letter showed the change from uncertainty to determination. His courage paid off, but what went wrong after that? Such feelings do not alter that easily, he thought. Darcy concluded that it was Elizabeth who had broken off the engagement. But why? It could not have been for another man, could it? James is married, but she is not. Of course, Angelica left me for Wickham, but she did not end up with him. Perhaps Elizabeth Bennet is just like Angelica. He dismissed these thoughts angrily. Why should I even think about any of them? Women are the same everywhere, either cruel or mercenary. Darcy knew there was something logically wrong about his conclusions but he was in no humor to find out what it was. Tucking the letter in his pocket, he got up and left the library in search of Bingley.

That evening, after supper, Elizabeth joined the others in the drawing room. Unlike the night before, the loo table did not appear. Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was exactly in unison with her opinion of each. Soon the conversation turned into a discussion of Bingley's writing habits. And after a while, Bingley, who abhorred arguments of any sort, sought to finish the discussion. Elizabeth agreed with him, and Mr. Darcy was able to finish his letter.

Caroline decided to play the pianoforte, but when she heard Darcy invite Elizabeth to dance a reel with him (much to Elizabeth's surprise), she became jealous and ended her performance quickly. Devising a way, to make Darcy dislike Elizabeth, she began to allude to the conversation that transpired between them that morning. If the topic of conversation the night before was the characteristics of an accomplished woman, tonight it was the merits of poetry in inspiring love.

"Miss Bennet," said Caroline, "I take it you are not fond of poetry."

Elizabeth looked surprise. "I wonder why you should say that, Miss Bingley. I do not remember ever saying that I disliked poetry."

Caroline looked at Darcy, as if to point Elizabeth's inconsistency. "Why, this morning did you not say that poetry has the ability to drive love away, whereas Mr. Darcy thought otherwise. Mr. Darcy is, of course, quite fond of poetry and so am I."

Realization dawned on Elizabeth, and she smiled. "I do enjoy poetry, but I believe that the relationship between love and poetry is quite precarious. Many a poet have written lines that burst with much emotion only to find out the next day that their feelings have all been consumed by their writing and nothing was left for their beloved. Of course, had their love been unbounded, then their poems would have resulted from its overflow and no feeling would have been lost. But, alas, such is not always the case."

"I have always thought that poetry can only result from a real depth of emotion and can serve only to nurture love on both sides, not to diminish it," said Darcy, joining in on the conversation.

"I agree with you wholeheartedly, Mr. Darcy," said Caroline.

"Then you are lucky, Mr. Darcy," replied Elizabeth, "never to have seen beautiful words emanating from shallow affections."

"Do you then speak from experience, Miss Bennet?" asked Darcy, pointedly.

"I have seen it happen before," said Elizabeth evasively.

"Poor Miss Eliza!" cried Caroline. "To never have seen true love."

"And I take it, you have, Miss Bingley?"

"Of course!" Caroline exclaimed, making eyes at Darcy, who ignored it.

"Beautiful words from shallow affections," repeated Darcy, almost to himself. He looked up and added, "No, the shallow affections could only be on the side of the recipient, but not of the poet."

"Do you speak from experience, Mr. Darcy?" asked Elizabeth, archly, but was surprised to see sadness in Darcy's eyes.

Darcy did not answer, and Caroline, who found the discussion tedious and unfruitful, declared the need for some more music. And the evening passed in such manner.

Chapter 15

Posted on Wednesday, 20 February 2002

Elizabeth and Darcy were reluctant to go to bed for fear of having those dreams that have plagued them every night. But since the rest of the party had already repaired to their quarters, they were forced to do the same. Both of them tried to stay awake for as long as they could, but soon fatigue took over and they fell into a deep sleep.

When the horse encountered Lizzy, it reared and threw the man off the saddle. She screamed; the horse neighed, and the poor man landed on his back with a thud.

Elizabeth stirred from her sleep, tossed, turned, and slumbered once more.

Lizzy concentrated on the ground, waiting for the man 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," he assured. "She was no trouble at all."

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

The scene turned blurry for a moment, and then it continued.

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

"No, not at all."

Lizzy waved goodbye to the man and his horse, and walked off with her aunt.

Again, Elizabeth stirred restlessly for a while, and then drifted into a dreamless sleep.

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 okay?" 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? Don't you know this is private property?"

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

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

"I'm not supposed to tell you that."

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

"Because you're 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 won't 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 don't even know you."

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

Darcy woke up in a cold sweat. That was by far the most intense and complete episode of the same dream he had been having. He got up and drew open the curtains. The sun was already peeking from behind the hills. Knowing that wouldn't be able to sleep again, he quickly dressed and headed to the breakfast parlor for some tea. About half an hour later, Elizabeth came down to as well, looking tired. Darcy and Elizabeth greeted each other politely.

"You are up early this morning, Mr. Darcy," she said.

"So are you," he replied. "I hope you slept well."

She smiled wanly, and poured a cup of tea for herself. "I cannot say that I did. And you?"

Darcy merely shook his head, and Elizabeth sat in silence while he stood, staring out he window. He thought about his dreams again. He first had them the night of the assembly. Then once more after the party at Lucas lodge. He did not have those dreams again until Elizabeth came to Netherfield. And now, he was having them everyday. Unbeknownst to him, Elizabeth was thinking the same thoughts.

Darcy turned around and caught Elizabeth staring into space, deep in thought. The movement startled her, however, and she looked at him as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn't. The innocent expression in her eyes that masked her guilt gave Darcy a vague, unsettling feeling of familiarity.

"Have you ever been to Derbyshire, Miss Bennet?" he asked, suddenly.

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. "No, I mean, yes. My aunt brought me to visit the area years ago when I was but a little girl. I can barely remember it, however. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering if you have ever been to Pemberley."

Elizabeth wondered at his statement. Perhaps to emphasize his wealth? "I cannot say that I have, nor can I say that I have not. My memory fails me. It has been so long ago."

"I was just wondering if we have met somewhere before."

Elizabeth was not sure where the conversation was going, but she was in no humor to find out. "I think not, Mr. Darcy," stated Elizabeth with utmost certainty. "I would have remembered if we did."

"Yes, you are right. Perhaps not," he said, simply. Perhaps not.

"Excuse me, I must bring Jane some tea." Elizabeth poured a cup for Jane and left.

When Elizabeth brought Jane's tea and found that her sister was feeling much better, she suggested that they return to Longbourn as soon as possible, so as not to trespass on Bingley's kindness any longer. Jane agreed and Elizabeth was very much relieved. She knew that Bingley's superior sisters wished her miles away, and that Darcy did as well. So it was decided that Elizabeth was to write their mother the next morning to request for the carriage.

Elizabeth stayed with Jane until she had finished her tea. Jane rested afterwards and Elizabeth decided to take a walk. Once again, she chanced upon Mr. Darcy. This time he was leading Bingley's black horse toward the stables. They acknowledged each other cordially.

"How is your sister, Miss Bennet?" asked Darcy.

"Much better, thank you." A curious expression came over Elizabeth when she noticed Darcy standing with the horse beside him. A faint sense of déjà vu came over her.

"I am happy to hear it," she heard Darcy say.

"Have you ever fallen off a horse before, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked suddenly. Darcy was surprised and when Elizabeth realized what she had asked, she blushed.

"A few times," Darcy said, his dream intruding upon his thoughts once more. "May I ask why?"

"Forgive me, I meant no disrespect. It was for no reason at all," she replied. No reason at all.

That evening, Jane was well enough to join the party in the drawing room, and everyone noticed that Mr. Bingley was very attentive to her. Darcy was reading, and Caroline, hoping to get his attention persuaded Elizabeth to take a turn about the room. Their action instigated a conversation with Darcy, and soon Elizabeth found herself remarking that Darcy had no defect.

"No," said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is I believe too little yielding-certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever." A flash of pain passed through Darcy's eyes. Angelica...

"That is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it; you are safe from me."

"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."

"And your defect is a propensity to hate every body."

Hate? And is that such an abominable defect? I used to love, and look at what it has done to me. "And yours," he replied with a sad smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them."

Elizabeth did not answer. Willfully misunderstand? Is there anything to willfully misunderstand when the person you love marries another? It seems quite plain to me.

"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst."

Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened, and Darcy, after a few moments recollection, was not sorry for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.

Elizabeth wrote the next morning to her mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet would not spare it before Tuesday. Elizabeth, who positively resolved not to stay much longer, urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and the request made.

Bingley was saddened by the news of their leaving and suggested that they leave the next day instead, and the sisters agreed. The news of the Jane and Elizabeth's impending departure was received with different reactions by the others. The Bingley sisters were happy to hear about it, especially Caroline, who was relieved to learn that Elizabeth would soon be far away from them.

To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence-Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked-and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her, and teased more than usual. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape from him. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were, at one time, left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.

On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place.

Chapter 16

Posted on Wednesday, 20 February 2002

The months passed away quickly, and soon Elizabeth found herself at Hunsford Parsonage with Charlotte and Mr. Collins. The visit would have been more pleasant, in spite of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had it not been for the arrival of Darcy. For some reason, the disconcerting dreams, which had stopped abruptly following her departure from Netherfield, plagued her again. The only time it ever recurred from that time on was after the ball at Netherfield. After Bingley's party left for London, the dreams stopped completely. Now they have started again, with more intensity than before.

Another unpleasant occurrence was her frequent meetings with Darcy at Rosings Park. More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the Park, unexpectedly meet him. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that it was a favorite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like willful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking or of listening much, but it struck her in the course of their third encounter that he was asking some odd unconnected questions.

"And how are you finding your stay at Hunsford?" Darcy asked.

"Quite well, thank you," replied Elizabeth.

"Mr. and Mrs. Collins seem quite happy and satisfied," he remarked.

"Indeed, they are, both in their own way," answered Elizabeth.

"You really must enjoy walking, for I see you here at Rosings Park quite often," said Darcy after a while.

Indeed, you see me too often! "Yes, I love the exercise, Mr. Darcy, and it seems to me that so do you."

Darcy colored and fell silent.

"Do you often come to Rosings, Mr. Darcy?" asked Elizabeth, breaking the silence.

"Every year, with Colonel Fitzwilliam," he replied. "Lady Catherine expects it."

Elizabeth could not help but smile at this. Lady Catherine expected a lot of things, including Darcy marrying Anne. "You must look forward to your annual visits, then."

Darcy neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead, he said, "Lady Catherine looks forward to our stay. I am sure she would look forward to yours, too, when you next come to Kent," said Darcy.

Elizabeth wondered at this statement. In speaking of Rosings, and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, if he meant any thing, he must mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage. There, Darcy and Elizabeth parted.

Darcy headed back to his room, quite perturbed. He knew he should not be paying Elizabeth too much attention, but he felt drawn to her. Somehow, she made him feel that life can be better and happier. It was something he could not explain. She occupied his thoughts frequently and nothing he did could seem to get her off his mind. This cannot be love, he thought to himself, unconvincingly, for I vowed to myself that I would never love again. Then he thought about Angelica, and wondered where she could be at the moment. Does she even think about me? He shook his head sadly. Perhaps not. His thoughts eventually turned to Elizabeth and wondered how often she thought about James St. Vincent. Or if he even thought about her. Something in him told him that knowledge of what happened to their relationship would be pertinent to his present happiness. Why? He did not know, but he did not care to find out at the moment. The more pressing question was how could he solve the mystery?

The next day, the subject of James St. Vincent was still in Darcy's mind and he went outside for a walk to clear his head. In any other circumstance, he would have dismissed his thoughts on the subject right away, but his curiosity was great and he continued to dwell on it, albeit unwillingly. An opportunity for the mystery to be cleared came when he chanced upon Charlotte on her way to Rosings. He greeted her politely, and she responded with a curtsy.

"Mr. Darcy, how are Mr. Bingley and his sisters? Are they all well?" inquired Charlotte.

"Yes, they are all in good health."

"I have heard that he has not been back to Netherfield since the ball last November. Does he not plan to go back?"

"No, most probably not. I believe he is considering giving up Netherfield entirely."

"I hope Mr. Bingley will be able to find purchase offers quickly. It took a long time before the St. Vincents were able let it."

"Were you well acquainted the St. Vincents?" asked Darcy, seizing the opportunity to learn more about the family, and hoping that Charlotte would open the subject of James St. Vincent and Elizabeth.

Charlotte was surprised at Darcy's willingness to continue a conversation with her. Since such was a rare occasion, she happily answered his question. "Yes, I grew up with them and the Bennets. In fact, Mr. James St. Vincent and Elizabeth were at one time engaged."

"Indeed?" Darcy feigned surprise.

"Yes, but it ended quite sadly. The elder Mr. St. Vincent had an accident and the whole family decided to live in London to make it easier for him. The engagement was postponed, but unfortunately the wedding never materialized. We later learned that Mr. James St. Vincent had married someone else, from London."

"So, it was not Miss Bennet who broke the engagement?" For some reason, such knowledge was welcome information to Darcy.

"Oh, no. She would never do that. I believe Elizabeth loved him dearly. And I think Mr. St. Vincent loved her, too. He was an honorable man. We could not quite understand what had happened."

"Did you know the lady he married?"

"No, not personally. Rumors have it that it was a lady by the name of Agnes or Agatha or something like that. I cannot quite remember. It could have been one of his cousins, but I am not sure."

By this time, Darcy and Charlotte had arrived at the entrance of the house. Darcy excused himself, saying he wanted to take a tour of the grounds. Charlotte was extremely puzzled that Darcy had walked all the way with her to the house just to converse with her. He was also very attentive to what she was saying, as if it were important. His strange behavior was certainly a far cry from his behavior at Hertfordshire. Darcy turned around and walked back to the park, and Charlotte gave him one last bewildered look before entering the house.

Darcy reflected on the information he had just acquired. Now he knew what had happened, and wondered why James St. Vincent, who, judging from what Charlotte said and what he read in the letter, seemed very much in love with Elizabeth, would suddenly marry someone else. Why would anyone choose another woman over Elizabeth Bennet? He found the concept unbelievable. His opinion of James sunk low, but his regard for Elizabeth increased. He admired the way she handled her unfortunate love affair. She still had spirit, zest, and a love of life. Unlike me. Yet she feels deeply, I know she does, he thought, remembering the sad look in her eyes he had witnessed a few times. But she is not bitter, like me. Just sad. And compassion welled up inside him. Darcy surprised himself by saying, "I wish I could take away your pain, Elizabeth."

Darcy walked on, not caring which direction he went, when he beheld a sight that made him stop. It was a beautiful spring day and the dark green treetops stood out against the blue sky. The birds were chirping gaily, and the flowers were nodding in the soft breeze. Everything was a picture of happiness. Everything, except for a young lady, sitting under a tree. She had a forlorn expression in her face as she gazed into the distance. "Elizabeth," whispered Darcy softly to himself. He felt the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he quelled the impulse. Instead, he watched her from a distance for some time. Finally, feeling that he was invading her privacy, Darcy decided to make his presence known. He walked towards her, making as much noise as he could.

Elizabeth looked up, when she heard the crackle of twigs snapping. "Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed, struggling to get up.

"No, no," said Darcy, after bowing. "Please do not trouble yourself. You are so comfortably situated, I would not want to inconvenience you."

Elizabeth thought that it was more of an inconvenience to be looking up at the tall gentleman, and she said, more out of her desire for her comfort than for Darcy's company, "Will you not sit down?"

To her surprise, Darcy did. And they sat in uncomfortable silence for a while.

Finally, Elizabeth said, "It is a beautiful day, is it not?"

"Yes, it is," replied Darcy. Then added, more to himself, "Too beautiful."

"Too much beauty? Is that bad or good?"

"It really depends. When one is happy, it is a good thing, but when one is sad..."

"I see what you mean," said Elizabeth quietly. "Too much beauty seems quite overwhelming when one has experienced much pain..." Elizabeth stopped, realizing she might be saying too much. She looked at her companion, but seeing no discernable change in his countenance, she felt safe for the moment. Then he spoke, and the security she felt was gone.

"You talk as if you speak from experience, Miss Bennet," said Darcy, searching her eyes for answers.

Elizabeth was surprised. Feeling the danger of Darcy's probing look, she lowered her eyes and evaded his question. "So do you, Mr. Darcy."

She looked up and saw a flicker of pain in Darcy's eyes. He turned away and stared into the distance. For a fleeting moment, Elizabeth felt that there was more to this proud, arrogant man.

"I am sure," said Darcy, "that everyone has experienced some form of pain at one point or another."

"Yes, and it is how we handle it that makes the difference."

"Perhaps, but it also depends on what kind of pain we suffer. How would you bear the loss of a loved one, Miss Bennet?"

"You mean death?"

"No. Death is difficult and perhaps the most painful, but I meant another kind of loss," said Darcy.

Elizabeth understood and shook her head. "I do not know," she said softly.

"Neither do I."

Elizabeth feared where the conversation might lead to, and she said, "I am afraid I have been gone too long. Mrs. Collins might be looking for me."

"Of course," said Darcy, standing up. He held out his hand for Elizabeth and helped her to her feet. "I hope you do not mind if I walk back with you."

"Not at all," said Elizabeth, though she minded it very much. She was afraid of what turn their conversation might take. She need not have feared, for Darcy did not seem disposed to say more. Both of them walked in silence and parted when they reached the lane that separated Hunsford from Rosings.

The next day, Elizabeth took a walk with some fear that she would chance upon Darcy. When she saw a gentleman from a distance, her fears increased. But they were unfounded, for the gentleman was Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was taking his annual tour of the park. They walked together, and their conversation took a turn that made Elizabeth quite ill.

Chapter 17

Posted on Saturday, 23 February 2002

The months following Darcy's rejection were particularly difficult for him. To survive two rejections was not an easy feat to accomplish. Fortunately, he was gifted with a resiliency that allowed him to overcome the numerous trials that came his way. In moments of reflection, he often allowed that his life was really not so bad after all for, in spite of all his sufferings, he was also blessed with a happy childhood brought about by loving parents, a kind sister, good friends, a beautiful house, and wealth. After all nobody's life was perfect and one must take the good with the bad. Then he would think about Angelica and Elizabeth, and could only conclude that the major difference between the two was that Angelica's rejection had made him a bitter man, while Elizabeth's rejection had made a better man.

Fate, perhaps out of kindness or mischief, decided that Darcy, being a changed man, must be given one more chance. And so, one bright summer morning at Pemberley, Darcy found himself staring at the lovely face of Elizabeth Bennet and inviting her and her aunt and uncle to stay and take a tour of Pemberley with him.

"Lizzy," said Mrs. Gardiner, while they were walking, "do you not at all remember visiting this place? I can understand your not remembering the house for I do not think we even ventured that far, but surely the grounds must look familiar to you."

"I am sorry to say, Aunt Gardiner, that I have not yet seen anything that distinctly reminds me of ever being here before. But, then, that was a long time ago, and I believe our visit here was quite brief."

Darcy, overhearing the conversation, could not help asking, "You have visited Pemberley before?"

"Why, yes," replied Mrs. Gardiner. "But, unfortunately, Lizzy cannot remember."

"I am Lizzy," answered the girl, placing her small hand in his. Darcy kissed it like a true gentleman. "It must be so long ago if Miss Bennet cannot remember it," said Darcy.

"Indeed, it is," answered Elizabeth, quite embarrassed. "After all, I was only eleven at the time."

I am eleven years old and I can take care of myself. Now, Darcy looked extremely uneasy. "Eleven?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Gardiner, "and quite a precocious, and might I add, mischievous, child she was, too." Mr. Gardiner chuckled, and Elizabeth blushed. Blood drained from Darcy's face.

"Mr. Darcy, are you okay?" asked Elizabeth.

"Mister, are you okay?" asked the little girl. Darcy found himself looking into a pair of painfully familiar innocent dark eyes. "Ah, y-yes," he stammered, "I am quite fine, thank you."

As fate would have it, Darcy found himself leading his visitors right to the spot where he fell, almost nine years before. Upon entering the vicinity, a look of recognition came over Elizabeth's face. She stopped and surveyed the area.

"I have seen this place before," she whispered.

"Why Lizzy, do you not remember? Is this not the place where you picked flowers?" asked Mrs. Gardiner.

Lizzy gathered her flowers and said, "Mr. Darcy, do you mind if I take these with me?" Elizabeth could not speak for a moment. Then she said, softly, "Yes, I believe it is."

"And there was this kind gentleman who let you bring the flowers home."

Lizzy looked at him in wonder and relief, and he smiled at her. Elizabeth stole a look at Darcy and found him staring at her with a look of amazement.

"Why," continued Mrs. Gardiner, "I believe that was you, Mr. Darcy!"

"Forgive me. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley," said Darcy, holding out his hand. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment as the memory came rushing back. When she opened her eyes, she found Darcy looking at her intently with an amused smile on his face.

"Miss Bennet," he said, "a pleasure to meet you again," he said, holding out his hand.

Elizabeth smiled, and placed her hand in his. And, for the second time, Darcy kissed it like a true gentleman.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner looked amused. "You mean all this time, you both did not know that you had met once before?" asked Mr. Gardiner.

Darcy and Elizabeth laughed. "We both have a bad memory, I am afraid," said Darcy.

"And in this case," added Elizabeth, "a bad memory is unpardonable."

Everyone laughed.

They continued their tour, but as Mrs. Gardiner was not a good walker, she sought Mr. Gardiner's arm for support. Soon, they lagged behind, with Darcy and Elizabeth way ahead of them.

"Mr. Darcy, I am terribly sorry. We seem to have a propensity for intruding upon your privacy. Had I known..." Elizabeth's voice trailed off.

"Had you known that we had met before, what would you have done?"

"I, ah, I would never have..."

"Come back?" Darcy finished the sentence for her. Elizabeth looked at the ground, quite embarrassed.

"I would not have wanted to invade your privacy like this."

"I remember telling you and your aunt before that you are most welcome to visit Pemberley, whenever you are in the area. And I reiterate the offer. You are always welcome here, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth blushed. "You are very kind, sir." She paused for a few moments. Then, she said, "I hope you have suffered no ill effect from your fall."

"Off the horse?" Amusement tinged Darcy's voice. "No, I believe not. Save, perhaps, from a loss of memory every now and then, I do not think I suffered any serious damage."

Elizabeth laughed. "I am truly sorry."

Darcy replied, gravely. "Since you sound so remorseful, it is I suppose quite proper that I forgive you."

Elizabeth, quite surprised and amused at this side of Darcy's character, said, "Thank you. I seem to be the cause of your troubles everywhere I go."

"You can never be the cause of my troubles, Miss Bennet," replied Darcy, with such seriousness that made Elizabeth look up. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Elizabeth spoke, "Mr. Darcy, I know this is an unusual question, but have you had the same dream frequently?"

Darcy looked surprised. "Have you?" he asked.

"I am afraid so."

"So have I," replied Darcy.

"I wonder what that could mean."

"It means that like love, memories never really fade away." Darcy looked at Elizabeth, and she understood.

At that moment, Elizabeth felt that Darcy must still love her, and that, she might, after all be able to love again. That evening, Darcy and Elizabeth dreamed their respective dreams. But this time, everything was clear and complete.

A few days later, Elizabeth received two letters from Jane that changed their lives forever.

Chapter 18

Posted on Saturday, 23 February 2002

After overcoming much pride, prejudice, and heartache, Elizabeth and Darcy were finally engaged. To add to their happiness, Bingley and Jane were also engaged, and Lydia and Wickham were far away. With all the hurdles removed, the couple felt that nothing could ever come between them.

"Do you not think it strange," said Elizabeth to Darcy during one of their walks, a few days after their engagement was announced, "that we did not remember our very first meeting? Then, years after, the moment you come to Hertfordshire, the memory would come back to us in a form of a dream, and still we would not be able to piece it together until much later."

"Fate," said Darcy. "It must be fate."

"Fate? I never thought you believed in that sort of thing."

"No, I did not, until I met you at the Assembly."

"Oh, Fitzwilliam. You know very well it was not as earth-shattering as you make it sound. If I remember correctly, you only found me quite tolerable."

"A grievous mistake on my part, madam."

Elizabeth laughed. "Grievous, indeed, is the word for it. But, seriously, did you not fully comprehend it until that day at Pemberley? I wondered why it never dawned on me until then."

"Because it was not time yet, Elizabeth," replied Darcy, more seriously. "We had a lot to learn about ourselves, and until we did, we could not love each other as completely as we do now."

"Perhaps fate knew when it was the right time, then," said Elizabeth, softly. Then in a livelier tone, she added, "But I sure wish that it did not take such a long time for us to realize our faults. I would dearly love to have a few good night's sleep back."

Now, it was Darcy's turn to laugh. "Yes," he agreed. "Those dreams were quite disconcerting."

Elizabeth looked at Darcy lovingly, and said, "Oh, Fitzwilliam, we have been through a lot, have we not?"

Darcy smiled. "Yes, we have, but it was all worth it."

They continued to walk and soon they came to the top of the hill that overlooked Netherfield. Elizabeth stopped, and gazed at the beautiful estate below them. Darcy also stopped beside her, but gazed at her, instead.

"Do you still think about him?" he asked, softly.

"Sometimes," answered Elizabeth, sadly. "I just wish I knew what I had done wrong for him to leave me like that."

"I am sure you did nothing wrong, Elizabeth."

"Then, why?"

Darcy sighed. "People do things that we cannot explain. One thing I am certain, however, it was very wrong of him to leave you. And for that, I am eternally indebted to him."

Elizabeth could not help but smile. "I just do not want to make the same mistake with you, Fitzwilliam. I do not want you to ever leave me, for I know not how I will bear it."

"I will never do that, I give you my word," assured Darcy, solemnly.

Elizabeth turned and looked down at Netherfield once more. The trees had already turned color, and their leaves were starting to fall.

"Did you love him?" asked Darcy.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

"Do you still love him?"

Elizabeth looked at Darcy and saw the fear in his eyes. "Oh, Fitzwilliam, you cannot think that. You must not think that. I love you," she said, sincerely, reaching out and brushing a stray strand of hair from Darcy's face.

Darcy caught her gloved hand gently, and kissed it. "I love you, too."

"Have you ever loved anyone else before me?" asked Elizabeth.

"Once, a long time ago," he answered.

"What happened?"

"She loved another."

"And?" Elizabeth prompted him to continue.

"And nothing. She did not end up with him after all, and I never saw her again."

"Oh, Fitzwilliam..." Sympathy filled her eyes.

"Did you ever find out who the other gentleman was?"

"Wickham."

Elizabeth gasped. "Wickham!" She now understood the depth of Darcy's sacrifice for her and her family. "I am so sorry."

"Do not be sorry, Elizabeth. I have you, and that is all that matters to me. You have taught me to love again, something I never thought I would be able to do. There is nothing to be sorry about."

Elizabeth smiled at him with tenderness in her eyes. "We need to go back. They will be looking for us."

Darcy agreed. Offering his arm, he and Elizabeth headed back to Longbourn. When they reached the house, they discovered that the house was in uproar. Mrs. Bennet had decisively taken over the wedding preparations. She insisted that nothing except the finest trousseaux would do for her two daughters, and that their dresses could only be bought in London. Mr. Bennet would not agree, and Elizabeth and Jane did their best to dissuade their mother, but she would not be moved. Finally, Darcy stepped in to resolve the matter.

"Bingley and I would be happy to accompany you and your daughters to London, Mrs. Bennet, that is, with Mr. Bennet's permission," he said, partly because he could not stand Mrs. Bennet's incessant lamentations, and partly because he wanted to see Elizabeth at her best during the wedding.

Everyone, including Bingley, looked at him in astonishment. Mrs. Bennet was too shocked and awed to speak. Elizabeth cast him a grateful look followed with a loving smile, and that was enough reward for Darcy. After Mr. Bennet recovered, he quickly agreed to the plan (in order to have some peace in the house). And so it was settled. To London, therefore, they were to go.

Chapter 19

Posted on Tuesday, 26 February 2002

Elizabeth, Jane, and Mrs. Bennet stayed at Gracechurch Street with the Gardiners, while Darcy and Bingley stayed in their respective townhouses. Mrs. Bennet was eager to visit all the warehouses in London, and demanded that they start their search as soon as possible. Thus, the ladies decided to begin looking for silk and laces the day after their arrival in London.

On the appointed morning, excitement ruled the house at Gracechurch Street. Mrs. Bennet was in a flutter of spirits, as always. Mrs. Gardiner tried to calm her down as much as possible. Elizabeth and Jane could not help but look forward to the opportunity to shop around town, for it took their minds off their fears and anxieties about married life.

Bingley and Darcy gallantly offered to take them around London, for they had some other purchases to make themselves. Due to their excitement, the ladies found themselves ready long before the agreed time. While they were waiting for the gentlemen to arrive, however, an express came for Elizabeth. The messenger handed her the letter, and she gave an exclamation of surprise.

"Oh! The directions on this letter were written for Longbourn," said Elizabeth.

"Yes, madam, your father received it, and he thought it might be important. So, he sent it here, posthaste," replied the messenger.

Elizabeth thanked the messenger, who promptly left. She also silently thanked her father for his good judgment, but when she looked at the seal, her blood ran cold. It cannot be! Mrs. Bennet urged her to open the letter, and she did. Elizabeth turned white when she read it. She could not speak for a few minutes, in spite of Mrs. Bennet's repeated inquiries. When she recovered, she quickly headed toward her room.

"I beg your pardon, but you must all go without me. Jane can decide for me, if need be. I will go with you tomorrow, instead," said Elizabeth with urgency.

"Go without you!" cried Mrs. Bennet. "Certainly not. I cannot allow it. What about your measurements? Indeed, Elizabeth! You must stop this nonsense."

"I am sorry, Mama. Perhaps tomorrow," called Elizabeth over her shoulder.

Jane, concerned for her sister, followed her to her room, leaving Mrs. Bennet at her wit's end, and poor Mrs. Gardiner desperately trying to console her. When Jane reached the bedroom, Elizabeth was already scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. Jane shut the door behind her.

"Lizzy, will you not tell me what is the matter?"

Elizabeth wordlessly handed her the letter she just received, and continued writing at a fast pace. Jane opened the letter, and blanched when she read the contents. The letter read:

London, October 28.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet,

Please forgive the liberties I have taken in writing you this letter. I know we are not well acquainted, but I believe you know my husband quite well. And it is for him that I beg your assistance. He is dying, Miss Bennet, and he requests for your presence. I do not have the heart to refuse his last wish, and hope that you would feel the same. Please respond as soon as you can, if you are to grant him his last wish. I know this is an unusual request, given your past with him, but these are unusual circumstances, and I hope you will forgive me for the inconvenience I might be causing you.

If, by any chance, you plan to visit, let me know the time and day, and I will promptly leave the house to grant you a private interview with him. I know this may be highly inappropriate, but it is his wish to see you without me. The doctor will be with him, by his bedside throughout the visit, however. I hope the doctor's presence will lessen your reservations about meeting my husband in this manner. Please accept my best regards for your health and happiness. I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours sincerely,
Mrs. James St. Vincent

Jane finished reading the letter just as Elizabeth finished writing hers. Elizabeth called one of the servants immediately and asked him how soon the letter would reach the recipient. Since the residence also had a London address, the servant said that the letter would arrive that same morning. The letter was dispatched. Elizabeth determined that she was to leave as soon as possible, calculating that the letter would arrive some time before she did, thus giving Mrs. St. Vincent ample time to leave the house.

"Oh, Lizzy," Jane said, when she realized the full import of the letter, "after all these years! Are you sure you want to do this?"

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "He is dying, Jane. No matter how much I have suffered, I cannot refuse a dying man, especially if it is James. Besides, this is the only opportunity I will ever have of knowing what happened between us."

Jane hugged Elizabeth. "Take care, Lizzy," she said with understanding and compassion.

"Please explain to all of them that I had to leave. I will request for the carriage from Uncle Gardiner. You will not need it, for you are to use Fitzwilliam's carriage, and I am sure our uncle can spare it for an important errand such as this."

Elizabeth left Gracechurch Street, in spite of her mother's remonstrations. Bingley and Darcy arrived a little more than half an hour after Elizabeth left. They were all about to leave, when Darcy noticed that Elizabeth was not with the party.

"Where is Miss Elizabeth?" he demanded.

"He had to leave, Mr. Darcy," answered Jane.

"Leave! Where?"

Jane did not answer, for she knew not what to say.

Fear gripped Darcy. "Is anything the matter?"

"No, Mr. Darcy, be assured, she is well. She just had to run an important errand."

Darcy felt that there was more to it than just an errand. "Please, Miss Bennet, I must know where she is, or I will not have any peace of mind."

Darcy was the kind of man to whom anyone would never dare refuse anything which he condescended to ask. And Jane, left without a choice, repeated to him the directions on the letter Elizabeth had left with her.

"What would she be doing over there?" asked Darcy.

"To, uh, to call upon the St. Vincents," Jane said, softly.

Alarm spread over Darcy's features, and without thinking twice about it, decided to follow Elizabeth, much to Jane's consternation. He apologized to the ladies, and then turned and said to Bingley, "I am sorry to do this, but I am afraid you must request one of the servants to send for your carriage. I must leave at once."

Before Bingley could answer, Darcy was off, and everyone was left bewildered and confused.

Elizabeth arrived in front of a big house in one of London's prominent streets. The housekeeper, who seemed to be expecting her, let her in and led her to one of the rooms upstairs. Elizabeth entered a large, ornately decorated bedroom. It was beautiful, but it smelled of death and sorrow. The heavy drapes were closed, and a single lantern dimly lit up the whole place. A man, whom she assumed to be the doctor, sat in the shadows, in a corner. A large bed stood in the middle of the room, and in the middle of the bed, lay a man, thin and sallow, with ruffled light brown hair. A pitiful remnant of the person he used to be. James...

The doctor merely nodded to Elizabeth in acknowledgement. She advanced toward the bedside and sat on the bed beside the sick man.

"James," she said, softly, taking his white, bony hand in hers. "It is I, Elizabeth."

James stirred. "Lizzy? Is that you?" he asked, hoarsely.

"Yes, I have come."

He turned his head, and with the recognition, some of the old sparkle came into his brown eyes. "Oh, Lizzy," he whispered, removing his hand from her grasp and touching her now wet cheek. "I have dreamt of this for a long time. I am glad you came. I only wish you did not have to see me like this."

"It does not matter," said Elizabeth with tears falling faster with every moment. She gently brushed the wayward wisps of hair from his face and caressed his head tenderly.

"Please forgive me, dearest, for all the pain I have caused you. You must know that I have paid dearly for it with my suffering," he was forced to stop by some dry, painful coughs.

Love and compassion overwhelmed Elizabeth. "Think no more about it, James, it was all in the past. And the past does not matter anymore."

"No, no," James insisted. "I must say this, or I will never get to say it again. The past may not matter to you, but it does to me. You have a future to look forward to, I do not. So all that is left for me is my past. The time is near, and I must go peacefully."

"Yes, yes," responded Elizabeth, soothingly, seeing the urgency with which James spoke.

James paused for a second, trying to gather his strength. "You must believe me, when I say, that I love you and I always have. My suffering goes beyond the physical, Lizzy. It comes from the knowledge that I could never have you. Not a day has passed that I did not think about you. You must believe me."

"I believe you, James," said Elizabeth, for in her heart she did.

"One moment of weakness, Lizzy, was all it was. Please forgive me," pleaded James, in between gasps. "God knows that I have suffered enough, but I cannot rest until I know for sure that you have forgiven me. Please, I beg you. I need to hear it from you."

The pain weighed heavily on Elizabeth. She paused for while. Then she finally said, "I forgive you, James St. Vincent. I truly do." After she said this, a huge burden lifted from Elizabeth's shoulders, and gradually, the pain left her.

James heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you, my beautiful, spirited Lizzy."

"I love you, James," said Elizabeth, and kissed him on the forehead.

A peaceful smile came over him, and gradually, his breathing became less and less labored. Then it stopped completely. When Elizabeth realized what had happened, she sobbed uncontrollably. Oh, James, James. My first love...

Chapter 20

Posted on Tuesday, 26 February 2002

Elizabeth knew not how long she wept. The doctor was kind enough not to disturb her. When her tears would flow no more, she gathered herself together. She got up, and, with a slight nod to the physician, silently left. She quietly closed the door behind her, and knew that in doing so, she had closed a painful chapter in her life.

James St. Vincent died on a sunny, autumn day-a day when the rest of the world was hustling and bustling, a day when the leaves were falling softly to the ground. And though he spent his last minutes in a dark room, his heart was filled with light. He lived in sorrow, but he died in happiness. How apt an ending for such a man of contradictions!

Elizabeth made her way down the stairs, but before she could get to the door, a tall, slender woman appeared. She walked toward Elizabeth.

"You must be Miss Elizabeth Bennet," she said in a sad, mellow voice. "I thought you had already left. I am Mrs. James St. Vincent."

Elizabeth was surprised at her appearance, but before she could say anything, Darcy burst into the room with the housekeeper trailing behind him. Elizabeth looked up in astonishment, and Mrs. St. Vincent whirled around, startled.

Darcy involuntarily reeled in shock. "Angelica!" he gasped.

"Fitzwilliam!" exclaimed Angelica, looking as though she had seen a ghost.

If Elizabeth was surprised to see that Mrs. St. Vincent was not the auburn-haired, gray-eyed Agatha Spencer she was expecting, she was more astounded to find out that Darcy seemed to know her intimately. She looked at them in confusion. Both of them wore stunned expressions on their faces. For a long minute, a palpable, almost explosive, silence reigned in the room.

Finally, Elizabeth spoke. "Do you two know each other?" she asked as calmly as possible.

Darcy nodded. "A very long time ago."

Angelica's blue eyes reflected pain when Darcy said this.

Elizabeth understood, but the events of the morning were too much for her to process. Suddenly, she felt the urge to be alone. She turned to Angelica and said, "James is gone." Then, she quietly walked away.

It took a moment for Darcy to realize that Elizabeth had left. "Elizabeth, wait!" Darcy called after he came to his senses. He started to run after her, but Angelica grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Leave her be. She is grieving," said Angelica.

Darcy looked at her, and said in a hard tone, "And you, Mrs. St. Vincent, do you not grieve?"

Angelica looked away, answering softly, "I have been grieving for a very long time now."

Darcy did not answer. Instead he turned his back on her, and walked toward the window.

"We have a lot to talk about, Fitzwilliam."

"I have nothing to say to you," replied Darcy, harshly.

"But I have many things to say to you."

"I am an engaged man, Angelica."

"To Miss Elizabeth Bennet?" Darcy nodded, and Angelica smiled at the irony of it all.

She sat down on the sofa, and breathed deeply. "Do you love her?"

"I do not think you have the right to ask."

Angelica looked down at her hands. "How is Georgiana?"

"She is doing well now."

"Now? Was she not doing well before?" concern tinged her voice.

"Oh, she was fine," said Darcy, turning around to look at Angelica. "She was fine until your beloved Wickham decided to elope with her." He spat the words out bitterly.

Angelica was aghast. "Wickham and Georgiana!"

"No, thankfully, I caught them in time. But he is still to be my brother," said Darcy, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "He decided to elope with Elizabeth's sister, Miss Lydia, and I had to force him to marry her to save her name. Ironic is it not?"

"I did not know."

"Well, now you do. It seems to me that your Wickham has a propensity to elope with unsuspecting ladies." The moment the words came out of his mouth, he knew that he was being too cruel, and he regretted it.

Angelica bowed her head. "Fitzwilliam, I am so sorry." She looked up, with tears in her deep blue eyes. "He never loved me, did he?"

Compassion filled Darcy as he recognized the pain she was feeling. He sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, I believe he did." He turned and gazed back out the window once more. Oh, Angelica, why did you have to come back now?

Angelica got up and walked near him. Her fragrance overpowered Darcy, and a thousand memories flooded his mind. "Fitzwilliam..."

"Please, Angelica, I do not want to hear it."

"No," replied Angelica, determinedly, "you must hear this, Fitzwilliam."

Darcy turned around, and found himself only inches away from Angelica.

"I made a mistake many years ago, and I have reaped the consequences of it. Can you imagine what it was like to live without love? To be all alone? I had no one, no one at all."

"Is that why you married James St. Vincent?"

"Yes, but he did not love me. It was a marriage of convenience for both of us. And we paid dearly for it."

"What about your children?"

Angelica shook her head. "No children." She looked straight into Darcy's eyes and said, "I have thought about you often, and prayed that someday you would be able to forgive me. I still care about you, you know."

Darcy tried to turn his back on her, but she stopped him by holding onto his lapels. Darcy felt the electricity burn through to cloth. She was too close...

"Have you forgiven me?" asked Angelica.

"Angelica..." Darcy closed his eyes. When he opened them, he quickly broke away from her hold. "I must leave." He walked towards the door.

"Fitzwilliam," called Angelica, "I hope that you marry only for love. Any other reason would not do. Trust me, I know. If you marry someone you do not love, both of you will suffer."

"I will keep that in mind," Darcy said, and walked away with heavy footsteps.

And so, on that bright autumn morning, there met Darcy, Angelica, Elizabeth, James, and first love. First love. The kind of love that leaves, but never entirely. It comes back, again and again, haunting the memory, taunting the heart. Why is it never forgotten? Because first love blooms at a time when young minds are most impressionable, and the first throes of passion are forever imprinted in their hearts.

Chapter 21

Posted on Friday, 1 March 2002

Darcy called on Elizabeth at Gracechurch Street the next day. Mrs. Gardiner and Jane tactfully invited Mrs. Bennet to go shopping to give the couple some privacy, and Mr. Gardiner decided to remain in his library.

Elizabeth, who stayed in her room the whole time the day before, sat on the sofa, looking pale and sad. Darcy, who hardly slept a wink the whole night, sat opposite her, looking worried and agitated.

Elizabeth spoke first. "Is she-is she the one?"

Darcy nodded. "The former Miss Angelica Devane," he replied. Then, like an afterthought, he added, "I was engaged to her once."

"I see," she said. A dangerous silence pervaded the air as Elizabeth pondered this information.

Finally, Darcy asked accusingly, "Why did you not tell me you were going to see Mr. James St. Vincent?"

"Everything happened so fast," said Elizabeth, quietly. "I did not have time."

"Would you have told me if you did?"

"I do not know. Would it have mattered?"

"Of course, it would have mattered!" replied Darcy, angrily. "You are engaged to me." Darcy stood up, quite frustrated.

"He was dying, Fitzwilliam!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Our engagement has nothing to do with James. Nothing at all!"

"You are certain?" Darcy said more like a statement than a question.

"Yes!" snapped Elizabeth. She sighed, and said in a more restrained tone. "What does he have to do with us?"

"You were engaged to him once! That has everything to do with us." Darcy started pacing the room.

"Yes, I was. A very long time ago. It is over now," Elizabeth declared.

Darcy remained unconvinced. "Is it? The moment you found out where he was, you ran back to him with total disregard for propriety. Is that what you call over?" argued Darcy, furiously.

Elizabeth looked shocked and hurt. "How can you be jealous of a dead man, Fitzwilliam? James is dead. Do you not understand?" Elizabeth stood up and started to walk toward him.

"You loved him, did you not?" Darcy knew that he was being unreasonable, but he could not stop himself. "But perhaps the more pertinent question is, do you still love him?"

Elizabeth stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him in frank disbelief. "Yes," she admitted, "I loved him. Just as much as much as you loved Angelica."

The quiet force with which Elizabeth's words hit him surprised Darcy, and he was not able to respond.

"I was once engaged to James," Elizabeth continued, "just as you were once engaged to her. The only difference is James is dead, and Angelica is alive-and free." She uttered the last two words softly, as the circumstances became clearer to her."

"Elizabeth..." A remorseful Darcy made his way towards her.

Elizabeth stepped back. "No, Fitzwilliam. You started this, but let me finish it. You are an honorable man, and I know you will never turn back on your word. But I am not a difficult woman. You do not have to accuse me of loving another in order to be released from our engagement. All you have to do is ask."

Darcy was taken aback. "Elizabeth!" What are you saying?

"Please," said Elizabeth, the hurt visible in her eyes. "You know I can never marry a man who does not love me. Whether I still love James or not is not the question here. The pertinent question is, do you still love Angelica?"

Before Darcy could reply, the housekeeper came in. "Sir, Ma'am, Mrs. James St. Vincent to see you," she announced. Angelica came in, her pale complexion and golden hair a stark contrast to the black dress she was wearing. The housekeeper bowed and left.

"I have something to say to Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Angelica stated. "But since you are here, Mr. Darcy, I believe that you should hear this, too."

The unexpected appearance of Angelica added to the already smothering tension in the room.

"Shall we not sit down?" said Elizabeth, recovering from her surprise.

When they were all seated, Angelica said, "Miss Bennet, I do not know how much my husband told you about what happened to-to us, but I feel an obligation to narrate to you the whole story."

"There is no need," replied Elizabeth. "That is all in the past."

"I owe it to him," insisted Angelica. Then, she added, "And to you."

"I have already forgiven him, if that is what you mean, Mrs. St. Vincent."

"Then, he is fortunate," said Angelica, giving Darcy a meaningful look. "But please, let me do this, if only for my own peace of mind."

Elizabeth studied her carefully. She was still beautiful, her blue eyes reflecting no emotion at the moment. The question still lingered in Elizabeth's mind. Why? She knew that Angelica would be able to answer this question. With a slight nod of the head, she agreed, while Darcy sat in stony silence.

"After many years of traveling all over the continent," Angelica began, "I decided to come back to England and enter London society once more. You must understand, Miss Bennet, that I had been away for some time. I had few friends, and my family-well, that is another story. I was alone, and quite lonely. One day, I met an old friend of mine, who invited me to a ball. I agreed, as there was nothing else for me to do. And I met Mr. St. Vincent at that ball.

"He looked so sad and lonely, and I felt that I had found a kindred spirit. We danced a couple of dances, but we spent most of the evening just talking. He was such a kind and interesting man. I do not know what came over me, but I was depressed and in pain. I know this is no excuse, but had you been in my place..." She paused, as if to find the courage to continue. "I bribed the butler to keep his wine glass full. And when the ball was over, I managed to have him take me to the inn where I was staying..."

Darcy stared at Angelica in shock, but Elizabeth gasped. "How could you?"

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am. When James-Mr. St. Vincent awoke the next morning and found me with him, he did the only respectable thing he could think of. He married me. He was not to blame at all. I was. When he told me about you, I was appalled at what I had done. I told him that there was no need to save my honor, but he would not hear of it. He was an honorable man, Miss Bennet."

For a while, nobody could speak. When Elizabeth found her voice, she said, "Honorable to you, but not to me."

"Had you known about this, what would you have had him do?" asked Angelica.

Elizabeth shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

"I am truly sorry."

"Are you?" asked Elizabeth, and the moment she said it, she wished she could take it back. To argue the matter was pointless. She bowed her head when tears threatened to fall.

"Please do not think ill of James, Miss Bennet. He was a good man, and he loved you."

Elizabeth looked up. "I cannot think ill of him, Mrs. St. Vincent, even if I wished to. As I said, I have already forgiven him."

"Then I have accomplished what I came here for," Angelica said, glancing at Darcy.

But Elizabeth saw the look that passed between them, and anger welled up inside her. "Are you certain that is all you came here for?"

"Elizabeth..." reproached Darcy.

Angelica met Elizabeth's gaze, and each one saw the pain and regret in the other's eyes. "Do not fear, Miss Bennet," said Angelica. "I leave London the day after tomorrow, at ten in the morning. But before I go, I want to give you this." She handed Elizabeth a bundle of letters. "These are your letters to James. The one on top, I believe, is a letter from him to you. I did not read any of them." She curtsied, and started to leave.

Elizabeth felt ashamed of herself. "Mrs. St. Vincent," called Elizabeth, and Angelica turned. "Thank you for your visit."

Angelica nodded. She gave Darcy one last longing look, and left. Elizabeth turned to Darcy and said, "Please excuse me, Mr. Darcy, I do not feel well."

Darcy looked sadly at her. "Of course. I hope you feel better soon."

Darcy watched her leave. She never even looked back once. He sighed. After collecting his thoughts, he got up, paid his respects to Mr. Gardiner, and left.

Continued In Next Section