Section I, Next Section

Posted on Saturday, 15 February 2003,

"Marry in haste, repent at leisure."
Proverb 16th Century.

"SHARPER: 'thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure.
Marry in haste, we may repent at leisure.
SETTER: Some by experience find those words misplaced: At leisure
married, they repent in haste.'"

The Old Bachelor, 1693, Act 5, Scene 1.
William Congreve, 1670-1729, English Dramatist.

"Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure; Men love in haste, but
they detest at leisure."
Don Juan 1819-1824.
Lord Byron, 1788-1824.

Chapter I.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when a well-known person marries, all those that know him- and the ones that do not -produce an almost insatiable curiosity about their new partner in life. How ever little is known of the newlyweds' feelings upon the subject, it is fixed in the minds of people in general that this bride will instantly be introduced to them after the announcement of the event.

This was the case with the Earl of Saffron Walden. Having inherited his title at the unexpected age of nine and twenty, along with several nice country estates, at least two houses in town, and no disadvantaged dependant relatives, all of Society in general had held high hopes concerning his marital prospects- that is to say that they wished for him to set an eye upon their daughters. All wanted him to marry soon and well, and when he did neither of those things, all were naturally disgusted with him.

One might wonder why I have mentioned him. Could it because he hails from the county of Essex, which just happens to border Hertfordshire? Perhaps not. Shall I mention that he owns the great house at Stoke, but has no plans to alter the size of the Drawing rooms? Yes, I thought that might not satisfy you. Suffice it to say, I mention him because he married a woman whom you all know very well. They met just by chance when he condescended to attend the Meryton Winter Assembly, a month before he inherited his title. Naturally the entire village and its occupants were all a chatter at a Viscount attending their assembly and when he chose to honour the second daughter of one of the richest gentleman in the neighbourhood with his hand, this gossip increased. The future Earl himself spent but three weeks in Meryton, before returning to town upon the death of his father. Everyone but the lady in question expected his return, but all were surprised when it was announced that he had offered his hand to the lady and she had accepted him.

This was two years ago. Such a passage of time alone might not be considered astonishing, if it were not for the fact that after the couple had returned to town, the new Countess of Saffron Walden was only seen in Society once; when she was presented at Court. Society was in astonishment. Many stared, some coloured, a few doubted and most were silent. All wondered why she was never seen again.

They wondered even more when, again quite unexpectedly, the Earl was found dead in the spring of 1811. The nature of his death proved to be a delicious scandal; he had been thrown from a carriage while riding down a very poor road, as was a tradition of his club; the Four-Horse.1 Society now awaited impatiently for the Countess to make an appearance. Since mourning in this Era was not as rigid as it was soon to become, and the Earldom of Saffron Walden was a title that passed through both male and female lines, it was presumed by all that she would enter Society as soon as possible. All anxiously hoped that she would grace one of their beloved single sons with her hand.

However, this was not the case. Instead the Countess disappeared from town and was never heard of again.

Must that woman be quite so loud? Was the first thought that entered Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy's head when he reluctantly arrived in the assembly of Meryton, Hertfordshire, that fateful night in October of 1811.

The woman in question was still commenting, or rather complaining, when Sir William Lucas, after having accosted both Darcy and his friend the moment they arrived, dragged him- not Bingley, for he was quite willing -over to her and the two younger ladies standing beside her.

"I really must protest to you living there comfortably, Lizzy. The great house at Stoke it may be, but the Drawing Rooms should really be larger."

Fortunately, it was at this moment that Sir William chose to interrupt. "Mrs. Bennet, may I introduce to Mr. Bingley? He has expressed a wish of becoming acquainted with you and your daughters."

Whether Bingley had actually avowed aloud this intention or not, Darcy,- nor indeed his friend, -knew not. All Darcy could remember was that Bingley had fixed his gaze upon the blond that, in his opinion, smiled too much, and then was lost to everyone else.

Mrs. Bennet, now presented with the new eligible young tenant of Netherfield, forgot the unsuitability of size concerning the Drawing Rooms of Stoke's Great House and began to fawn. "Mr. Bingley. How lovely to see you. This is Jane, my eldest. And Mary sits over there. And Kitty and Lydia my two youngest you see there dancing. And of course, my second daughter, the Countess Saffron Walden."

While Mr. Bingley had gone past the stage of listening to Mrs. Bennet and back to gazing at the blond he now knew to be Jane, his friend's interest had suddenly renewed itself. Mr. Darcy's reputation as the richest man in Derbyshire had granted him the acquaintance of the late Earl, and he, like everyone else of Society, had wondered over the identity of the Countess. Now he was the first of them to set eyes on her.

And be struck spellbound. The Countess was a beauty. Darcy found himself mesmerised by her dark enchanting eyes which complimented her equally dark hair perfectly. However, there was also one element more that combined with the other two produced the spellbound; that she was wearing a mask. Not an actual mask, but one of metaphorical speaking, one that presented emotions of enjoyment of the evening, hiding her real feelings upon the subject. Darcy had seen that look before, and to his own opinion, far too recently. It had been the same look his sister had produced the first time she had been in company with anyone but him after Ramsgate. Darcy had sworn to himself upon witness of this look that he would do everything within his power to restore Georgiana to the happiness she had previously always felt and displayed, and now, as he gazed at the Countess of Saffron Walden, a woman he had never met until this moment, he found himself making the same vow.

"And you, sir. Are as fond of dancing as your friend is?"

Darcy glanced reluctantly at Mrs. Bennet, her question bringing him out of his enchantment. A single look at his friend was all he needed to conclude that Bingley had just achieved his first wish of tonight, to dance with the blond angel named Jane. Usually he would not be inclined to acquiesce to this less than subtle hint from a matchmaking mama, but this was different. "Not quite as fond, Mrs. Bennet, but I usually indulge in the custom. Countess, if you are not engaged, may I request the honour of your hand for the next?"

She looked surprised, Darcy thought, upon receiving the request, and her acceptance, he was sure, bordered on a wish more to be away from her mother for a brief while, rather than a real desire to dance. Taking her proffered hand, Darcy gently led her to the floor behind his friend and her sister. Then, at the last moment, he turned to her and remarked, "would you mind if we took advantage of the balcony over there for some fresh air? This room is a bit stifling."

After escorting her outside, Darcy stepped away and leant on the railing. Seeing her shoulders relax in relief, he waited silently until she found the courage to join him. "Thank you, sir," she began once she had.

"It was nothing I assure you," Darcy replied. "You looked as though you might need it."

"I confess that I did," the Countess remarked. "You are very astute."

"Not terribly," Darcy admitted. "My sister often displays that look when in large groups. She is rather shy, and I, being her only constant companion, always try to bring her comfort. Indeed I am often prone to the same defence myself." He paused briefly to turn and face her. "My expression, however, my sister is convinced, presents quite the opposite." He displayed it.

She chuckled. "Indeed, you do look fearful."

"Well, one has to frighten away the matchmakers."

"Surely not all the time?"

He smiled. "You'd be surprised." He turned to resume his previous stance. "We can stay out here as long as you wish."

"Unfortunately not," she replied. "my mother will notice that I have disappeared, as much as I would have liked Jane to have been the centre of attention this evening." She sighed. "I wish I had never come."

"Only a part of you wishes that, I hope?"

"Only a part." She smiled at him. It was a real smile and Darcy felt all the honour she had accorded him.

"I must confess," he began honestly, "to possessing the same feeling, until I met you."

She blushed. Through the curtains the orchestra struck up and she offered him her hand. "I believe I promised you this dance, sir."

Darcy took her hand, and was lost.

It was a mixed and indifferent party that returned to Netherfield later that night.

"Dear god what a ghastly evening," Miss Caroline Bingley was heard to voice as soon as they had entered the hall.

Darcy merely rolled his eyes and then returned the eager hug his sister gave him upon the moment of his arrival.

"Was it really so very awful?" She asked him.

"No, Georgie, at least as far as myself and Bingley is concerned. Although, I doubt he even noticed it was a ball."

"She is an angel!" Declared Bingley at that moment, confirming his friend's opinion. "Was she not an angel, Darcy?"

"By she I presume you mean Miss Bennet?" His friend calmly queried.

"Miss Jane Bennet?" His friend mused. "Is that not the most perfect name?"

He waltzed into the Drawing Room, followed by Georgiana and Darcy, who commented, much to her amusement; "you may be surprised to learn that he drank nothing tonight."

"So, Mr. Darcy," Caroline rudely interrupted as soon as they had seated themselves in the Drawing Room, "who was that woman whom you graced your company with all evening?"

"The Countess of Saffron Walden," Darcy replied, before returning to his sister. "Who would like very much to meet you."

"Will she like me?" Georgiana asked shyly.

"Of course she will, dearest."

"I do not see why people hovered around her," Caroline continued to the whole room. "She should be at home mourning her late husband."

"Caroline, mourning is hardly fashionable," her sister Mrs. Hurst reminded her, knowing that Caroline was only complaining because Darcy had danced three dances with the Countess and no one else.

Darcy merely rolled his eyes, while his sister smiled at the thought of a future sibling.

1. The Four-Horse Club was a very popular club in Regency times and its members indulged frequently in the tradition of riding carriages down very poor roads. Source is the Regency Collection which can be accessed on Austen.com's online Regency links page.

Chapter II.

It was only when she had become a widow, that Elizabeth Bennet had been able to use her good fortune to help her family. Her late husband's inheritance possessed a peculiar advantage. It could pass to any member of the family, whether they were male or female, and since none had been left, the Earldom, lands and wealth had automatically become hers to do with as she wished. With this in mind, she had secured her father's estate and raised its income to three thousand per annum, and settled the sum of thirty thousand each upon her sisters, which would be held in trust until their marriage or till they reached five and twenty. This had still left her with considerable funds, and land to live on comfortably for the rest of her life.

Which she was quite determined to live alone. Nothing in the world at present could ever give her the inclination to marry again. She had tried love, failed, settled for security, and the experience had forever changed her. At least, she had believed that it was love. The only kind of love she had sworn she would marry for, having witnessed daily what marrying slight affection could do. Barely a day in wedlock had passed before the illusion she now knew it to be had shattered before her eyes. The reality it had left behind had chilled her to the bone, and she could not bear to dwell upon it.

But, as she was reflecting the morning after the Meryton assembly, the event had brought some blessings to her life. Not only the inheritance, but also time to improve her talents. At the pianoforte she was now a true proficient and the excellent library she had been left deepened her knowledge of the world's literature. From being no horsewoman she had become a master at both side and normal saddle. She also had a house- or rather several houses -that was not too far, yet far enough from Longbourn that brought her welcome peace and solitude. To her mind Stoke Edith¹ was perfect, including the size of the Drawing Rooms, which her mother had lamented much of last night. It had been built around 1698 for a Paul Foley, Speaker of the House of Commons and had thus been acquired by the Cavendishs of Saffron Walden by marriage. Considered one of the finest Restoration Houses, it possessed the skills of James Wyatt, Issac Bayly, and James Thornhill. A hipped roof housed the servants' quarters, and windows covered most of the walls. Its grounds while extensive had both formal and informal design. Only two things was Elizabeth planning to change; the Hall walls and the Green Velvet Bedroom, which were in her opinion far too opulent and ornate.

The Wyatt Drawing Room in which she presently stood, was her favourite room. Its position in the house gave her an advantage to observe any that were coming to visit or leave, while the furniture simple elegant Georgian and the walls detailed but sparsely carved with Grecian arts. Now she sat upon one of the sofas, planning in her mind when would be best to ask her sister over to stay without being forced to invite the rest of her family as well. Peaceful solitude was the way she had spent most of her marriage, and she had no desire to enter the chaos that was Meryton Society and her family just yet.

Soon however, her mind drifted on to the recollections of the events that occurred last night at the Assembly Rooms. Elizabeth had not expected to enjoy the evening. Refusing to attend until the last moment and even then, only at Jane's persuasion. The first fifteen minutes had confirmed her expectations. Her mother had monopolised her company, presenting her with great fawning to Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long and her nieces, before complaining to her about the size of the Drawing Rooms at Stoke Edith. The Netherfield party's arrival had brought a welcome relief. In particular she was grateful for the presence of Mr. Darcy. Astutely attuned to her feelings, he had cleverly won her company by asking to dance and then escorted her to the balcony, where she could gain a brief moment of peace. She had rewarded him with four dances, which she felt were the most agreeable of her life and then spent the rest of the evening in the company of him, with the occasional additions of Jane, Charlotte Lucas and Mr. Bingley.

In both gentlemen Elizabeth found much to like. Mr. Bingley exuded happiness and liveliness and, having spent almost all the evening by her sister's side, could not do more to raise himself in her estimation as one of the best of her acquaintance. His friend Mr. Darcy was to her mind equally deserving of the title, if not more so. His conversation had been intelligent, flowing and witty. They had talked of books, music and travelling with if not exactly the same opinions, then well-informed enough to arise new perspectives upon which to consider. To everyone else he had been a little reserved, but she had spent enough time in his company to put this down to shyness rather than haughty indifference.

In short, she wished to know more of him.

This was a wish that came to be obtained within only a few days of that thought. By the request of her great friend Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth had been obliged to attend a soiree at the Lodge, in the company of her family, the officers of the militia which had lately arrived in the neighbourhood, and the Netherfield party.

After seeing Jane happily settled in Mr. Bingley's company, Elizabeth had received her taciturn friend. Mr. Darcy was really pleased to see her, having been forced to attend the four dinners which she had not been present. After spending some time in conversation, he led her to a sofa, where there was seated a young woman of about sixteen. As the party was an informal affair- the Lucas children were also present -Darcy had brought his sister, and he now introduced her to Elizabeth.

Lizzy found Miss Georgiana Darcy to be even more shy than her brother, and it was partly due to his presence and Elizabeth's talent for drawing people out that made Miss Darcy to exert herself to utter more than just monosyllables. Of blond hair and Grecian elegance, she presented an intriguing contrast to her brother, whom Elizabeth noted, was content to further their acquaintance rather his own with her.

The trio kept to themselves until they were joined by Miss Lucas, who had come to ask her friend's opinion of the relationship between her sister and Mr. Bingley.

"I can answer well enough for Bingley," his friend replied, as they discreetly observed the couple, "he is in raptures."

"And what of Jane's opinion, Lizzy?"

"That if he continues to be all that he has so far, she will soon be in a fair way to be falling in love with him."

"And Mr. Bingley? Do you think he is in love?" Charlotte asked.

"My friend has a propensity for falling frequently in and out of love," Darcy answered her, "but on this occasion I think it is different. Before he has never established himself within the immediate neighbourhood. Now he has settled himself here with a view to staying.... Yes he professes the same emotion."

"Then Jane should leave him in no doubt of her heart. She should show more affection, even than she feels, not less if she is to secure him."

Elizabeth laughed, surprising her companions who had not realised that Miss Lucas was joking. "Secure him! Charlotte! That is not sound you know it is not. You would never act like that yourself."

"What is your advice then, Lizzy? As one who has been married?"

Elizabeth gazed wistfully at her sister and Mr. Bingley. "That they should take their time and be sure of each other. Neither is going anywhere. They should not feel obliged to conform to the wishes of anyone that might hold an influence over them."

The remark struck Darcy as having a certain relevance to her own marriage, and he found himself dwelling upon her words long she had changed the subject of their discourse. It caused him to wonder whether she had been influenced into marrying the Earl, and the more and more he thought about it, considering what he knew of Lord Lucius character, he was certain.

The evening continued on, admitting some dancing into its passing, an activity eagerly taken up by the Lucas children and Elizabeth youngest sisters. She stayed in the company of the Darcys and her friend for the rest of the night, before paying farewell to everyone, inviting her sister over to Stoke Edith on the morrow.

"He is just what a young man ought to be, Lizzy."

It was the next day, and Elizabeth and Jane were walking in the grounds of Stoke Edith, discussing the gentlemen that recently arrived in the neighbourhood.

"Sensible, lively, and I never saw such happy manners."

"Handsome too," Elizabeth added to her sister's praise, "which a young man ought to be if he possibly can. And that he likes you excessively, shows good judgement."

Jane blushed. "Lizzy....."

"Indeed, Jane, he does. His friend told me as much last night. Do you doubt such an authority?"

"No, not at all. But we have had so short an acquaintance."

"Do not concern yourself with that. Time nor opportunity do not determine intimacy, only disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other and seven days and more than enough for others." Elizabeth came to a halt and took her sister's hands in her own. "Believe me, Jane. No one who has seen you and Bingley together can doubt his affections. Now, what do you think of his sisters?"

As they continued to walk together, Elizabeth, listening to Jane's opinion of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, disagreeing with the notion that they were as kind as their brother, thought back to her own brief courtship, wondering if anyone had thought the same of her and the Earl. She could remember her mother's enthusiasm for the match, her father's doubts, and her sister's wish for her every happiness. But had any one thought her to be love with him and he with her?

"Jane," she quietly asked, and in such a tone as to make her sister halt both her walk and her conversation, "did you think the Earl was in love?" Seeing her sister's hesitation, she added, "please answer me honestly."

"I thought him fascinated by you," Jane replied, "but as to love... he kept his feelings hidden a lot of the time around us all." She took her sister's hands. "Lizzy, did you have a happy marriage? Please tell me honestly."

"No Jane," Elizabeth answered with tears in her eyes, "I confess that I did not."

1. Stoke Edith is- or rather was -an actual place, though it resided in Herefordshire. Everything I have stated is true to the house, except for the bit concerning James Wyatt. The decoration in question is in his style, but has also been attributed to Robert Adam. Tragically, on the 16th December 1927, a fire struck the building, completely ruining all the fine architecture and interiors. Only the ruinous wings survive. My source for the place is a lovely book by Giles Worsley titled 'England's Lost Houses' from the archive of the magazine Country Life. Pictures of the interior and exterior are contained in the book.

Chapter III

"Why did you not tell me of this before?" Jane asked her sister, after hearing all the events of the past two years that Elizabeth had kept secret.

"I did not wish to alarm or upset you," Elizabeth replied. She refrained from adding that the Earl had a tendency to read her correspondence, nor other details which only a married woman would understand. She did not want to frighten her sister. "There was also very little that you, or anyone could do about it."

"I am your older sister, I should be able to protect you."

"That is exactly why I kept it silent. I wanted nobody to start blaming themselves for something I entered into with my eyes open. Rest assured though, it will not happen again."

"Indeed it won't, I am determined to make sure of that."

"It will not, Jane, because I will not marry again."

"You will not marry again? Lizzy, why ever not?"

Her sister gestured around her. "I have no real need, Jane. I have enough comfort and security with which to live alone on for the rest of my life. And I do not think I could ever let myself trust someone enough to enter into matrimony once more. Nor am I ready to lay my emotions open to it."

"But Lizzy, what of Mr Darcy?"

"Mr Darcy? What does he have to do with any of this?"

"He looks at you a great deal Lizzy. And he spent most of last evening in your company, as well as the assembly."

"I consider him to be just a friend, nothing more. No, Jane, I shall end an old maid, and teach your ten children to embroider cushions and play their instruments very ill."

Jane would have protested to this, had not the sound of hoof beats suddenly accosted them. They rose from the stone bench where they had been sitting and tried to discern the identity of the rider that was coming to meet them.

It was Miss Darcy. Bringing her horse to a halt with the easy confidence of one who had spent her life around the animals, she descended from her side saddle and greeted them. "I hope I am not intruding by coming without warning?"

"Not at all, Georgianna," Elizabeth replied, "You are welcome any time."

"Thank you." Georgie's acquaintance with the Countess at Lucas Lodge last night had been enough to secure her confidence of a firm friendship with her. "My journey also has another motive. Caroline and Louisa have invited you, Miss Bennet, to dine with them, when the gentlemen dine with the officers on the 12th. I also have persuaded them to invite you, Elizabeth. I know what they are like when they invite their brother's friends over to dine." She leaned forward in confidence. "Inquisition is an understatement."

"I sure that they shall be fine, Miss Darcy," Jane replied, "they have been so nice to me so far."

Miss Darcy chose not to respond to that judgement, leaving Elizabeth to conclude that her opinion of the sisters was exactly like her own. "Will you come, Lizzy?"

"I am afraid I cannot," Elizabeth replied, "I have promised my father that he can dine with me that evening." She felt sad about disappointing the young woman, but it could not be helped. It was the only evening that her father was free from any engagements of her mother. "But I shall let Jane have my carriage," she added, knowing that if given the chance, Mrs Bennet would make her ride to Netherfield, in the hope that it would rain and Jane would have to stay the night.

Those thoughts were soon to turn into a prediction, for as the days passed, Jane felt herself obliged to pass up the offer her kind sister had made, as her mother had made the suggestion of journey to Netherfield by horseback, impossible to refuse.

"I am afraid I could not persuade her otherwise, Lizzy," her father commented that evening as they sat down to dine. Around them glowed candles and the sound of crackling from the fire in the hearth, while from outside, the sound of rain pouring down the window panes, could clearly be discerned.

"Is there any chance that Jane missed the downpour?"

"None at all." Mr Bennet himself had felt the drops as he entered his daughter's carriage for his own journey that evening. "This speculation however, is useless. We will know nothing of whether it has effected her until tomorrow."

"True," Elizabeth noted reluctantly as the servants entered with the first course. She changed the subject, to avoid worrying, asking her father instead for his view on the events that she had missed. She could always rely on him to brighten her mood whatever its stance, being a studier of characters like herself. Mr Bennet, it was no secret, regarded her as his favourite daughter, and as result looked forward immensely to their dinners alone. He was prone to displays of wit and irony, possessing such an odd mixture of caprice, sarcastic humour and reserve, that few of his immediate family understood him. Only Elizabeth, who had spent so much time with him during her youth and unmarried years, had the ability to read him as well as he read himself.

She had only disappointed him once, on the occasion of her marriage. Mr Bennet did not know that his daughter held this opinion, he only remembered a talk with his daughter after granting consent to the Earl, whom he felt was a person from whom he was incapable of refusing such a request. After expressing his doubts to her, he had been forced to relent when she assured him that she loved the man who had asked for her hand, and was not marrying in the hope that it would secure her family for the rest of their lives. He did not know that in reality it had destroyed the former affection but accomplished the latter. Elizabeth did not wish to hear his guilt or disappointment at the truth of her two year marriage, and so refrained from confiding in him what she had only just confided in her sister eight days ago.

The dinner passed at a pace suitable for both consumers, after which Elizabeth reluctantly bade her father farewell before retiring for the night.

Matters unfortunately did go Mrs Bennet's way that next morning, as Elizabeth discovered when she sat down to breakfast. Upon her plate lay a note from her sister, with the news that she was unwell, and that her 'kind friends' had insisted she stay at Netherfield until she felt better. Jane's only concern had been to assure her sister that she fine, and that the physician was only been sent out of the concern of her friends, nothing more. Elizabeth however, after reading the note, could not settle. Scarcely an hour had passed and she found herself out of the house, and on a horse to Netherfield.

Chapter IV.

Posted on Saturday, 29 March 2003

Three miles away from Longbourn and nearly five times as much from the great house at Stoke, a rider and horse came to a halt in surprise upon seeing another occupied like themselves. Despite the distance the rider could discern by saddle alone that the figure was female, leaving him to entertain a brief prayer which he never in all the world thought to be answered to his liking. Yet indeed it was so. The horse came closer, and closer still, until he had to firmly grip the reins of his own stallion in order for it to refrain from backing away, as the stranger halted beside him and remained a stranger no longer.

"Countess," he uttered in greeting.

"Mr Darcy," she returned. "I have come to inquire after my sister."

"On horse?" He could not help seeking to confirm, noting the effects such an exertion had brought to her appearance; the joyful exhilaration about her face, her hair barely restrained by riding bonnet and pins.

"What else do you call this steed?" She replied smilingly.

"Not animal certainly," he answered. "He is magnificent."

"As is your own," she looked over it in comparison. "Would you be so kind as to take me to her?"

"Who?" He was still staring at her.

"My sister."

Embarrassed at being caught out, Darcy could only gesture as he flicked the reins and set off, leaving her to follow and eventually level.

They entered Netherfield's breakfast parlour together, where her appearance caused a great deal of surprise. That she had ridden all the way from Stoke Edith so early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley, who could barely keep their countenances. Their brother however was all politeness, kindness and good humour. Instantly did he deliver a faithful and detailed report of her sister's health since her arrival, before escorting Elizabeth to the room himself.

Jane, her worry at the inconvenience or possible alarm preventing her from expressing such a desire in her note, was very glad to see her. She felt her headache acutely and her feverish symptoms increased after the apothecary had proscribed his diagnosis and draughts for the cure.

Elizabeth silently attended her for most of the day, and by the time the illness had lessened just a little, it was too late to return to Stoke Edith by day light, nor could her sister contemplate even the thought of being parted from her. Miss Bingley, her dislike of Elizabeth tempered by her title, invited the Countess to stay until her sister had recovered. Elizabeth consented willingly, and a servant was dispatched to collect a supply of clothes, travelling via Longbourn on the way to inform the family of the situation.

At five o'clock the ladies retired to dress, one hour and a half later and Elizabeth was met by Georgianna who called her to dinner. Once all the party were assembled she received such an onslaught of enquiries as to be almost overwhelmed. At her answer Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley announced that they were grieved, shocked and disgusted of colds, then thought no more of the matter. Miss Darcy and Mr Bingley- for his sister had engrossed his friend, much to that friend's annoyance -were the only ones that replied with real sincerity.

When the meal was over she returned to Jane, whereupon Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room.

"She has nothing," Louisa Hurst commented, "in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent rider. Her appearance this morning, she really looked almost wild."

"Indeed dear sister, I am caused to wonder why the Earl ever married her."

Perhaps because it is not her sole course in life to copy the behaviour of women such as yourself, Darcy could not help but utter silently to himself.

"It shows affection for her sister," Georgianna pointed out, blushing at announcing her judgement to the whole room, and heartily grateful for her brother's nodding agreement.

"You are perfect right, Georgie," he remarked. "And we must not forget that as a Countess she can set the fashion, not follow it."

Caroline merely snorted in reply.

"Her fine eyes," Darcy added for sheer joie de vie in witnessing Miss Bingley's next expression, "were also brightened by the exercise."

Miss Bingley was thus rendered speechless.

Hours later, when Jane was asleep, Elizabeth rejoined her hosts, to find Miss Bingley at cards with her sister, brother and brother in law, Miss Darcy at the pianoforte and Mr Darcy ingrossed in a book nearby her. They looked up upon her entrance and immediately requested her to join them, to which she consented, looking over the music scores that lay in a pile by the instrument.

"Do you have a favourite, Lizzy?" Georgianna asked. "I shall be happy to play it."

Elizabeth examined each piece, imagining the sound of the tunes in her head, drew one out and placed on the stand. She sat at the other end of the sofa occupied by Mr Darcy, and listened silently as his sister played. Her execution lacked neither taste, nor refinement, nor skill, nor emotion. She played as if she had composed the tune herself, seeming to know instinctively how the author of the piece wanted it performed. When she was done, Elizabeth could not praise her enough.

"It is the one piece that I cannot play myself," she remarked, "I have always requested for it to others, but I can never quite manage to perform it with the skill and emotion required, as you have done."

"You see, Georgie," her brother said, having laid aside his book sometime ago, "you are an excellent pianist. I thank you, Milady, for praising her, she never quite believes it coming from me."

"You are my brother and therefore too impartial to offer just judgement."

"Come, Georgie, you know I abhor disguise of any kind."

Elizabeth observed the interaction between brother and sister, wishing, not for the first time, for a brother so that she could of experienced such a pastime. Without permission, her mind drifted back to another time, another scene that had occurred at the same type of instrument, and she instantly paled at what had followed.

Darcy noted the alteration. "Countess, are you all right?"

She seemed a long time in coming to notice his inquiry, which had been delivered quietly so as to draw no attention from the rest of the room. "There is no need for concern, I am perfectly well. I was just distracted by a memory which this brought to my mind."

More than distracted, Darcy thought, but knew he could not comment. Instead he changed the subject.

The words continued to occupy his mind though, long after Elizabeth, along with the rest of Netherfield occupants, had retired for the night. Habitually prone himself, by memories of his own recent past, he imagined steadily worse and worse scenes, until his anger had risen so much against the late Earl, that he contemplated bringing him back from the grave in order to call him out so he could have the satisfaction of killing the man himself. At this point however, he was forced to discount the notion, realities of death and the illegality of duelling aside. He knew himself to be a master fencer, trained by his military cousin and his London tutor, but that was not the reason. Truth be known, he disliked the idea of killing in such a fashion, and to his present frame of mind, the late Earl did not deserve such an easy death.

This revelation however caused him to realise just how much the lady had occupied his mind since his first acquaintance with her. To his knowledge she was the first to break through his long built up barriers, founded upon the arts and allurements that all of Society's female quota displayed. How easily she had accomplished this had quite escaped his notice until now. Not he ever supposed her to have intentionally done so, oh no. She was too secure in her situation to be seeking him for his wealth. The same with himself, and this revelation caused him to sit up in surprise. Since when had he entertained the idea of pursuing her? The only vow he could ever remember taking was to restore her liveliness. Yet, without knowing it, this had become another motive. Silently he shook his head, trying to think rationally. She was a Countess in her own right, the situation of the Earldom being public knowledge to all of the Ton. He meanwhile, was only nephew to one. He knew her to be by inheritance the richest woman in Essex, while he was the richest man in Derbyshire. She was a gentleman's daughter, he a gentlemen, ergo they were equals in all but title.

At the same time however, he rebuked his presumption. The Earl had passed on only a year, and judging by her expressions upon reference to him so far, she did not yet possess the confidence to attempt a second union. Nor, if he counted himself as her friend, should he even be contemplating such a notion.

Chapter V.

Posted on Saturday, 12 April 2003

The water was so hot that steam rose off his back and shoulders. Darcy closed his eyes, letting the water trickle down from his curls to the edge of his face, then drop down into the water that already filled the bath. Leaning back in the tub, he relaxed in the comfort. His valet stood discreetly by the dressing room door, giving him a relative privacy.

Relative. That word made him instantly reflect on the events of the day. He could see why the Countess had married at only eighteen. Mrs Bennet was truly a woman that could only be tolerated in small doses. In less than five minutes of her arrival Darcy had already determined whose bright idea it had been for Miss Bennet to arrive on horseback for dinner with his friend's sisters. Satisfied that her daughter's illness was not serious, Mrs Bennet was quite content to let her remain at Netherfield forever. No sooner than she had finished with visiting her daughter, did the woman proceed to survey the house with all the manners of a future mother in law. Bingley, less experienced in the forms of scheming matchmaking Mamas than himself, noticed nothing, even when Mrs Bennet had inquired, with all the subtlety of a falling chandelier, how long he planned to remain in the neighbourhood.

The Countess then had tried to change the subject, commenting upon the character of his friend, which Darcy observed she had caught excellently. He himself had tried to add to the conversation, remarking upon the lack of people to study in the country, to which she had replied that people 'alter themselves so much that there was something new to be observed in them forever.' But Mrs Bennet had taken his comment in the wrong way, repeating two of his what she judged to be most damning insults; 'confined' and 'unvarying' and responding that they had dined with as many as four and twenty families. To which, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had not been able to refrain from chuckling at.

Lady Elizabeth had then asked after Miss Lucas, which still did not prevent Mrs Bennet from casting dispersions on the good breeding of persons present. Darcy had heard all of this from his stance at the window, a habitual position of retreat for him, feeling strongly all the while for the Countess. Mrs Bennet then drifted on singing the praises of Jane, commenting on some poetry Jane had received from a past amour. In reply the Countess had uttered; "and so ended his affection. 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," Darcy had replied.

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

To this he had merely smiled, and a general paused ensued, breaking only when she prompted her mother to thank Mr Bingley for his generosity. His friend had been his usual civil self, causing his sister to be civil also, until Mrs Bennet had ordered the carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest daughter, who had attended with her mother and her two year senior sister to Netherfield, stepped forward and blatantly asked if Mr Bingley was going to give a ball, which he had promised. It had caused a gasp from all the women in the room except the Bennets, even his sister, who was shocked at how a girl scarcely a year younger than herself could be so brazen.

Bingley had honoured his promise, whereupon the visit, to the relief of all concerned, ended. The Countess quit the room a minute later, retreating to Miss Bennet, leaving Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst to abuse her and her family for the rest of the morning.

Now it was afternoon, and he had shut himself away in his suite of rooms from everyone after finishing the sport with his friend and Mr Hurst. Divesting himself of clothes he had ordered the bath, and relished the temporary peace needed to reflect upon all that had passed since the commencement of the day.

The water was dangerously close to cold. Darcy opened his eyes and sat up, signalling his valet to come over. Standing up he availed himself of his robe from the hands of his servant. He then grabbed a towel for his hair and walked to the window. Drying his dark unruly curls he surveyed the prospect below.

A beautiful sight met his eyes. In the grass at the foot of the house stood his dog, a stick in his mouth, which the Countess was indulging with a gentle tease to prise it from him. Darcy was instantly entranced. The hound, his toy taken, barked gleefully at the Countess to repeat the game, to which she obliged, laughing as she threw it for him to run and catch.

Above and unseen, his master could do nothing but smile.

She was still there a quarter of an hour later when he emerged from the house. The hound, noticing his master's arrival, darted towards him, tail wagging. After deigning to have his head and ears ruffled in greeting, the dog darted back to the lady, eager to show his master his new friend.

"He is yours then?" Elizabeth confirmed, the laughter still in her eyes. She was seated on a bench by the wall of the house, the hound at her feet.

"Yes. He's almost seven, though you can't tell by his manners, can you, Ilyich," Darcy replied, with another ruffle of the dog's ears. In response Ilyich merely barked and ragged his tail even more.

"Do you have any others?"

"A few of his siblings, his mother, and a couple of greyhounds. They're at my home in Derbyshire, Pemberley."

"Pemberley?"

"No doubt you have heard Miss Bingley sing its praises."

"Yes, it is hard not to," Elizabeth answered with a smile. "Has she always been like that?"

"Since we first met, I believe," Darcy commented. "Sometimes it is useful in keeping everyone else away, other times it is something to be tolerated. She will not surrender, no matter how little my reactions are."

Elizabeth chuckled at that, causing him to enquire for a cause. "When your sister invited us over, she referred to Miss Bingley as the Spanish inquisition."

"My sister is never wrong," Darcy answered, causing them both to erupt into laughter. He marvelled at beauty it added to her complexion, feeling humbled that he was responsible for such a circumstance.

Elizabeth, noticing his silence, ceased her laughter and turned to glance at him. His look caused her fingers to stop caressing the dog's head, as a tingled sensation ran through her, the result of the close proximity of his hand to hers and his form beside her on the bench. His eyes seemed to reveal his every emotion; staring at her with deep and powerful feeling. Lost in the moment, she quietly stared into their depths, noticing for the first time how handsome and finely figured he was.

How long they stood staring at each other neither knew. Ilyich was also quiet, wrapped up in watching the progress of his master with his new friend, eagerly hoping that he would see more of her. Through devoted eyes he watched their faces move closer and closer to each other until they were almost touching. He utter a joyful woof in appreciation, and the moment was lost, the spell broken.

Embarrassed Elizabeth moved away, rising from the bench. "Excuse me, I must return to my sister," she uttered, curtsying. Then she turned, walked round the corner and back into the house, leaving Darcy alone with his hound.

Darcy watched the corner where he had lost sight of her with a mournful expression of might have been. Anxious to be forgiven for his clumsiness, Ilyich pushed at the hand which was still upon his head. His master sighed and returned to the present. "Not your fault, boy," he assured him, ruffling his ears. "Neither of us are ready for such a revelation," he added, to which the dog howled and put a paw up. "Oh, it will come," Darcy added, "we just have to wait for her to want it as much as myself."

Ilyich barked in agreement. His master rose from the bench, glancing around to see if anyone had witnessed him talking to his hound. A wicked wish rose to his mind; Caroline seeing the event, declaring to herself that he was mad and going off to find another wealthy man to console herself with. It brought a smile and a laugh, restoring his good humour. "Come on, boy," he addressed the hound, "lets go and scare Miss Bingley."

The dog barked eagerly in reply.

As Elizabeth descended the stairs for dinner that evening, she heard what sounded like a muffled scream. A minute later the door to the Dining room opened; out ran an orange figure, too quickly for her to identify, followed by a messy and muddy Ilyich.

"Mr Darcy," the figure, which Elizabeth now determined to be Caroline, cried mournfully, "save me from this evil creature!"

Elizabeth turned to see Ilyich's master standing in the doorway of the Dining room, a barely restrained grin upon his face. "Mr Darcy, you are a wicked man."

"I am sorry, Lady Elizabeth," he replied, "but as you know I have little control over the animal."

She blushed as the way her name sounded on his lips. In the distance there was another bark, then a howl as Caroline, still clean, though flushed from the exercise, with her hairstyle a mess of feathers and ribbons, hounded the dog to a servant and returned to the hallway.

Darcy held out his arm. "Countess, would care to accept my escort into dinner?" He paused to smile at her teasingly. "I promise to be good."

"With pleasure." She accepted his arm, leaving Caroline to snort and try to enter behind them with dignity despite her appearance, causing all at the table to smile in amusement.

Author's note: I know, I am a wicked person, but I could not resist the temptation. Hope the scene of Darcy's bath was long enough for you all.

Chapter VI.

Posted on Saturday, 26 April 2003

Caroline Bingley did not like being pushed aside in favour of someone else. In fact she heartily despised it. She also despised the woman that made her be put aside. After all, it was not the gentleman's fault, for they could hardly be blamed for being led astray by another supposedly more pretty than her. And whenever such an occasion arose, Caroline set instantly about her revenge.

She always succeeded. No matter who the woman, no matter who the man, she always emerged the victor. She knew the characters of both so well as not to fail to do otherwise. And this present situation would be no different from the others. Even if the other gentlemen in question had married long ago. This time however, that would not be the case. She would win not only the battle, but also the war. After all she deserved to. She had been hunting- no, pursuing, the gentleman longer than her rival, thus she was rightfully due all the rewards that said gentleman possessed. This rival had no need of such.... assets, she already had them, and had already enjoyed the.... er... advantages which married life afforded.

But to resume. Caroline could stand matters as they stood at present, no longer. Events had gone on for long enough. The time to act, was now. That incident with the dog- horrible hound! -had decided matters. She was sure that it was all her conniving. After all, he would never be so cruel to her. Yes, it was time to begin her revenge. To stoop to conquer. And conquer she would, dog or no dog. In fact, if things went her way, that horrid animal- her words, not mine -would soon cease to exist.

So, her mission was, as follows: Firstly, to enact revenge on Lady Elizabeth Cavendish. It mattered not that she was a Countess. Indeed, that was precisely why she should not be allow to succeed over her. She had no need to marry into rich, she already was. Caroline would succeed, and her revenge would be sweet. She would make sure said gentleman rued the day he had ever met Lady Elizabeth Cavendish.

Secondly, she would then present herself as a willing comforter of Mr Darcy's woe. Naturally he would not be allowed to grieve for long.... no more than a day, perhaps two, Caroline thought generously. Then he would rejoice in his escape. He would see her, Caroline Bingley, as the woman of his dreams, the only woman in world to suit Pemberley as its mistress. Then they would marry, and she would be able to gloat.... er, speak of her good luck- read cunning victory -for the rest of their long, happy lives.

Having once established a mission, Caroline did not back down. Instead she walked straight into action. This action took place immediately after the night of that annoying- her word, not mine -dog evening, the moment the Countess came down from attending to Jane.

Discovering in advance that Mr Darcy had no desire for cards, a game which she had tried, unsuccessfully to involve him two nights previously, Caroline persuaded her brother in law to challenge Charles to a game of piquet, then persuaded Louisa to watch. Miss Darcy, she knew, would be happy to oblige them all with some music, which left Mr Darcy and the Countess. Cunningly Caroline placed some volumes that she knew the Countess liked to peruse, around the sofas, then waited for events to unfold.

The others came into the room. Mr Hurst followed her plans to the letter, challenging Charles, and requesting his dear wife to observe. Miss Darcy happily answered her eager entreaty that she played for them, and the Countess spied a particular volume that immediately caught her interest, leaving Mr Darcy to his own devises.

He seated himself at the bureau, and began to lay out materials needed for replies to correspondence. Caroline watched him intently. She waited for him to begin the letter, waited a few moments more for the address to be finished, then pounced.

"Pray sir," she remarked, seating herself in the chair beside the bureau, placed at such an angle as to perfectly observe him, "what do you do, so secretly?"

"It is no secret," he replied after a moment, "I am writing to my Aunt Catherine." In order to put off another request to visit her and 'dear cousin Anne'.

"Oh, dear Lady Catherine!" Caroline cried, "oh how I long to see her again." Truth be known, she had only met the woman once, but she had liked her very much indeed. In fact, she was exactly the sort of woman that she saw herself being in later life, though perhaps with more good looks, and higher the title. "Has she altered much since the spring?"

Darcy determinedly finished his current sentence before replying. "As her last letter to me was more about my cousin Anne than herself, I presume not."

Caroline let him carry on for another sentence or two before speaking again. "How delighted Lady Catherine will be to receive such a letter."

Annoyingly, Mr Darcy made no answer to this. Caroline sat astonished for a few minutes, then recovered herself. "You write uncommonly fast."

Yes, I wish to get this over and done with, so I can leave you and go to the Coun.... er my sister. "You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

Though distressed by his contradiction, Caroline remained still determined to occupy his attention. "How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a year! Letters of business too! How odious I should think them!"

"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours."

Caroline was struck dumb for a moment upon the implication that she gathered from this, she believed, rather provokingly intimate reply. Then, realising that the time for blushing prettily in response to it had come and gone, she continued to bother..... er, talk. "Pray tell your Aunt that I long to see her."

"I have already told her so once, by your desire." Darcy, in fact, had done no such thing, but he was not about to tell Caroline that, even if disguise of ever sort was his abhorrence. Nor was he about to admit that his Aunt detested Miss Bingley, thinking her to scheming away 'dear Anne's' future suitor. And while this was true, Darcy was determined to be ensnared by neither.

Caroline almost swooned over the honour that she had just be accorded. "I am afraid I do not like your pen," she began after letting him write another two sentences, "let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well."

"Thank you, but I always mend my own."

Caroline was once more struck dumb. She absolutely hated to be struck dumb twice in one evening. She knew she must not continue to be so however. "How can you contrive to write so even?"

He was silent.

Caroline was most annoyed that he was silent. He should never tire of her conversation and voice. He should always long to hear it. "Tell your Aunt that I shall be delighted to see her whenever she wishes, and that I am already in raptures at the thought of such an occasion."

"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not room to do them justice."

"Oh it is of no consequence, I am sure to have the honour of seeing her soon. But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr Darcy?"

Darcy had a good mind then to tell Miss Bingley exactly what his Aunt Catherine thought of her, but knew it would make him the evil and not her. "They are generally long," he replied, though this one, like the rest of them, was short, at least by Lady Catherine's standards, "but whether always charming it is not for me determine." She certainly never writes to me charmingly.

"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill," Caroline announced to the whole room.

"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her brother, entering into the conversation, much to his sister's annoyance, "because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?"

"My style," Darcy replied, grateful that someone else was finally involved in the discussion, "of writing is very different from yours."

"Oh!" Cried Caroline, "Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them- by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."

It was then that the most annoying thing in the world happened. At least in Caroline's opinion. In Darcy's opinion it was the most welcome of all events that had occurred that evening. But this was not about what he thought. No, it was about Caroline, and Caroline was determined that he thought like that no more.

Nevertheless however, there was no way she could ignore this incident. Like the dog, it simply had to be endured, until there was opportunity to hound it away.

Perhaps at this juncture it would be prudent to say what exactly had occurred to afford Miss Bingley's title of 'most annoying thing in the world.' Well it was this; Countess Saffron Walden spoke. Not only did she speak, in fact, she did much worse. She entered into the conversation which Caroline had hoped to remain between herself and Darcy all evening. Angrily did she note the words, and the long response which followed, causing a whole discussion to open between them.

When the discussion turned into a debate, Caroline was even more annoyed, for she knew all too well how much Darcy liked debates. With a barely restrained temper did she listen to each party's speeches, her face turning more and orange to match her dress at every new sentence. By the time her brother entered into it once more, and with the most disgraceful slander upon Mr Darcy's character, Caroline had had enough. Instantly she began an expostulation upon her brother, annoyed that he dared speak such nonsense.

Mr Darcy however, as Caroline always saw him to be, was gracious enough not show that he was insulted. "I see your design, Bingley. You dislike an argument and want to silence this."

Caroline paid no attention to what her brother replied, and therefore was surprised when she witnessed the Countess returning to her book, and Mr Darcy to his letter. Anxious not to have a repetition of what she had just observed, Caroline refrained from acquiring his attention, and moved to join her sister.

Later, when she retired for the night, Caroline reflected back upon the incident with much more generous conclusions. The Countess may have bested her on this occasion, but only because, she, Caroline, had let her. The next time, it would be very different.

Chapter VII

Posted on Saturday, 10 May 2003

When the next evening dawned, Elizabeth found herself witness to a wonder that she would never have dreamed possible.

Upon removing with the ladies after dinner, she had run up to her sister, and, seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the Drawing Room, where, much to Elizabeth's surprise, she was welcomed by Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley with many professions of pleasure. Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. Their powers of observation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit. Miss Darcy, her confidence raised by their good humour, also contributed to the discussion, proving to have a talent for mimicry, conveying to the audience the precise character the tone for each amusing acquaintance described.

But when the gentlemen entered; Jane was no longer the preferred by Miss Bingley or Mrs Hurst. The latter turned to her husband, the former to Mr Darcy, prevailing upon him just as he arrived in the room, giving him a chance to say only a polite congratulation to Jane's recovery, before being forced to submit to his hostess enquiries. Mr Hurst too, only made a slight bow.

Bingley therefore was the one to which diffuseness and warmth, joy and attention, were held by. He spent the first half hour in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be farther from the draft of the door. Then he sat by her and talked scarcely to anyone else. Elizabeth, in a position opposite, saw it all with great delight.

After tea had been cleared, there emerged a chance for Mr Darcy to escape his hostess, and join his sister, who had remained by the Countess' side since he had entered. The two received his company with pleasure, his sister describing the event that has passed before his arrival, which his good humour laughed at, revealing to the Countess another facet to his character. She had never denied to herself that he was a handsome man, and now she could not deny that he was rendered even more handsome when he smiled and laughed. The effect brought a sparkle to his dark eyes, softened his mouth, and the attention which he bestowed on his sister, made him all the more agreeable in Elizabeth's eyes.

Their conversation soon drifted on the conclusions they could draw from their observation on her older sister and his host. To Elizabeth's great delight, both approved of the match.

"I have never seen Bingley so attentive," his friend declared to the ladies, in a voice audible only to them.

"I do think your sister right for him," Georgianna agreed timidly, anxious to not be overheard, "but I do not think others approve."

"Yes, I can see that," Elizabeth remarked. "I hope Mr Bingley is not a gentleman to be so easily swayed by their biased opinions."

"He will only be swayed if he is unsure of reciprocation," Darcy replied, partly in warning, partly in defense of his friend, "once he is certain however, no one will dissuade him from asking. He knows that he has my approval; not that he needs it, but that will help to reconcile others."

Elizabeth uttered a quiet gasp at his words. "Do you believe that he will, then?"

Darcy glanced only at her in reply. "I know that if I were in such a position of happiness, I would not hesitate to secure it." It was the first time he had ever been so direct in his implications, so he watched her reaction with the greatest of attention.

Elizabeth was surprised. Indeed, who could not be, in such a situation? There was no way that she could mistake his meaning, for he continued glancing at her long after he had spoken. At first she did not know what she thought of the speech. Even the Earl had never uttered such an implication as that. She knew instantly that she did not fear it, a result which furthered surprised her, but did she welcome it? It had been so long since anyone had made such a speech to her that Elizabeth did not know. Her impulsive emotions however, had paid no attention to uncertainty in her mind, causing her after a little delay, to blush, flattered.

Darcy could do naught but rejoice in response. He smiled at her, a small smile, one not obvious to any but her. The effect served to soften his brooding expression directed at her, and instantly diffused a part of Elizabeth's fear, though Darcy had no idea that she had ever possessed any in the first place. The silence that arose between them was not at all unwelcome, for they were quite to content to remain as they were forever.

Georgianna saw this all, and smiled as well. She liked the Countess very much, and could tell that her brother now possessed the same opinion. She had never seen her brother in love before, and the sight pleased her no end, for, like any good sister, she wished him to be happy and prosper. She had always wanted a sister, and the Countess seemed far more ideal than any other woman that had tried to capture her brother's eye. She knew him to be every thing that was amiable and good, honourable, and kind. She also knew that the Countess would not pursue him for mercenary purposes, like so many others.

Her only worry though, was the possibility that the Countess would not reciprocate.

On the dawning of the next morn, Jane announced to her sister that she thought it best, and believed herself well enough, to return home. Elizabeth accordingly wrote a note after breakfast to their mother, asking for the carriage. It was a request which neither of them needed fulfilling, nor did Elizabeth expect it to be fulfilled, but she also knew that they had to awake the idea of Jane's return in her mother's head, and gauge the response.

It was as she expected. Mrs Bennet declared that she had not thought of Jane returning until her stay had reached two weeks, adding in the postscript that the carriage could not be spared until then, and that she could also spare Jane very well, if the Bingleys pressed them to stay longer.

Elizabeth relayed this news to her sister, and was given the expected reply. Jane was quite determined that they should leave, for she felt that they could not intrude any longer on Mr Bingley's kindness without creating talk in the surrounding neighbourhood. Elizabeth then sent a note to her steward at Stoke Edith for one of her own carriages, and was pleased to tell Jane that all of hers were in perfect working order, and would be sent as soon as they requested them.

While they were having luncheon with the others, Jane quietly announced their intentions. Mr Bingley heard this with great sorrow, and repeatedly tried to persuade her from exerting herself too soon after her recovery. Jane was eventually persuaded to stay until Sunday, but remained firm to anything beyond.

Darcy also viewed their future absence with an emotion akin to sorrow. In his opinion Elizabeth had not been at Netherfield long enough either. No other woman had ever attracted him like she did before, and never had such a woman remained insensible of it. Darcy had no wish to inform her directly just yet though. He could detect that she was unready for such clear attentions, and so kept to only implications throughout the remainder of their days spent there. Whether she received these implications with pleasure he could not be certain, but that she did not fear them, nor withdraw from him, was considered progress enough.

On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to only two, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to them until the moment, increased rapidly, as she assured them both of the pleasure it would be to see them either at Netherfield, Longbourn or Stoke Edith. Mrs Hurst expressed the same sentiments, as did Miss Darcy, but in such a way as to assure the sisters of her sincerity in comparison to the former.

Elizabeth then conveyed her sister to Longbourn, where they were not welcomed very cordially at all by their mother. Mrs Bennet wondered at their coming so soon, and thought them very wrong to cause so much fuss upon a Sunday, and was sure that Jane had caught cold again for exerting herself so suddenly. But their father, though laconic in his expression of pleasure, was really very glad to see them, declaring that their arrival had brought back sense and animation to the family circle. He pressed Elizabeth to stay the night, not desisting until she had said yes.

The Countess was glad to accept. She had no desire to quit the company of her sisters so soon, and her father obliged her wish of a game of chess after dinner. Retiring with Jane at a later hour, the two spent some more minutes talking as they had done in their youth, before Elizabeth returned to a room that she had not used since her marriage.

To her surprise, everything had remained unchanged. Upon stepping into the room, she felt as though she had traveled back in time, to the days when she had nothing but thoughts of a happy romance before her. Now she had only the regretful memories which she wished to forget forever. It was a distressing contrast. Before tears could come to her eyes, however, she blinked the nightmares away, and focused upon preparing herself for bed.

Lying in the warm sheets, she distracted her mind, and thought of all that happened at Netherfield, and was astonished and also pleased, when Mr Darcy came to be foremost of those reflections.

Chapter VIII

Posted on Saturday, 24 May 2003

Netherfield

November 18th

To Mr George Wickham,

Sir, you do not know me, nor I you, but I have heard of your connection with a certain gentleman of our mutual acquaintance, and the circumstances with which you parted with friendship from him. If you wish, such as I, to exact revenge, then I suggest that you take a commission in the regiment which has stationed itself four miles from here, in Meryton, under the command of Colonel Forster.

I shall contact you further when you have arrived in the neighbourhood.

Sincerely,

Caroline Bingley.

With immense satisfaction did Miss Bingley survey this note. "Yes, Countess," she mused allowed to the empty room, "you may have won the battle, but I intend to win the war. And this," she held up the letter, "shall be my means of accomplishing that victory."

And with that, she sealed the letter, and sent it off to the post.

A few days later, the Countess Saffron Walden happened to be walking out and about Meryton, when she encountered her sisters, and a strange man, which, judging from the accuracy of her father's description- tall, heavy looking man of five and twenty, with a grave and stately air, formal manners, and absurd in the extreme, -she determined to be her priestly cousin, Mr Collins.

With pompous nothings did he greet her, fawning over her until she felt to look upon the noisy intervention of her sister with relief, as Lydia set about persuading her to agree to a purchase of lace and bonnet which her pin money, having been spent the day before, could not cover. Gratefully did Elizabeth enter into lecturing her sister about the proper management of her finances before buying just the lace, by which time Mr Collins had run out of breath to speak.

Her desire satisfied, Lydia then pointed out another fascination; a man whom they had never seen before, walking on the other side of the way with Mr Denny. The question of the latter's return from town had been the real object of her desire to walk out, and as they passed, she was very much caught by the stranger with him. "Denny!" She immediately called out.

Jane met and matched Elizabeth's despair at their youngest sibling's lack of propriety, and then she introduced Mr Collins, as they discovered the identity of the stranger. His name was Mr Wickham.

Be assured that the author does not write this with the benefit of hindsight, because Elizabeth really did feel from the first that this new acquaintance did not appear to be all that he seemed. He had too much in his favour. All the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address, along with a readiness for conversation. In short, Elizabeth thought him entirely too good to be true.

Just then, the sound of horses drew all their notice. Upon distinguishing their identities the riders drew nearer, and began civilities. It was Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy. The former was the principal speaker, and Miss Bennet the principal object, as he informed them all of his wish to inquire after her well-being as his and his friend's primary reason for being in Meryton that morning. While they were engrossed in conversation, Elizabeth encountered the eyes of his friend, and therefore was the first and the only to witness the effect upon his countenance that the notice of the new gentleman in town had. Instantly his features paled and his eyes turned to masks, as all of his faculties attempted to rein in the anger that he felt at meeting Mr Wickham once again.

The latter turned red, suddenly at loss for words. Then he touched his hat, a salutation which Mr Darcy just deigned to return, before clicking his heels to his horse and resuming a way out of the village.

"I say Darce....... Darcy? What is the matter my friend?"

The gentleman addressed slowly came out of his trance and raised his face to meet that of his friend. Mr Bingley gasped at the state of his expression. Never before had he seen his friend so distraught. The man he saw before him was a mere shadow of the strong, usually so outwardly self-assured friend that he was proud to have.

Now, Darcy, with his back clinging to the tree for support, attempted to recover himself. "It is nothing," he tried to deflect.

Ordinarily, Bingley would have let him remained concealed. But this was no ordinary situation. Bingley dismounted from his horse, and stood in front of his friend. His face expressed a silent demand for him to confide the nature of the sorrow that had so suddenly conflicted him. For a moment Darcy hesitated. But only for a moment. Standing up, he remarked, almost in passing. "I never did tell you the reason for my sudden departure last summer, did I?"

"No you did not."

"Well, it was to do with Georgianna, and Mr Wickham."

By the time they had returned to Netherfield, Bingley was just as annoyed as his friend. As they separated in the hall, he bound for his sisters, Darcy for Georgianna, Charles vowed solemnly; "he will never get within a mile of her, not if I have anything to do with it."

"Thank you, my friend." Darcy replied just as solemnly, and with such a look and shake of proffered hand, as to have no doubt of the certainty of that loyal vow.

Georgianna was in the music room, her tall form seated at the pianoforte, her mind focused upon the piece she was presently learning. Darcy hesitated at the door, reluctant to disturb her current happiness. Yet he could not ignore Wickham's presence in the neighbourhood longer than a moment. They had to leave now.

"William?" Georgianna had halted her music, and was now staring at him. "Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?"

"Pack up your things, Georgie," he replied, "we are leaving at once."

"At once?" She queried, coming forward towards him. "Why," she asked, and then added in a very quiet voice, "have I done something wrong?"

Darcy rebuked himself instantly at his choice of manner and words. She was still so sensitive, so fragile, to any change in his emotions. "No, dearest, you have done nothing wrong, never fear that. It is only that I have just learnt of an acquaintance of ours which has just arrived. A man that you and I wished never to meet with again."

"Oh," she uttered, understanding at once. She turned away from him, walking over to a window, which, her brother mused, seemed to a familial habitual place of retreat. For some minutes did she there stand, uttering several deeply measured breaths in an attempt to regain her composure. Her brother watched her with ever increasing apprehension. Since his rescue of her last summer, Darcy had doubled his time with her, watching over every manner of her establishment, which he overhauled the moment that they returned from Ramsgate, taking care to fish out any of those who had favoured Mrs Younge. Even now, months later, he was still reluctant to part from her, still reluctant to place her with a new companion. He still held himself responsible for all that had occurred on that fateful vacation.

"There is no need for concern," his sister remarked suddenly, her face turned from the window towards him. "I shall be fine."

Darcy gazed at her slowly, then walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I fear you are copying too much of my habits, Georgie. If you cannot confide in me, be yourself around me, then who else have you to turn to? We have always been honest with each other."

"Thank you," Georgianna smiled up at him, a part of her mask coming away, revealing the great struggle it had taken to say that she would be fine in the presence of Mr Wickham. "It will be hard," she confessed, "but I want to stay, William. There is something here that I would like to see remain unaltered, and continue to grow. I would not want it disrupted on my or...... his account."

"And what is that?"

"Your attachment to a lady who recently stayed here." She paused to look at his reflection in the window for signs that she was right in her suspicions. "I like her very much. And I would like that attachment to continue and increase."

"I....." Darcy smiled and sighed, too tired to deny. "I would too, Georgie. I would too."

Continued In Next Section