Posted on Friday, 15 August 2003

The Christmas Eve dinner finished, the coffee drunk, and the cards played, Mrs. Bennet's guests at Longbourn had settled into that particularly pleasant state which inevitably follows the consumption of a large meal. Lounging comfortably about the sitting room, they were engaged in conversing in subdued, sleepy tones brought on by the good goose and the good wine. All together, it had been a most pleasant evening.

Seeing her Aunt Gardiner alone on a sofa, the littlest Gardiner asleep in her lap (he had been allowed to come bid his mama goodnight and had been unable to withstand the test to his wakefulness), Elizabeth readily took the seat beside her. Looking down at her cousin, she then smiled warmly at her aunt.

"Shall you put him to bed?"

"The nurse will return presently." She ran her fingers affectionately through the little boy's hair. "Until then I see not reason to wake him, poor darling. I fear there has been too much excitement today."

Elizabeth laughed softly. "I only wish I could succumb so easily as he. Do you think there is room enough on your lap for both of us?"

Mrs. Gardiner smiled and patted her niece's hand. "If there was room, my dear, you should be quite welcome to it."

The two settled into a companionable silence then, staring into the fire which was beginning to smolder after a long evening in the hearth. After a moment, however, Elizabeth voiced the question she had come to inquire.

"Aunt Gardiner, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, dear."

"I think you cannot have helped but notice that Jane is not herself, nor can you have failed to learn the reason from my mother."

Acknowledgment registered in Mrs. Gardiner's intelligent face. "Yes, the infamous blackguard Mr. Bingley."

"Oh but he isn't, Aunt. You mustn't think him so. Indeed, I am inclined to believe the poor man's only fault is to rely a little too heavily on the judgment of his sisters, who are insolent and disdainful at best. It is his happiness, and Jane's that prompts me to make this request of you."

"Oh? What have you to ask, Lizzy?"

"Might Jane return to Town with you and my Uncle Gardiner in a fortnight? You will think me as scheming as Mama, but Mr. Bingley has removed to his house in London, and I cannot help but think that if he were to see Jane again. . ."

"He would repent of his pliancy and ask her to be his wife?"

Elizabeth smiled sheepishly. "Yes. I confess it is what I had hoped. I would not ask it otherwise, but- Oh, Aunt, they were so happy together. . ."

Mrs. Gardiner sighed. "I am sure you speak truthfully, dearest Lizzy, but unfortunately, the answer must be no. Believe me, were it in my power, I would gladly grant your request, but unhappily Mr. Gardiner and I are already engaged to house a Mr. Blakeney, a business associate of your uncle's, and his family when we return to Town. There will be no room for Jane."

This was a heavy disappointment indeed. "Are you certain?"

Mrs. Gardiner smiled apologetically. "Elizabeth, the Blakeneys have ten children."

Elizabeth's eyes grew large. "Ten?" But it did not put her off. "Then you will want an extra nurse to look after them all, and, as you know, Jane is very clever with children. . ."

Mrs. Gardiner chuckled. "Dearest Lizzy!" She patted her hand again. "You are very good to be so anxious to secure Jane's happiness, and I wish with all my heart that I could aid you, but even an affectionate sister must see it is impossible."

Elizabeth sighed, defeated. "Yes. Very well, then. I admit it. Poor, dear Jane." Her gaze turned toward her sister, who was sitting by herself at the window watching the snow drift past. "It is the cruelest of deprivations, and I fear she feels it keenly."

Mrs. Gardiner looked on sympathetically. "You mustn't despair, Elizabeth. If it's to be, Mr. Bingley will be thrown in her path again."

At her aunt's remark, Elizabeth turned thoughtful, and after a moment of reflection, she observed more to herself than anyone else, "Yes, and until then, I shall simply have to think of something else."

The rest of the winter passed in relative quiet, but for poor Jane, its passing seemed especially slow. Elizabeth watched her sister's disappointment with concern and sympathy, but with Mr. Bingley in London and the Gardiners' house full of little Blakeneys, there was not much to be done to rectify the situation. And so, with the coming of March, Elizabeth resolved herself to leaving an unhappy Jane at Longbourn for the journey into Kent.

In preparation toward that end, Elizabeth joined Kitty to pay a call on Maria Lucas three days before they were to depart. Upon their arrival, however, the two Misses Bennet were greeted with rather unexpected and unfortunate news.

"Oh my dear girls," bemoaned Lady Lucas when they had been shown into the drawing room. "Poor Miss Maria has contracted a cold, and she has lain in bed, sweet creature, for two days now."

Both Elizabeth and Kitty expressed their alarm and regret, as well as a hope that Miss Maria was not afflicted with anything truly serious. But Lady Lucas was enjoying the situation's potential for melodrama too much to give a straight answer, and had gone on in great detail about various deathly illnesses when Elizabeth finally managed to slip in when she paused for breath, "Will Miss Maria be unable to travel into Kent with us then, ma'am?"

Lady Lucas looked rather startled (she had been waxing eloquent on the subject of boils a moment before, and the sudden introduction of Kent was rather a shock to her). After a moment, she grudgingly replied, "yes, Miss Bennet, I am afraid it is quite out of the question. Now, about that nasty case of pneumonia my sister developed, God rest her dear soul. . ."

On the walk back to Longbourn, Kitty was full of chatter while Elizabeth remained thoughtful.

"What rotten luck for poor Maria!" exclaimed the former. "I'm sure she must be very miserable. How I hate a cold. Though I suppose she isn't obliged to do any embroidery or be of use in the garden or read any dull sermons now. Perhaps I ought to pay her a visit, and contract her cold myself."

"Don't be foolish, Kitty. You know you'd only be peevish and cross if you succeeded. Leave 'Poor Miss Maria' to be miserable in peace."

"You don't think she's in any real danger, Lizzy?"

"I think not. Lady Lucas would not have been so eager to exact our sympathy if she was. No, it is presumably much like what Jane suffered in the fall."

"Compared to what she suffers now, you mean. Poor Jane. I do wish Mr. Bingley would come back- I did so want to be a bridesmaid at the wedding."

Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself, ignoring her sister's frivolity. "Yes," she said presently, "as did I."

Kitty stopped a moment to pull a long blade of tough grass from along the side of the road and began to swish it about in front of her. Then she spoke again. "In any case, I suppose Maria may be glad to escape the necessity of living under the same roof as Mr. Collins for a month, even if she is to loose her sister's company too. Poor Lizzy, now you will have to bear him alone! I was half afraid Lady Lucas would ask me to take Maria's place, but I should never have consented. Yes poor Lizzy! You will hear of nothing but Lady Catherine and St. James' Court. . ."

But Elizabeth had stopped listening and became thoughtful. "Stop a minute, Kitty. What did you say just now about taking Maria's place?"

"Oh please, Lizzy, don't ask me! Charlotte's nice enough, if a little dull, but Mr. Collins is such a crashing bore that I couldn't possibly. . ."

"No, no, I didn't mean to suggest it. But what if Jane were to take Maria's place instead and come to Kent?"

Kitty looked puzzled a moment. "But what if Mr. Bingley comes back to Netherfield?"

"Miss Bingley has made it quite clear that their party has no intention to do so. In any case, a change of scene and society might do Jane a world of good."

Kitty shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps. You, I suppose, are the clever one."

Elizabeth laughed. "You needn't sound so unconvinced."

"If I were Jane and suffering a broken heart, I should not go to Kent to have it mended. I should go to Meryton, to visit all the officers. . ."

"Kitty! Wicked girl. For that, I shall beat you home!" and with a teasing smile, Elizabeth took off at a run, pausing half way down the lane to turn and call over her shoulder, "you had better be quick!"

"Lizzy!" Kitty shrieked merrily, thrilled by the idea of indulging in a guilty pleasure expressly forbidden by her mama. Throwing away the blade of grass, she promptly raced after her sister as the latter reached the crest of the hill, laughing merrily and waving her bonnet in the breeze.

March 3, 18-
Dear Darcy,

It is my earnest hope that your stay in London this winter has been a tolerably amusing one, and that you have been blissfully inebriated at least once or twice since coming to Town. As an army man, I cannot but wish, in Christian goodness, for those gentlemen fortunate enough not to be similarly employed by His Majesty, an equal measure of those enjoyments we military men take for granted. I should be similarly delighted if you were to find yourself an uncommonly pretty girl, but at the risk of sounding a scoundrel I will defer my hopes on your behalf a little longer, and instead have the grace to wish that such a fate may befall me first. Am I not a most admirable relation?

Unfortunately, I cannot be so in all respects. Though I had planned to accompany you as usual to dear "Aunt Catherine's" for Easter, the darker forces were at work while I hoped in blissful ignorance, namely, my commanding officer. It seems we are obliged to remove to Bristol, and as the latter is not within easy walking distance of Rosings, as I'm sure you know, being the capital fellow with geography you are, it appears you will have to find yourself another traveling companion.

My heartfelt apologies are entirely yours, and should you be cynical enough to think that I invented this excuse in order to avoid a most beloved aunt, you may apply to the powers that be for proof of my obligation. Duty calls and all that, dear chap, a summons with which I know you are intimately acquainted yourself.

Convey my regards to and conceal my faults from dear Georgiana, and tell her I will be sure to call when I am next in Town. I suppose you must now do as much for "Aunt Catherine". You must consol her in my absence, for I'm sure she is loathe to miss an opportunity to declare how pale I've become and ask whether I've married an heiress yet. You may tell her I am still in the market, and for your benefit I will add, without much hope of ever leaving it.

And so I remain, your Single, Penitent Cousin,

Col. R. H. Fitzwilliam

P.S. You really ought to invite that Bingley fellow to come with you in my stead. He was looking uncharacteristically gloomy when I saw him last. I'm sure "Aunt Catherine" would be able to recommend just the thing to cure him. She always is, you know.

March 7, 18-
Fitzwilliam-

You really mustn't call her "Aunt Catherine." You know she thinks it excessively vulgar.

- Darcy

P.S. Bingley is coming.

"It is beautiful," remarked Elizabeth to Charlotte as the two of them and Jane walked leisurely along the wooded path. "I think I could grow almost as fond of these woods and hills as you have, Charlotte."

The later smiled thoughtfully but offered no reply, and Jane, who had lagged behind a moment to collect a few wild flowers from an obliging field, caught up and remarked, "Indeed, Charlotte, I am sure you must be very, very happy in this lovely place. How glad I am you consented to take me on in Maria's stead. You have not heard anything by way of her improvement from your mother?"

Charlotte shook her head. "I'm afraid not. She is not confined to her bed any longer, but still complains of a sever headache and often suffers a low fever."

Jane, who could never bear to see anyone distressed or uncomfortable, expressed her concern for poor Miss Maria, and was about to ask whether she had seen Mr. Jones, the apothecary who had been so kind to her at Netherfield, when all three ladies were alarmed by the sight of Mr. Collins running up the lane after them, waving his hat and calling, "My dear, my dear!" as if Lady Catherine herself were behind him.

"What is it, Mr. Collins?" inquired his wife, with concern.

"Mr. Darcy has come to pay us a call at the parsonage, for he has arrived to make his annual visit to his aunt, the noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and he has brought his affable friend, the good Mr. Bingley, whose ball we were all so happy at in the fall- they are hard upon my heels! Make haste, make haste!" And with that, he turned and fled back to the parsonage to wait on his distinguished guests.

All three ladies stood in alarm a moment, unable to speak. It was Jane, naturally, who first broke the silence. "Oh Lizzy! What shall I do? I'm sure I shall faint. . ."

Elizabeth quickly secured her sister's hand and supported her reassuringly. "Take care, Jane, or Mr. Bingley may receive the notion you are displeased to see him! Did I not tell you all would turn out well? Whether he knew of your presence here and has come on purpose to see you or not, what better an opportunity to renew your acquaintance? Come, you must collect yourself." She turned to her friend. "Charlotte, would you be so kind as to go ahead and say we will return from our walk presently?"

"Yes, of course." She began to walk toward the house, then turned and said over her shoulder, "I must say, I'm sure this is a compliment to you Lizzy, for Mr. Darcy would never come so early to call upon me!"

"You are mistaken, Charlotte," Elizabeth called after her, smiling at her teasing, "for I know Mr. Darcy dislikes me as much as I do him."

Smiling contentedly to herself, Elizabeth watched the enthusiastic tete a tete between her sister and Mr. Bingley from her position in a chair opposite the sofa they occupied. The first few minutes of the interview had been as awkward for both parties as it had been unexpected, but once the initial discomfort had been got over and Mr. Bingley had received his first warm, genuine smile from the angelic eldest Miss Bennet, in response to his earnest declaration that he had very much missed her society since leaving Hertfordshire, it was impossible for anyone else to get a word in edgewise.

Indeed, Jane's whole frame had taken on a glow that had been sadly lacking since her disappointment, and one might have told in an instant that not only was the most reserved of the Bennet girls willing to forgive her errant admirer, but she was as much, if not more in love with Mr. Bingley than ever. That gentleman, who appeared greatly relieved to witness his own pardon, was equally unable to conceal that his feelings were unchanged. Mercifully, Mr. Collins had seen Lady Catherine's carriage drive by at the window and rushed out to meet her, thus removing any potential embarrassing reminders of familial flaws to an already delicate reunion.

And so Elizabeth sat quietly to herself, entertaining her own happy reflections, while Charlotte, seated with her at the table across from Jane and Bingley, was silently occupied with some embroidery. Mr. Darcy, who had seemed at first to be excessively surprised to see both the two eldest Misses Bennet, had not said much since his initial declaration of being pleased to see them and inquiry after their health, and was now poised silently at the window in the manner he had so often adopted in Hertfordshire.

Seeing so perfect an opportunity before her, Elizabeth could not resist the inclination to provoke him a little. Was it not obvious that he had schemed with Mr. Bingley's odious sisters to keep him from Jane, and was now displeased with their unexpected reunion, at his own hands, no less? Such presumption deserved punishment, however petty. Turning toward him in her chair she inquired archly, "Have you found something particularly pleasing in the manner in which my cousin has arranged his gardens, Mr. Darcy? I have it on good authority that the inspiration behind them was none other than Lady Catherine's wise counsel, and I am sure that, should you ask, Mr. Collins would be vastly happy to acquaint you with all the particulars himself."

To her surprise, Mr. Darcy seemed to smirk at the remark that was intended to jab, and without turning from the window he replied. "I do not doubt it, Miss Bennet."

He seemed disinclined to offer anything else, but Elizabeth was not satisfied. She had been feeling rather triumphant over Jane and Bingley's reunion, and felt almost disappointed that Mr. Darcy, who must have taken great pains to prevent it, seemed so indifferent to it now. "I hope you and Mr. Bingley left his sisters and Mr. Hurst well in Town?" she asked, hoping to recall to mind his previous allies.

"Perfectly well, thank you."

"Miss Bingley, I think, must have been reluctant to loose her brother's company."

"Not to speak of."

"Indeed?"

"As it happens, she is very fond of Lady Catherine, and so willingly gave up her claim on Mr. Bingley for my aunt's sake."

"I see." Something was amiss. Clearly, he was not seeing that he ought to admit defeat and acknowledge the superiority of her judgment. What an infuriating man he was!

But Mr. Darcy had yet another surprise for her. Stepping away from the window, he drew up the vacant chair next to her and sat upon it, apparently on purpose to converse with her. "I think you must be surprised to see my friend and I here, Miss Bennet."

"Not entirely," she remarked with more disinterest than she felt. "I had heard from Mr. Collins that you make a habit of spending each Easter with your aunt at Rosings, but I was not aware that you also make a habit of bringing Mr. Bingley with you."

"And with good reason, madam, for I do not. It is usually my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who accompanies me to Rosings every year. Unfortunately, however, his regiment has lately been removed to Bristol, and he could not be spared from his duties."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

Darcy dismissed it indifferently. "I am glad to take Bingley in his stead. . ." he paused, as if to consider whether or not to continue, and then added hesitantly, "I thought to improve his spirits by removing him from London."

At this, Elizabeth could not but help a small, satisfied smile and a quick look in the direction of the sofa. Turning back to Darcy she said pointedly, "He seems as content as he ever was in Hertfordshire." Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and encouraged, Elizabeth continued, "How fortunate you are, sir, to be able to monitor the humors of your friends by 'removing' them from an undesirable location and placing them in a superior one whenever necessary."

He looked a little stunned, then injured by this remark, and Elizabeth soon wished it unspoken. However much she desired to see the wrong done her sister righted, she was not cruel. She had opened her mouth to ask his pardon when he replied in a low voice, "Perhaps you think me incapable of amending an error of judgment, Miss Bennet."

Incredulous, Elizabeth sat starring blankly at him a moment. She was about to make a reply when Mr. Collins burst in, declaring with rapture that the Hunsford party had been invited to tea at Rosings, and that they must all walk to the great house with haste as to avoid keeping her ladyship waiting. The party all rose, and while Mr. Bingley secured Jane's arm for the walk to Rosings, Darcy bowed curtly to his hosts and announced he intended to forgo tea in favor of a ride. He made his apologies and farewells abruptly and was gone, leaving Elizabeth only to wonder at him.

As curious as the afternoon's interview with Darcy had made her about the gentleman, Elizabeth was not afforded another opportunity to study him until two days hence, when the Hunsford party was invited to Rosings for dinner. That evening Mr. Bingley shyly continued his renewed attentions to Jane under the blessing of Mr. Darcy's apparent indifference, and though the latter gentleman seemed no more inclined to conversation than he had been in Hertfordshire, a certain easiness had replaced the coldness which had characterized his manners before, only returning when Lady Catherine had something particularly tedious to say, generally on the subject of her pale and insipid daughter, whose talents it was to be noted, though yet undeveloped, were all very great indeed.

A real chance to assess the change in Mr. Darcy did not come until the party had settled down to coffee, and Elizabeth, at Charlotte's request, had taken a seat at the pianoforte. Not much in a humor for performance, Elizabeth consented nevertheless in order to please her friend, and proceeded to run through a few pieces rather indifferently.

"You will never play really well, Miss Bennet, unless you practice more," quoth Lady Catherine when Elizabeth had finished a simple little movement from a sonata.

"Miss Elizabeth plays extremely well," chimed in Mr. Bingley, coming to her defense, which earned him a grateful smile from her elder sister.

Elizabeth merely laughed. "No need to be gallant, Mr. Bingley. I humbly acknowledge that her ladyship has found me out."

"There are few who can match my enjoyment in music," continued Lady Catherine, as if she had never been interrupted, "or who have a better taste. And, if I had ever learned, I should have been a true proficient, and so would Anne. . ."

Elizabeth, who was not sure she could bear more Lady Catherine's self-flattery with civility, returned to the pianoforte and began another piece. She was surprise when in the middle of it she was joined by none other than Mr. Darcy, who stood quietly in the crook of the instrument and watched her play. What could he mean by it? Feeling rather unnerved by his close watch, Elizabeth determined to tease his purpose out of him.

"Do you mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? But I shan't be alarmed. My courage always rises with every attempt to humiliate me."

He seemed to find this amusing. "I am not afraid of you," he said, as if he had read her thoughts, and with a light in his gaze Elizabeth had never seen before. She faltered a moment, then decided to ignore the remark.

"Well, I daresay you have not come for the sake of the music. If you had, it would be to shut the piano over my offending fingers. I know you must have heard a great many talents better than mine, or at least truer 'proficients', as your aunt affectionately calls them."

"You should not be so hard upon yourself, Miss Bennet. Lady Catherine is right, you would play really well if you practiced more."

"Ah, but life is full of such 'ifs', and I could not possibly pay heed to all of them."

Her remark, though it had not been intended to excite reflection, seemed to do so in him, and, after silently listening to her play a few moments longer, he replied thoughtfully, "But you are not opposed to the heeding in general, that is, you will admit that one may go back and atone for that which one was careless in doing before?"

Elizabeth was puzzled by his question. He seemed to be trying to exact some sort of affirmation from her. "Of course- if one is truly sincere, it is one's duty to make reparation."

He seemed pleased with this answer, and after another moment of silence, continued in a more hushed tone than before, "Miss Bennet, you will forgive my forthrightness, but since coming to Rosings I have been reflecting. . ."

"What are you talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet?" Lady Catherine's interference from across the room was unmistakable. "I must have my share in the conversation!"

Elizabeth nearly laughed aloud when she saw Darcy subtly roll his eyes in annoyance. She could not blame him. He was then obliged to return to his place beside his aunt, and to endure her vanity and wisdom for the next half-hour, until at last the party broke up and everyone expressed a wish to retire. There was no further opportunity to continue their conversation. As she was handed into the carriage returning to the parsonage, Elizabeth could not help but feel that she had only succeeded in becoming further intrigued and baffled by Mr. Darcy, and farther from deciphering his manners than perhaps she had ever been in the whole course of their acquaintance. But it was late, and she was tired. Best to think of it on the morrow, and leave the evening to pleasant reflections on her dear sister's budding happiness.

The next day after breakfast, Elizabeth was persuaded to accompany Charlotte and Mr. Collins into Hunsford village, and as Jane was determined to see to correspondence too long neglected in her surprise over seeing Mr. Bingley again, she stayed behind in order to do her duty to her mother.

Charlotte and Elizabeth had not been gone long when Jane heard the front bell through the open window. Sighing, she put away her half-written letter and prepared to be interrupted. The interruption, however, became a welcome one when Mr. Bingley, grinning and animated, entered in that particularly chipper way of his, followed closely by his more collected friend, Mr. Darcy.

Jane could not be more delighted to see anybody. Rising from her place at the desk she extended her hand to Bingley and greeted her visitors. "Good morning, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy. What a pleasure to be so visited."

"The pleasure is entirely ours, Miss Bennet," chimed Bingley, looking as though no one had ever meant the commonplace phrase as much as he did.

"Mrs. Collins and Elizabeth have gone into Hunsford village with my cousin. You find me all alone this morning, gentlemen."

"I hope we are not invading your privacy," said Mr. Darcy, not unpleasantly.

"No, no," said Jane, sitting and motioning for them to do so as well. "I was only writing a letter to my mother at Longbourn, that is all."

Bingley, who had made sure to secure the seat closest to Miss Bennet, hung upon her every word. "I hope your mother is well?"

"Indeed she is, thank you. She was sorry to be deprived of two daughters instead of one for the sake of Hunsford, but Elizabeth and I have promised to remedy the loss with a great many letters full of news!"

"Two daughters instead of one?" inquired Mr. Darcy, who seemed to be making a conscious effort to speak to Miss Bennet.

"Yes, for in the beginning it was only Elizabeth who was to visit dear Mrs. Collins in her new home, and I intended to spend the winter in Town with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. But my aunt and uncle were obliged to house the rather large family of one of my uncle's business associates, and so I came with Elizabeth instead."

"And how glad we are that you did!" exclaimed Mr. Bingley, with a little more feeling than mere common courtesy required. Miss Bennet blushed and smiled shyly at her admirer, and her looks so effectively touch the delicate feelings of that gentleman that they might have sat starring dreamily at each other to this day if Mr. Darcy had not cleared his throat and commented, "It seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I understand, did a great deal to it when she learned Mr. Collins was to be married."

Pulling her attention from the beaming Mr. Bingley, Jane dutifully answered, "Yes, I'm sure she did. My sister Elizabeth is rather fond of observing that she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful recipient."

Jane was surprised to see half a smile light Mr. Darcy's face. "I'm sure she does." He seemed disinclined to say any more, and for the rest of the interview sat placidly across from his friend and Miss Bennet, apparently content to take on the role of observer. Nor did he remove to the window and stare moodily out into the garden as had been his custom in Hertfordshire- his air was everything pleasant and easy, and when applied to every so often for his opinion on a subject he replied cordially and without pretension. Jane, even in her glow of happiness over the renewal Mr. Bingley's attentions, who had never really disliked his friend before, still took note of the improvement of Mr. Darcy's manners, and determined to acquaint her more skeptical sister with it at the first opportunity.

"Charlotte, I think I will just veer off into the wood here if I may," said Elizabeth to her friend as they walked back toward the parsonage after their excursion to the village. "I wish to take my morning's exercise."

"Of course, Lizzy. Shall we expect you back for luncheon in an hour?"

"Oh I should think so. I will not be long."

"How beneficial to a young lady must be the taking of fresh air and exercise," began to sermonize Mr. Collins, failing to notice the looks of impatience which stole over his wife and cousin as he did so. "Indeed, the blessings of health and vitality are not to be underestimated. Lady Catherine has often been so generous as to proscribe the regular taking of fresh air for all those who defer to her wisdom, a great many persons to be sure, and it is a sad thing indeed that her own daughter should be so delicate as to be unable to heed her mother's thoughtful counsel. . ."

"I'll just run along then, Charlotte," whispered Elizabeth to her friend while Mr. Collins, who was quite ignorant of the interruption to his discourse, continued to carry on. With Charlotte's nod of consent, Elizabeth pressed her hand briefly in sympathy, and thereupon the parties parted company, Mr. Collins still expounding on the beneficence of her ladyship.

Elizabeth, glad to be alone and to be out of doors on such a lovely spring morning, continued along the wooded path at a brisk walk and sometimes a run for several minutes, then slowed her pace a little in order to better enjoy her surroundings. The weather was very fine, perhaps the best it had been since their arrival in Kent, and the natural beauty of the place was only increased by the warm breeze and the sunshine.

She had not been walking more that ten minutes when the rustle of fallen leaves under someone else's feet signaled to her the approach of another, and in a moment, Mr. Darcy emerged from the shelter of the trees which encompassed the path to Elizabeth's left. It was impossible to escape his notice, for she was standing in the middle of a small clearing in which the two paths crossed, and so she resigned herself to an interview.

Just at that moment the gentleman looked up and saw her standing before him. At first Elizabeth had the strange notion that he almost appeared to take her presence for granted, but then he looked again, and was surprised.

"Miss Bennet."

"Mr. Darcy."

The two stood regarding each other almost defensively for a moment, both unsure what more to say or even if they wished to say anymore at all. Darcy seemed to Elizabeth rather uncomfortable, as if she had caught him in the midst something for which he ought to be reprimanded. Yet again, he puzzled her. Clearly, there was more to him than a prideful, taciturn disposition as she had thought before.

"I had heard you were in Hunsford village with Mr. and Mrs. Collins," he said presently, deciding that small talk was perhaps the safest course of action. "I did not think to encounter you on this path, though I know you are often fond of walking here."

Elizabeth, seeing no reason against it, determined to be civil. "I decided to take my morning exercise on the way back from the village, and asked Mrs. Collins and my cousin to go on to the parsonage without me. How did you know where we had gone?"

Mr. Darcy shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and cleared his throat. "Mr. Bingley and I went to call upon you all at the parsonage this morning," he said, purposely avoiding her gaze. "We found your sister there alone and she told us where you had gone."

"Ah. Then I suppose you did not stay long."

He cleared his throat again, still refusing to look at her. "On the contrary, we sat with her for a full half-hour."

Elizabeth smiled to herself, amused to see this manifestation of humbled pride, and could not help but wish a moment later that Mr. Bingley had called without his friend, thus affording him an opportunity to make the offer of his hand to Jane. But it was a good beginning at least, and as Mr. Darcy did seem to have acquired some meekness as a result, Elizabeth took pity on him.

"I see," she replied, not unkindly.

"Shall we take this way together, Miss Bennet?" he asked abruptly, eager to change the subject. Her curiosity still far from satisfied, Elizabeth consented, and fell into step beside him.

"How pleasant for you to have been able to bring your friend with you on this visit to Kent," commented Elizabeth after a moment of silence, eager to continue on the subject of Mr. Bingley. "What an unexpected delight it was to see him three days ago- and yourself as well of course," she added as an afterthought, not wishing to offend him.

"Thank you," said Darcy, ignoring her near slip as his impeccable breeding prompted him.

"How disappointed we all were in Hertfordshire when your party departed Netherfield. We had wished very much that you would stay through the winter at least. I think I remember hearing you mention before that Mr. Bingley was not content in London. That is unfortunate."

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth caught him struggling to hide the slightly amused smile which had come over his face. "Well, he seems to have recovered his spirits well enough here."

Sensing that she was being teased, Elizabeth determined not to be outdone. "Indeed he does. But I should be sorry to hear that his happiness comes at your expense. I hope you are not displeased with the arrangements here, Mr. Darcy."

Still he smiled. Infuriating man! "No indeed. I am very far from being so. To be sure, Bingley is such a good fellow that I could not fail to rejoice in his good humor and to earnestly wish to promote his happiness."

At this, Elizabeth stopped mid-step. He was toying with her, and with her desire to see her sister happily settled with his friend. It was not to be born.

"Do you always make a habit of acting in such a manner as to support you friend's best interests, sir?" she inquired, her tone taking on an icy quality.

"Very consciously, madam," he replied, unabashed.

Provoked, Elizabeth continued, a little more heatedly. "Am I to understand then, sir, that you consider your actions in the fall by way of Mr. Bingley satisfactory on that score? Can you deny that you encouraged him to remove to London?"

This succeeded in angering him a little. "I don't see that it is any concern of yours whether I did so or not."

Elizabeth was astonished at his insolence. "Not my concern? My sister's happiness is not my concern? Do not image me ignorant, sir. I should be a simpleton indeed if I had not realized long ago that you were opposed to Mr. Bingley's attachment to Jane. I suppose you think her a scheming fortune hunter, or something equally ridiculous and without foundation."

"And I was to determine her feelings for him by watching her placidly receive his attentions, whilst your mother crooned over the possibility of 'throwing the girls into the paths of other rich men'? Your sister may be a sweet girl, Miss Bennet, but she is also quite reserved and. . ."

"Reserved! You, who hardly utter a syllable in company, accuse my sister of being over-reserved? This is admirable indeed! A fine judge of character you have proved yourself, sir- and as for my mother's conduct. . ."

Darcy, who was the sort to let his anger simmer, now interrupted in a quiet but edged voice, "madam, I have no desire to argue this matter. I would be more than happy to discuss it civilly with you at any time, but I fear at present our tempers have both risen to the point where such civil discussion is impossible. Indeed, I cannot even begin to attempt civility with someone who's righteous indignation reminds me so much of my aunt's."

Elizabeth stood shocked a moment, regarding him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, incredulous that he had just compared her to the tiresome Lady Catherine. Then, despite all reason, his comment, and indeed the whole argument, began to appear so ridiculous to her, that she could not help her laughter. It bubbled up in her throat unbidden and passed her lips unchecked in her surprise, and soon her continued merry ripples of laughter were resounding all about the wooded path.

Darcy watched her in astonishment for a moment. She was surely the most vexing, bewildering, wonderful creature he had ever beheld. And then, his fury with her charmed into delight at the sound of her mirth, he joined in as well. Hearing him laugh with her, Elizabeth regarded him with a smile, and when it was returned, she extended her hand to him.

"Come, sir, you are right, take my hand in amenity, and we will argue no more."

"You are very good," he replied, smiling still, and taking her hand.

"First I remind you of your aunt's indignation, and now I am very good? I believe I must restate my former assertion, and pronounce you once more a very bad judge of character, Mr. Darcy."

But he could not laugh at this. "Miss Bennet- there is much to say. Shall we walk on?"

"Yes, yes I think that best."

When they had gone a little farther without speaking, Elizabeth looked to him and asked, "Who shall begin, you or me?"

"I should prefer to say my piece first, if you wouldn't mind," he replied solemnly. "It seems I have only succeeded thus far in making myself and my motives misconstrued, and I should like to correct the error as soon as may be."

Elizabeth nodded. "Then I am at your disposal."

"Thank you. Perhaps, Miss Bennet, it is best to start with the relationship between my friend and your eldest sister."

"Yes."

"I had not been long in Hertfordshire before I saw, as others did, that Bingley admired your sister. But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment- I had often seen him in love before. From observation, however, I soon discerned that the attachment Bingley had formed to you sister was more steady than any before I had witnessed in him. I then made it my duty as his friend to determine whether or not his sentiments were reciprocated. I began to watch you sister closely, and found that, though it was apparent she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not seem to invite them by any participation of sentiment. . ." Elizabeth opened her mouth here to object, but raising his hand to stop her, he continued, "if I was in error, as I am now persuaded by further observance, then I am heartily sorry for it, and must apply for both Bingley and Miss Bennet's pardon as well as your own. But you must believe that I acted only in consideration for my friend's greater happiness. I did not wish him to bestow his affections where they would not be returned."

His voice seemed to catch oddly when he said this, but when Elizabeth looked up to study his face, it was a mask. Breathing deeply she replied, "Indeed, you were mistaken before, Mr. Darcy, and your error has caused my dear sister some pain, but I admit that you had ample motivation to act in the way you did. My sister, whose modesty is a great strength of character, can sometimes hide her feelings all to well, in such a way that those not well acquainted with her might mistake it for reserve or disinterest. And as for the rest of my family, well. . . I acknowledge that with a mother such as mine, it would not be difficult to attribute mercenary motives to any one of her daughters, even Jane. But I can assure you most fervently, sir, that my sister has long felt a true and steadfast attachment to your friend, that she was greatly saddened by his departure from Hertfordshire, and that she became the happiest creature in the world when his company was restored to her."

Darcy looked down at her, saw the earnest turn of her countenance, and smiled. "Then nothing remains but for me to wish them joy."

Relieved, Elizabeth smiled back gladly. Then she laughed a little as an amusing thought came to her. "What a shock it must have been for you, sir, to learn upon your arrival in Kent that your invitation to Mr. Bingley had guaranteed he would be reunited with the very lady you wished him to avoid."

Darcy smiled at his own expense. "You may be assured I felt the irony of it, madam. I had thought to cure his melancholy merely by taking him from London, but I should have known it could only be accomplished by restoring him to your sister. And I think I owe it to you to admit, Miss Bennet, that since coming into Kent I have observed, even from our first meeting at the parsonage, aided largely by the smaller company, that your sister is very attached much to my friend, and I have endeavored thereafter to give her the benefit of the doubt. I am glad you have put my mind at ease on this subject. I thank you for your good information, especially as you were not obliged in any way to offer it."

She smiled kindly. "You are welcome, but only, that is, if you'll forgive my shouting at you. I confess, your aunt and I share the common flaw of hasty judgment, and I was indelicate just now. Forgive me?"

"Only if you will forgive my interference in the fall, for which I have been most effectively humbled by your 'flawed' judgment."

She laughed. "Done." And they shook hands once more to settle it.

After walking some time in silence, Elizabeth realized with astonishment that she had just made peace with the man Mr. Wickham had slandered so feelingly, and whom she had thought only a fortnight ago to have thoroughly despised. She began to wonder how much of her opinion of Mr. Darcy had been formed on the basis of Wickham's information and how much from earnest conversation with the gentleman himself.

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Hmm?" He had evidently been lost in thought.

"Might I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"You will think it strange, but my curiosity cannot be suppressed. I cannot help but observe that, though we have been acquainted these five months at least, I hardly know a thing about you, and what I have heard is largely information from others, some of whom inclined to- well, never mind that. . ."

But Darcy would not let her get away so easily. "I suppose you are referring to Mr. Wickham," he said quietly and very solemnly. "No doubt he had some unattractive things to say about my character and person."

Elizabeth colored and wished for a moment she had never brought up the subject. "I've no wish to pain you. . ."

"No, no. . ." He seemed to be deep in thought for the next few minutes, wretchedly long ones for Elizabeth, and finally, he said gravely, "Miss Bennet, you know that I am a reserved man, and that reserve, I must own, sometimes serves me ill. By you, I know it has. But no more. Would you do me the honor, Miss Bennet, of allowing me to tell you the history of my dealings with Mr. Wickham? I daresay it shall be remarkably dissimilar from the account you've had from him."

Elizabeth was astonished, but her curiosity would not be denied. "Are you sure you wish to, sir? You needn't feel obligated to divulge your private affairs to me."

"No. If anything, my mistaken pride has kept me silent too long. I should like you to understand me, Miss Bennet. I should like it very much."

Scarcely knowing what to make of it all, and of the strangely intense look which had stolen into his countenance when he said he should like to make her his confidant, Elizabeth merely nodded her consent. Satisfied with this, and taking a deep breath, Darcy began.

"Mr. Wickham is the son of my late father's steward. . ."

One particular afternoon, a few days following the Easter holiday, the Hunsford party was invited to tea at Rosings, an invitation which was becoming increasingly regular one, much to the felicity of Mr. Bingley and the secret delight of Lady Catherine's nephew. On this occasion, however, Jane was unfortunately plagued with a headache that had been lingering since the morning, and though she had dearly wished to accompany the rest of the party to Rosings, her sister had persuaded her that the headache would pass more speedily in quietness and solitude, and so had stayed behind.

Feeling somewhat better after having taken some tea alone, Jane wandered out into the garden, of which she was especially fond. She had not been there long when the sound of footsteps on the gravel drive alerted her to the presence of another. She looked up from the rosebush to see the welcome sight of Mr. Bingley before her, smiling with heartfelt delight as usual.

"Mr. Bingley," greeted Jane, blushing at the unexpected pleasure.

"Good afternoon, Miss Bennet," he returned feelingly, opening the gate and coming into the garden.

"I thought you to be at tea with- Oh!" Feeling a sharp sting in her finger, Jane looked down to see she had pricked herself rather severely on the thorns of the rose she had plucked from the bush a moment earlier.

"What is it?" inquired Mr. Bingley immediately, with a tone of such concern and alarm that one might have thought he expected Miss Bennet to be in serious danger.

Smiling a little at this small intimation of his regard, Jane extended her hand that he might see how insignificant her injury was. "It is nothing, sir."

But Mr. Bingley, as if acting on impulse, took her hand in both of his, and, retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket, gently pressed it to the damaged finger in order to keep it from bleeding further. Jane colored again and looked away, but could not deny to herself that having her hand held by Mr. Bingley was well worth the injury which had earned her the privilege.

"There," he said a moment later, taking the handkerchief away, but not the hand that supported hers. "That should suffice."

"Thank you, sir." He looked up into her face at being addressed, and his look was so adoring that Jane wondered almost absently if he were going to kiss her then and there. Her cheeks soon grew fiery red at the thought, but she could not bring herself to look away, or to withdraw her hand from his.

"Your sister said you were suffering a headache, so I came to see how you did," he said presently in a soft voice, still holding her eyes with the same look. He smiled then. "I snuck away because I knew she would scold me for trying to disturb you."

Jane returned his smile timidly. "Indeed she would."

"I thought, however, that you would not mind so very much."

If such a thing were possible, Jane's cheeks flushed a deeper red. "No, I do not."

At her reply, he broke into one of those brilliant smiles which he so often did when with her, and fondly pressed her hand, almost without intention. "I hope you are feeling better."

"I am, thank you."

"Miss Bennet, I have not told you the whole truth."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"I said a moment ago that I came to see how you did, but I had another reason for coming as well, that is, to request a private interview in order that I might ask you a very particular question."

Jane, who had been deliriously happy only to have him look upon her as he did now and fondly hold her hand, found it hard to bear this new flutter of felicity at his words. She blessed the headache and the thorns and Elizabeth for urging her to stay behind. "Yes. . .?"

Bingley took a deep breath and pressed her hand again. "Miss Bennet- Jane, dearest Jane. . . my feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. . ."

The news of Jane and Mr. Bingley's engagement was soon happily received by everyone at both Rosings and Hunsford, and not even Lady Catherine's condescending remarks that Miss Bennet was very fortunate indeed to have made such an advantageous alliance could dampen the genuine expressions of congratulation and delight which were given freely by their friends. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, who had at last become friends after all the necessary explanations, could not have rejoiced more in the final certainty of the union between sister and friend, and, after the happy announcement had been made, were unable to keep from smiling warmly at each other whenever they met.

It was perhaps a week after the engagement was settled that Elizabeth found herself one morning alone at the parsonage. She had been pleasantly engaged in reading the book her father had suggested she take along to Kent when the front bell sounded downstairs. Setting aside her book, Elizabeth wondered who could be calling at such an hour, and sitting up straighter in her armchair, she straightened her dress and prepared to receive the visitor in Charlotte's absence.

She was very much surprised when Darcy himself walked through the sitting room door, quite alone and rather agitated. Elizabeth stood and welcomed him cordially, hoping to put him at ease, but was not wholly successful. Puzzled, she sat and asked him to do as much.

"If you are looking for Mr. Bingley, he has gone out walking with my sister in the wood," offered Elizabeth, thinking perhaps there was some urgent matter he wished to discuss with his friend.

"I thank you, but it is not him I have come to speak to. I thought you might be alone this morning, and so came directly." He stood abruptly from the seat he had taken reluctantly a moment before, and began to pace about the room.

"Is something the matter, sir?"

He looked puzzled a moment and briefly stopped his pacing. "The matter? No, I. . ." He trailed off and recommenced his turn about the room.

Elizabeth was surprised and confused by his behavior, especially since they had made such a promising start at becoming easy in each other's company since sorting out their misunderstandings, but nevertheless she thought it best to let him speak his mind without attempting to prompt him. What reason could he have to wish to speak with her alone? What could he have to say that he could not in the presence of others?

At last he ceased his pacing. Standing directly before Elizabeth, he regarded her with an intense look she had never seen in him before, and presently he began urgently, "In vain I have struggled, it will not due! My. . ."

Suddenly and quite without warning, the door burst open to admit a glowing Charlotte, her hands full of the morning post. "Oh Lizzy, I have just had the most wonderful news from Hertfordshire! Oh, Mr. Darcy, how do you do, sir?"

Poor Mr. Darcy seemed to be incapable of speaking for a moment. "Ah. . . well, quite well, thank you, Mrs. Collins. . ."

Startled, Elizabeth herself was obliged to take a moment to clear her senses. "What is the news, Charlotte?" she finally asked.

"I'm not interrupting your conversation, I hope?"

"No, no. Is she, Mr. Darcy?"

The gentleman looked mysteriously exasperated and baffled when applied to, but said none the less, "No, of course not," and took a seat in the far corner of the room.

"Oh, I'm so glad. I've just had a letter from my mother. Apparently, Maria is on the mend and expected to be fully recovered by the week's end."

Elizabeth smiled graciously. "Indeed, that is excellent news, Charlotte. How relieved I am for your family."

"Of course, she was never in any real danger, but it was shocking that a girl so healthy and strong as Maria should have suffered a cold so severely. . ."

It was at this moment that the interview in the parsonage sitting room was again interrupted, this time by the lovebirds themselves, returned from their walk. They were laughing merrily and holding hands, and Jane carried with her a large bunch of wild flowers, obviously procured from a forest grove as they passed.

"Oh Lizzy!" exclaimed her sister, glowing with affection and good health. "Is it not the most beautiful spring morning you have ever beheld?"

"Jane, Mr. Bingley, I am so glad you've returned," said Charlotte, holding her letter out to them. "My mother has just written, and Maria is making a speedy recovery."

"Oh, I must say I am delighted to hear it," pronounced Jane. "There is nothing worse than a bad cold." Then, as is common with all lovers, the comment having reminded them of a particular moment in their acquaintance, Jane and Bingley turned to each other and beamed in perfect felicity. Mr. Darcy cleared his throat and shuffled uneasily in the corner, and if Elizabeth had not been quite so baffled by the rapidity of the morning's events, she might have laughed at it.

"Pray, Mrs. Collins," remarked Bingley, still grinning at his intended, "does Miss Maria care for roses? For I've a mind to send her a whole room full of them- without their thorns."

This seemed to be another private joke, for Jane and Bingley smiled and laughed between themselves again, effectively excluding everyone else in the room. Charlotte made a vague sort of comment about everybody liking roses and then excused herself to her duties. Jane and Bingley stayed a few moments longer, flirting and beaming like fools at each other, then excused themselves to take another walk about the garden. Elizabeth and Darcy were once more alone.

Silence pervaded the air between them, and Elizabeth, growing quite impatient, finally asked, "Now, sir, what exactly was it you had to say to me?"

He seemed startled by her question, and then eager to dismiss it. "Oh . . . nothing of consequence. Perhaps some other time." He stood hastily and made her a parting bow. "No doubt I shall see you this evening at Rosings. Good day." And the next moment, he was gone.

The hastiness of his departure seemed only in keeping with the rest of the morning's events, and not knowing what else to do, Elizabeth merely shrugged her shoulders and sighed. As it pleased him. Though upon reflection, she could not help but recall he had looked remarkably handsome in his blue coat. . .

The End