Chapter One

Posted on Thursday, 13 July 2006

He sat in the study of his London home, the drapes pulled tightly across the window and the candle blown out a long time ago, musing over his fate. To the only son of wealthy parents, he had never been denied anything and had always assumed that whatever he wanted would fall easily into his lap, and the behaviour of the ladies of the Ton had done nothing to destroy that notion. Ever since he had come of age they had been hankering after him, or rather his fortune, and it truly seemed as though he would never be able to escape those fortune hunters. He had long since resigned himself to the fact that he would no doubt enter into a loveless marriage with some fashionable, wealthy woman – and had grown accustomed to it. If there was one thing he hadn't expected when he had accompanied Charles to Netherfield, however, it was that he himself would fall devastatingly in love.

Perhaps if the woman, who was the target of his affections, had been rich, had possessed some small fortune of her own, things would have been easier for them both. But she did not have money, she was not – at first glance – handsome or elegant – however, she was real. One of the few real, solid, natural people that he had met in this horrid, fake world, and she – no matter how much either of them might dislike the fact – had anchored him.

His love for her had not diminished, as he had hoped that it would, when he had practically fled Netherfield with the memory of standing up with her at Charles' ball still glaringly fresh in his mind. Openly, he was saving Charles from a most disastrous marriage – but inside he knew, he understood, that he was trying to save himself. The feeling of helplessness, of humbleness, of powerlessness he had when he was near her, when he even caught a glimpse of her in Meryton, was frightening to one who had never before felt even the slightest softening of feelings towards a member of the female sex. He had known that, the morning after the festivities, he must leave and never return, never see her again – no matter how much he desired it, no matter how much his soul would yearn to hear her voice or gaze into her eyes again.

It had yearned, and he himself had been much more affected by their separation than he could ever have presumed he would be. In truth, he had been longing to dash back to her and to propose to her immediately – ignoring everything that would be expected from him by his family, or rather his Aunt Catherine. In the end it was her who saved him from that most inglorious fate as the invitation she had issued to her nephews was urgent and demanding. Perhaps, he had thought at the time, Anne had improved and was something like Miss Elizabeth. No, he could not think of that – it wouldn't be fair to either himself, Elizabeth or Anne, and no matter how forcefully he spurned his aunt's notion of them marrying, he did appreciate his cousin for her own gentle ways.

He had suspected that Richard realised that something was wrong, that some great change had taken place in his cousin's life, but he was grateful that that topic was not pursued excepting an initial 'you look awful' comment. He had arrived at Rosings and before he was able to take off his traveling clothes it was announced to him that Mr Collins and his bride had brought her sister and friend to reside with them for a time.

“And who is Collins' wife? From what I gather she would need to be quite patient,” Richard added in an undertone to Darcy.

“I do not know who the unfortunate creature may be, but,” he stopped abruptly. He had met the rather toadish Mr Collins at Netherfield, when he had been staying with the Bennets and when he had been...courting...Elizabeth.

Collins had been sniffing after his Elizabeth, and now he was married and her sister was staying with them.

There was a pain deep within his chest that seared him in that moment when he realised that he was too late, that she would never he his ever and that he would never see her in Pemberley, presiding over his household – a sight which often greeted him in his dreams.

“Darcy? Darcy?”

“Fitzwilliam! I insist that you respond to me! Now!” The screeching voice of his aunt woke him from the sleepy state into which he had descended. Quickly, he replied that he would go to visit the new Mrs Collins, immediately, without delay. That seemed to satisfy her but curiosity still lingered in Richard's eyes. He turned his own away from that probing gaze as soon as he was able.

He dressed in a daze, attempting to work up the courage to face his beloved in the home of another man. If only he had not been such an imbecile and had mustered up the courage to ask her for her hand before he had left – there was no doubt that she would have accepted him. Who wouldn't? And surely she could not prefer Collins to a man who possessed ten thousand a year and a large estate in Derbyshire?

Such meditations were interrupted by a cheerful knock on his door, which he knew immediately was the work of Richard (occasionally he wondered why he was such good friends with people as happy and positive as his cousin and Charles, but most of the time he was thankful for their company as was the case now).

“Come in!”

“I'd rather not, Darcy. Are you decent? I should like to meet the new addition to the parsonage and then get something to eat. I am terribly famished and the quicker we can get the pleasantries over with, the happier I will be.” Darcy almost laughed at his cousin's priorities, but the thought of having to meet Elizabeth Collins was enough to make that stop before it emerged from his mouth.

“Don't worry yourself, Richard! We shall be there and out again before a quarter of an hour has passed, that I assure you.”

“Why ever do you say that?”

“Because I had the misfortune to encounter Collins while I was staying with Charles Bingley, and I do not want to spend a great part of my life in his company. And I can only assume that his wife can only be as foolish as he is, in accepting his hand.”

“You don't know that, she could have been an old maid.”

“I do not think that an old maid, devoid of looks, would interest Collins,” he said with venom. At that moment Collins only ranked below Wickham on the list of people who irked him, but he was sure that if he saw that odious creature pawing over his Elizabeth then he would be forced to reconsider his opinion.

“My, my! You are in a terrible mood, aren't you? Well, if you are ready then let us go and see if Mrs Collins is as horrendous as you imagine her to be.”

Darcy, with one last look in the mirror, dismissed his valet and stormed out of the room, taking Richard by surprise as he rushed past. If he had to look at her then he would get it over with, and he would attempt to be as cordial and amiable as was possible when one is forced to watch the married woman one loves with her husband.

The day was extremely pleasant, which only increased his annoyance. Why could it not be stormy and ferocious outside? For it would surely match his feelings quite splendidly. “Darcy, wait up there! Some of us are still recovering from the ride.”

Darcy turned to throw a cold look at his cousin, “And you are one of the best that the Army has to offer? I pity the country.” Whether Richard took any umbrage to this insult or not, Darcy didn't care to find out and he quickened his pace until the sight of Collins' house rose up, unwelcome, in front of him.

“Now I have no other option but to appear flustered in front of three ladies. Honestly, Darcy!”

“I expect that none of them are wealthy so you need not worry.” He cast a glance towards the other man, who had not taken offence at that comment either – for it was well-known that a younger son would have to marry well to live in comfort.

“True, true. How is Miss Bingley these days?”

“Do not even think of it, Richard. I will not have that woman in my family.”

“Have you told her that yet? For I do recall that the last time I met her, she was still dangling after you.”

“Hush!”

“I am just saying that if she cannot have you, then perhaps she will turn her eyes to your wonderful, handsome and charming cousin.”

“I am afraid that Geoffrey is already married, so it would be worthless for her to try.” This produced a bellow of laughter from Richard.

“That is why you are my favourite cousin!”

“I am your only cousin who is not female, Richard. That is why I hold that particular honour.”

“Yes, you are most unfortunate, and so am I.” Richard finally caught up with him and surveyed the building. “Well, it does seem rather homely doesn't it? I would have expected Aunt Catherine to have made a model of Rosings. Maybe there is a chance that she is not as bad as we have always imagined her to be.”

“I wouldn't presume that. Instead, the cost may have been more influential in the design of the building. After all, the fireplace at Rosings...”

“Oh do be quiet! Let us go – oh look, I wonder if those are the ladies staying at the parsonage?” He pointed at a group of three females – one of which was hurrying to get inside – and Darcy's keen eyesight was able to see that one of them – the one who was perfectly unconcerned about whatever was hastening the other two – was none other than Elizabeth Bennet. No, she was more than likely Elizabeth Collins now. That did not sound right, did it? To his ears, Elizabeth Darcy sounded much more elegant and...right. He found the sleepy haze return, but quickly banished it until later and proceeded to the house with his companion. They were met by the sniveling Collins, whose praises of them and their Aunt left them blushing.

“And she has been most welcoming to my lovely bride – for it must have been very difficult to leave a small village and come to Rosings. I, too, have been very...caring towards her.” The lecherous smile which that produced was nearly enough for Darcy to lose control of his usually calm temper, but he remembered that he had no right to complain – he had not made himself or his intentions known to Elizabeth, so how could he have believed that she would wait for him?

“And how is Mrs Collins? I hope she is getting used to her new situation.”

“Indeed she is Colonel Fitzwilliam. She, her friend and her sister have just returned from a walk, so I expect that it will take them some time yet to be ready. Women!”

Darcy's mouth did not even hint at a smile, instead, he was struggling to suppress a scowl. Richard was not finding Collins entertaining either, but he put up the pretence that he was and all was assumed to be fine.

After several minutes voices were heard again, one of them Elizabeth's, another which he knew that he had heard before but couldn't quite place, and then a final chirpy tone. No doubt that belonged to one of her sisters, but, since he had never taken the trouble to pay attention to any of them, he did not know which one exactly.

“Ah! Here they are! My wife, I am sure you will find, is quite charming and beautiful. Only to think that I am the lucky man who now possesses her – I am unable to believe it sometimes. Then again, no doubt she was influenced by the information regarding Lady Catherine de Bourgh and how kind she is!”

“Yes well,” Richard trailed off, not usually in the habit of hearing many people praise his aunt – who he himself deemed a bore – in the manner that Collins had just done. It was rather disconcerting. He could see that Darcy was struggling with that as well and saw fit to try and prod the new husband into making introductions.

“Of course! I dare say you know my wife, Mr Darcy. I recall that you were acquainted with each other in Meryton.” Richard shot a look of disbelief at his cousin, but he did not respond. Therefore, Richard could only presume that the acquaintance was not one Darcy wanted to continue.

The door was opened slowly by Collins, as if he was enjoying keeping his wife from them. They were, eventually, shown into a small parlour with three women sitting in it. There was one extremely attractive one, who looked shocked at their entrance. He then realized that her look was directed at Darcy, and that Darcy was looking no less troubled when he bowed to her and said, “My apologies for not congratulating you sooner, Mrs Collins.”

Chapter Two

Posted on Monday, 31 July 2006

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had suspected from the first instant he had seen his cousin again that something was dreadfully wrong, and that he had undergone some drastic change. Of what nature that change was, he had been unable to deduce, but now – faced with the woman he presumed was the new Mrs Collins – he had a moment of revelation. Darcy was smitten!

It may have been amusing to watch his cousin make a fool out of himself for this woman, but now that she was married to the odious Collins, he felt a deep sadness for Darcy.

Darcy was suffering from a far more profound and acute dismay at the sight of his Elizabeth in the home of another man. Then he dared to look towards her and took this chance to gaze into her eyes for what he thought would be the last time – they still sparkled, they held her customary wit, but there was something different in them now, confusion.

Why would she be confused?

It was only then that he became aware of all that was going on around him: Collins was standing, mouth outstretched and smothering his sticky forehead with an old handkerchief, the two other women in the room were similarly shocked but were too well bred to act as if they were, and Elizabeth...Elizabeth was...

...not wearing a bonnet.

If she was not then...the prospect seemed too wild and brilliant and fortunate for him to truly believe it. Quickly, he snuck a look at the woman he was now convinced was Miss Lucas and noticed that she was wearing the uniform of a wife, and as he peered closer he was able to see that she appeared well placed in such a house, she was proud of it if not Collins. That was it! He had been so foolish, so idiotic! Evidently, Miss Lucas was Miss Lucas no longer.

“Sir, I fear you address the wrong person. I am not Mrs Collins.”

“My apologies, Miss Bennet.” Was that really his voice, so cool, calm and collected while his mind was in a state quite the opposite? He turned to Miss – Mrs Collins and offered her his congratulations. She smiled, did everything that was correct and proper, but he was sure that her eyes strayed from him to her friend from time to time.

Richard, meanwhile, had busied himself with trying to detract attention from his cousin's folly and was presently engaged in a conversation with Elizabeth. She seemed pleased, flattered even. Darcy himself was confined to a discussion of the most trifling things with Mr Collins, Mrs Collins and – he supposed, - Miss Maria Lucas, but she was as loquacious as he.

“I must be flattered by your error in my partner,” Collins fawned, “for I did consider Miss Elizabeth for a short time, until her beauty was torn from my mind following revelations concerning her family and, I must own, her own character. I fear she is quite a flightly creature just like her younger sisters. You did tell me, Charlotte, that her siblings were not wise – and that is a sentiment that I share, for Miss Lydia was...she behaved very indecently...exposing herself to me in such a state of undress.” He lifted up a hand to his brow at the recollection, which Darcy supposed was meant to show disgust. However, he believed that he was well enough acquainted with Collins to realise that the man had probably enjoyed Miss Lydia's interaction with him. Then he remembered the behaviour of the Bennet family at Netherfield and once again the doubts flooded into his mind, tormenting him with visions of Mrs Bennet and her younger daughters at Pemberley. Then again, was Elizabeth not worth those hardships?

“Husband, I fear you are incorrect in your reading of Elizabeth's character. She is a very sensible, very wise girl and I do seem to recall that you proposed marriage, so I am led to believe that you were not so disgusted with her behaviour as you claim you are now.” Darcy felt his lips arch into a smile at Mrs Collins' reprimand. Perhaps Collins had chosen prudently after all...But what was this about Elizabeth and Collins? She had rejected him? Rejected a home and a way to escape her family? He saw that the change of a Mrs Bennet for a Collins and a Lady Catherine was not a favourable one and amused himself with the thought of Elizabeth meeting his aunt in a battle of wits, which the latter was sure to lose. Then a horrible notion occurred to him. Elizabeth had refused to marry a man of comfortable means, why? There was a chance, as he had learned in London, that she was merely holding out for a man who had more expendable purse strings. Would she...did she have an inkling of his own feelings towards her?

There was a momentary lull in the far too amiable discussion between Richard and Elizabeth, and Darcy – motivated by irrational jealousy – took the opportunity to converse with the woman who was spending an excessive amount of time in his thoughts. “Are your family in good health, Miss Bennet?” She looked at him, her expression stiffening slightly – the smile was not so fixed as it had been when she had been talking to his cousin, and she had an altogether more solemn air. Darcy was unable to discover why.

“Yes, thank you sir. My sister Jane is in London, and I believe that she would have been in London when you were there.”

“How did you-?”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam told me.”

“Oh.”

“But did you not chance to see her?” He felt uncomfortable – he could not tell her that he had seen her sister, walking miserably out of the Bingleys' London home after a meeting with Caroline and Louisa, and had done nothing. In fact, he had taken it upon himself to divert Bingley's mind from the eldest Miss Bennet in an attempt to persuade himself that an attachment to Elizabeth's family would only ruin him.

“No.” He saw that she thought his response cold, that she had expected more, and, because of this and on account of wanting to spend more time in conversation with her, he continued. “They moved in very different circles in London, I am sure.”

“Darcy! What a thing to say!”

“No, Colonel, I assure you that Mr Darcy was only being truthful. My sister would not have encountered him for she was residing in Cheapside.” She shot the word at Darcy and he inwardly cringed at what he had said and the implication of it. He had not meant to slight Jane Bennet or Elizabeth and the notion that he had done so was deeply unpleasant.

“Miss Bennet-”

“You need say no more, Mr Darcy. I understand you perfectly.” He desired to tell her that she did not understand him, but that he wanted her to and that he wanted to understand her as well.

But he didn't.

After another half an hour Darcy and the Colonel left the parsonage and the latter let his cousin know what he thought of his behaviour to Miss Bennet. “Darcy, that was unpardonable! You all but said that she was far below you, and honestly you looked as though you detested the whole exercise! What has gotten into you? Where is the man who snubbed the Dowager Lady Frances and her scheming daughters?”

“He is in front of you, Richard. And if you find my actions to Miss Bennet so distasteful then why do you commend my behaviour regarding Lady Frances?”

“Because that old hag only looks for a rich man for her daughters – that's why she doesn't permit me to be in their company at all.”

“There is nothing more dangerous than a man in regimentals. Or so I have been told.” Richard seemed to be amused and Darcy, keen to divert his attention from Miss Bennet, answered him in a good humour when he was asked who had told him that. “Miss Caroline Bingley, I believe.”

“Good heavens! Was she trying to make you jealous, do you think?” Richard laughed and mounted his horse again. “That would be something, wouldn't it? Caroline Bingley running off with some penniless soldier.” He only realised what he had said when it was done. Both men were silent, remembering that awful summer when everything had almost been lost. “How is Georgiana?”

“As well as can be expected. She is wary of new company, of men in particular, and I detest Wickham for it.”

“If only you had let me duel with him-”

“Richard, although I believe your skill with the gun and sword to be infinitely superior to that of George Wickham, he is deceitful and cunning and I am sure that if he managed to get you into such a situation, you would be the one coming off the worse.” Richard thought this over and came to the conclusion that his younger cousin was right – Wickham was a scoundrel and there was no knowing what he would do to save himself.

“I hear that he's in Forster's regiment now.”

“Indeed. Stationed at Meryton.”

“Meryton? You mean-”

“I had the misfortune to be within ten miles of him, yes. And so did Miss Bennet.” Darcy knew that his cousin would more than likely be making up a history between Darcy and Elizabeth, and although he had no wish to encourage him, he could not stop himself. “He was a frequent guest at their home. The younger sisters were enraptured with him, and with all the other soldiers. The uniform, no doubt, if I am to believe Miss Bingley.” He had attempted to distract Richard from asking about Elizabeth with this comment, but the Colonel did not take the bait.

“And Miss Bennet? What does she think of dearest George?”

“I do not know what she thinks, but...” he relived the night of the Netherfield ball. He believed that she had not known, but he had followed her discreetly through the night from the moment of her arrival to their dance. After hearing that Wickham would not be present, he had observed that she was somewhat saddened by this piece of felicitous news and had suspected that her feelings might run deeper for his enemy than he had allowed in his darkest nightmares. And she had always had the opportunity to be in Wickham's company – he was convinced that they would have gone to the same parties and card games – and a deeply unsettling feeling rose in his stomach at the thought that she might have some sort of affection for his former friend.

But no, he reminded himself, she was far too clever to be deceived by Wickham's fawning and flattering and flirting. She had to be.

“Darcy? I know my conversation is not as riveting as that of Miss Bennet's, but I would think that twenty eight years of family ties would have merited a bit of tolerance for my blatherings.”

“On the contrary, it has only reduced it to a shred which, at present, is hanging precariously on a very sharp, very pointed edge.”

“Why, thank you. A great compliment.”

“I think it may just have split. What a pity!”

“I should think it would be! Apart from Georgie, I'm the only sane, amiable family member you have!”

“Yes, I knew you had your use. It just took me a long time to find it.” He spurred his horse on and galloped until Rosings came into sight again, a spectre of all that was gaudy and vulgar, when he slowed to a canter. Richard was right beside him.

“I think Aunt Catherine deems it essential that we dine with her tonight. And the next night, and the next, and the next...Darcy, you don't mind having a sudden stomach illness, do you? Then perhaps I could convince the old bag to let me take care of you.”

Darcy just shot him a withering look, “You had better think of more intelligent tactics against Bonaparte.”

“Fortunately, my dear cousin, that is none of my concern.”

“Mercifully. Now, shall we return to Rosings?”

“If we have to.”

They returned to Rosings with great reluctance and were dreading the upcoming meal with Lady Catherine and Anne until their aunt told them some very welcome news. “Fitzwilliam, Richard, I have asked Mr Collins and his guests to dine with us tonight. They are quite dreadful, I am sure! Did you know that all of Miss Bennet's sisters are out and the youngest has only just turned 16. Five! Five girls! And the estate entailed away – what a pity.”

“Mr Collins is to inherit, or so I gather.”

“Yes, as I have been reminded many times. One only worries about how to get as competent a minister as he!” The two cousins exchanged amused looks at Lady Catherine's distress for, although they had not heard Mr Collins preach, they already believed that it would be a most tedious event.

“And it seems that he has been fortunate in his choice of wife,” interjected the Colonel, impressed and surprised that that idiot had managed to make quite a prudent match.

“She is tolerable. But she vexes me greatly at times – I laboured over the decoration in that house and then she ruins it all with her vulgar additions.” Darcy just sighed and Richard was subdued, momentarily defeated.

“We were told that Collins wished to marry Miss Bennet.”

Lady Catherine gave a very ignoble snort at that comment, and the distaste at such a situation was clear to both her nephews. The Colonel merely ignored it for, although he liked what he had seen and heard of Miss Bennet so far, he knew that he would never consider her as suitable marriage material: she had no fortune, and the younger son of an Earl needed to marry well. Darcy, on the other hand, was set into turmoil once again because, unlike his cousin, his mind had been spent in meditation over having Elizabeth as his wife. He had understood that his family would not like it, but he had supposed that her lively character and her wit would go some way to mollify them. Then, when he saw his aunt's dislike of her, all these considerations were forgotten and one thought lingered in his mind – nobody would like her and, he realised, she probably would not like them with possibly the exception of Richard and Georgiana. What a mess he had gotten himself into! For a brief second he actually hated Elizabeth, hated what she had made him feel and what it signalled for himself. He did not wish to admit it, but she had changed him and there were times when he really did not know whether it was for good or bad.

Lady Catherine and her daughter left them soon after to dress for dinner and Darcy suspected that she was already beginning to regret the loss of an evening spent solely with her nephews. Her nephews were not quite in agreement with her, of course.

“Anne has improved, don't you think?”

“Richard, Anne's fortune has improved. Anything else...I fear not.”

“You do not like her then? She is not as bad as our dear Aunt!”

“But I also wouldn't wish to spend an evening in her company.” Darcy walked over to the decanter that Lady Catherine always kept nearby, and refreshed his mind and body with a sharp drink.

“Darcy that is positively horrendous! She is your cousin.”

“And Lady Catherine my Aunt, but I do not rush to be in the same area as her. Neither, I believe, do you.” He stared at his cousin, mulling something over. “Richard are you...do you like Anne?”

“Of course I like her! She is very entertaining.” Darcy looked at him askance. “Alright, maybe she is not very talkative – but I am convinced that that is only because her mother always smothers her. Fine! She is no Miss Bennet, but not everybody can be like her!”

“Do you like Miss Bennet?” He asked his cousin quietly, knowing but yet dreading his answer.

“Yes. Do you?”

“Rich-”

“I am no fool, Darcy. I know that you are,” he sighed, “infatuated with her. But she is no one. She may be beautiful and desirable and damned well dangerous, but we have encountered many women like that and you have not succumbed to their charms. Why is it different with this one?”

“You have seen her, Richard. You know that she is exceptional. She is extremely clever and brilliant and witty. I wish you could have seen her against Miss Bingley – I have never met any woman to equal her.”

Richard sighed, sensing that this attachment was stronger than he had ever thought it to be, and could only hope that Miss Bennet felt the opposite to his cousin in order to prevent Darcy from a most improper marriage. Then an idea came to him. “You have told me of how you managed to save your friend Charles Bingley from a disastrous union – a woman who was, so I was informed, in town recently. A woman he met while at Netherfield.” He rose and sauntered towards the window. “I know that you doubt my intelligence, but I am not such a fool that I cannot recognise that this woman and Miss Bennet's sister are one and the same.”

“You surprise me.”

“You saw the objections to her sister, why can you not see them for her?” Darcy did not reply, his cousin's words only reinforcing what he already thought himself. “Darcy, I say this because I am your cousin and your friend. You must conquer this, you must!” He turned to look directly at his cousin. “Because I will not see you ruined.”

Chapter Three

Posted on Tuesday, 8 August 2006

The hour was fast approaching for the Hunsford party to join Lady Catherine and her family at Rosings, and mixed were the feelings of the inhabitants of that house. Lady Catherine was extremely vexed at having to share her nephews, Colonel Fitzwilliam was torn between anticipation and dread at seeing Miss Bennet again, while his cousin was feeling quite the same. Darcy had long since decided that if he was determined to pursue Elizabeth, he would take her as his wife and nothing else. The idea of having her as his mistress had entered his head at the beginning of their acquaintance but now he saw the impossibility of that particular situation. And anyway, he would not debase her in that way.

“I must warn you, Miss Bennet is a woman of very decided opinions; a stubborn, obstinate female! And I dare say she would not be past trying to tempt the both of you into a liaison that would be most improper.”

The Colonel merely nodded, but he was vaguely worried that his and his aunt's opinions had been the same as this was nearly never the case. Then he shrugged that thought away. No matter how much he may like Miss Bennet, he would still not let her involve herself with Darcy.

Darcy responded very differently than his cousin, having heard enough criticisms of Elizabeth in the past few hours as he was able to bear. “Aunt, I would prefer it if you did not speak of Miss Bennet in that most disrespectful way, for she has shown herself to be much better in her conduct towards me than you have in forcing Anne on me as my bride. A circumstance which, as I have told both of you, will never happen: so deter your mind from that path at once.” It was never to be known how Lady Catherine would have answered her nephew, for the Hunsford party were announced a moment after Darcy's speech.

“Sit down Mr Collins! It is not very pleasant for me to see you hovering about like that.” Darcy's eyebrows lifted in amusement as Collins crept to the nearest seat beside Lady Catherine. “No, you fool! Do not sit there – Fitzwilliam, Richard, beside me!” Darcy reluctantly did as he was ordered but regretted it a moment later when his cousin, who had ignored his aunt completely, led Miss Bennet over to a nearby seat and sat close to her. He remembered Richard's words from earlier – maybe he was trying to monopolize Elizabeth so that he, Darcy, would not be able to go near her.

That certainly seemed to be the Colonel's plot for he sat beside her during dinner and afterwards, always engaged in what appeared to be the most riveting and entertaining conversation in the house. Meanwhile, Darcy was obliged to listen to his Aunt's ramblings and Collins' flattery. He happened to glance over to the other sofa, where Mrs Collins and her sister were. The latter appeared utterly mortified by the situation and, Darcy believed, hadn't said a word since she had entered the house. Mrs Collins, on the other hand, was valiantly attempting to appear interested in the scandalous price of cushions (which was his Aunt's choice of topic at that stage), but he caught her stifling a slight yawn.

He excused himself to his Aunt and moved over to sit beside Collins' wife and began, with great difficulty, to talk to her. Darcy had never been a forthcoming child and his parents had not encouraged him to grow out of his taciturn disposition, so he had become a young man who was possessed with a quiet nature in public. The attention that had been paid to him when he had come of age had only caused him to be more introverted, since he found that it was a most effective way to deal with matchmaking mamas.

“And how do you like Hunsford? Is it to your taste?”

“It is very...elegant. Lady Catherine did much to the house before my wedding. For that I am indebted to her.”

“But I am convinced that you could have managed without my aunt's help.”

“It is possible.” Just then laughter erupted from the piano where Elizabeth and Richard were seated, and Darcy's gaze was immediately drawn there. He had never made Elizabeth laugh, and yet Richard had managed it so easily. If he had not known his cousin's feelings regarding Elizabeth then Darcy would have been extremely jealous. Although the emotion rattling through him at that instant was terrifyingly close to envy, but he would not allow it. He would not.

“She is a dear friend, Mr Darcy. I am sure that neither of us would want to see her hurt.”

“Pardon?”

“Your cousin spends too much time with her when he has no intention of marrying her. Perhaps you would do well to warn him.” Darcy almost laughed mirthlessly, but he held back that impulse and let a suspicion enter his mind about Richard's plans for Elizabeth. If not marriage or spite, which Darcy was perfectly convinced was the case, then what other notion could have possessed him to befriend her?

“I shall think of that.”

It was a little while until Mrs Collins spoke again, glancing at her friend at the piano. “She often takes a walk around the park in the morning.” Darcy looked quickly round at Mrs Collins, wondering at her audacity yet thanking it as well, but she had already moved to sit beside her husband. She threw him a small smile, and then devoted all her attention to a very interesting and enlightening conversation about curtains.

“What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.” Lady Catherine called out a few minutes later, when the laughter at the piano was, to Darcy's mind, reaching a scandalous level. He was grateful to his Aunt, possibly for the first time in his life, for he had been pondering the same thing for the majority of the night. Richard reluctantly replied and said, with no great sincerity, that they were talking of music. It was then that Lady Catherine condescended to allow Elizabeth to practice in Mrs Jenkinson's room which was, as she so clearly pointed out, in nobody's way. A warning, so Darcy thought, to the lady to not expect anything from her nephews. He was ashamed.

Under duress from Richard, Elizabeth began to play. She was not a master of the instrument, but Darcy found that whenever her fingers so delicately touched the ivory keys, she wove a spell into the music that captured him completely. He was watching her continuously, ignoring his Aunt as much as he could, and making sure that Richard was not taking any liberties with her. It was then, when his cousin leaned in too close for Darcy's peace of mind, that he rose and strode towards her without taking his gaze away from her face. She was enchanting.

She asked him why he was there, she presumed that he came just to intimidate her into making a mistake, and he did not see why he should tell her what his true reason had been for venturing over. Richard was already firing angry glances at him, but he could not be drawn away from her.

“Were you relieved, Mr Darcy, to discover that I was not Mrs Collins?”

How to answer that? If he replied with a negative then he would offend her, and if he should say yes then he would give a hint of those feelings which he has been struggling to repress for so long. “I should suppose that the rightful Mrs Collins is more inclined to live peacefully with her husband.”

She laughed then, but it was not the laugh that attracted him – it was her eyes. They were now glittering with what he assumed was mischief, and were no less magnificent than when he had fled Netherfield. “I dare say that you speak the truth, Mr Darcy. I am convinced that Mr Collins and I should not have led a quiet life with each other. We would both have been dissatisfied.”

“Would you not have been comfortable and happy living in Hunsford, Miss Bennet?” Richard asked, looking cautiously at his cousin out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh no! It would have pleased my mama, but not me. I am a singular creature in these times, I believe. I wish to marry for love, not money. Nothing in this world could tempt me to accept a man who did not love me, or whom I did not love in return. It would be a cruel trick, I am sure.” Darcy stifled a grin, raised his eyebrows and looked at his cousin while Elizabeth was concentrating on her playing. Richard, however, did not look defeated.

“You share the same sentiment as Darcy, I see.”

“Do I?” She glanced up at him and her playing slowed slightly, “I thought that you were betrothed to Miss de Bourgh.”

“Darcy and Anne? I know Aunt Catherine wants it, have you changed your mind Darcy?”

“Cousin, a foolish question. Miss Bennet, where did you get that notion from?”

“I believe your Aunt may have mentioned it in passing.” Darcy did not doubt that, but he did doubt Elizabeth's honesty in this case. She was not at ease, he could see that something troubled her, but he knew that it would not be proper to ask, no matter how much he desired to. She finished the piece and turned to Richard to ask him what she would play next. He instructed her, and then she was left in peace to play when Lady Catherine ordered her nephews to sit by her. Miss Bennet, as she said, was in need of practice not gentlemen lingering about her. As Darcy turned to go, he caught a glimpse of Elizabeth's face again and there was a very evident angry blush. Well, he said to himself, it was merited.

That night he discovered that Elizabeth's presence had not caused the dreams to disappear as he had hoped. He was still haunted by her eyes, her laugh, her wit. Upon waking, he realized he was in the same frustrated and despairing state once again. His valet, used to this attitude from his master, did as a good servant should do, and asked nothing.

Richard informed him at breakfast that he was to journey into the village to see the blacksmith about his horse. He received a curious glance from Darcy, but no further questioning occurred. For this Richard was thankful, but had he known what the true cause of this acceptance had been then he would not have set off, in his best coat, with so easy and calm a mind.

Darcy, who had still been feeling the after effects of his dreams, discovered that he could ride over to Hunsford, pay his respects to the inhabitants, and see Elizabeth without any curiosity being roused on the part of his cousin. He told his Aunt that he was going to take a walk around Rosings and should not be expected back for a few hours. It was evident that she was not pleased by this information, and thus at the loss of both her nephews, but there was little she could do.

He was now in a rush to leave Rosings, but decided not to ride over lest his true intention be discovered. And so he undertook a very brisk walk during which he failed to see Elizabeth. Well, perhaps he had mistimed his departure.

Eventually he reached Hunsford and was astounded to find no noise round the building, no girlish laughter or pompous remarks. No, it was all very quiet. He was introduced and came into the parlour expecting to find three females and one toad, but only seeing one female engaged in writing a letter at a little desk. In all his plans and imaginings, this possibility had not occurred. He was unable to just leave, he understood that, yet he did not know whether he could refrain from losing control and thus say something which would surely lead to his ruin.

“Mr Darcy.” She curtsied, albeit with reluctance. He bowed in return.

“Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I had expected all the ladies to be here.”

“No, they have gone into the village.”

“Oh.”

“Please sit, Mr Darcy.”

“I will leave now if I have interrupted you.”

“No, I was merely writing a letter to my sister Jane.”

“Miss Bennet,” he began, “I am sorry for the thoughtless comment I made when I was here last.”

A smile played around her lips and it threatened to break out when she answered him, “And which thoughtless comment would that be, Mr Darcy? My marriage?”

“No, although I must apologize for that as well. I should have trusted your judgment.”

“Indeed.”

“No, rather, I wish to apologize for what I said concerning the circles your sister and Mr Bingley would have moved in while in London.” He saw her features harden and was at once sorry that he had brought up the subject.

“I have told you before. You spoke the truth.” Her voice was ice. After a few moments she rallied and asked him if Mr Bingley had been surprised to see all of them again so soon after his departure, and if everyone was in health. The former question, he suspected, was barbed.

“Perfectly so—I thank you.” He spoke no more, for fear of betraying himself.

“I think I have understood that Mr Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?” He replied that that was more than likely the case and saw a frown appear on her face. She soon told him that the place should be given up if his friend had no intention of returning, and heard with complacency that he was sure that that would happen if there was an eligible offer. He, mercifully, did not tell her that the idea of him purchasing Netherfield had been plaguing him since the ball there. There was no need after all. More inquiries were made regarding the house, Mrs Collins and the countryside in Kent. He discovered that she, contrary to him, found the distance from Hunsford to Lucas Lodge a long one. However, there was a delightful comment which inspired hope in him. She told him, with perfect frankness, that distance would not matter if there was the money to pay for the travel. Had this...did this mean that she had considered him? Pemberley was certainly far from Longbourn, and the expenses would not be much to him. It was then, when the conversation was turning in a favourable direction for Darcy, that they were interrupted and Mrs Collins and her sister entered the room. He made his apologies, he must leave.

And when Richard found him, hours later, in the library at Rosings, Darcy was able to reply – quite innocently – that he had had a most interesting morning, and to ask him if his business with the blacksmith had been successful.

Chapter Four - Part I

Posted on Saturday, 12 August 2006

It was on the fourth morning of his stay at Rosings when Darcy recalled what Mrs Collins had told him on the first night. Elizabeth went walking in the morning, around the park...well it would be quite a coincidence if he was to engage in a similar pursuit and accidentally meet her along the path. This thought encouraged him greatly and he found himself quite up to facing his Aunt at breakfast, only hours after he had argued with her about Anne, and her suitability as his wife.

“You will marry her! It was ordained when the both of you were in your cradles, the dearest wish of you poor mama.”

“I am well aware, Aunt, but I find myself unable to marry for anything other than the deepest and purest love. I need not tell you that I do not feel that way about Anne.” He shot a look at his female cousin, as if in apology – for she could not be blamed for having a mother as detestable as Lady Catherine any more than Elizabeth could be censured for being the daughter of the vulgar Mrs Bennet.

“You will outgrow this nonsense.” And that was the final comment, for neither wished to talk more on a subject which would evidently produce disagreement.

“I am off for a walk now, just around Rosings. Expect me back soon.” As he left the room he saw Richard's look of skepticism and Lady Catherine's glowering countenance. It appeared that she did not approve of him leaving her presence once again. Ordinarily he would have been slightly concerned at offending his Aunt, but he was going to see Elizabeth and at that moment nothing else mattered.

He met her in a small alcove of trees, just off the path, where she was attending to her dress. He was a gentleman, and well aware of that fact, but it did take him a short time to focus his eyes somewhere other than on her delightful figure. Only when she seemed quite recovered did he make his presence known.

“Mr Darcy. How do you do?”

“I am quite well, Miss Bennet. And you? I hope that you are in health.” Of course she is, Fitzwilliam, why else would she be out of doors?

“I am in health, thank you sir.” She was inclined to leave without any other comment, and he took this as a touching sign of her breeding and propriety – for undoubtedly she had been taught to never be alone with a man, but in this case he knew that his intentions, however misguided at times, were honourable. He would have her as his wife, and he would be at last be content.

“May I escort you back to the parsonage? I fear that the weather is in danger of becoming rather inclement.”

“You are all politeness, sir.” She took his arm and they started towards their destination. “Do you and your cousin often visit Rosings?”

“We come whenever our Aunt calls us.”

“I thought so. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not seem to be rejoicing in his stay.”

“No, I believe he is particularly adverse to our trips here, but it is our duty.”

“So duty is important to you, then?” He thought it was a strange question, but no doubt she had her reasons for asking it.

“It is.” He dared to tell her something about his life before he had met her, about one of the most painful events in his memory, and he was certain that she would understand. “When my father died, I was thrust into the role of executor of his will. I am convinced that I did everything in my power to see that his wishes were carried out.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Knowing your fastidious nature as I do, Mr Darcy, I would say that there were no complaints regarding your behaviour at that time.”

“I would not know. No person came to me disgruntled.” He remembered Wickham's visit soon after the will had been read and realised that he had told her a falsehood, but since it concerned Wickham and it did work out in his favour, he saw no need to explain.

“No doubt they would not have dared to disagree with the Master of Pemberley.” Now he was confused, what did she mean? He was well aware of his reputation in town, but his staff and those dearest to him knew who he truly was. He thought that Elizabeth was one of those people as well. “I see we are back at my cousin's house. I bid you farewell, Mr Darcy.”

He returned to Rosings with his mind overturned, only to find his cousin awaiting him in his rooms.

“Did you enjoy your walk, Darcy?”

“Yes. May I ask you what has you here? Nothing of an urgent nature has happened, has it? Has something happened to Georgiana?”

“As far as I know, cousin, Georgiana is perfectly safe and well. Which is more than can be said for you.”

“I am in good health.”

“I am not talking of your health. I talk of Miss Bennet.” Darcy chucked his coat onto the bed, which would undoubtedly displease his valet, and turned once again to face Richard.

“What of Miss Bennet? Have you not seen that she is not looking for a man of fortune?”

“Oh, I am aware of that – her comments when she dined with us were enough. I like her.”

“This is a surprise indeed!” Darcy was aware that he was in a bad temper and since his cousin was the one most deserving of his anger and was nearest to him, it fell upon Richard to deal with it.

“I would spend more time with her, she is intelligent and witty. Beautiful too.”

“One would think that you were considering proposing marriage to her!”

“She is the sort of woman who would do for a mistress, nothing more.” He lunged at Richard as a consequence of that comment, which was so thoroughly undeserved, and only the Colonel's military training prevented him from suffering a rather nasty blow to the chin. “Can you see her in London? Can you? She would hate all the Dowagers, she would hate it all! I have only known her a few days, but I can see that she would be miserable with a man of consequence such as yourself. Have you not seen this? And you would be unhappy as well, and then not only would you have alienated your family – for who would want to connect themselves with the daughter of a spendthrift country gentleman? - but you would even regret your marriage. Think, Darcy, you would be shackled. There would be no return.”

Darcy removed his hands from Richard's collar and released him from his grasp. “Perhaps you are correct.”

“I am. And why did you persuade Bingley to remove himself permanently from Netherfield? You knew that he would live a life of misery and degradation if he married his Miss Bennet. Learn from your own words.”

“Fine. Fine. I will see her in Church and whenever she dines here. Nowhere else.”

“Good. I can only hope that you maintain that conviction.” And he went away, smug at the thought of his success, leaving his cousin to meditate on the loss of Miss Eliza Bennet's fine eyes.

Chapter Four – Part II

Posted on Tuesday, 15 August 2006

Darcy's resolve weakened drastically by the time the next morning came. Instead of devoting his time to some pressing matters of business as he had promised himself that he would, he lingered about the gardens of Rosings until he could not bear the thought of Elizabeth being just out of reach. There was a possibility that she was behind that hedge over there, that she was on the rocky path that led to the parsonage, or perhaps she sat on the seat which overlooked the surrounding area. He shook his head. If he knew Elizabeth she would be standing on the edge of a cliff rather than safely on a seat.

Without thinking, he clambered over the small fence in the darkest corner of the garden, nearly destroying his coat in the process and almost strangling himself with his neck tie when, somehow, it locked in with a branch. A rather thorny, disagreeable branch, he thought after, which had left a score on the side of his face. He raised his hand to the cut to see whether it was bleeding badly, which it was not, but it was damned annoying, so much so that he was forced to ruin his handkerchief in an attempt to stop it stinging. That resulted in it only being more painful. Perhaps it was time that he gave up. Chasing Elizabeth Bennet was becoming a dangerous business.

He was just thinking that he should return to Rosings at once, when he caught sight of a female figure wandering through the grassy meadows. Although it was far away, he was able to recognize the outline of Miss Elizabeth Bennet almost immediately and started to curse the wretched weed that had given him such a dreadful mark on his face. And he was quite convinced that, had he seen the state of his attire, his valet would not have been very much amused.

The handkerchief was almost stuffed into a pocket somewhere when she realised that there was someone in front of her. In an attempt to check any feeling of impropriety that she might be undergoing, he walked, as calmly as he was able to, over towards her and greeted her.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet.”

“Good morning, Mr Darcy. I did not know that you had such a fondness for walking.”

“Well, it is a shame to remain inside when there is so much beauty out here, as there is this fair morning.”

“I quite agree with you.” She seemed surprised and Darcy frowned. Unfortunately this action caused the cut to sting even more and when he stretched his face out, it was free to bleed profusely.

“Damnation!” He muttered, hoping that she had not heard him, but well aware that she had.

“Are you well, Mr Darcy?”

“Quite well. I thank you.” Maybe if he ignored the pain it would go away...

“You are bleeding, sir!”

“Yes. I cut myself on a branch.” He regretted telling her this, for it caused her to laugh and for him to redden.

“On a branch? Mr Darcy, how did you manage that?”

“With uncanny ease, Miss Bennet.”

“You will need to stop the bleeding before it reaches your clothes or else it will stain horribly.” He was touched by her concern. “Or so my mama says.”

“So you too have a habit of letting branches strike you?”

“When I was younger, yes. But I was a girl then and not a man of...”

“Eight and twenty.”

“Eight and twenty? I am surprised. You seem so much older.”

“Indeed? Fascinating as that is, I must insist on stopping this talk until I am able to tend to this wound.”

She laughed once again. “You will not die, Mr Darcy! 'Tis merely a trifling scratch.” He did not reply, but reached for his handkerchief. He dug deep into his pockets, but every time he discovered that it was not hiding there. Oh, this situation was marvellous. “Mr Darcy?”

“I appear to have misplaced my handkerchief.”

“Oh dear,” he could have sworn that she was relishing the entire situation, and it irked him. His pain should not be amusing, and certainly not to a daughter of a country man. The notion was positively ridiculous. “I see I shall be forced to help you, sir. That is,” she raised her eyebrows, “if you do not mind being attended to by the poor daughter of a poor gentleman.”

“No. Carry on.”

“How generous of you! You seem much more ready for me to help you now, than you were to dance with me when you were staying at Netherfield. But then, I suppose it reflects my station in life.”

“I believe, Miss Bennet, that I offered to dance with you twice. And that you rejected one of those proposals.”

“But you rejected me first. You were not in the mood to humour girls who had been slighted by other men, I recall.” She glanced at his face, and must have seen the surprise written on it, for she explained, “Perhaps you should not speak so loudly. If I were not the person in question, then you might have caused some very real and serious offence.”

“And I have not offended you?”

“Oh no. I am far too old to take such things into consideration. I realise that you probably missed your London misses. We country girls cannot hope to compare favourably with them. A fact which you, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst impressed upon me quite heavily during your visit.”

“I did not mean to give you that impression.”

“You do not apologise though?”

“I was not in the mood to dance with young women who may or may not have been slighted.” She did not say anything else, and he hoped that he had communicated what he had meant to: that he had not rejected her, but that he just hadn't wanted to be there and had seen that a bad attitude would be the quickest way out of the detestable place.

“Put this on your cut.” She handed him her own handkerchief, embroidered with her initials E.B. at the corner. Well, he would try and change that.

“I could not.”

“I have more. I would not want your Aunt to blame me for her nephew catching gangrene and thus being unable to marry her daughter.”

“You speak quite out of turn.”

“So I have been told.”

He pressed the material to the wound and caught a whiff of the fragrance that lingered around Elizabeth. It was something floral, of that he was sure, but he was unable to discern which flower in particular. He could always ask one of the gardeners at Pemberley, for the ones at Rosings were far more used to tending to vulgar, showy things than the natural, English flowers whose scent accompanied young women.

They wandered around the park for a little while until Elizabeth was torn away by the need to listen to Collins' sermon for the morrow. He gleamed the information that she did not look forward to that event with pleasure, and he was convinced that if he had been made to attend to Collins' sycophantic words twice in such a short time then he might have had to be sent to bedlam.

“I shall see you tomorrow in Church then, Miss Bennet.”

“Undoubtedly. Goodbye!” She was already away by the time she had spoken that last word, and the rising wind prevented his reply being heard. Once more filled with hope, he strolled up to Rosings (taking care to mind that he went through the small gate and not over the fence) and let his mind wander to Elizabeth and how shocked his Aunt would be when he announced their engagement. A pleasant event then.

When he entered the hall he was greeted, not by his Aunt or Richard, but by Anne, whose pale frame was shaken with coughs.

“Anne? Do you want a glass of something?” She shook her head, and Darcy waited until the fit of coughing had stopped before speaking again. “Please, come and sit down somewhere.”

“No. My mother would only fuss more than is necessary.”

“Where is Mrs Jenkinson?”

“She has taken to her bed with a cold.”

“Then let me take you to the library, or somewhere where there is a fire. You must warm yourself up!”

“Please, Fitzwilliam, do not talk to me as if I was a child. I am quite capable of looking after myself without anyone's interference.” There was a steely tone in her weak voice that was eerie and almost ghost like (if Darcy had believed in such things), which made him shiver slightly. Her gaze narrowed. “Why do you carry a woman's handkerchief?”

“Well-”

“E.B. Who is that? Could it...Is it Miss Bennet's?”

“Yes. I cut myself and she offered it to me.”

“I like her. She is very different from most people I have ever met: she does not care for my mother's opinion, I believe, which is quite refreshing.”

Darcy was taken aback, having expected this cousin to be as against the match as the other one was. “Yes. It is.”

“Will you marry her?” Darcy frowned at this question, for all she had known of his attachment to Elizabeth was of the handkerchief. Then he realised that, although she may be a woman of six and twenty, she had, in her mind and soul, a naivety which was almost childlike.

“I do not know.”

“You should. I am sure she would make you very happy.”

“Yes, I am sure that she would.”

He should change his confidante, was the thought running through his head when Anne left, for his female cousin was, strangely, much more understanding and supportive; and in this time of uncertainty, those were things were very much needed.

Chapter Five

Posted on Saturday, 19 August 2006

Darcy found himself to be quite the rejuvenated man following Anne's advice. He not only felt much happier than he had before, but her quiet confidence in his ability to have Elizabeth as his wife generated much hope in his mind. He would have her. And she would have him.

The daily walks continued, the tedious Church services were brightened somewhat by the knowledge that she was near him, and he was able to face Richard, who he had always respected as his elder, with a calm and collected spirit. As the time spent with Elizabeth increased, so too did the time Darcy devoted to his younger cousin, who he soon discovered enjoyed a passion for drawing – one at which Lady Catherine herself had never been particularly apt, and therefore an activity which she did not consider important.

“You are very talented.” He commented one day when they were alone in the library, Mrs Jenkinson still ill and resting in bed. Anne was stationed on a chair by the window, with a shawl pulled up over her shoulders to protect her from the wintry draft and the fire was lit and now blazing.

“Do you think so? I myself cannot find any special quality in it that makes it different from the work of other girls. Miss Harding and Miss O'Reilly are far more accomplished than me.”

“You don't do yourself enough credit.”

“Your liking for these mediocre attempts is quite a compliment, for you are used to seeing Georgiana's fine works. I understand that she is very good.” Darcy nodded, acknowledging with pride his sister's artistic gift. He was, however, unwilling to let Anne think that her talent was merely average.

“She is, I admit, fortunate in that way, but she favours music.”

“I do so detest that! Mother makes me play, or she used to before the doctor advised her that it did not do my health any good.”

“And which physician was this?” Darcy was just beginning to realize that this seemingly innocent cousin had a wicked streak in her. He liked it very much.

“Mr Knox. When Mr Watkins was ill.”

“Oh. I see. Very clever, cousin.”

“How so?”

“Where is this Mr Knox residing now?”

“Somewhere in Devon, I believe. He left soon after that particular bit of joyous advice.” A smile played across his features and he'd be damned if there wasn't a similar one on the face of his cousin.

“Darcy! Darcy!” Richard's voice thundered from the hall. Anne looked curiously at her cousin but did not question him, for which Darcy was glad as he, quite frankly, didn't have a clue what could be the matter with Richard now.

“In the library, Richard.” He called back.

“What the devil-” He cut himself off abruptly when he noticed Anne staring at him. “Anne, should you not be upstairs with Mrs...whatever her name is?”

“She is unwell. Fitzwilliam was kind enough to offer to keep me company.”

“How very generous of him,” glared Richard. Darcy frowned, for there was nothing improper in his conduct to either Anne. It was all exceedingly puzzling. “And he is fond of doing that with other ladies, I find.”

“What other ladies? Do you mean Miss Bennet?”

Richard spluttered, “What? How do you-?”

“I am not a fool, cousin. And I happen to think that they would do well together – she is so very pretty and amusing. I should prefer her as a cousin than any other woman I have ever heard connected with the both of you.” She slowly got up and wobbled slightly, having to grab onto the table to steady herself. “Now, I feel I must go. But if I hear one word, one complaint about this situation then I shall be most displeased.” Both men were forced to laugh as that last part had come out in a rather splendid imitation of Lady Catherine's harsh voice.

Richard had the decency to wait until Anne was safely out of the room to argue with his other cousin. Flinging a piece of cloth at Darcy's feet he exclaimed, “Explain!”

“I do not know what you-”

“E.B.”

“Have you received a token of affection from some woman, Richard? I had nothing to do with its being sent, you know.”

“Do not trifle with me. How did you get Miss Elizabeth Bennet's handkerchief? Have you been imposing on her?”

“No. But I am starting to think that you are considering it.”

“How did this come into your possession then?”

“I cut my cheek. She saw what predicament I was in and aided me. That is all.” He sighed and strode over to Richard, laying his hands on the other man's shoulder. “I know that you imagine clandestine meetings and everything that hurt Georgiana, but I am not a child of fifteen.”

Richard's shoulders slumped and Darcy released him, leaving him free to sink into a nearby chair. “I just do not want another person I care about to get hurt. What happened with Georgiana...it almost killed me. I cannot cope.” He laughed bitterly to himself. “I have seen men murdered on the battle field, women abandoned, children maimed, but that does not affect me as much as the thought that one of my family could suffer a heartache. Some soldier.”

“You are a fine soldier. Despite what I have said before.”

Richard chuckled, “True. I'd like to see you charging towards the enemy. Or rather, I'd like to see your valet's reaction afterwards.” He turned serious yet again, “She will be the death of you. I hope you understand that.”

“No she will not. I cannot imagine her causing me any pain.”

They remained in silence for a long time, the only noise that broke the serenity was the screeching of their Aunt who had discovered, to her utmost shock, that Anne had taken leave of her senses and ventured downstairs.

“Ah, dear Aunt Cathy. I should so love to call her that.” The din increased and Richard winced, “Perhaps near to my death though. Well, well, how about a lovely game of chess?”

And so both cousins, reconciled for the time being, settled down to a cozy afternoon made up of brandy, chess and tales of indiscretions committed during their youth in London.

The brandy proved itself to be ill-advised when, the following morning, Richard and Darcy both awoke with sore heads and hazy minds. They sat at the breakfast table, their suffering worsened by Lady Catherine's continuous remarks on how lax Mrs Collins was becoming and how Miss Bennet should be consigned to a life of spinsterhood as a punishment for her impertinence. Just what had caused this reaction was unknown to both nephews, but Anne understood that her mother blamed Miss Bennet's outgoing nature on her own attempt to follow something of a normal, healthy life to previous day. If that was so, then Anne rejoiced.

“Richard, Fitzwilliam, will you accompany me for a little stroll this morning. Just to inspect the flowers, they are so pretty.”

“Anne, you will not go.”

“Mother, perhaps it would be bene-”

“No it would not. You will catch cold.”

“Mo-”

“Perhaps she should come with us. I, for one, would be most pleased to have her company.” Darcy hoped that this game he was playing would deceive his Aunt completely. He could tell already that she was softening to the idea, there was a possibility that she was envisaging an even sooner marriage between her daughter and her favourite nephew than she had hoped. “I will make sure that she does not exert herself too much, and she will wear her shawl.”

Lady Catherine mulled this over, and eventually spoke when she had quite finished her meal. “Very well. But you must accompany her at all times.”

“She will not be alone.” Darcy wished that he sounded more sincere than he felt. All he needed was Richard's co-operation to be able to see Miss Bennet the day before he was meant to leave. His departure would herald a loss, a sad one, but he was sure that he would see her again very soon, and as something infinitely more dear than she was now.

A half hour later the three of them were traipsing over the pristine, elegant lawns at Rosings, with Richard and Darcy always making sure that Anne did not get tired. “I am quite well, I assure you.” She said, although her face had turned paler than usual and she was obliged to accept Richard's arm when she was led over to a little bench overlooking the roses. He sat down alongside her.

“Quite a mess Darcy's got himself in.” He commented, staring at him and seeing the internal conflict; to stay and do his duty with his cousins, or follow his heart and seek out Elizabeth Bennet. If the situation was not so dire, it would be quite hilarious and Richard was sure that if it was happening to anyone other than Darcy, he would have been ridiculing him at the London clubs.

“Do you think so?”

“I do.”

“But he loves her.”

“But does she love him? I would not have my cousin, either of you, trapped in a loveless marriage where pleasure would have to be sought elsewhere.” He coloured and apologised for his words. Anne did not pay any attention. “Just because a man loves a woman it doesn't mean that she loves him, or the other way round. Believe me, please.”

“But surely he should try at happiness?” Richard did not reply, and when he spoke it was not to her.

“Darcy! Go and follow her.” Darcy looked back in surprise. Could he have heard Richard right? Had he actually encouraged him to spend time in Elizabeth's company? “Do you mean to drive me demented by standing there like a simpleton? Go!”

Darcy didn't need to be told twice and, after bidding his cousins goodbye for the moment, he set off to the place where he knew Elizabeth would be at this time of the morning. It was a little grove, secluded and even more peaceful than the grounds of Rosings (possibly due to Lady Catherine's lack of interest in it) and he knew that she sat there for a little while, presumably to stave off the boredom that must ensue while staying with Collins. He felt a stab of disappointment at the thought that he would be connecting himself with such vulgar people as Collins, Mrs Bennet and the younger Bennet girls whose behaviour at the Netherfield Ball had been all that was improper, atrocious and highly embarrassing.

“Mr Darcy?”

“Miss Bennet. I felt I must take this walk again today – it is my last day here. I go back to town tomorrow.”

“And will your cousin go with you?” They began to walk together.

“Yes, he has some business to attend to in London.” Their conversation fell into a lull then, and Darcy was just about to begin talking of some inconsequential subject when Elizabeth made another comment. As always, he was happy, more than happy, to oblige her and turned into a patient listener once more.

“I do not know if I would like London.”

“It has not so many open spaces as the country, that is certain.” It does not have as many open spaces? Darcy, you fool! “But you may enjoy the theatre, and most women seem to find that Almack's holds a decided appeal.” She was unwilling to answer and so he made the effort to continue the discussion, wondering if she knew how hard that would be in any other situation, but how perfectly able and at ease he was with her. “Do you prefer Hunsford or your own home? I must confess, I was shocked at your initial appearance here.”

“Indeed. You presumed me to be the new Mrs Collins.”

“Well yes...It was a surprise.” He paused, “What do you think of the happiness that Mr Collins and his wife share?”

“Happiness, sir? You talk of marriage, I suppose. Charlotte is perfectly content with her station in life, being the wife of a man as odious as Mr Collins, but I do not think that I would be. As I have said before, I would not marry for money.”

“An admirable notion!” He exclaimed, and the tone of his voice seemed to astound her.

“Really, Mr Darcy? I confess, most people feel that I am either far too romantic or else that I lie when I say that.”

“Not I!” They had reached a little wall and he offered her his hand to help her over, but she had no need for it and even, dare he say it, looked unimpressed – even offended – as if she believed that he considered her a helpless female.

“I am a country girl, Mr Darcy. I have been climbing walls and hills, not doting over the latest fashions from the Continent.”

“You like walking alone?”

“I do.”

“It is a rather...”

“Singular pursuit. My mother finds it very strange.”

“And what of Rosings? Does it enable you to venture around as much as you would like?”

“Yes. Mostly.”

“And your opinion of the house?”

“I am merely a guest at the parsonage, Mr Darcy. I have seen nothing more than the dining room and the lounge.”

“But next time you will,” he began eagerly, keen to let her know at least some of the sentiment which resided in his heart. She did not reply, but he took this for maidenly shyness and did not give much consequence to it. The thought that he would return to his Aunt's house the following year with his lovely bride in tow remained with him until they parted ways. A friendly farewell was exchanged on his side, hers was less frank, but again he presumed that she was merely observing the proprieties. Soon, very soon, they would be betrothed, and shortly after that (for he could not think of having a long engagement with her, his nerves would not support it of that he was convinced) they would reside at his own home - their own home – and Pemberley would have a mistress once again.

Chapter Six, Part I

Posted on Thursday, 5 October 2006

Darcy returned to Rosings in much better spirits than ever before, for he was sure, utterly and completely convinced, that Elizabeth would consent to be his wife. She may be a tad reserved when she was solely in his company, but he presumed that this was just due to her modesty and thus another quality was added to the already long list in Darcy's mind.

It was true, when he had first met her he had not thought her exceedingly beautiful – her elder sister was by far the superior in looks, but over time he had come to realise that she was by far the handsomest woman of his acquaintance. That this was due to her own vivacious nature, her sparkling wit and her lack of the cattiness which seemed to be instilled in London society girls, he was well aware, and he could only pride himself on choosing a companion based on something deeper and more profound than her appearance, because her character would outlast every shred of beauty which her elder sister possessed.

“Fitzwilliam! Did you find your companion in good spirits?” Anne was waiting as near to the entrance as she could without incurring the displeasure of her mother.

“Yes, I am everyday more assured that she truly cares for me.”

“I am glad for you then. Just think, soon I will have another cousin and I do so look forward to getting to know her. And if my mother should take a notion to detest her – which she surely will as I believe she still has misguided hopes of me marrying you – then I will be forced to accept your help out of this place.”

“Anne, I did not know that you were possessed of such a fiery spirit,” he teased as he offered her his arm to escort her into the drawing room. His younger cousin merely cast a distasteful look at him and accepted his support.

“Do hush! I do not think that mother would like to be informed of my supposed 'fiery spirit'. I am sure I would be confined even more than I am now.”

“Ah, nephew, it is you then!” called Lady Catherine in her usual imperious tone.

“Yes, Aunt.”

“Is all your business attended to?” Darcy glanced at Anne who nodded at him and he silently thanked her for having the presence of mind to explain his absence. “Only you were gone a tedious amount of time and now my other nephew has vanished as well. You quite put me out!”

“I am sorry, but this business was extremely important and I could not put it off another day.” His aunt reluctantly accepted this excuse, but he had to endure a lecture about the importance of keeping family ties, during which Lady Catherine's eyes were drawn from her daughter to her nephew. Eventually she realised that Darcy was not attending to her as he surely should. “Where is my other nephew? Have all of you deserted me?”

“He is out for a walk,” Anne commented, “As he does every year.”

“Well, one would have expected him to inform me of his absence, for it is all intolerably disconcerting. In fact, if his father were here now I have no doubt that he would reprimand his son for the lack of respect he shows me!” Lady Catherine continued in this vein for a considerable period of time and Darcy was obliged to listen patiently to her tirades while Anne removed herself to her chambers, pleading illness. A convenient excuse.

It was some time before Darcy was able to escape from his Aunt's clutches, during which he had been obliged to listen to her preaching about the choice of Anne as his wife, the unworthiness of Mrs Collins (who was, so Lady Catherine stated, an upstart) and the impropriety shown by Miss Elizabeth Bennet during her visits to Rosings.

“Aunt, I feel that I have to defend Miss Bennet – since she is not here to do it for herself.”

“Oh indeed!” Lady Catherine exclaimed, “And what, pray tell, has Miss Bennet done to merit your favour? Then I suppose I need not ask, for girls of her disposition are all the same. It is very disobliging to have her company forced upon me. And to think of the things she may teach Anne – it is not worth my worry for my daughter is a good girl. And she will make an excellent wife as well.” A beady eye was cast on him and Darcy met it with the same indifference which he had shown throughout his sojourn at Netherfield.

“I dare say she will.”

“And is that all you have to say on the matter?” Lady Catherine asked, although she did sound excessively pleased by his remark. Darcy's mind was not on matrimony – or at least not in tying himself to his cousin – and chose to ignore the insinuation.

“What is that dreadful racket?” Lady Catherine bellowed some minutes later. Darcy rose from his chair to the window from which he had a very good view of Richard and Anne attempting to feed his horse. “Fitzwilliam, whatever is the matter? I will have Frost's neck for this!”

“I do not think we need involve the gardener, ma'am. Richard's horse is just proving to be rather difficult at this moment.” He coughed in an attempt to cover up a bout of laughter which came from his cousins.

“I do hope that you are not developing a cold, nephew! It is quite disconcerting to discover that a person has caught a cold in your own house.”

“I will try not to.”

“Good.” She paused and settled herself more comfortably on the sofa, smoothing out her skirts at the same time. “I am glad that you and Anne are getting on well together.” Darcy expected something more, some unsubtle comment about his marriage to Anne, but nothing came. “I must prepare for the dinner tonight. Mr Collins and his party have imposed upon me once again. How tiring!” He had been of the opinion that Lady Catherine invited her parson to dine so frequently because he was a sycophantic toad. His Aunt's reluctance did nothing to dispel this.

She exited the room and was followed by a crowd of servants who all rushed to make sure that their mistress' dress was not creased or ruined by the trek up the stairs. Darcy was left in peace.

“Oh Darcy, you're back!”

“I could say the same for you cousin. How was your walk?”

“Eventful.” Richard declared, throwing his boots off at the threshold and leading Anne in by the hand. Darcy noticed this and suppressed a grin. Perhaps Anne would be marrying sometime soon after all.

“The two of you had a narrow escape. I was obliged to have a coughing fit when your enjoyment began to overflow.” At least they had the sense to be ashamed.

“But Fitzwilliam, Richard has been showing me how to tend to his horse. It was very exciting. Mother never lets me do anything like that.”

“And for good reason too,” he remarked, looking disapprovingly at her sickly face. “Richard you should not have let her exert herself so much.”

“He could not stop me!” Anne replied. “He was just letting me be a normal female for once.”

“Hmm...debatable Anne. Lady Catherine has gone to get ready for the Collins' visit. Perhaps you should join her.” Anne was about to refuse when Richard looked her deep in the eye and begged her to leave, which she did – although not altogether willingly.

“Darcy, that was very bad of you. Anne was doing nothing wrong.”

“She has overstretched herself. No doubt she will be in bed recovering for the next few days. Is that what you wished for?”

“No, no, of course not!” Richard answered, keen to prove his innocence. “What is the matter with you Darce? I have done nothing untoward either.”

“I am merely offering you the same cousinly advice as you gave me a few nights ago.”

“That is different! Miss Bennet is not the same as Anne!”

“I am well aware of that, Richard. You do not seem to be though.” His cousin was confused and was not hesitant to admit it. “Miss Bennet is the sort of female who can stand long walks and afternoons spent in the cold air. Anne's constitution is far too delicate for that activity.”

“Darcy! I had thought that you of all people would see why I need to have Anne near me.”

“Are you in love with her?” he asked suddenly, surprising his cousin whose cheeks promptly turned scarlet.

“Well that is...you see...” he stuttered, “I do not...do not know...for sure. But I presume that I am...well on the way to...being in that state.”

Darcy smirked at Richard's discomfort and wondered how he would face Lady Catherine to announce his engagement. For surely all the signs pointed to a marriage between Richard and Anne. “It is awful, isn't it? The feeling that makes you quiver and be terrified and yet at the same time makes you come alive as never before. And you never want to be away from the woman who has bound you to her already.”

“Indeed. That is exactly how...” Richard trailed off and seemed to be come over with something all of a sudden. “Forgive me.”

“For what?” Darcy asked, confused.

“Just, please forgive me. I am sorry, I see it now.” Richard looked up at him with anguished eyes. “I must go now. Please, please...” He was out of the room before Darcy had the chance to say anything else. It was all very suspicious. But he put it out of his mind and concentrated on the pleasure which the upcoming dinner would afford

him.