Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter Seven

Hartfield had not been graced with the presence of Mr. George Knightley for six days. On the seventh, said gentleman walked into the drawing room. Mr. Woodhouse was agitated about some household detail and Emma was trying to calm him while the servant looked on. "Papa, you know that Isabella will not mind that. She always brings little toys and diversions for the children. You worry yourself too much."

She turned when she heard footsteps. "M-Mr. Knightley!" she stammered but quickly recovered and plastered a smile on her face. "I am sure you must be looking forward to seeing John and Isabella as much as we are."

"Yes I am. But I do not want to detract from your pleasure, or yours, sir," he said, nodding to Mr. Woodhouse. "I will happily forego any claim on their presence at Donwell as long as I am welcome here, and if I can be assured of some time with my brother in the next few days. I have some matters of business to discuss with him."

"Need you ask? Of course you are welcome here."

"You may invite John to Donwell Abbey as often as you like," Mr. Woodhouse chimed in, "as long as poor Isabella does not suffer for it. I do not know why he had to take her so far away. It cannot do her any good to be always in London. She was so happy in the country." He was not overly glad to see his old friend just now. He disliked sharing Isabella with anyone on the first day of her visit to Hartfield. It made him peevish.

"My dear sir," Knightley replied in a soothing voice, "I assure you that John has only done what he must: that is, settled his wife where he can best provide for her. If he did any less he would have me to answer to, as well as yourself and Emma. In fact I am sure Emma would never forgive me if I allowed my brother to injure her sister in any way," he said with a glance at her, "and I cannot bear to have her angry with me."

He wants to be reconciled, thought Emma. I was not sure he would want to speak to me at all after our last meeting. I certainly shall not reject the proffered olive branch. "And I can never bear to stay angry with you for very long," she said as she held out her hand to him.

He kissed it gratefully. When he raised his head, he leaned in towards her ear and whispered, "I would speak with you."

She nodded and began inquiring about their mutual acquaintance. After they had settled themselves a little distance from Emma's father and achieved a modicum of privacy Knightley asked her, "Where is your friend Miss Smith today? Is she still a guest of Hartfield?"

"Yes; she will stay with us through Christmas, perhaps longer. She is spending the day with the Martins. I will send the carriage for her once Isabella arrives." The servants had been coming in and out of the room for the last hour to consult with Mr. Woodhouse or Miss Woodhouse about preparation for their guests. One was speaking with Mr. Woodhouse just now. Emma watched the interchange for a moment to see whether her presence was required. Deciding that it was not, she turned back to her companion and smiled.

Only when he saw that his host was sufficiently distracted did Knightley venture to broach a particular subject.

"I understand that congratulations are in order," he said in a quieter voice.

"True. Harriet has accepted Mr. Martin's offer of marriage. She is very happy, I believe."

"As is Robert Martin. I have never seen him smile as broadly as he has these few days past." There was something about Mr. Martin's satisfaction and joy that had made Knightley a tiny bit envious.

"Then I am happy for him as well."

"That is generous of you."

"You know very well it is not" She turned away. "But let us not go over old ground."

Knightley was only too happy to assent. "I will say this. I spoke at length with Miss Smith last week, while we all waited here for you to return from your walk. My former opinion of her did not do her justice. I found her to be very pleasant company - an unpretending, artless girl. She has some first-rate qualities that any gentleman of sense and taste would find appealing."

Emma was gratified to hear it, especially as the mystery of Harriet's parentage had been revealed. She had been fooling herself. Miss Smith's father turned out to be no more than a tradesman. He had provided her with a generous settlement, and in higher circles than Harriet frequented that alone would have been insufficient to compensate for the stain of illegitimacy. She was sure Mr. Knightley had been informed, considering his friendship with Mr. Martin, and that made his compliment to Harriet all the more precious.

Knightley continued haltingly. "My words after - that is, the following day, when you were drawing-"

"No. Please, Mr. Knightley. That...discussion was certainly not one of our best. At least we were both right as far as good intentions went. We only wanted to protect our friends. Let us say no more about it."

"I must mention it, Emma. I am sorry for what I said then. It was wrong of me. I took out my frustrations on you and slighted you, slighted Miss Smith. I even scolded you as if you were a naughty child." He smiled a half smile. "Well, I suppose you were a little naughty, but that is no excuse." He looked down and took her hand. "Sometimes I forget that much has changed since I was a boy of sixteen and you were but a babe in my arms."

She smiled at the image, feeling warm at the thought of him holding her. "Then we are friends again?" He was looking slightly odd. Perhaps he had not heard her.

Knightley absently caressed her hand before answering. "Friends? Yes, of course." He relaxed his hold so that their hands rested together on the chair, fingers not quite touching.

Some minutes passed and neither stirred much. Mr. Woodhouse was having a protracted consultation with his housekeeper. Snatches of the conversation reached the other two. Knightley was lost in thought until Emma's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"Why do you look at me that way?" She had glanced up several times to find him staring intently at her. "Is anything else troubling you? Have I done some other naughty thing to offend you?"

"Offend me? No indeed."

"Then why do you stare?"

He had not realized he was staring at her. Yet there was nothing surprising in that; whenever they were in company together, there was hardly anyone or anything else that could hold his attention the way she could. He thought of something he told Mrs. Weston once. 'I love to look at her,' he had said then.

"I love to look at you," he repeated now. It was as simple as that, was it not? The words were spoken before he knew what he was about, yet they did not seem strange or wrong when he said them.

Emma leaned back in surprise. She knew he would never flatter her. He must be telling the truth, as he saw it. But why did he tell her? What could it mean? She lowered her eyes first.

Neither was willing to comment on the subject. They conversed in a dilatory manner about many things. Yet one of their favourite topics to be canvassed just before a visit from his brother and her sister was not even mentioned - that of their joint nephew Henry being in a fair way to inherit Donwell Abbey from his bachelor uncle and to be hopelessly spoiled by the continual presents he was sure to receive from his maiden aunt.

After all, it was by no means a settled thing.

A week had passed since Lady Catherine's nephews departed Kent. Now Elizabeth, along with Maria Lucas, had left Charlotte to her husband and her poultry and arrived at her Uncle Gardiner's home in time for supper. Jane thought her sister seemed a little preoccupied and wondered what could be the cause. Elizabeth became less talkative as the meal progressed though she looked at her sister frequently as if she wished to speak to her, which only worried Jane more.

That evening after Maria had retired a little early to unpack and inspect her gowns according to Lady Catherine's detailed instructions, Jane led Elizabeth to the room she occupied whenever she stayed in Gracechurch Street, closed the door and gestured for her sister to sit. "Now, Lizzy, what is it you could not tell me in front of Aunt and Uncle and Maria? What has happened?"

"Mr. Darcy proposed marriage to me." Elizabeth had not known where to start. That seemed as good a place as any.

Jane was astonished. "That was wholly unexpected. I had no idea he was in love with you." She smiled at her sister, still not quite taking it all in. Poor Mr. Darcy, she thought, what a misfortune to love someone who dislikes you so strongly. I hope she was gentle in her refusal. She could not discern anything from her sister's expression, or rather anything other than embarrassment. When Elizabeth did not elaborate another possibility occurred to her. "Lizzy, are you telling me that you are engaged to Mr. Darcy?" She felt the tiniest bit jealous at the thought of her sister accepting an offer of marriage when she had entertained hopes for one from Mr. Bingley and been severely disappointed.

"No. I refused him." Elizabeth went on to describe the proposal and her response to it, leaving out everything pertaining to Mr. Bingley. She then told her about the letter and its effect on her.

After exclaiming over the shock of it and discussing Wickham's character, Miss Darcy's near miss and Mr. Darcy's disappointment, they sat in silence. While Elizabeth considered whether to reveal anything of her last meeting with Darcy, Jane inquired in a steady voice that belied her trepidation, "What did he have to say of Mr. Bingley?"

Elizabeth looked painfully conscious and averted her eyes.

"It is clear from the look on your face that Mr. Darcy did say something about him. Will you not tell me?"

"Jane, don't ask it of me, please." Elizabeth had hoped to avoid the subject entirely.

Jane sat on the bed next to her sister and clasped her hand. "Lizzy, I could tolerate such treatment from anyone but you. My dearest sister, you are also my closest friend. I will not have you believe me so fragile that I cannot bear to know the truth!" She looked at Elizabeth seriously. "If Mr. Darcy thought so meanly of our family and struggled to suppress his own feelings for you, it is unlikely he would have supported a match between me and his friend. And Mr. Bingley has often mentioned how much he respects Mr. Darcy and relies on him for advice."

Elizabeth looked up sharply at her sister and sighed. She did not want to tell her how sincerely she had been valued by Mr. Bingley before his sisters and friend had interfered.

"Lizzy! Speak to me," Jane implored her. "If you do not, I will assume I am correct." She tried another tactic. "I know you, Lizzy. If you challenged him on Wickham's behalf, you cannot convince me that you kept silent on this subject. It has been your steadfast belief that Mr. Darcy, along with Caroline and Louisa, persuaded Mr. Bingley to remain in town against his inclination."

Elizabeth could do naught but relent. Squeezing her sister's hand, she told her what she knew. "It is true, Jane. Darcy did not support the match. He told Mr. Bingley as much when he followed him to London. In addition to his poor opinion of our family - excepting you and myself, I should add, for he had nothing but good to say of you personally - he had not observed that you returned Mr. Bingley's regard. I believe he thought Mama would press you to accept him whether you cared for him or not." She tried to hold back her tears. "Jane, he knew you were here, in town. Darcy knew and he refused to tell Mr. Bingley."

Jane frowned at this revelation as she understood the implications. Her sister was saying that Mr. Bingley did care for her, that he was persuaded to give her up, that he was entirely ignorant of her being in town all these months. Caroline's words had been as false as her friendship; her brother had never been attached to Miss Darcy at all. She was shocked and angry but remained silent, waiting for her sister to continue. When Elizabeth did not, Jane composed herself and tried to assimilate this new information.

"Perhaps Miss Bingley asked Mr. Darcy not to tell her brother. Perhaps he, too, wished Bingley to marry Miss Darcy. He is allowed his opinion. Unlike Caroline, he was under no obligation to inform his friend of my arrival in town." Jane silently fumed at the depth of Caroline's deception, her expression reflecting her thoughts.

"But all that has changed now," Elizabeth hurriedly added. She did not want Jane to despair or, worse, become resentful. "I did not want to say anything to you, to upset you. I even hoped that you would have heard something by now, that perhaps he would have called here, but when neither you nor my aunt mentioned his name I was unwilling to bring up the subject myself. Darcy has spoken to him, or he will soon. He was very anxious to hear that you would forgive Mr. Bingley his neglect. Had you seen him with your own eyes, Jane, you would know how sorry he is for what he has done! I assured him you would forgive his friend, as you have never been one to harbour ill will. Now I ask you to forgive me if I was presumptuous in doing as much."

Jane stood up and paced the room. She was elated and her stomach was in knots at the prospect of seeing Charles again. While she knew she would, perhaps already did forgive him as well as his interfering friend, she was not comfortable knowing that her personal affairs had been unreservedly discussed by her sister and Mr. Darcy. "But if I had said more, if I had shown more of my feelings in November, none of this would have been necessary." She held a hand to her forehead. "Why did Bingley doubt my regard for him? I never suspected such a thing."

"Oh Jane, what could you have done, how could you have behaved? Would you flirt as Kitty and Lydia do with all the officers, or as Miss Bingley does with Darcy? You are the only one blameless in all this! You did what was right and proper."

"It was not enough!" she said with uncommon vehemence. "Bingley needed to understand my feelings and either he did not, or he allowed himself to be persuaded that he was in error." She sighed in frustration. "Yet I have done much the same thing myself and I would not let you convince me that he truly cared for me. He refused to believe his friend mistaken and I refused to believe his sister deceitful. What a mess we have made for ourselves." Jane covered her face with her hands and willed herself not to cry.

Elizabeth was amazed at the words coming from her sister's mouth. "What will you do now, Jane?"

"If you are worried that I will not forgive him, there is no need. I have done it already. And you may tell your Darcy that he is forgiven as well." She arched her eyebrow at her sister.

"My Darcy?" she protested, blushing and recalling his hands and his voice and their almost-kiss.

"Yes, your Darcy, since his proposal and his letter, and mostly the fact that you have dropped the Mister the last three times you mentioned his name." She stood still. "Did he write of all this in the letter as well? You spoke of it as if you discussed it face to face."

"He wrote of what happened once the whole party was in London, but he told me in person of his regret. He was most anxious that Bingley retain your good opinion."

"And what of your good opinion, Lizzy? Does Mr. Darcy have it now?" She received no answer but she did not need one. "Did he express regret for more than his advice to Bingley? You have told me you are not engaged, though clearly things have improved between you." Jane displayed a rare impertinent smile at her sister's continued silence. "Perhaps I shall tell Darcy the next time I see him that he has accomplished the impossible - the mere mention of his name has rendered Lizzy Bennet speechless."

Elizabeth opened her mouth wide in protest, then laughed and rose to embrace her sister. The two soon parted company for a time, instinctively giving each other a little privacy to dwell on the nature of her own feelings concerning one of two particular gentlemen from the north of England.

Harriet was in ecstasy. She was spending the day with her fiancé and his family, soon to be hers as well! And the evening was sure to be almost as delightful. Miss Woodhouse's elder sister was coming with her family to Hartfield. The house would be filled with the sounds of children's laughter and lively conversation. As she imagined how her own little ones would look, scampering about Abbey Mill Farm, she thought back to how she had arrived at her present happiness.

The nightmare with the strange letter that would not ignite caused her to know her heart, and the following day it gave her an idea for seeking reconciliation with Robert. That morning at Hartfield had been horrible. She ate nothing at breakfast and barely spoke. Miss Woodhouse finally escorted her to Randalls where Mrs. Weston tried, very kindly, to console her for a quarter of an hour before leaving her to think in peace. After an hour or so, she had a plan. She got up the courage to ask Mrs. Weston for some paper and a pen. Everything had gone wrong since she had written to Mr. Martin and she was convinced that only another attempt would make it right.

That afternoon, Miss Woodhouse had come for her in the carriage. They discussed what was to be done and before long she found herself outside the Martins' home. The greeting she received was more than she deserved, she knew. Elizabeth embraced her and took her off to the back of the house to talk. They had been there only a few minutes when Robert walked in.

"Miss Smith!"

"Mr. Martin."

The bow and curtsey were awkwardly executed. Elizabeth had tried to revive their conversation, but Harriet could think only of the letter she had brought with her. She asked her friend for a few moments alone with her brother. The request was gladly granted.

"Mr. Martin," she pressed on boldly when Elizabeth had left them, "I hope you will forgive me for asking to speak to you privately. I know it is improper, but there is something I need to put to rights." She looked at his face and saw the hurt and hope and affection there. That, and the fact that she had gone over the plan again and again in her mind, gave her the strength to continue. "You received a letter from me which never should have been sent. I have its replacement right here," she said, pulling the folded paper from her pocket. "Will you read it now?"

He nodded, dumbfounded.

Mr. Martin took the letter from her and Harriet nervously recited it in her head as she watched him read it:

Dear Mr. Martin,

I was very surprised to receive your letter. I had no idea you admired me enough to want to marry me. At first I did not know how to respond. I sought another's advice on a matter that I should have decided on my own, and I am very sorry for any pain that my actions have caused. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

In the last few days I have come to realize that I do return the sentiments you expressed so beautifully. Though it may be too late to tell you this, I want you to know that I thank you for your proposal and would be honoured to become your wife.

She knew immediately when he was done. They were both still for a few moments. She had been terrified that he would reject her and tell her to get out of his sight. Instead he stepped closer. "I must admit it is a vast improvement over the other one," he said, finally. "Is there more? Is that how it ends?" He wore a tentative smile. "Such a good letter deserves a proper ending."

She had left the letter unsigned. It seemed unnecessary at the time. After all she had planned to give it to him in person. Perhaps he meant something else. "That is as far as I got. What do you think it is lacking?" Another apology, perhaps?

He was very close then; she was practically in his arms. His voice wrapped around her like a blanket, soft and comforting. "I am sure that together we can agree upon something appropriate."

She was wondering what that would be when she felt his lips upon hers.

Several seconds later she sighed and said, to the surprise of both, "A very good ending. Much better than a mere signature."

How they had laughed at that moment! Harriet was completely satisfied. Less than two months and it would be accomplished. She could not wait to become his wife.

Chapter Eight

"No! I am the eldest. I should carry it."

"We both can carry it."

"Fair enough."

The sounds were followed by the sight of Henry and John holding Emma's portfolio at an awkward angle, generating a few chuckles around the room.

"Oh, my! Careful, Henry! Careful, John! Does that belong to your aunt?" Isabella's anxiety increased. It was only their first evening at Hartfield and already her sons were getting into difficulties.

"Let me have that, boys." The elder John stepped forward and lifted the burden from his two little ones. "Now, tell me what inspired you to bring this all the way in here. As I recall, your aunt keeps this carefully tucked away and I am sure she does not want you to spoil its contents."

Emma was silent. Knightley, still smiling at his nephews' unusual entrance, expected her to share his amusement. He noticed that she looked a little red-faced.

John was holding the portfolio, ready to open it, when his sons began their explanation.

"I was looking for some paper. I wanted to draw -"

"I wanted to see Aunt Emma's pictures..."

"...and I remembered where she put it the last time..."

"...her pictures are very pretty and..."

"...I found it right where I thought it was -"

"No, I found it! I saw it first!"

"Then it peeked out."

"It looks just like him!"

They stood staring expectantly at their father, who was now even more confused than when they had entered the room. "What looks just like whom?"

"Uncle George!" they squealed together.

"Aunt Woodhouse and Uncle Knightley," Isabella corrected, though she knew that neither Emma nor George had the least objection to their nephews' informality.

With great curiosity John glanced at Emma. Seeing that she did not disapprove, he leafed through the collection of drawings on his lap and soon found himself staring at a perfect likeness of his elder brother. He picked it up by the corners. "The boys did not exaggerate, Emma. You have captured George exactly." He turned to face her. "Though your portrait of Miss Smith is very like," nodding toward Harriet, who had joined them in time for supper, "and a great accomplishment, I believe this may be the best work I have ever seen from you." He handed the picture to his wife. "Do you not agree, my dear? Is not your sister quite talented?" To his sister-in-law he said, "Is it all right for the boys to have a little paper and something to draw with?"

Emma said not a word as the party exclaimed over the picture and lauded her abilities. She procured the requested items for her nephews and soon they were stretched out on the floor busily working on their own masterpieces.

By the time Emma returned to her seat, Knightley was holding the portrait. He was surprised, to say the least; she had only begun the work when their argument had halted progress on it the previous week. He had not expected her to complete it from memory. Did she know him so well? Looking at the image brought back to his mind what he had been thinking at the time and how he had behaved. "I thank you for not giving me a portly middle and a bulbous red nose. You must have been tempted to do so under the circumstances." He noted her small smile. "But really, Emma, I am amazed! How can you accomplish so much when the object is not even before you?"

Emma would not tell him how frequently he had been in her thoughts during the past week, and that she had long ago memorized every feature in his face. Such a revelation would go to his head and he would be unbearable company. She did the only thing she could think of - she changed the subject.

Mr. Bennet listened for the arrival of the carriage which would restore peace and good sense to Longbourn. He sorely missed Lizzy and Jane, and now he had more than a few questions he wanted to ask them.

His first surprise had been Mr. Bingley's return from town. Jane had mentioned nothing of the gentleman in her letters. No one anticipated it, not even Mrs. Bennet or Mrs. Philips, who had rushed to Longbourn at the earliest word of his arrival to share the news with her sister. Hardly anything was seen of the man for the first three days. He kept himself occupied at Netherfield, having a great deal of business with his steward according to Sir William Lucas, who had been the first to call on him and welcome him back to the neighborhood.

When Mr. Bingley called at Longbourn on his fourth day in the country, Mr. Bennet was barely civil. The young man had publicly courted his daughter only to abandon her to the gossipmongers for her dashed hopes. Had he called months ago, as had been expected, his smiles and easy address would have pleased Mr. Bennet for his daughter's sake. As it was, the elder gentleman required substantial force of will to attend to his guest. His effort was rewarded, however. The young man had only just received news of Jane's being in town. He had been delayed by his sisters and finally agreed to stay for the winter, but the months dragged on as compared with the pleasant days he had spent in Hertfordshire. He was determined to renew the lease on Netherfield. He wished they might always be on friendly terms, that he might trouble him for advice from time to time as he learned how to manage an estate of his own.

"I would like to talk more on this, sir, in the coming weeks. I am to meet with my steward within the hour and I am sure you have business to attend to as well, so I will take my leave shortly. There is one matter, however, on which I would like to have your opinion before I depart."

Mr. Bennet was all curiosity. "Yes?"

"I understand that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, along with Miss Lucas, are to return from London very soon. I plan to renew my acquaintance with them when I go to town in two days. Mr. Darcy has agreed to return with me to Netherfield to render his assistance until his presence is required at Pemberley in the summer. I propose, if it is agreeable to the ladies, that we escort your daughters and their friend to Hertfordshire and allow them the use of a private carriage. Darcy and I would accompany them on horseback, of course. Do these arrangements meet with your approval, sir?"

"Mr. Darcy? Escort my daughters?" Mr. Bennet was taken aback at this stroke of civility, nay, particular attention to his eldest girls. "Pardon me, Mr. Bingley," he said, quickly recovering. "It is so completely unexpected. I was not aware that Mr. Darcy - I...I should hate to have him go out of his way on my family's account." He knew not what to say.

"I should tell you that Darcy is the one who suggested the idea to me and even volunteered his equipage for your daughters' use. I am sure he would consider it a privilege, no inconvenience at all."

Mr. Bennet stared wide-eyed at his companion for a second before regaining his composure. It would not do for Jane's prospective husband to think him addle-brained. He stood up. "Mr. Bingley, if Jane and Lizzy agree to your plan, you have my permission and my thanks. I am sure Sir William Lucas can have no objection."

"It will be my pleasure, Mr. Bennet." Bingley shook his host's hand with a grand smile on his face.

That was approximately one week ago. The second surprise, that Mr. Darcy should take an active interest in his daughters' welfare, continued to confound him. That the man would condescend to call on a tradesman residing in Gracechurch Street was simply beyond belief. Yet he had called, more than once. Sweet, considerate Jane had written her assurances that their journey home was arranged to everyone's satisfaction and that the carriage need not meet them at the inn at _______ as originally planned.

Mr. Bennet drew the curtains so he would not be tempted to look out the window every five minutes. He could keep himself occupied by reviewing the accounts. Perhaps he should follow Bingley's example and confer with his steward; there were several matters he had been putting off. He ruefully considered that he might not be the best example to his newest neighbor of a responsible and diligent landowner.

The truth was, had he worked to improve his estate and saved something for his daughters' dowries, he might not be dependent upon the interest of men such as Mr. Bingley to secure their futures. The pang of remorse would pass, he knew, and more quickly than it should. His thoughts returned to Mr. Darcy. That gentleman seemed well informed when it came to his daughters' plans. Was he to rely on Darcy as well to provide for one of his children? He had the strongest suspicion that Lizzy held the answer to that question.

Chapter Nine

The sun climbed higher in the sky, the servants carried out their morning’s work, and Caroline Bingley sat up in bed to think and be miserable. She had visited Miss Darcy the day Charles had left for his short stay in the country. When she arrived, she was greeted with the smiling faces of two of Miss Darcy’s cousins, one of whom was female. Georgiana introduced her to Miss Anne de Bourgh, daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Colonel Fitzwilliam she had met before.

What first struck her was the fact that Mr. Darcy’s mood had been as carefree as Charles’ had been sober. And she, who was used to dominating drawing room conversation, could hardly get a word in. Colonel Fitzwilliam tried to include her as much as possible, but before long Mr. Darcy or Miss de Bourgh would mention something related to their shared history that Miss Bingley could not appreciate.

When she was able to speak with Miss Darcy a little apart from the others, the young girl told her more about Miss de Bourgh, including a hint at Lady Catherine’s longstanding expectations for uniting Pemberley and Rosings. Miss Bingley had heard it before but had never taken it seriously, as it was rumoured that the young lady in question was too sickly to be considered a suitable bride for anyone. However, her own observation of Miss de Bourgh gave her no comfort. A desperate curiosity overcame her sense of propriety and she plied Georgiana with indelicate questions. The girl seemed hesitant but answered them all. The result was that Miss Bingley came away wondering that she ever considered poor, impertinent Elizabeth Bennet competition when Mr. Darcy obviously got on well with his elegant cousin who had a fortune of forty thousand pounds to her name, impeccable connections and one of the grandest homes in Kent.

Today she had awakened early enough to hear the last of the commotion as her brother prepared to journey again to the country. As promised, Charles had returned within the week, though apparently there was more to be done at Netherfield. He was leaving again for Hertfordshire this very morning and did not say how long he would be away this time. At least he had not required her presence there. She would rather brave the London heat all summer long than play hostess to that barbarous society.

Charles took his leave of her the previous evening knowing she was unlikely to come down to breakfast before he departed. Caroline wished she had gotten the chance to talk to him about what was troubling her, but he had been so busy these last few days, running off to Mr. Darcy’s house each morning and not returning until very late. She wanted his opinion on whether Mr. Darcy had taken his aunt’s wishes regarding marriage to heart. It certainly seemed so. It was a wretched business, indeed. Such a blow! The image of Mr. Darcy smiling, laughing as she had never before witnessed, had not left her. Just now it gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Breakfast would have to wait. She moaned and pulled the covers over her head.

As his carriage stopped in front of an unpretentious home in Gracechurch Street, Fitzwilliam Darcy thought back to the first time he had seen the place. Not during one of the four calls he and Bingley hade made over the last several days, but on that lonely January afternoon when he had given in to curiosity and discovered exactly where Elizabeth Bennet’s unfortunate relations lived. Some days before, Miss Bingley had shown him one of Jane Bennet’s letters. He denied any wish to read it but saw the address and committed it to memory before handing the letter back to her. His mind was in turmoil knowing that the disturber of Bingley’s brain was so near. Between his concern for his friend and his own inability to regulate his thoughts of Miss Bennet’s sister, he did not breathe a word to Bingley of Jane Bennet’s presence in town. He found it impossible to forget, however, and in a desperate effort to banish Elizabeth from his mind he rode out to look at the place himself. After observing it for ten minutes from a reasonable distance away, he was convinced that he had done the right thing. He had no wish for any familial connections in this part of town.

That was then. Now he felt only anticipation as he approached the house. Mr. Gardiner, aside from being handsome and gregarious, reminded him very little of Mrs. Bennet. Mrs. Gardiner was equally a surprise: young, elegant, more like an elder sister than a matron aunt to her nieces. Her fondness of Derbyshire only added to his delight in her acquaintance. He and Bingley smiled at each other as he rapped on the door.

After greetings and inquiries as to the details of the journey, the party soon settled into the habitual groupings that had been formed shortly after the gentlemen’s first visit: Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Lucas, and sometimes one or more of the children; Bingley and Jane speaking to each other almost exclusively; and Darcy and Elizabeth, talking a little with the Gardiners and Maria or with one another, and happily observing the positive changes in friend and sister.

One by one, the members of the household recalled little tasks and errands that had to be completed before the journey could begin. Mr. Gardiner went to the study to prepare for his workday; he was to leave for the warehouse directly after his nieces’ departure. Mrs. Gardiner went to the kitchen to see about providing refreshments to send with the girls. Bingley offered to escort Miss Bennet and the children for a final turn around the gardens. Maria decided to join them.

Elizabeth lingered inside, not wanting to be too far from Darcy, who was taking a closer look at some paintings that had attracted his attention earlier. He was standing before the likeness of a young woman who reminded him very much of his hostess. “That is Mrs. Dalton when she was still Miss Wainwright, I believe. My aunt’s sister,” Elizabeth explained as she sidled up to him. “Aunt Gardiner used to be quite the artist. Since the birth of her eldest child, however, she has spent very little time on her old hobby.”

“This is Mrs. Gardiner’s handiwork?”

“Yes.”

“She is very good.”

“Yes.” She was not used to being at a loss for words. More and more she found herself in that situation whenever she was in close proximity to Darcy. It was as if she needed to resume an interrupted conversation and did not know how to go about it. She longed to feel the closeness she had felt that day in Hunsford, but that would hardly be appropriate in company. The few times they had been alone together, he had not tried anything too daring, as much as she wished he would. At first she wondered whether he had changed his mind about pursuing her. Then he would look at her with that same passion in his eyes, or hold her hand a little too long at parting, or smilingly make a subtle reference to that magical day, something only she would understand and savour like a rare treat.

If they could not touch then at least they could talk, provided she could find a proper subject. Finally she recalled the portrait gallery at his house. She had seen it when the whole party took tea there on the previous day and stayed for supper as well. The experience had been delightful. Mr. Darcy gave her every personal attention while remaining within the bounds of propriety. He made an effort to speak a little more with Jane than was his habit and forwarded conversation between her and Mr. Bingley. In addition he had lost none of his civility towards her aunt and uncle, whose intelligent discourse and elegant manners he had appreciated from his first meeting with them a few days earlier.

In his own home, Darcy was at ease in a way Elizabeth had never before observed him to be. He was a solicitous host. He spoke kindly to his servants. He introduced her to his sister, a shy but friendly girl who showed no romantic inclination whatsoever towards Mr. Bingley (thereby securing both Elizabeth’s and Jane’s approbation). Darcy’s affection for the young girl was as warm as could be. Even his cousin Miss de Bourgh seemed to flourish in his presence.

Miss de Bourgh’s company had been a surprise. Apparently she was not always so quiet and reserved when away from Rosings. Elizabeth was amused to hear that lady’s plans for changing her mother’s mind about her tacit engagement to her cousin. In her letters to Lady Catherine, she had begun to drop hints that while she was very satisfied with Georgiana’s company, her newfound intimacy with Darcy’s ways led her to believe that he would not be the ideal husband for her. While Anne had slyly winked at Elizabeth, causing her to blush furiously, Darcy had laughed and charged his cousin not to ruin his reputation too grievously.

Elizabeth hoped Lady Catherine would take heed for more than Anne’s sake. She was drawn to Darcy more than she liked, though she no longer objected at all to the man who pulled at her heart. It was the pull itself that concerned her. She was not used to needing someone in this way. Was this same need what Darcy had felt when he met her so often in the groves at Rosings? Was it what drove him to propose before making certain of her feelings, before fully reconciling himself to his own?

There was substance to his admiration, he had told her as much, and she knew that there was rationality as well as romance in her quickly deepening feelings for him, which boded well for their future. Just the same, affection must have a beginning, and here she feared her suitor had pressed forward under the more noble motivation. Although Elizabeth might say to anyone who dared inquire that she had first come to admire Darcy for his handsome features, excellent character or clever mind, or any of half a dozen valid reasons that would satisfy even had his ten thousand a year been only eight hundred, in her heart she could not deny the true inspiration for her burgeoning love. It was no loftier and of no greater complexity than this: in finding her irresistible, Darcy had become so himself.

“There are far fewer objects to admire here than in your own collection,” she said, bringing her thoughts back to the matter at hand. “Yours is an impressive one.” The walls of Longbourn reflected her mother’s personal tastes; there were no fine specimens to show off to the neighbours, and there were very few portraits at all.

“Thank you.” He thought it strange to accept a compliment from her for something with which he had so little to do.

“Yet it is not quite perfect,” she ventured to add. “It has no representatives from the current generation, as I recall.” She said this while looking up at Darcy’s profile and imagining how stately his likeness might appear on canvas. “Are all the portraits of Miss Darcy and yourself hidden away at Pemberley?”

“I suppose they are.”

“And do you have plans to bring any of them to town, or to commission one specifically for the house here? Whatever will your children say years from now when they find no likeness of their father on those walls?” She wondered what it must be like to see all those obscure family members looking down on you. At least a mother’s or father’s picture would be reassuring.

“My children?” What made you think of such a thing, Elizabeth? “They may have very little to say about it. When I was a lad myself, I believe I hardly looked at the portraits, though I do recall running from one end of the gallery to the other as many times as I could without being caught.”

“Oh, my!” She giggled. “You could not have been worse than I.” A picture formed in her mind and she laughed heartily. “What a sight that would be!” She was talking more to herself than to him. “I can see it now – little Fitzwilliam, with his father’s glorious hair and long legs and his mother’s penchant for mischief, chasing his sisters through the gallery and down that grand staircase – or even sliding down the banister! As a girl,” she elucidated, “I chased Mary and Kitty through the halls of Longbourn so frequently in the winter months that Mama was relieved when spring came and she hurried me out of doors at the earliest opportunity.” Her voice faded and her eyes widened as she realized what she had just implied.

“What was it you were saying about my hair, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth was too stunned to respond. It did not help matters that Darcy, with his knowing look, was in the process of pinning her against the wall and pressing his lips to hers in a rather delightful fashion. Since her mouth was otherwise occupied, she answered his question by running her fingers appreciatively through his thick locks.

He pulled back just enough to get a fuller view of her face. He hoped he would see affection written there and he was not disappointed. Her eyes were overflowing with it. Her lips were still parted. She had not offered the slightest resistance to his advances. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you truly mine, love?”

“Of course I am. What choice did you leave me?” She was breathing rapidly. “It appears I am trapped.”

He released her immediately. “I would not wish you to think so.” He feared he had been too bold.

Elizabeth would have none of it. “Let me tell you what I think.” She pulled his face slowly back to hers until they were so close that Darcy could no longer restrain himself. His lips met hers for a moment and then trailed down to her neck and back towards her ear.

“Do you know how much I wanted to do this at the Parsonage that day?”

“I wish you had,” she said, breathing in his scent.

“Did you care for me then? Enough for this?” He nipped at her earlobe.

“I had made a beginning, I believe.”

“And now?” He lifted his head to look at her.

She slowly grinned. “And now, as you see, I have progressed from accusing you of all manner of evil to entertaining thoughts of our children and behaving scandalously in my aunt’s home. Does that not signify some little attachment?”

He hugged her to himself, pressing their cheeks together. “By the way, Lizzy, how soon would you like to…begin working on ‘little Fitzwilliam’? We have,” and he pulled out his pocket watch to look at it, “above twenty minutes until we are to leave for Hertfordshire.” He raised an eyebrow in question and his smile would have rivaled Wickham’s most charming one.

“You rogue!” Elizabeth said and tapped him playfully on the arm. “You are a mischief maker, are you not?” She tried not to look too shocked but was unsuccessful. “I’m afraid that is still several weeks away, after the wedding, of course.” She blushed, hardly believing she had spoken of such an intimate thing aloud.

Darcy laughed at his ability to disconcert her with his teasing. “Then I shall have to be content with those delights which are presently within reach,” he replied, stroking her cheek. He kissed her tenderly at first, then more deeply until they both were lost to everything around them.

When Mr. Bingley returned to the Gardiners’ drawing room, he found Darcy and Jane’s sister in a most passionate embrace. He cleared his throat a few times before they even looked up. Miss Elizabeth, to her credit, appeared exceedingly embarrassed. Darcy, however, merely said, “Leave us,” and waved the man away before rejoining his mouth with Elizabeth’s.

Bingley did not have to be asked twice to allow them privacy. He was too sympathetic to their cause and far less shocked than envious. Why was Darcy always one step ahead of him? He was quickly mollified by the realization that thanks to that same man’s good information, he would have similar opportunities once they all arrived in Hertfordshire. He imagined pleasant walks around Longbourn and Netherfield Park with his sweet Jane. The thought made him smile, and out of charity to his friend he greeted Mrs. Gardiner perhaps a little more loudly than necessary when she approached the room to see how her guests were faring.

As the time for departure drew near and the others trickled into the drawing room, Bingley was unusually silent. He wondered whether he could arrange some time alone with Jane as early as this afternoon. She already had invited both him and Darcy to Longbourn for the evening meal and it would be marvelous to be able to request Mr. Bennet’s consent as early as tonight! Provided Jane said yes, of course.

Jane was bolder than he remembered. Days before, when they met for the first time since the twenty-sixth of November and he awkwardly explained his lengthy absence from Hertfordshire and previous ignorance of her presence in town, she did not seem surprised at all. Instead of questioning him about that, she inquired about his plans for Netherfield. He was relieved to tell her of his talk with her father and his hopes for the coming months. She seemed pleased and interested and even asked whether he was determined to settle in Hertfordshire or if he would be amenable to purchasing in another county. She had initiated conversation with him often over the last several days and actually teased him minutes ago when they walked in the garden.

Was it possible Jane felt, as he did, that too much time had been wasted as it was? Whatever the cause, he appreciated both her forgiveness and her forwardness, if it could be called that. He determined that he would walk out with her before sunset tonight or the following day at the latest, preferably in the company of Miss Elizabeth and Darcy who, in spite of their glaring need for it, from the look of things were unlikely to be too particular about chaperonage.

Bingley was able to talk to Jane sooner than he expected. The travelers stopped at an inn about halfway to Meryton. After some hours of riding, everyone was ready to disembark, or dismount, as the case may be, and walk a little. Elizabeth and Maria had just been discussing Charlotte’s gardens and continued to do so as Mr. Darcy handed them out of the carriage. Bingley took the opportunity to hand Jane out himself and he directed her to a path around the side of the inn.

He escorted her in silence. As they walked, he thought over their acquaintance. He recalled how he had been planning to propose to her in November and regretted the weakness that allowed him to bow to persuasion and to plunge both Jane and himself into acute misery. The more he dwelt on it, the more his confidence waned. At length they reached a spot not easily seen from the inn’s windows or the main road and he turned to her, clearly agitated. “Miss Bennet, I…I know not how to say this, how I dare ask…after what I have done I have no right…”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “Pardon?”

Jane blushed but she did not look down. “Yes. My answer is ‘yes’. Is that wrong?” Charles was so obvious. Had he always been this easy to understand? How had she managed to convince herself that he had not truly cared for her?

“No, not at all. That is wonderful! But I have yet to ask the question.”

“Is it an important question?”

“Very much so.”

“A particular question that a man asks a woman? A woman of whom he is very fond, nay, more than fond?”

“Yes, actually, it is. How did you…”

“Because I am more than fond of you,” Jane said before she lost her courage, “and if women asked such questions of men, and if I had anything to offer you at all, I would ask it myself.” She would not lose him again. Some people might call her a fool for making it so easy for Charles, and she would have to agree, but she did not care. More than five months had been insufficient to put him out of her head – five agonizing months.

“If you had anything to offer? How can you say such—” He stopped as he realized what she had said. “Jane?” Bingley was incredulous. “You are quite serious?”

“Of course!” She hoped he would not delay much longer. Someone might happen upon them before it was all settled.

“Then you love me as I love you? You will marry me?” This was not quite how Bingley had envisioned it.

“I already gave you my answer,” she said without hesitation.

“Give it to me again.” He broke into a smile.

“Yes! I love you and I will marry you, Charles.”

He took both of her hands in his and kissed them the moment she finished saying his name. Jane felt tears pooling in her eyes and then sliding down her cheeks. Bingley noticed immediately and dried them with his handkerchief. “I will never forget what you have done for me today, Jane,” he said with uncharacteristic solemnity. “You have given me your pledge when I know I have done nothing to gain your trust.”

“But you already have it.”

“It is generous of you to grant me what I have not earned. No, it needs to be said,” he told her, not allowing her to interrupt. “By rights you should have refused me. Of course that presupposes that I actually asked for your hand, which I was attempting, most pitifully, to do when you rescued me in the sweetest manner possible! But I am well aware that my actions have given you good reason to doubt me. You must know that I will make it my aim to prove myself worthy of your faith in me.”

“Oh, Charles...” She was too affected to say more. The tears flowed freely and Bingley handed her the handkerchief.

“I love you, Jane.” His tone was resolute. “I hope I never again give you cause to question that.” He briefly kissed her lips then drew her closer, pressing her to himself and tucking her head beneath his chin. They embraced until a sound caused them both to start and step back a little.

“Maria would have come in search of the two of you, but I thought it might be better if she remained inside.” Elizabeth said as she came into view. She was elated to see her sister smiling and standing so near to Mr. Bingley. Perhaps something of import had occurred.

“Ah, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley greeted her. “I see it is my turn now to be caught.”

Jane noticed her sister blush and turn away and wondered what she had missed that Charles had not, but she was too swept up in her own happiness to inquire. The trio walked to the inn’s entrance without further delay.

Mr. Elton sat in his study until very late on the twenty-fourth of December, wondering how so much had gone wrong since his return from London.

He had delivered the framed portrait of Miss Smith within an hour of arriving in Highbury. He hoped his fortuitous meeting with Perry would result in his pretty compliments making their way back to Hartfield. Perry was not one to hold his tongue, and he had left just enough mystery surrounding the errand to ensure that the good doctor would spread the word in hopes of being further enlightened.

When he had reached Hartfield, he was able to speak with Miss Woodhouse alone. Miss Smith, lately as ubiquitous as a shadow, was absent for once. Not one to waste an opportunity, Mr. Elton repeated several of his earlier compliments about Miss Woodhouse’s artistry and slyly added one or two about her person.

The lady’s reaction was not what he had hoped. She seemed shocked at first. Then she thanked him without gushing and denied any claim to superior talent. She was a smooth one, Emma Woodhouse was; no sighs and simpering for her, no feigned shyness, always open, ever confident. The only embarrassment he detected was when she asked him, rather hesitantly, if he had heard about Miss Smith’s engagement. He had not. She informed him of the general details, after which he expressed his good wishes for the couple. He refrained from saying much beyond his expectation of Miss Woodhouse’s pleasure that her friend had made such a good match considering her situation in life. He got the distinct impression that his answer was not at all what she expected it to be, yet he had no idea why. If there had been any reason to think so, he would have said she was offended. Mr. Woodhouse’s entrance soon ended their unsatisfactory tête-à-tête.

Mr. Elton looked for another opportunity to advance his cause and thought he had found it in this evening’s party at Randalls. He finagled an invitation to dinner from Mr. Weston, not a difficult feat as Weston was a man quite willing to test the capacity of his dinner table for the sake of plentiful company. He was positively jubilant when, during a chance meeting this very morning, Mr. John Knightley gallantly offered to collect him in his carriage.

The evening had begun so well, for he sat across from Miss Woodhouse on the ride to Randalls, chaperoned by her brother-in-law as was only proper. But later, inside the Westons’ home, he had tried without success to engage her in conversation for more than a few seconds at a time. She seemed to pull others into their discourse at the oddest moments. He attempted to hide his frustration but feared he was more transparent than was prudent. Must have been the wine, he thought. The fact that he was prepared to tender a marriage proposal that very evening might have had something to do with his heightened sensibilities as well.

He groaned to think of the proposal that never was. After the snow began to fall and Mr. Woodhouse grew anxious to leave, the party broke up and the carriages were called. He rejoiced to see Mr. John Knightley forget their earlier arrangement and enter the first carriage along with Mrs. Knightley and Mr. Woodhouse. He would have the perfect moment! Then, horror of horrors, the other Knightley climbed into the coach and sat down next to him, stating that he would assume the duty his brother had neglected, that of escorting Emma home.

Mr. Elton knew not what to do. Miss Woodhouse looked perfectly content with the arrangement. He knew he would not recommend himself to her by sulking or by risking a delay in their journey while trying to convince Mr. Knightley to leave them. The situation was insupportable, but he could think of no remedy. He barely heard any of the companionable conversation between the other two and was surprised to find himself in Vicarage Lane in very good time.

Now he sat alone, cold and confused. As he thought back over the evening he realized that Miss Woodhouse had not sought him out once. In fact, she actively discouraged any private conversation between them. Then she looked pleased – or was it relieved, when Mr. Knightley entered the carriage? The seeming futility of his ambitions stunned him.

Perhaps it was time to move on. There was always Bath. His friends there had been asking him to visit for months and only his courtship of Miss Woodhouse had kept him from accepting their offer of hospitality. Now he had every reason to go. He would plan to join them as soon as the weather improved.

Chapter Ten

"I am going to marry him, Papa. And please, this time do not tell me you will never see me again if I do!"

Mr. Bennet looked up over the rim of his spectacles at his second eldest and favourite child. He had summoned her to the library after a revealing half hour's conversation with Mr. Darcy. Lizzy's resolve and her repetition of his words on the occasion of Mr. Collins' ill fated proposal amused him exceedingly. He was glad he had spent much of the day entertaining the idea that she might be leaving Longbourn rather soon, and he was gladder still to find Darcy worthy of her affections. Otherwise he might be more inclined to cry than laugh at this singular spectacle of a lovesick daughter.

"Lizzy, I know all too well how stubborn you can be when you have set your mind on something, so I shall not attempt to sway you. Besides, this gentleman of yours is a quiet, sensible sort. I believe I shall seat him next to me at supper. His sane conversation will no doubt provide welcome relief from your mother's inevitable effusions regarding fine carriages and pin-money." He laughed. "Two daughters spoken for in a single evening! However will her nerves bear the strain? If any young men come tonight for Mary, Kitty or Lydia, they simply will have to return in the morning."

He wondered if Darcy or Lizzy had heard a word he said, so distracted by one another they appeared to be.

"Well, off with you. Go, go." He shooed them out and got up to follow. "Let us tell everyone the news." As he closed the door on his library it suddenly struck him that, with a few twists and turns and an auspicious change of groom, his wife's pronouncements on the night of the Netherfield Ball regarding the marriages of her two eldest daughters were coming to pass. Was he now forced to revere Mrs. Bennet as a veritable fount of wisdom and insight? He shook his head as if to clear away the errant notion. Perish the thought.

George Wickham had made several friends during his six months in Meryton. Whether they would still consider themselves as such by the time the militia left for Brighton was less certain. It did not help matters that Darcy had returned to Netherfield. When Darcy ran off to London in November, Wickham lost no time spreading his tale of woe all over the small market town. No one was able to refute it then. Now he wondered if anyone would have the daring to approach Darcy for an explanation and whether he would bother to correct their misconceptions. Wickham had the sympathy of some for his loss of Miss King's favour, but he suspected that just as many people were suspicious of his motives now and viewed him as a fortune hunter. Some word of his gambling debts had gotten out, and the local merchants, weary of granting credit to the handsome young soldier, no longer smiled at him when he entered their shops.

Inexplicably, Darcy seemed to be a great favourite with the Bennets. That hurt a bit; he himself had been as welcome at Longbourn as anywhere in the neighborhood. At least the two youngest girls were unlikely to defect. He would have their undying admiration. Unfortunately that was all he would have, for he noticed that Mr. Bennet had begun to keep a closer eye on them.

Soon none of it would matter. He would be in Brighton, debts and failed courtships behind him. They could declare Darcy the darling of Meryton for all he cared, as long as he would not be there to see it.

Wickham was tempted to take one final swipe at his godfather's heir during the militia's last full day in Hertfordshire. Colonel Forster and some of his officers were invited to Longbourn for dinner and stayed until evening. Both Bingley and Darcy were in attendance as well. Wickham's goal was to show Darcy that his future wife had been susceptible to his charms before and would be again if only he deigned to renew his attentions. He considered it a fitting wedding gift for the man who had snatched Georgiana from his grasp almost a year ago.

He walked up to Miss Elizabeth as soon as she was alone and greeted her in his gallant way. "It has been lovely to see you home again, and I am sorry we are to part once more. Be assured you will be missed come tomorrow."

"I thank you," was the reply. She did not return the compliment and say that he would be missed when the regiment left them.

"I do not believe we have spoken to one another since I heard that you are to be married. May I offer you my most sincere congratulations?"

"Thank you again, Mr. Wickham, you may indeed." She thought that any good wishes he offered were hardly sincere. "The information you imparted to me many months ago at my Aunt Philips' home and repeated on several occasions since - you recall it, do you not? Concerning Mr. Darcy and his sister?" She watched him nod warily. "You will be pleased to know that it has been of the greatest use to me."

"I am happy to hear it," he said cautiously. Perhaps she still believed him and would plague her future husband.

"I have not forgotten it after all this time. Indeed I could not." Her forced smile was nevertheless sweet. "For it has taught me that, contrary to my previous opinion, first impressions can be entirely without merit."

Wickham paled at this and stood speechless for a moment before bowing and walking away.

Two others in the room were watching this exchange with interest. Mr. Bennet was ready to move forward at the first sign of distress, but he soon saw that Lizzy had matters well in hand. Darcy was fuming until he saw her cheeks redden with barely controlled anger while Wickham's face grew white. He wondered what she had said to discompose the man so easily but was glad his intervention did not seem to be required.

Mr. Bennet moved to Darcy's side. "I see all is as it should be," he said, nodding in Lizzy's general direction. "You would think she has no need for fellows like us, eh?" He had come to a much better understanding of Lizzy's future husband over the last fortnight.

Darcy looked fondly at the man who was to be his father-in-law in a matter of weeks. "I am not so sure about that, sir. We will depend upon you visiting us frequently, I think. Elizabeth may say she loves me now, but perhaps she will change her mind when she discovers exactly how far away from Longbourn and her father's library Pemberley is."

Mr. Bennet laughed and patted Darcy's back. "I hope you will not regret your offer when you see how readily I avail myself of it." The two were soon joined by Elizabeth, who immediately asked what had amused them so.

Emma generally took great pleasure in the company of the Westons but on the evening before Christmas she heartily wished she had remained at home. Having departed Randalls and having stopped briefly to deposit Mr. Elton at the Vicarage, Emma was relieved to be safe at Hartfield again. Mr. Knightley handed her down and she prepared to send the carriage on to Abbey Mill Farm for Harriet, who had spent the evening there, when she heard Mr. Knightley greeting someone and found herself face to face with Robert Martin.

"Mr. Martin! Why, good evening!" She was glad that any redness in her cheeks likely would be attributed to the cold. Why were all her recent blunders converging upon her this night? "What brings you to Hartfield just now, and in this weather? Is Harriet well?"

"Good evening, Miss Woodhouse. I wish I could say Miss Smith is well. I have come to fetch some clothes for her. I see the snow here is about the same as at home, nothing to signify. That is, it would be of no importance at all, but just this afternoon Miss Smith complained of a sore throat and it has since gotten worse. My family and I hesitate to expose her to the snow for the sake of traveling even this short distance." He looked at her earnestly. "I do not like to upset your plans, Miss Woodhouse, especially at this time of year, but I much prefer, and my mother insists, that Miss Smith should stay with us until she recovers."

"Oh, no, that is no trouble at all, and quite the sensible thing to do. I shall miss Harriet, of course, but I dare say she will not be disappointed by the change." She reluctantly smiled at the man, who was quite the gentleman in address if not completely so in manner or situation, and perfectly respectable after all. "But poor Harriet! Ill at Christmas! I do wish the circumstances were better."

Mr. Martin smiled in response. "As do I."

"Mr. Martin, let us not stand about in this cold. Come inside and I will see to it."

Emma did see to it, and Mr. Martin, laden with the necessary items for his fiancée, left along with his friend Mr. Knightley.

Later, in her room, Emma pondered the events of the last six hours. The diligent care of both Knightley men had preserved her from a dreadful fate. John had quickly seen the error in offering a seat in his carriage to Mr. Elton; one look at the vicar and back at his sister had convinced him. Emma saw the eloquent apology in his looks and very soon heard it in his valiant attempt to draw their guest's conversation completely to himself for the duration of the ride. She even forgave John his lapse later in the evening as they departed. He had not meant to abandon her to Mr. Elton's company by entering the first carriage; he was only thinking of Isabella and she could never fault him for that. But if Mr. Knightley had not intervened just then! Had she been left to deal with Mr. Elton by herself her distress would have been great, for she was convinced the man only wanted opportunity to do or say something highly regrettable. The recollection of it, and all that she felt at the time, when she saw the carriage door opening once more and Mr. Knightley stepping in - such a change! In one moment she went from perfect misery to perfect serenity.

In addition, Mr. Knightley did not reproach her once they were alone. She waited for a glance that said 'I told you so' or a scolding in the manner of 'Silly girl, did you truly believe he could want Miss Smith when Miss Woodhouse is near?' but none came. They talked of nothing out of the ordinary the whole way from Vicarage Lane to Hartfield, as if Mr. Elton had never existed. In fact they settled so quickly into a comfortable chat that she forgot to thank him for what he had done.

On Christmas morning Emma awoke to a delightfully convenient circumstance. Overnight, winter had settled well and truly on Highbury, cloaking it in soft white silence. The snow kept Emma from church, and consequently from Mr. Elton, that day, and successive mornings of snow, rain and ice kept her safe at home on Sunday as well. That last week of December Emma had the additional pleasure of seeing her father at his cheerful best, for to have those dearest to him stranded at Hartfield and others prevented from intruding on their family party suited Mr. Woodhouse perfectly. Their only caller during these days of confinement was Mr. Knightley, whom no weather could keep entirely from them.

On the first of the year the weather improved enough for those to move who must move, and the next day Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley and their children set off again for London. The three weeks following proved such a mix of clear and cloudy skies as to render plans uncertain and calls few. Emma tried to accustom herself to the resulting quietness. With no Isabella and John, no nephews and nieces, Harriet often with the Martins, and Mr. Knightley inordinately busy with tenant matters, the resulting solitude proved a check to her natural liveliness which was not immediately overcome.

Such a January could not but disappoint. Emma found consolation in visiting Randalls and in dispensing advice and giving aid to Harriet, sometimes in person and often by note. In the tranquility of evenings at home she willed rather than felt herself to be happy. She loved her father dearly but he did not provide the companionship she craved. What a material change Miss Taylor had wrought by becoming Mrs. Weston! Half a mile seemed a world away. Emma's dear friend had a husband to think of now, and should the Westons be blessed with children their mother's attention would be removed further still from Hartfield's concerns.

Emma whiled away many an idle hour in front of this window or that, looking out towards the place where she had gotten lost in that strange country. She hoped Miss Bennet and her sister, if they were more than figments of her fancy, had found at least a measure of contentment. She wondered whether, come spring, she would be bold enough to walk that path again and what she would discover if she did.

One particular evening she stood thus, nose pressed against the glass, eyes alighting on nothing for very long. She had just returned from Randalls where Mr. Weston showed her a recent letter from his son. He was certain Frank would come at last, in a few weeks in fact, and even Mrs. Weston expected him to arrive before many days of February had elapsed. Emma stared out the window, forming and re-forming a picture in her mind of Mr. Churchill with the few details Mr. Weston provided, when she saw a flicker of light far off in the woods. The sun had set, the sky was clear. She reasoned it could not have been lightning, and no one with any sense would be skulking about on the frozen grounds at this hour. Just as she had dismissed the sighting as the product of a restless imagination, she saw it again. Her curiosity swelled until a sudden coldness came over her. The small light flickered and then glowed steadily, angrily if that were possible, before fading away completely. She left the window at once but the forbidding chill remained with her through the night.

"Lady Catherine, you are correct as always."

Mr. Collins had just arrived and was confirming that her ladyship's most recent words of advice to his dear Charlotte had been of tremendous help.

"Mrs. Collins and I," he continued, "are so very grateful for your generosity and condescension-"

"Yes," Lady Catherine interrupted in her imperious tone. "Yes, that is all very well. Sit down, Mr. Collins. You are most fortunate in your timing. I have just received a letter from my dear friend Lady Cordelia Winston. She writes to me with great regularity of the latest doings in town and of course she sends word immediately of any new tonics or remedies for Anne. There is much practical good sense in her letters, for she loves to be of use. I shall peruse these few pages for any pertinent information that you will wish to impart to Mrs. Collins."

Mr. Collins had a great deal more to say but knew it would have to wait. Lady Catherine did not countenance any interruptions while reading. That she would deign to share with him information from one of her personal letters and all that the gesture implied of his and Charlotte's intimacy with Rosings Park did much to stem his impatience.

The brief silence (for, truly, how long could Lady Catherine and Mr. Collins hold their tongues in each other's company?) was shattered by a shriek. The letter contained not a word of new medicines to suppress coughs or novel methods for keeping ants out of the kitchen. Not a line was written about long sleeves or which shades of green were most fashionable. One topic only was raised: the engagement of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It had been announced in the papers and Lady Catherine now held the clipping, which her friend was kind enough to enclose, in her unsteady hand. Lady Cordelia followed with several impertinent questions which her ladyship barely saw, much less comprehended.

It was well that the Mistress of Rosings Park could do no wrong in the eyes of her clergyman, for had Mr. Collins heard anyone else scream and swear as she did that day he would have been scandalized. As it was, he promptly excused himself from her presence, rethought the necessity of daily visits to the great house as he hurried back to his comfortable Parsonage, and related the whole to his dear Charlotte. He smiled and sighed in gratitude at Charlotte's response to it all, which was to suggest that they travel to Hertfordshire to visit the Lucases until his patroness recovered some of her good humour.

Lady Catherine descended upon London in a rage. Darcy was not at home when she called, being in Hertfordshire at the time. She called next at her brother's house, to which Anne had removed along with Georgiana when Darcy left for Netherfield.

"Have your maid pack your trunks, Anne." She intended to take Anne with her into Hertfordshire to confront Darcy and that scheming Miss Bennet before returning to Kent.

"Mother, please let me stay."

Lady Catherine was struck dumb by the request. Her mousy daughter never, ever expressed a contradictory opinion. Unless one could count her most recent letters - there was the smallest hint of dissention in the last two particularly.

"Cousin Darcy was so lately at Rosings," Anne continued in her quiet, firm voice. She meant to have her way in this. "I can still picture him in the drawing room doing his best to ignore your hints, or sitting at table with us searching for a polite excuse while you encouraged him to pay his addresses to me. You were continually expressing your hopes for the two of us. I cannot imagine you will be soon reconciled to this...Please, mother. I do not wish to return home yet, where I shall be forced to endure your bitter disappointment while I do not share it. There will be no such pall over my visit here. Let me remain with my uncle until it is all over, until the wedding. My aunt will see to whatever I need and Georgiana will keep me company."

This was the longest speech Lady Catherine had heard from Anne in quite some time. Even more shocking was the rejection; she had never borne it from that quarter. Her ire grew and it took considerable effort to subdue it and respond with anything like civility. "You stay, then," she said, finally, in a cracked voice. "You are not needed at home after all. Of what use are you to anyone there?" She turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance. She never saw Anne wiping the tears from her eyes with her small, trembling fingers.

Chapter Eleven

And Mr. Elton returned to Highbury for the last time as a single man. He stayed long enough to conduct the wedding ceremony for Mr. Robert Martin and Miss Harriet Smith before going away again to celebrate his own marriage to Miss Augusta Hawkins of Bristol. He missed the new arrivals and the dinner party of his dear friend Mr. Cole, but by month's end he was back and he and his new bride were settled comfortably at the Vicarage.

On entering Highbury, Frank Chruchill proceeded directly to Randalls where he was affectionately welcomed by his father and his father's bride. Neither parent would hear of him bearing any guilt for his absence from the wedding or the lateness of his visit. Mrs. Weston was ready and Mr. Weston eager to be pleased with everything about him.

Mrs. Weston was indeed delighted with her new son. She hoped to introduce him to her dear Emma at the earliest opportunity. Ever since Christmas, she had been most anxious for Frank to come. At dinner Emma had been put upon by Mr. Elton, everyone could see it, and if Mr. Knightley had not been so kind as to shield her from the most irritating of his attentions it would have been a miserable time for her. Now that Mr. Elton had gone away for his wedding and Frank had come, she hoped her ambition would be realized. How could the two young people fail to develop tender feelings for one another? A few evenings together and Frank would be smitten. Emma would, at long last, have a man worthy of her.

The following morning Mr. Churchill was introduced at Hartfield.

"He is just what a young man ought to be," Emma told Mr. Knightley later that day. "Pleasing manners, delightful conversation, not a little handsome, and he admires Mrs. Weston as much as she deserves. I am quite taken with him."

"Hmmph." Knightley did not trust himself to say more on the subject of Frank Churchill.

"If you find my description uninspiring," she said when she saw there would be no further response, "then you will certainly change your mind about him when I tell you this: he called on Miss Bates, her mother and Miss Fairfax immediately afterward. Is that not enough to ensure your eternal admiration and respect?"

"He did only what he should have done; there is nothing praiseworthy in that."

"There is no satisfying you, is there?" With an uneasy smile Emma abandoned her attempt to recommend her new friend to her old one; she thought to save him the trouble of contradicting her. The memory of their last argument two months ago still had the power to give her pain. Let him keep his opinion, she decided. It is nothing to me.

In the ensuing days Emma met frequently with Mr. Churchill: at Randalls; at Hartfield; at Ford's; at the Coles' evening party. She reluctantly forgave him when, not long after he arrived, he wasted a whole morning riding to London and back on the pretense of having his hair cut. (That the cut was flattering she could not deny, but no more than what he might have obtained in the country.) Together with the Westons they inspected the public rooms at the Crown Inn, where Mr. Churchill suggested they give a ball and requested her hand for the first set. They never were short of conversation, speaking often of the Westons and of this neighbor or that. Emma found that his acquaintance with Jane Fairfax at Weymouth was not as slight as the lady had suggested. To her surprise, Mr. Churchill was less flattering in his expressed opinion of Miss Fairfax than even she would dare to be. Miss Fairfax and the Dixons and Campbells, who were also at Weymouth, were frequently discussed between them.

At the Coles' dinner they had talked over the mystery surrounding the pianoforte.

"So it came from her friends the Campbells," Emma had observed to Mr. Churchill.

"So they say," he replied.

"Or the Dixons, perhaps."

"Hmm?"

"Did you not say that Mr. Dixon openly admired her playing?" She knew that gentleman admired Miss Fairfax - or at least her performance - yet he had married Miss Campbell, her plainer and less accomplished but well dowered friend. Emma wondered if he had any regrets.

"That is true," said Mr. Churchill with a serious look.

"And he is the one who saved her life - prevented her from falling overboard?" she asked, referring to a harrowing event that occurred at Weymouth. Miss Bates had informed her of it recently.

"He is indeed. I was there, one of the party. Miss Fairfax was nearly dashed from the vessel and Mr. Dixon caught her. It was the work of a moment, though I believe it was half an hour before any of us were comfortable again."

Emma thought that such an occurrence would likely endear the one to the other, even had there been no prior attachment. In addition there had to be a reason Miss Fairfax declined to travel to Ireland with her friends and chose instead to spend the winter in Highbury.

Emma refused to speak more plainly of her suspicions regarding the nature of Mr. Dixon's admiration for Miss Fairfax or hers for the gentleman, but she was not quite done with the subject. "I see why one would assume the Campbells are responsible for the instrument, for they have taken her so completely into their care and must be as good to her as any natural parents would be. Yet I cannot agree. After all, it is not very practical of the Campbells to send a pianoforte here, without notifying her in advance, when she may have to leave again as early as the summer. Such a gesture has all the markings of a more impractical sentiment than parental affection, I should say." Emma stopped there and sighed. She had meant to give up speculating about matches, but a girl must have something to talk of.

Mr. Churchill was not averse to hearing her thoughts on the subject, nor was he shocked by their content. Furthermore, he was inclined to agree with her, at least on one point, and he said as much. He turned to her with a lazy smile. "You have convinced me, madam. I can see the gift in no other light than as an offering of love."

She was surprised but pleased by his turn of phrase.

Had she been of a mind to exchange the name of Woodhouse for Churchill, Emma might have been more critical in her analysis of the newcomer's speech and behaviour. As she had formed no such design she was quite satisfied with his attentions and felt no need to subject them to serious scrutiny. He does seem everything one could require in a lover except he cannot be much in love with me, she mused one evening after they had been walking out with Mrs. Weston. He is all ease and friendliness, and while there is nothing wrong with that, it is not enough. It is perhaps unfortunate that we two, who get on so well together, shall never marry, that our friendship shall never be anything more.

Mrs. Weston was pleased with the progress of their acquaintance, Emma could see that, and Mr. Weston equally so. Emma knew of their hopes for an alliance but would not oblige them when it came to the point. She was too satisfied with Hartfield to covet the delights of Enscombe and required more incentive than a young man's consequence and amiability. She laughed to herself for entertaining thoughts of matrimony at all, resolved as she was to remain at home with her father. As things stood, should Frank Churchill propose, she would refuse him. She was certain of it.

The militia departed and the month of June saw many a young lady in Meryton walking about with a long face and a despondent air. The longest face perhaps was attached to the person of Lydia Bennet. Colonel and Mrs. Forster had invited her to accompany them to their new post as the latter's particular friend but her father withheld his consent. Jane and Lizzy were to be married and Mr. Bennet demanded that she remain at home, though she could not think why. Lydia very much resented having her pleasures curtailed for any reason and was inconsolable for a full week. It actually took that long for some of the local young men to gather the courage to flirt with her again as they had done before the militia ever came to Hertfordshire.

Mrs. Bennet talked of little else besides the wedding. Her two eldest girls would marry in a double ceremony. Meryton was happy for the couples, for Jane and Elizabeth had long been general favourites. Even those who were disposed to be envious gave them grudging respect, the one for retaining the good opinion of her gentleman after so long an absence and the other for effecting so material a change in such a rich and proud man's manners. The girls themselves were as unaffected as ever, and their smiles and blushes in the presence of their young men dispelled any doubts regarding the genuineness of the affection each couple shared.

Mrs. Bennet escorted her eldest daughters to London to order their gowns and procure items for their trousseaux. The girls enjoyed the shopping more than they anticipated, for although Mrs. Bennet did delight in a profusion of lace and embellishment she did not force her preferences on her daughters. She knew very well what flattered each of them and encouraged Jane and Lizzy to choose clothing in styles similar to what they usually wore, only in more elegant and fashionable cuts and luxurious fabrics as befitting their consequence as the future Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy.

"Jane Fairfax has recovered, and just in time." Mr. Knightley had called on the Woodhouses one evening very late in February, as he was accustomed to doing several times a week. He found Emma in the dining room making arrangements for a party to be held two days hence in honour of the Eltons' marriage.

Marrying someone completely unknown in Highbury was the best thing the vicar could have done under the circumstances, Emma believed. Not that he had chosen better for himself than his friends might have chosen for him. Mrs. Elton was not at all superior to Harriet, in her opinion. If not for Mr. Elton's earlier presumption towards herself, she would feel sorry for him as husband to such a vulgar wife. As it was, she had determined to host a celebration for the couple so no one would suspect how little she liked them.

Emma pulled her thoughts away from centerpieces and china and acknowledged Mr. Knightley's comment. "Yes, I heard. Miss Bates and her mother were here for cards last evening. Miss Fairfax stayed behind to rest, but her aunt assured me that her niece's headache had abated, and she had not caught cold after all."

"You sound less than pleased."

And you sound a little too pleased. "I would not wish her to be ill; it is just that I cannot like her. I have tried, truly. I do not know what prevents me."

"What you do not like is that our neighbors consider her the more accomplished musician, and rightly so." Not to mention the attention Frank Churchill pays her from time to time, he supposed. Surely if he noticed it then Emma, with her interest in all things romantic, must have observed it as well. There was nothing overt, but Miss Fairfax and Mr. Churchill interacted in a way that stirred his curiosity. If Mr. Churchill were not so forward in his attentions to Emma, he might be tempted to believe him attached to Miss Fairfax, to believe them mutually attached, in fact. More than once he had caught the gentleman looking wistfully in her direction. He hoped the man wasn't playing Emma false. Still, whatever the state of affairs between Mr. Churchill and Jane Fairfax, he wished Emma would forgive Miss Fairfax her superiority in the one or two ways in which she was superior. The two ladies would get along rather well if they made the effort, he was certain. "Jealousy does not become you, Emma."

"What loyalty you show to your old friend." Emma had noticed that when she called him 'friend' he became markedly more attentive to her, and she wanted that at the moment, especially while he was holding forth as Jane Fairfax's champion.

"I would not lie to you." He walked up to her and took her hand. "You know very well that, talented as you are, you have not the dedication to excellence for which Miss Fairfax is well known. Nor do you have the uncertain circumstances which must inspire it to some degree. She does not have a Hartfield to fall back on should she not marry." He pressed her fingers before releasing them.

All of Highbury was aware that the elegant, accomplished, orphaned Miss Fairfax had no dowry to inspire young men to show tangible appreciation for her abilities. Consequently she had been planning for some years to become a governess.

"It is fortunate, then, that the Campbells sent her an instrument on which to perfect her skills."

"I still believe it was unwise to send it anonymously. What could they have meant by it?"

"I heard a rumour that the gift did not come from the Campbells after all. There are some who might be persuaded that you sent the piano to the Bates' residence."

"What?" He was visibly shocked. "Ridiculous!"

"My thoughts exactly," Emma agreed under her breath, recalling Mrs. Weston's suspicions. Her former governess thought Mr. Knightley was quite taken with Jane Fairfax and had told Emma so. "Mr. Churchill does not believe the Campbells sent it either. Though he does not accuse you of doing the deed, he is inclined to consider it a love offering - yes, 'an offering of love' I believe were his very words." She did not tell him that she had planted that notion in Frank Churchill's mind by speculating about Miss Fairfax and Mr. Dixon.

Knightley did not like what he heard. Neither the idea of Emma engaging in indelicate gossip with Churchill nor the alarming thought that just occurred to him - that Churchill himself might have purchased the piano - could give him any pleasure. Yet Emma clearly was not disturbed by similar thoughts. She seemed amused, and pleased to be in Mr. Churchill's confidence. Perhaps her affection was already engaged. His question must be unwelcome; nonetheless he asked it. "Are you certain, my dear Emma..." He did not want his interference to cause another rift between them, especially should it prove unnecessary; yet to say nothing would equal neglect. He was willing to sacrifice anything but her welfare. "Are you quite certain that you perfectly comprehend the degree of acquaintance between Mr. Churchill and Miss Fairfax?"

"Yes, perfectly. Why do you doubt it?" What was there to know? He liked her not at all, and she refused to say a word about him.

"Have you never at any time had reason to suspect that he admired her, or that she admired him?"

"Never, never!" she cried with a most open eagerness. "Quite the contrary. Never, for the twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me. And how could it possibly come into your head?"

"I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between them - certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be public."

"Oh! Mr. Knightley, you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you can vouchsafe to let your imagination wander - but it will not do - very sorry to check you-" The amusement had bubbled up inside her until she realized where his questions might lead. "There is no admiration between them. If anything..." What more can I tell you? You are approaching too near the Dixon matter, sir. You will get no confession from me. "I cannot explain it all exactly - there is a good deal of...well, of nonsense, really, in any 'expressive looks,' as you say - but the part that I can explain, which is sense, is that they are as far from any attachment or admiration for one another as any two beings in the world can be. That is, I presume it to be so on her side, and I can answer for its being so on his. I will answer for the gentleman's indifference."

She spoke with a confidence that staggered Knightley. He found that he could not be useful, and his feelings were too much irritated for continuing long on the subject. To put an end to it he said rather hastily and perhaps more in the carelessness of anger than in wisdom, "I shall forget my odd notions, then, madam. I had better, for I do not know which is worse: that Mr. Churchill should injure Miss Fairfax continually by his pointed attentions to you, or that the lady should have an understanding with the gentleman yet wish to conceal it. Neither idea is to my liking, for neither does Miss Fairfax justice. One bodes ill for her feelings, the other for her character."

"And heaven forbid that you should be forced to think ill of Miss Fairfax!" Emma rolled her eyes. "One thing is certain. No one need fear the lady will suffer a moment's injustice while you stand ready to defend her."

I am acting in your defense, Emma. Why can you not see it? Has that cad blinded you so completely? He backed away from the looming argument. "You will be sure to make her feel welcome at the Eltons' dinner?" If Emma willingly joined Frank Churchill in whatever game he was playing, he would not vouch for his conduct.

"Must I?" As mistress of Hartfield she would do no less, regardless of her personal feelings, but he should know that.

He merely looked at her in answer. He did not trust himself should he open his mouth.

"Of course Mr. Churchill will come as well," she said, smiling. She knew he was displeased, though not why he persisted in his pointed dislike of the gentleman. Frank Churchill had been nothing but amiable and charming to everybody during his stay in Highbury, and here Mr. Knightley was accusing him of all sorts of impropriety and intrigue.

"Must he?" Knightley wished the boy would run away back to Yorkshire. Even if his suspicions proved groundless, Frank Churchill simply was not good enough for Emma. Knightley hoped rather than believed she would realize that herself before it was too late.

"He will be here, and he is very welcome. Fair is fair, Mr. Knightley."

He wondered if it was.

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