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Chapter 1

Posted on Tuesday, 23 January 2007

“One has not great hopes from Birmingham. I always say there is something direful in the sound.” ~ Jane Austen

July 15, 1810
Grand Duchy of Baden

Dearest Lizzy,

As you may have noticed from the post mark, I write to you from Baden-Baden, or Baden-Boring, as I have christened it. My parents sent me here as a sort of punishment for the Ruslan fiasco – who knew they would be like this? After all, Mamma eloped with Papa, one would think they would understand a little romance. Ruslan was so dashing and handsome in his uniform, Lizzy! When I had to say good-bye to him for the last time, I simply cried and cried. Do not be so shocked, dear cousin, I never really intended to go away with him – it would break Papa and Peter’s hearts and I simply could not bear that. I just wanted to have a little fun. So now, I am not allowed to do anything but listen to my Aunt’s lectures and practice my German, and as you well know, I look quite plain when I speak German, so this is no consolation. What young people as there are, I cannot even draw near, as I am always being reprimanded by my Uncle and Aunt, who barely let me out of their sight. Thankfully, I was allowed to bring Eugenie and she smuggles the latest novels to me under the cover of night. So you see, my dear, my circumstances are quite dire and I shall have to learn to behave or I shall never meet another officer again (however… that is what got me in trouble in the first place…). Oh, I must put my pen down for a moment, for Aunt Sofia is calling me, no doubt to make me read some horrible improving book.

Lizzy, Aunt Sofia just imparted to me, with infinite displeasure, that my parents sent word that they would come in two months’ time. I daresay she believes they are too lax – she would like to see me suffer more for my ‘folly.’ She is very strict, though she is not ten years older than you and I. Perhaps Uncle Kostya will send her back home to tend to little Nicholas and Elena; she will not go herself for she certainly does not feel the burden of being away from her little ones. Lizzy, when we are mothers, let us never leave our children with nurses for long periods of time! As you can tell, there is mutual disapproval between me and Aunt Sofia. Well, I shall be very happy to see my parents again! I have missed them, believe it or not. I hope Peter will come as well, but I doubt Natasha will as she is in that delicate ‘condition’ that we young ladies are not supposed to know anything about. Mamma still tells me that I was found in a potato patch…

If you wrote to me after your stay at Hunsford with Mrs Collins (and Mr Collins, if one needs to mention him – Mamma has told me all about his recently deceased father), I most likely did not receive your letter because I was being sent into this exile. However, I sincerely hope you had a lovely time and I look forward with delight to hearing your descriptions of the oh-so-grand Lady Catherine – she sounds a perfect harridan. Until then, I remain

Your loving cousin,
Alina Rostov

July 29, 1810
Moscow, Russia

Dear Brother,

Forgive me for not writing for so long. I have been getting all of my news from Lizzy’s letters, by way of Alina. I imagine Lizzy has told you of our almost-scandal; thankfully, we do not believe Alina’s intentions to have been truly vicious, but that kind of behavior must be checked. How ironic that I should speak thusly, I know, but time and position in life tend to change one’s point of view dramatically. We have sent her for several months to Baden with Alexei’s brother and his wife, which we hope will be sufficient punishment (I refer to the wife, not the brother, you understand). We shall join her there shortly, and Peter may come along as well -- the son of one of Alexei’s cousin, a very nice young man. He and Alina have almost grown up together, though he is a bit older, and we are hoping he will have a calming influence.

Otherwise, all is well with our family. Last year was a rush with Natasha’s wedding to Eugene, but now they are well and settled in their own townhouse in the city and we are encouraged to hope that a certain happy event may take place in a not too distant future. Alexei is, of course, beside himself with happiness – if he were a woman, he would be knitting booties, I believe! If it is a boy, Natasha and Eugene want to name him Sergei, for Eugene’s grandfather, and if it is a girl, they have decide that she will be Jane (Zhenya) in honor of our dear mother, and can be the namesake of my lovely niece. This is it for now, and though I know you are averse to writing letters, I would very much like to hear from you sometime. I keep the letter open because Alexei wants to add something. With much love, Catherine R.

Bennet,

I did not want to alarm Katya* with what I have to relay. The situation here and in France grows worse and worse, there is hardly a place in Europe safe from that man. There are rumors that he is gathering forces to move on Russia itself. Katya, Peter and I are going to stay with Alina in Baden, which is already under Napoleon’s control (but does not suffer his attention) and is thus considered safer than other places in Europe for the moment; we have a number of country retreats for the rest of our family should circumstances indeed grow intolerable. I wish Natasha could come as well, my mind will not truly be at peace, but she is-- indisposed at the moment and her husband’s family is well situated and have a safe place to evacuate to in case of an invasion. Just to be sure, we are leaving Alexander to watch over all of them, he is certainly a serious enough and responsible young man. News of England is very scarce and unreliable here. Please write to the Baden address and tell me how it is with you. If you are not safe, we will make every effort to assist your family. A.R.

[*A/N: “Katya” or “Ekaterina” is the Russian equivalent of the English name “Catherine.” Alexei Rostov is referring to his wife, Mr Bennet’s sister Catherine.]

Mr Bennet, having decided to spend a rare evening in the company of his family instead of ensconced in his study, had brought his correspondence to the drawing room to read. He had hoped the occupation would shield him from listening to the inane comments of his three younger daughters as well as from having to speak himself. However, he was quickly finding out that his ingenuity was no match for the persistence of his wife and offspring.

“Mr Bennet, pray tell, what are you reading there so secretively?” inquired Mrs Bennet for the third time, in a voice that would not be ignored.

“It is only a letter from my wayward sister and her husband, Mrs Bennet,” Mr Bennet answered shortly, hoping to forestall further inquiries. Of course, the mention of Mr Bennet’s sister only served to raise his wife’s interest.

“Oh!” she gushed, “dear Catherine and dear Prince Alexei! Girls, is that not exciting? Your father corresponds with a Prince!”

Lydia and Kitty immediately broke out into violent whispering and Mr Bennet exchanged an amused glance with his second, and favorite, daughter. He had many times explained to his family that the rank of a “Prince” did not actually mean a direct descendant to the throne of the Russian Empire, and so Elizabeth bore the excitement the title produced with equanimity. As he did not often share his correspondence with Catherine with his family, he supposed their curiosity was understandable.

“Papa, is this the sister who eloped with the dashing officer?” Lydia asked, winking at Kitty. Kitty winked back, suppressing another giggle. Mary, who desperately wanted to know what all the winking was about but was too proud to ask, only harrumphed disapprovingly. The noise drew Jane’s questioning eye and as no one, least of all Lydia, wanted to explain anything to Jane, the three sisters quieted down.

Mrs Bennet, who had no idea that all these silent communications were going on in her drawing room, sighed rapturously, fanning herself with a lace handkerchief. “What a romantic story!”

“Mama!” exclaimed Elizabeth, shocked out of her reverie, “What are you saying -- elopements are not romantic!” Then she colored and looked back down at her embroidery. Jane patted her hand sympathetically, knowing that her sister must still be thinking of Mr Darcy’s letter.

“Do not take that tone with me, Miss Lizzy! I will have you know that in my day, I had many propositions…”

“Ah, the missed opportunities,” murmured Mr Bennet, hiding a smile behind another letter. “You know, my dear, it is not too late. I did offer to send you by yourself to Mr Bingley…” Jane blushed.

“Oooh,” Mrs Bennet cried, “how you delight in vexing me! My nerves--”

“Father, do tell the story again,” Lizzy interrupted her mother -- as politely as she could, of course -- anything to stop another tirade about Mrs Bennet’s nerves!

Mr Bennet settled more comfortably into his chair by the fire and looked at five pairs of expectant eyes and one pair of eyes that was unsuccessfully trying to appear detached from all worldly concerns (Mary’s).

“A long time ago,” he began, “before any of you were born and even before your mother and I got married, I lived here at Longbourn with my parents and my younger sister, Catherine -- yes, Kitty, you were both named after my grandmother. Both of my parents doted on her and she grew up, while sweet-tempered, kind and generous, having learned to heed only her own opinions and desires. With the assistance of my mother’s family, my father sent Catherine to study art and music in Paris for a year to enhance her prospects before introducing her to society. She was eighteen at the time and I was twenty seven.”

“How long ago it seems now, Mr Bennet!” mused Mrs Bennet, recalling how handsome Mr Bennet was when he was young and how witty and delightful he had seemed back then.

“Indeed, my dear,” her husband replied almost gently, perhaps remembering the same thing about his wife. “Well, well, and so to Paris she went. I cannot say it did her any good. She certainly learned music and art very well, but she was even less inclined to listen to reason than before. My parents could not afford to visit her much and she was left in the care of the headmistress of her seminary -- a person sadly lacking in discipline and attention, I must say. Sometime during that year, she met a Russian colonel, Alexei Rostov, hardly a few years older than herself, who was in Paris on a commission for his general.”

“Oooh, an officer!” giggled Lydia. Elizabeth threw her a warning glance, to which Lydia, being herself, paid no attention. Mr Bennet barely noticed the interruption, lost as he was in the memories.

“Apparently, they found ways to see each other regularly, no one really knows how. Both were young and reckless and thought they had nothing to lose. That summer, just as Catherine turned nineteen, she left the seminary and married Alexei. We found out when she signed a letter home ‘Catherine Rostov’ -- she thought it would be a good joke.” Mr Bennet’s voice was so bitter that not even Lydia dared laugh. In fact, she looked rather pale.

”But father,” ventured Kitty, “it did not turn out so badly after all, did it?”

Mr Bennet looked over at his daughters sternly. “I suppose, Kitty, it depends on what you mean by ‘so very badly.’ She left all her family, all her friends and tied herself to a man she barely knew for the rest of her life. She was lucky that, at the core, he was a kind and honorable man who really did love her.”

“My dear Mr Bennet, what are you saying -- she is a Princess!” cried Mrs Bennet rapturously. “Imagine that, girls!”

Mr Bennet looked even more stern. For once in his life, he was motivated into a lecture, and his family was so shocked by this unprecedented occurrence, that they actually stared and listened. “No matter what your mother would have you believe, elopement is not romantic! My sister could have run away with someone who would not have married her at all, or someone who would have mistreated her, beaten her even. And because the law gives a husband the sole custody of his wife, her family would have been unable to do anything to help.” Gasps of shock were heard from the girls at this harsh truth. Kitty and Lydia exchanged panicked glances.

“My family spent time and a great deal of money looking for her, until her new husband realized that she had not informed her family of their marriage and reminded her to write to us. She was a very silly girl when she was young. My poor parents almost died from shock and surely, if I had had any other sisters, their chances of making a good marriage would have been irreparably damaged by her foolhardy action. For who would associate with such a family? As it is, it caused a breach in our family for many years -- Catherine and I did not begin to write again to each other until a little more than ten years ago, when her husband assumed his title after the carriage accident of his father and elder brother. The hurt ran too deeply and my parents died not having seen their daughter again.” Mr Bennet looked around the room. “As silly as you girls are, I would not want to part from you under those kinds of circumstances. I believe I have been a lenient father -- if a young man of good family and fair prospects wishes to marry you, and you wish to align yourself with him, I would be more than willing to entertain the application. Send him to me before he changes his mind and we shall see what we can work out.”

With that, Mr Bennet rose, bade everyone a good night and retired to the library; the family interaction having been too exhausting for him, he preferred a glass of port and his books to take his mind off of the complications of raising five daughters. Besides, he felt an unfamiliar urge to actually answer his sister’s letter, and especially her husband’s postscript, which disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

The remaining occupants of the room went back to their pursuits for a while, but everyone’s hand felt a little heavier after Mr Bennet’s story. They had never seen their father speak with such feeling and had not known he was carrying so much sadness inside related to the elopement of his sister. Mrs Bennet even had the strangest sensation that she wanted to somehow-- comfort her husband, perhaps even put her arms around him. However, she quickly attributed this absurd emotion to the fish they had for dinner and resolved to have quite a firm talk with the cook about serving bad halibut in the future. With these thoughts, she went off to bed, only once glancing at the adjoining door, behind which her husband reposed, with something like momentary regret.

Elizabeth and Jane both sank into an uneasy sleep in their bedrooms, the former thinking about a certain letter and the latter thinking about a certain gentleman and his kind, laughing eyes.

Mary read a page of Fordyce which failed to satisfy her; instead her mind was occupied by the undeniably romantic story of her Aunt, whom she had met only once, and her life in exotic Russia. She tried to tell herself that elopements were the work of the devil and thinking about romance was an unworthy pastime, but pictures of dashing young officers in red uniform appeared in her mind quite out of nowhere. Perhaps they wear blue, she thought as she drifted off to sleep. Yes, blue would be quite attractive…

Two people were not asleep, however, and the rest of the household was so preoccupied with their own concerns as to be completely oblivious to their agitation.

“Oh, Lydia, whatever are you going to do?” whispered Kitty with despair.

“What do you mean, Kitty,” snapped Lydia, “I am not going to do anything!”

Kitty wailed. “About Mr Wickham!”

“Shhhhh, Kitty, go to sleep!” Lydia hissed, throwing a pillow at Kitty’s head. Kitty mumbled discontentedly and blew out the candle.

For all the bravado, Lydia was thinking furiously. It was not an occupation in which she indulged frequently and the wheels were a bit rusty; however, turn they did and if her family had seen her at this moment, they would have been uniformly surprised at the loss of the vacant look from her face. In fact, Lydia, though invariably silly and unthinking, was not a stupid girl nor a mean tempered one. Beneath the spoiled exterior, she loved her family -- in her own way -- and her father’s words had uncomfortably disarranged some of her best hopes and plans.

It all started, she remembered, with a note from Harriet.

My dear Lydia,

I have the most terrible news, you will not believe how very vexed I am: the militia is not encamping to Brighton after all, but is to stay in Meryton for another four months! And I was so looking forward to all the parties and balls we would have - just imagine, a whole camp full of soldiers! I was completely desolate for a full hour, but then Chamberlain and dear Wickham came to report something to Colonel Forster and stayed to entertain me and quite dispelled my melancholy. You know, I am quite sure Wickham does not fancy your sister, he spoke not one word about her, and if you cannot guess who he did speak about, I shall think you a simpleton! There is to be a card party on Wednesday night and you simply must come because a certain person shall also be present! There, I hope I have sufficiently cheered you up. I know you will come so I do not even require an answer. We shall have such fun! Some of the boys are scheming to dress Chamberlain in a dress and present him as a dance partner to Denny during Sir William’s Assembly next month! Scandalous!

Harriet Forster

Lydia saw Wickham at the Wednesday card party and he had been so amiable and delightful, and had even taken her for a walk out on the balcony. Lydia had never known that walks could be such fun! After that, Harriet schemed for them to meet often and Lydia felt that she had never known a man who was so handsome and charming as George. She had a nagging feeling sometimes that what she was doing was not precisely proper and that if her elder sisters or her father found out, there could be trouble, but she simply ignored those doubts. And then, came the magical moment when George had asked her to go away with him! He made it seem like the most romantic thing in the world -- they would go to London (because he had some business there), they would get married and she would write to her parents and sign her name as Mrs Wickham! Would not that be a pleasant surprise for them? Mamma always went on and on about how they had to get married, and here was a man, handsome and an officer, who wanted to marry Lydia! Surely, her family would be pleased that she had made such an advantageous match!

However, Mr Bennet’s obvious sadness about what happened to his sister, even after all these years and after she became a Princess (a Princess!), made Lydia reconsider all of her previous conclusions, vague and disorganized as they were. Especially what struck her was Mr Bennet’s wistfulness when he said “the rest of her life.” Lydia had never thought about it before (Lydia had never thought about many things before), but the rest of her life seemed like an awfully long time to spend with just one person! Wickham had already shown displeasure when she danced twice with Denny at the last ball -- would he be even worse when they got married? No more balls, flirting or officers? Lydia recoiled in horror. And her sisters! What fun would it be to be married if she was forced to live far away and could not lord it over them? And how would she find husbands for all of her sisters if she was not allowed to associate with them? Elopement and marriage were looking decidedly less and less attractive to Lydia with every passing moment. Lydia decided that she would tell George to go to London by himself. Besides, she thought, perking up, if she went away, she would miss seeing Chamberlain in a dress!

Chapter 2

Posted on Thursday, 25 January 2007

“Families are like fudge... mostly sweet with a few nuts.” ~Anonymous

July 6, 1810
Pemberley, Derbyshire

Anne,

Such is the irony of life: that the first bet I ever lose in my life, I lose to a woman. At least you are family and so my reputation with the ladies shall not be irreparably ruined!

What can I relate - you were absolutely right in your suppositions about Darcy, he is miserable. If one did not know him, one would never suspect, the expression upon his face is as perfectly impenetrable as ever, but he cannot fool me, whom he has grown up with and who has thrown him into the Pemberley pond once too often. He finally came out with the whole sad tale one night after I made him drink enough brandy to loosen his tongue (out of respect for your delicate sensibilities, I shall not tell you exactly how much that was… I can see you glaring at me now!). I cannot tell you what he said, male solidarity and all, suffice it to say that your observational skills are first-rate and put the soldier in me to shame. Well, we cannot undo what he has done, unfortunately. I wish he had sought my counsel, but you know Darcy, it’s the damn Fitzwilliam pride which we all have in droves. Georgiana is also unhappy - the poor thing thinks his mood is somehow her fault. Anne, what they both need is a change of atmosphere, and I am at a complete loss as to how to arrange that. I received a letter from my general two days ago asking if I would undertake a commission from him that would take me to Baden for a month (do not worry, the danger is minimal, truly), and I think it would do Darcy a world of good to come with me. However, I have not even had the courage to suggest it for you know very well that he would not leave Pemberley and Georgiana.

Forgive me for so somber a missive -- so devoid of my usual sparkling wit -- but I am truly worried for both of them. Georgiana asked me to tell you that she misses you and to please give her warmest regards to your mother (and mine and Darcy’s as well). I shall be at P. for several weeks still, if you can think of a solution.

Yours affectionately,
Richard

July 19, 1810
Rosings, Kent

Richard, leave everything to me. Oh, I should tell you that Mother graciously accepts Georgiana’s regards, but after your abominable behavior in leaving two days early when you were here for Easter, she cannot accept yours or Darcy’s, which is just as well. Do not expose yourself to danger in Baden! Please give enclosed to Georgiana. Yours, Anne

My dear Georgiana,

It has been too long since I received your last letter and I have so missed your correspondence. I must apologize for Richard - he sent off his letter to me in such haste as to not leave you time to enclose one of your own. I hope that everything is well at Pemberley, at least Richard tells me that it is so. He is enjoying his time with you and your brother tremendously and I am only sad that he will not be able to join us as well due to his commission on the Continent. Mother and I are so isolated here in Kent, so cut off from all the family, that besides the annual Easter visit, we do not get to see much of anybody. There is not much news to report, only that Mr Collins (my mother’s parson) followed my mother’s advice and chose a wife from his father’s home county of Hertfordshire. She is a lovely lady -- calm, gentle, patient -- what she sees in Mr Collins, I can hardly imagine, but such are the little mysteries of life, I suppose. I do wish you could meet her, for I believe she has spent some time with your brother when he was visiting Mr Bingley’s estate in that neighborhood. I try to visit her at the parsonage as often as I can when I escape for my daily drives. It is beautiful here at this time of year -- the flowers are in bloom, the birds are chirping in their nests and there is such a general air of contentment among our tenants that even my mother finds little to do in her duties as magistrate. However, I have noticed that despite the new addition to the neighborhood in the form of Mrs Collins and despite the lovely scenery, I have grown bored and dissatisfied. The doctor prescribed long walks for the improvement of my health, but there is no one to accompany me whose presence and conversation would give me pleasure. I would very much like to learn to play the piano and the harp, but I detest the idea of a strange, impersonal tutor. Drawing solely for myself does not excite me either, when I cannot share it with another. In short, dear cousin, I hope to persuade you to leave the wilds of Derbyshire and come and stay with us for some time for I would dearly love your company -- it has been too long, too long since we have last seen each other. I shall not be upset with you if you choose to decline, but I will be disappointed. Do not worry about leaving your brother by himself as I have heard that Richard has some plans for their entertainment. Oh, Georgiana, do come, we will have so much fun together! I will await your answer with the greatest anticipation.

Your loving cousin,
Anne DeBourgh

“Oh!” exclaimed Georgiana, lowering Anne’s letter to her lap.

Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been engaged in their own conversation, looked over questioningly. “What is it, my dear?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam gently. “Did something frighten you?”

Georgiana blushed at attracting the attention of her brother and cousin. “No, no, please, do not worry.” Although Georgiana wholeheartedly appreciated her brother’s love and concern, she was privately a little tired of being treated like a porcelain doll that would break if one dropped it accidentally. “I was just reading a letter from Anne -- she invites me to stay with her and Lady Catherine at Rosings.”

Darcy’s countenance darkened. “Rosings!” He turned to the fireplace to stoke the fire, biding time to compose himself.

Georgiana’s hands intertwined in her lap and she looked downcast. “You would not permit me to go?” she asked softly, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Permit?” Darcy was ashamed that his hasty outburst was interpreted in such a way by his sister. “Why, of course I would permit it if you really wished to go…” Here he stopped, unsure how to articulate his sentiment.

Colonel Fitzwilliam intervened. “I believe your brother was merely expressing his surprise that you should wish to travel so far and to spend time with our Aunt Catherine.”

“Fitzwilliam!” Darcy shot him a warning glance.

“I only meant, Darcy, that our aunt is so isolated in Kent. Would not Georgiana wish for wider society?”

At this, Georgiana protested eloquently that surely, the society of her aunt and cousin would be sufficient for a young girl who was not yet out; Anne had described Rosings so enticingly and Georgiana felt Anne’s loneliness so keenly that her natural shyness was completely overcome by the desire to be of use to somebody. The candles in the room cast a soft reflection on her eager face, picking out a bloom on a cheek that had been pale only a few months back; it had been a very long time since she had shown interest in anything and Darcy felt a momentary glimmer of hope that the past could truly remain in the past. He could not ask her to give up the thought of so much enjoyment and the plan was made for Georgiana’s departure to Rosings in a week’s time. Georgiana left to write a note to Anne and Darcy and the Colonel retreated to the library for a glass of port.

They savored the dark amber liquid, swirling it softly in their glasses, each lost in his own thoughts. Darcy’s mind came back to Rosings, again and again, and with that, invariably to Hunsford. After the initial days of contemplation, he did not think of it all the time, not even a large portion of the time -- his duties as the Master of Pemberley left no room for idle thoughts -- but it was a sadness that weighed on his daily life and colored his perceptions. Naturally, he had not expected a response to his letter but he foolishly hoped that he might receive some subtle acknowledgement, some sign that she had at least read it and had not thrown it unopened into the fire. Darcy sighed, turning his thoughts forcibly to Georgiana and their impending separation.

The Colonel’s mind was occupied with his cousin, Anne. He had always kept a healthy correspondence with her, as frequent as a gentleman of his profession and lifestyle could allow, but during the last year, she had developed into something more than a superficial correspondent -- she had grown into a friend. It had started with a few frivolous book suggestions in a letter after too much wine, which he thought Anne would promptly discard, but to his immense surprise, she wrote back, sharing her own ideas. And they did not even bore him, as women’s ideas tended to do -- in fact, he had been so interested in her impressions and so amused by her surprising wit that he sat down immediately to compose a proper response. From that point on, a pleasant rapport developed between them and Colonel Fitzwilliam truly valued Anne’s friendship and cousinly affection. Anne’s letter to Georgiana pleased Colonel Fitzwilliam immensely. It was finely tuned to compel Georgiana to accept the invitation -- bold enough to be interesting yet conventional enough not to frighten her, playing on Georgiana’s delicate sense of duty to her family while making the duty sound pleasant. It was a thing to be admired. Colonel Fitzwilliam felt certain that Anne was the perfect person to draw out the frightened girl, to help her find her own worth again and to forget what had happened the previous summer.

“It was a good decision to allow Georgiana to go to Rosings,” he said to Darcy, as an extension of his thoughts.

“Really?” Darcy said, knitting his eyebrows.

“Oh yes,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied with perfect seriousness, “I believe our aunt is the ideal role model of feminine behavior.”

Darcy choked on his drink. Colonel Fitzwilliam banged on his back solicitously and waited for the coughing to subside. “Relax, Darcy, I am only joking! I really meant that it is Anne who will be a good role model.”

“Anne? But she is always so quiet and shy.”

“That is because you do not take the trouble of speaking with her, Will.”

They called each other by their childhood nicknames very rarely and it prompted Darcy to pause and think more carefully than he normally would have done before formulating his response. “I daresay you are right, Richard, I have not made the effort,” he admitted, with a little more bitterness than he had intended. “I do not think I am a very good cousin… or brother for that matter.”

The crackle of the fire was the only sound in the room for a full minute.

“I wish I could reassure you,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a sigh. “We are both to blame for what happened last summer, Will, we could and should have watched over her better.” He paused in reflection and bowed his head. “The most difficult moment in my life was when you stopped me from running that scoundrel through with my sword. You were right then, of course, and I will remind you of your own words. You said that I needed to think of Georgiana, that I could not help her from prison or exile. [I]You[/I] cannot help her either if you lose yourself in your regrets. Any of them. We must both look forward now and attempt to be better men than we have been in the past.”

“And you think,” Darcy asked, getting up and pacing about the room, “that letting her go off to Rosings is the responsible action to take?”

“She will be safe with Anne, Will, I would stake my honor on that,” Colonel Fitzwilliam answered without hesitation. “Besides, knowing Aunt Catherine, she will not let either one of them venture outdoors without Mrs Jenkins, Mrs Annesley and at least three footmen. In all the time any of us have ever spent with Aunt Catherine as children, do you remember even once getting as much as a scraped knee? Sit down, man, you are making my head spin.”

Darcy sat down abruptly. “Yes, you are right, Fitzwilliam. I am fussing like a mother hen, I do not know what has gotten into me.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled inwardly at the return of the more formal designation as well as at the comparison of his severe and fastidious cousin to a mother hen. “Have another drink, Darcy, it will all be well,” he motioned, wisely deciding to leave the conversation about the trip to Baden for another time.

The next day dawned bright and clear over Pemberley, as the cliché goes. Despite memories of her aunt’s stern lectures, Georgiana was truly excited to go to Rosings. London -- with its narrow streets, its crowds and parties -- had never made her comfortable, but Anne’s letter evoked pictures of beauty and tranquility that made Georgiana eager for the change. She fluttered about for the next week, helping her maid pack her favorite dresses, her sketching things, her books and music as well as other items she believed Anne would enjoy seeing; Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam watched over her with inner happiness at these signs of returning life. There were travel plans to make, escorts to choose from Pemberley’s staff for the road, inns to reserve to accommodate the party during the two-days’ passage from Derbyshire to Kent, and places to locate where they could allow the horses to rest. To the surprise of both the men, Georgiana wished to be acquainted with all the details of the journey and worried, for the first time in her life, about the state of the roads and the comfort of the servants who would accompany them. They did not quite know what to make of this new maturity in their young charge, but the hearts of both delighted that Georgiana could take pleasure and interest in things again, and Darcy’s concerns about allowing her to undertake this journey were slightly assuaged.

Before she set off for Kent -- a week later -- with Mrs Annesley waiting in the carriage and the horses stamping their hooves in eagerness to depart, Georgiana hugged both her brother and her cousin tightly, whispering to Colonel Fitzwilliam: “You will take care of Fitzwilliam, will you not?”

“I will, little one, be assured of that,” he smiled back at her. “And you, take good care of Anne for me and do not let Aunt Catherine read you too many lectures.”

“What are you telling her about Aunt Catherine, Fitzwilliam?” Darcy asked sternly. “Georgiana, remember to give your aunt every attention and to respect her authority in everything.”

Georgiana suppressed a smile at receiving these conflicting instructions, so characteristic of the originating parties, and stepped into the carriage.

Chapter 3

Posted on Monday, 29 January 2007

July 23, 1810
Netherfield, Hertfordshire

Darcy,

I am back at Nether{blot}! I know what you will think, my friend, that I am a {smudge} for trying if she does not care for me, but what is life if one does not take risks? Although I do trust your most excellent judgment in this {blot}stance, I find that I cannot defer to it this time. She is the most {smudge}ful creature and I cannot live without her; in the very least, I have to make my feelings known! I am even writing a {blot} for her, that is how far gone I am, but I will refrain from sharing it with you. My sisters have joined me at N., and you are welcome to come as well, however, after Caroline put her {blot} in your {smudge} last time-- well! I do not believe you would want to!

CB

Bingley, having sealed the letter and dropped it on a tray for the footman, sat back and sighed with satisfaction. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders -- the skies were blue, the warm breeze ticked his nose and the birds chirped peacefully in the morning sun -- in short, Bingley felt free to court Jane Bennet, and this time, he would do it without reservations. After so many months of having confusing and worrisome thoughts, he had decided to disregard the opinions of his sisters and his friend and pursue his own happiness. The only cloud on his horizon had been the notion that Miss Bennet (he dared not call her "Jane" yet, even in his mind) may have been so offended by his removal to town last autumn that she had irrevocably ceased to care for him. However, that had been quickly dispelled when he had called on the Bennets several days ago -- his angel had smiled at him and all was right again in Bingley's world.

Humming a little, he pulled out a sheet of paper that had been carefully hidden under the other papers on his desk. Bingley knew that he was no Shakespeare -- the amount of versions he went through until the page in front of him was free of crossed out words and ink blots testified to that -- but he fervently hoped to one day be able to show Miss Bennet the following humble product of his inspiration:

“My love, my dreams thy beauty does inspire,
And when I sink into my slumber deep,
I see the lovely form that I admire,
I hear the voice that calms me in my sleep;
'Tis more than beauty that my passion stirs--
Thy goodness, kindness, anyone can see,
The sweetness of thy nature I prefer
To anything that other women be.
Without thee, my days are dark and plain,
My dreams - the only solace for my mind;
I call your image 'fore my eyes again
And pray that when we meet, you will be kind.
With thee I plead, a-tremble, for my life:
Miss Bennet, tell me, will you be my wife?”

He mouthed the last line again, savoring it silently for a minute, and then dared to speak it out loud. At first, it was no more than a whisper, but a second and third repetition gave Bingley courage and he spoke louder, trying to imagine how sweet it would be to actually say these words to her.

He cleared his throat again. “Miss Bennet,” he tried, “will you be my wife? Will you be my wife? Will you be my wife?”

“Charles, to whom are you speaking?” Caroline asked loudly, strolling into his study without knocking, as was her usual habit.

And I was in such a good mood, thought Bingley darkly. He sighed. “Is there anything I can do for you, Caroline?”

“Oh, yes, I merely wanted to know how much longer you plan to reside in this--” she shivered elegantly “this wilderness!”

“Caroline, I would hardly call it that,” he replied with annoyance. His head was beginning to pound. Why could he not be walking in the gardens with Miss Bennet instead of being lectured by his sister?

Caroline threw up her hands dramatically. “How can you say that? All the same people, very little beauty and no fashion, I simply cannot be here another minute. Let us go to Sanford, where dear Duchess of Stone has her summer parties.”

“We are not acquainted with dear Duchess of Stone,” Bingley reminded her dryly.

“Oh, well,” Caroline was not to be deterred, “we can lease a house in the neighborhood and become acquainted! Surely, the society there would be much superior to these… people.”

Something in Bingley snapped. Perhaps it was the result of having excused his sister’s outrageous behavior for so long; perhaps because he very well realized that she was explicitly insulting the wonderful creature he hoped to one day call his wife; whatever the reason was, the tolerance which usually characterized his dealings with his sister receded before a wave of anger. He stood up slowly and placed his palms on the cool mahogany of the desk. “Caroline,” he said, glaring at her, “if you wish to go to Sanford, I shall not prevent you. I am certain that Louisa and Hurst would accompany you there. You have an allowance, use it wisely. I, however, am going to remain here for as long as I choose, notwithstanding anyone else’s preferences. And, as long as you are under my roof, I expect you to behave properly and pay every respect to all of our acquaintances here, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.”

“Oh, Charles,” Caroline said dismissively, “must you be so dramatic?” As soon as she said it, she realized that it had been a strategic mistake. The expression on her brother’s face hardened and his voice, when he spoke, was quiet, calm and measured, and had a firm quality to it that was very unlike him.

“I mean it this time, Caroline. You must begin living by my rules -- you are intelligent enough to realize what they are -- or you can pack your bags and live either with Louisa and Hurst in town or with Aunt Somerset in Yorkshire.”

Not used to being spoken to in that fashion by her mild-mannered brother, Caroline was so shocked that she was obliged to sit down. She decided to change tactics. “B-but Charles,” she stammered, “you know I have nothing but respect for dear Jane and” she winced “her dear family… I was just trying to save you from disappointment and disgrace with the ton. Such shocking relations! Connections in trade!” she trailed off, as if that had been self explanatory.

“The same thing could be said about me, and yet, Darcy was willing to overlook that. You are always admiring him, I suggest you take a page from his book.” He took her arm and began leading her out of his study.

“Oh, yes,” Caroline allowed grandly, “Mr Darcy always does what is right and proper, he is a gentleman beyond reproach!” As Bingley closed the door behind her, he could still hear her speaking. “We could all take example from him… wait, Charles, what did you mean you have shocking relations?!”

He leaned against the mercifully closed door, feeling drained by the exchange, especially because it had been one of many since they had come to Netherfield. Dash it all, he thought suddenly, I am going to see Miss Bennet, and no one can stop me. The thought alone brought back something of his previous happy mood.

Chapter 4

July 19, 1810
London

My dearest Lizzy,

I am afraid I do not have much time to write, for Annabelle and Julia are sick and must be tended to; and what I write will not be pleasing news. It seems that your uncle is obliged to remain in London because of his business and we will not be able to take the trip to the Lakes after all. I know you must be severely disappointed, but please accept instead an open invitation to visit us anytime this autumn or winter, though it must be a poor substitute indeed. Your uncle and the children send their best wishes and hope that everyone is in good health.

Your loving aunt,
Julia Gardiner

Elizabeth tried to suppress her disappointment at this unwelcome news from her aunt; after all, she was not entitled to a trip to the lakes and her uncle’s business was of paramount importance, but she had been looking forward to some kind of a diversion for months and the promise of traveling had been a bright point on her horizon. When Elizabeth had come back from Kent, she discovered that life at Longbourn had continued in the same way that it always had. She thought wryly that so much had changed for her during that brief trip that she somehow had expected others to be similarly affected, and yet, her parents and sisters and neighbors were exactly as she had left them. Jane was the only one who was different -- her expression and manner still retained the sweetness and placidity that characterized her, but her mouth was drawn into a tighter line and her eyes held a barely perceptible sadness that pained Elizabeth -- but even that change was so little noticed by everybody around as to pass completely unremarked upon. In quieter moments, Elizabeth could admit to herself that she was restless and discontented. Her verbal duels with Mr Darcy -- in what a different light could they be analyzed in retrospect! -- had opened a small window into a wider world, and that window seemed now tightly and irrevocably shut, leaving an emptiness that could not be filled.

She looked up from her letter at her mother, fussing about with her sisters’ attire and making plans for some dinner party or other, at the familiar furnishings, the peaceful sun streaming through the window panes, and finally, at Jane’s golden head bent over a piece of embroidery. Jane was smiling a little as she picked out a silken string, no doubt thinking of her Mr Bingley. Several days ago, when the rumor made its way into the neighborhood that Mr Bingley was to come back to Netherfield for the summer, Meryton was abuzz with speculation, ranging from optimistic to sympathetic to plain catty. Squeezing Jane’s hand, Elizabeth had tried to ignore the talk, but that had been impossible, especially since her parents once again argued about visiting the Bingleys. It was in the middle of one of such arguments that Mr Bingley himself was announced and walked into their parlour. Other than during the first few minutes of inevitable awkwardness, no one who saw the way Jane and Mr Bingley smiled at each other could have mistaken their feelings, and Elizabeth was overjoyed at the gentleman’s evident remorse and desire to please her sister, under which Jane blossomed like a proverbial flower. Elizabeth could not help recalling her heated conversation with Mr Darcy and wondered whether it was with his express permission that Mr Bingley had returned. She preferred, for her sister’s sake, to think that Mr Bingley had simply realized how happy Jane could make him and had come back on his own accord, but a small part of her did wish that her reproofs regarding Jane -- she was ashamed of the way she expressed them, but not of the sentiment -- had prompted Mr Darcy to think more kindly of the match. So lost was Elizabeth in her thoughts that she did not realize the arrival of Mr Bingley himself until his warm greeting rang through the sitting room.

“Oh, Mr Bingley,” fluttered Mrs Bennet, “how you honor us with your visit, sir! Please, do sit down -- would you like some refreshments? And how are you finding the neighborhood after your long absence? I daresay you are glad to be back among us after the stifling air of London; I can never abide town myself but the girls do seem to enjoy it once in a while--”

“Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth interrupted, from sheer necessity of stemming the tide of her mother’s monologue that threatened to engulf the poor man, “pray tell, are your sisters in good health?”

Mrs Bennet was about to flutter over Mr Bingley’s sisters, but he got a foothold in the conversation first. “I thank you, Miss Elizabeth, they are in good health,” he replied, casting a shy look at Jane, who was blushing furiously from her mother’s indelicate references to the gentleman’s “long absence.” He added, smiling: “And I can see that you are in good health as well, and all your sisters…” The implication was lost on no one and Elizabeth’s heart rejoiced.

“Of course they are in good health, my dear Mr Bingley,” Mrs Bennet began again, “the fresh country air is so beneficial to--”

It was Jane who interrupted this time, before they could all find out to what exactly country air is so beneficial. “And the weather,” she said gently, “is so delightful this time of year, do not you think so, Mr Bingley?”

Bingley beamed at her. “Yes, Miss Bennet, the weather is certainly charming.” As are you, he thought, but did not say out loud.

Finally, the wheels began to turn in Mrs Bennet’s brain and, picking up Jane’s not so subtle hint, she insistently ushered the young people out for a walk, whispering to Elizabeth that she need not stay quite close to Jane and Mr Bingley. Lydia and Kitty immediately ran off to Meryton, and Elizabeth was left with Mary as her sole companion, as she allowed her sister and Mr Bingley to overtake them so far as to be almost out of hearing distance. She had no intention of leaving them completely alone, as Mrs Bennet surely had in mind for her to do, but there was nothing wrong, she thought, with discreetly permitting them a little privacy. So she drew Mary aside and began a conversation about a subject which interested them both -- books; to Elizabeth’s immense surprise, she actually quite enjoyed it -- either Mary’s taste in reading material had improved or Elizabeth had learned to be more patient with her sister’s opinions. Once in a while, she glanced over at her sister and Mr Bingley and noted with contentment that both were completely engrossed in their own conversation.

If, at that moment, someone would have told Bingley that there was a man in England happier than he, he would have surely laughed in disbelief. He was wonderfully, deliriously happy. The ten minutes of their walk together, exchanging glances and talking about small insignificant things -- the weather, his horses -- made the memories of the season in town retreat like a bad dream, and Bingley knew with a certainty that this is where he was meant to be.

“Miss Bennet,” he began tentatively, “do you think you are more suited to country living or do you prefer town?”

“Oh,” she replied with a smile, “I infinitely prefer the country. London, while interesting, is always noisy and there are ever so many people, it is impossible to find a moment of peace. And you, Mr Bingley?”

Bingley rejoiced at this confirmation of yet another important point of similarity between them. “I, too, prefer the country, Miss Bennet.” He hesitated a little and cleared his throat. “In fact, I can remember no happier time than those months my sisters and I spent at Netherfield.”

Jane blushed becomingly, but a wicked thought arose in her mind -- if he had enjoyed Netherfield so much, she thought, why did he stay away for the entirety of the winter and spring? It was a question she had pondered over during many a sleepless night and until it was resolved, she could not open her heart again. She said nothing, however, allowing Bingley to continue.

Though the day was not particularly warm, Bingley was perspiring from the importance of what had to be said here; he realized now, having dreamt of her face all these months, that though the unruffled placidity may be mistaken by others for lack of emotion, there were depths in the violet of her eyes that told an entirely different story. Right now, the story did not seem to bode well for him.

“Have you often been to London?” he asked.

“Not often, no, but my uncle and aunt reside there -- in Cheapside -- and my sisters and I are sometimes invited to spend time at their house.”

“Oh,” Bingley cried with feeling, “how I wish that your family had visited this winter! It would have been good to see some of our Hertfordshire acquaintances in town among the usual faces.” Bingley was careful to speak in the general, but he knew he really cared nothing for the rest of her family, much as he liked them.

Jane stared at him blankly. “But I was there!” she exclaimed. The words were torn from her before she remembered propriety and she colored and looked down.

Bingley’s head spun. “You were in town! It is a great, great pity that we did not meet and that I am not acquainted with your aunt and uncle; I would have certainly called on them had I known. My sisters too,” he added for propriety’s sake, though he knew it to be false, “would have much enjoyed seeing you.”

Pressing her lips together so that she should not speak words she would regret later on, Jane realized that Caroline and Louisa had kept her presence in town from Mr Bingley -- she found that this intelligence did not shock her; on the contrary, she felt a hot flash of anger, unlike anything she had ever felt before, course through her veins. No longer could Jane make excuses for the Bingley sisters, no longer could she consider their feelings in the matter. She was in love with Mr Bingley, Jane could not deny that -- to be his wife would bring her every happiness -- and she could not be ashamed of those feelings nor could she put them aside, no matter how much she had tried. Though her response was muted, her eyes darkened in spite of herself. “I had the pleasure of calling on Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst in town,” she said very quietly, “and some weeks later, they returned the call, though perhaps, because of the brevity of both of our visits, they had forgotten that it had occurred.” Masking the unexpected thrill at having made such a daring speech, Jane knelt down to break off the stem of a blue flower.

To say that a storm was gathering in Bingley’s breast would be a pitiful understatement; for possibly the first time in his life, he was truly angry. Generally, his cheerful attitude and optimism allowed him to brush aside the mean behavior of others, thereby sparing himself the necessity of being upset about it, but this time, when the behavior originated with his own flesh and blood and was directed towards the likely source of all his future happiness, he could ignore it no longer. The veil did not fall from his eyes -- it had fallen a long time ago -- rather, he lost the tolerance that he felt before he ought to have towards those related to him and under his protection. His countenance darkened. “What you say must be so, Miss Bennet. Although, I wonder at my sisters’ forgetfulness, they are well aware how much pleasure it would have given me to have seen you -- your family -- in town this winter.”

Jane raised her eyes to him and in them he read the beginning of a promise.

“I let myself to be persuaded,” he continued earnestly, “that the air in town would be more beneficial for me. The fault was mine for foolishly believing it, but oh, Miss Bennet, how wrong I was! I have known not one moment of happiness until, if you will allow me to say, until I saw y--… saw these fields once again. It took me unpardonably long to realize that, and I will always regret my mistake.” Bingley paused, thinking his next words over carefully. “I hope,” he said, “that the families here, which so graciously welcomed me last autumn, will not turn away from the acquaintance now and will allow me to redeem myself after my long absence.” He consciously used the same words as Mrs Bennet had used earlier, knowing what she had meant by them.

Jane colored and tried to control the mad erratic beating of her heart. “I am certain that this will not be the case, Mr Bingley. From what I have heard,” she allowed herself this admission, “everyone is very pleased that you have come back to Hertfordshire.”

They walked on in silence, the thoughts of both racing with newfound knowledge and the heady realization that their future was, this time, completely in their hands.

Chapter 5

Posted on Tuesday, 6 February 2007

“We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.” ~ Lindsey Billard

July 28, 1810
Pemberley, Derbyshire

Bingley,

I cannot but support your decision to return to Netherfield and pursue Miss Bennet’s regard and affection. Whatever my prior opinions on the subject had been, they were made without full possession of the facts, and in any case, no one’s opinions (even mine) are ever infallible; you may take them into consideration, but you must trust your own mind. I wish you luck with your quest and great felicity once you undoubtedly fulfill it.

And now, I must make a confession which I fear will distress you. I know you shall be unhappy -- justly -- about my part in this matter and I only hope to retain the great gift of your friendship. My only defense can be that I truly believed that I was acting for your benefit, though it is a poor excuse and I shall not hide behind it.

Darcy put his pen down for a moment, thinking of how to phrase his next words as to give Bingley as little pain as possible. Knowing the strength and permanency of his friend’s attachment to Miss Bennet, Darcy realized that this admission might cost him a friendship, but he felt that it could not wait another day. Disguise of every sort was abhorrent to him and the fact that he concealed Miss Bennet’s presence in town during the winter from Bingley’s knowledge weighed heavily on his mind. What disturbed him even more was the knowledge that he had separated two people from each other who were not only well suited to one another but who were also truly in love -- a great rarity among the couples of Darcy’s acquaintance. He could still vividly recall Elizabeth’s flashing eyes as she accused him of keeping her sister and Bingley apart, and he, fool that he was then, had not only affirmed it, but had affirmed it with pride and conceit. Had rejoiced in his success! He closed his eyes in pain at the recollection. During the first month after the disastrous scene at Hunsford, pride had not allowed Darcy to acknowledge that he was wrong. He, who had always thought of himself as being fair and fair-minded, even where his own self was concerned, had dismissed Elizabeth’s words at first as coming from spite or anger; but upon further, more reasonable, reflection, Darcy found that he could not continue to think in that way -- he was forced to accept the truth of her words and the truth about his own mistakes. Bitter as it was, he would not shy away from it.

For the first time in his life, Darcy had to face his own limitations. It is a difficult thing for a young man to do, especially a young man who is in position of great power and carries enormous responsibility, whose every command is obeyed and whose opinions are rarely questioned. For most people, their mistakes throughout the course of their lives gradually acquaint them with their imperfection, vulnerability -- with their humanity. Learning this is an essential part of living -- it is learning that we have the strength to begin anew a task at which we have failed, it is finding compassion for the errors of others, gaining a deeper understanding of life. It is a difficult enough process even if one is eased into it by the simple passage of time, but Darcy was thrown against it unexpectedly, as if against a solid wall, and it took several months of hard reflection for him to reconcile himself to the idea that he was far from being the kind of person he wanted to be.

This internal struggle had colored his activities since April and he found himself remembering Elizabeth’s words during the oddest moments, and softening his approach, listening more, understanding more, remembering more. It was not because of Elizabeth that he was different; rather, it was because she knocked him off of the pedestal onto which he had unconsciously climbed and showed him how much more he still had to grow and accomplish as a man. Almost no one of his acquaintance noticed any change except Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana -- Darcy thought wryly that this was due to the fact that all but those two thought him without fault indeed, seeing only the rich, handsome, clever landowner from an ancient family rather than a real person. Perhaps Bingley would have noticed -- but Bingley had too good, too trusting a character to really doubt his friends, which is why the letter had to be written. It remained to be seen whether their friendship could weather such a betrayal -- for Darcy did not minimize the meaning of his actions; if Bingley had done a similar thing, a betrayal it would have been -- but Darcy hoped that Bingley would forgive him. Indeed, it felt cathartic to set the truth down on paper. Perhaps admitting his fallibilities, accepting and fixing them, would bring him peace. He finished writing, sealed the letter and set it on the tray for the next day’s post.

As he was finishing another letter regarding estate business, there was a knock on the door of his study; he bade the visitor to enter to see his cousin walk in with his usual firm step.

“Ah, come in, Fitzwilliam,” he said, inviting the other man to sit down. “I apologize, I have been a poor host today. There was much business that I had to attend to.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam sank comfortably into an armchair by the window. “You hardly need to be a host at all,” he replied smilingly, “I know this house and park almost as well as you do. Have you been writing to Bingley?”

The serious question, so unexpected from his jovial cousin, discomposed Darcy for a moment; he frowned at the intrusion into his private affairs, but could not help nodding. “How did you know?”

“I am sorry for prying, Darcy, I was simply hoping that you would write to him. He is a good chap, he deserved to know. I would not have said anything, but I felt last night that you made up your mind to tell him, and once you are determined to do something, you will do it at the first opportunity.” The Colonel smiled again. “You must give my deductive skills some credit -- after all, I am not a Colonel in His Majesty’s Army for my handsome face alone!”

Almost no one else of his acquaintance had the same ability to dispel one Darcy’s bad moods as Colonel Fitzwilliam, and this time was no different -- his cousin’s good humor and easy manner served to ease some of the tension he had been feeling all day. Darcy relaxed against his chair and shook his head in mock exasperation at Fitzwilliam’s shameless self-promotion. “Yes, handsome as well as brilliant -- I feel quite humbled by all this greatness!”

“As well you should, cousin,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied without pause, and they both laughed, acknowledging their constant lighthearted teasing of each other.

Once their laughter subsided, the Colonel looked at Darcy seriously. “I really came to tell you something completely different, Darcy,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I am to leave in three days’ time.”

Darcy was alarmed at the sudden departure. “Leave? I hope nothing terrible has transpired that necessitates this, Fitzwilliam, I have greatly enjoyed your company.”

“And I am grateful for your hospitality, but unfortunately, duty calls once again. My General has asked me to take care of something for him at Baden and I would like to do him this favor, he has always treated me kindly and fairly. Baden is under French control at the moment, but beneath Bonaparte's notice, so it is quite safe and is, in fact, a fashionable watering place. The transportation and all the travel arrangements have been made in advance, so I anticipate the trip to be quite pleasant.” Colonel Fitzwilliam walked up to Darcy’s desk and toyed with a bronze paperweight. “Listen,” he spoke quickly and convincingly, “why not accompany me? You need a change of air, I would welcome a companion. It will not be a dangerous journey, only a month or so in duration. Georgiana is gone and you have Pemberley running like clockwork -- summer is a quiet time in any case -- you would only be lonely here.”

Darcy looked down thoughtfully. At first, the Colonel’s suggestion had seemed like madness to him -- to careen off to Baden, of all places, leaving Georgiana, leaving Pemberley… But Fitzwilliam was right, he had little to do during the quiet summer months and with Georgiana safely at Rosings, he did not relish the thought of spending so much time by himself. “Well,” he said sternly, hiding a smile, “I suppose someone should go with you, just to keep you from getting into too much trouble on the Continent.”

“Your faith in me is touching, Darcy,” the Colonel laughed.

They set out for the port of Dover the following week, Darcy having informed the family and dispatched instructions for the running of the estate during his absence. It turned out that the Colonel’s General, being deeply grateful for the favor they were providing in undertaking the commission in Baden, used some of his considerable influence to ensure that the Colonel and his companion were given passage on one of the fastest and most comfortable ships that could be secured and received the necessary paperwork and permissions in due haste. Though Napoleon’s attention was at the time diverted elsewhere, travel along the coast of France was still somewhat perilous and unpredictable, and they woke up every morning with a sense of danger and excitement tingling in their veins.

During their passage, Darcy had barely any time to himself -- he and Fitzwilliam, being a civilian and an Army officer, respectively, were eagerly learning the ins and outs of sea travel and witnessing first hand the skill of His Majesty’s Navy. It was a very well run ship and the Captain, a gentleman by the name of Harville, was as solicitous to his passengers as possible once he ascertained that they had no pretensions of either running his ship or monopolizing his time. There were no women on board, though, as Captain Harville explained, it was not due to any general prohibition on his part. Darcy was very happy with the arrangement as it released him from the extra effort that socializing with ladies would have required.

He awoke early each morning, as was always his habit, and walked out onto the deck to watch the wide expanse of the pearl gray sky and ocean slowly separate into strips of brilliant blue and deep indigo, droplets of salt water hitting his face and the wind rushing past him and making him feel as though he were aflight. Darcy felt a curious freedom during those days -- so far away from everything he had known, it was difficult to think of domestic concerns. Somehow, in this no-man’s mass of water, with only a thin, hazy strip of land visible in the distance, the spirit wanted to take flight as well and he spent his free hours -- time he never had at Pemberley -- reflecting upon the past calmly and introspectively, without guilt or anger or oppression. Invariably though, after Darcy had been lost for several hours in such reflection and his thoughts and mood began to darken, Colonel Fitzwilliam would find him and bring him back into the society of the gentlemen on board, where he found so much good sense and intelligent conversation that it was impossible to be silent and morose. Thus, time went by quickly and ere long, they found themselves disembarking the ship to take a coach through the forests of Bavaria and on to the Grand-Duchy of Baden.

Though the actual Duchy of Baden by that time had grown to almost a million inhabitants, the city itself was not as large as that. It was an old and serene place, nestled against a verdant hill and bordered on the other side by a lake the waters of which were said to contain medicinal qualities. Its red roofs stood out in a cluster against the greenery, punctuated only by the tall spires of the churches, its bridges sloped gently over the lake and the old buildings were well maintained, giving the city a neat, story-book appearance. Despite the turbulent times, there were many foreigners in Baden, resting at the fashionable spas and drinking the healing waters; in some ways, it reminded Darcy of Bath, but because of the international makeup of the visitors, much of the posturing that was so prevalent in the Bath society was refreshingly absent.

Their hotel was small but luxurious. It was all that could be arranged on such a short notice, summer being the height of the Baden season; however, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam could hardly complain -- their accommodations were run with a military precision by a man and his wife, who made sure their guests’ linens were white and crisp and their breakfasts came promptly to their doors in the mornings, and in general, they could want for nothing better. In truth, Darcy reflected with a smile, it was the wife who did most of the running, while the husband fulfilled her instructions and made sure that his male guests had enough wine in their glasses at dinner; the couple seemed happy with the arrangement, however, and their contentment was reflected in their excellent hospitality.

During the first few days, the Colonel was occupied with the business that had taken them to Baden in the first place and Darcy was left to dispose of his time as he wished. It gave him a much needed respite. The preceding months at Pemberley had been unusually busy, with several unforeseen occurrences such as a fire and a sickness among the crops resulting in Darcy having hardly any time for his own pursuits. It was unexpectedly pleasant, then, for him to be able to simply sit in the library after breakfast and read the number of new books he had brought, to take brisk walks in the crisp morning air, watching the denizens of the city wake up and attend to their individual concerns, to drink wine and laugh at Fitzwilliam’s bad jokes at dinner.

The sting had not yet gone out of Elizabeth’s refusal, but he no longer felt anger; in fact, her refusal had paradoxically made him love her and understand her in a way he previously had not been able to do. Darcy knew how easy it would have been for Elizabeth to have accepted his suit -- after all, for a woman in her circumstances, a proposal from a man such as he would have been a solution to all of her family’s problems. And yet, she had not accepted him because she would not enter a marriage without respect and affection. This simple principle, so like his own and so different from the ideas of the society women, aroused his admiration for her character.

“But you would forgive her prejudices?” Fitzwilliam had asked one night over port.

“Yes, I would,” he had replied levelly. “You and I both know the power of Wickham’s charm. My behavior, my silence only reinforced his lies. Her other reproofs were justified.”

Fitzwilliam had shrugged. “You are your own judge, jury and executioner, Darcy.”

And so he was.

The morning hours, when the sun had not yet heated the cobblestones to an unbearable temperature, were the busiest social hours in Baden. Women made calls, the shops did brisk business and the promenade by the lake was filled with people and carriages. Darcy would have preferred to skip this exercise altogether, riding out into the countryside instead or browsing for new books in the little book-shops that could be discovered on smaller streets, but Fitzwilliam would not hear of missing this walk and he trespassed on his cousin’s good nature by insisting that Darcy accompany him.

On this particular morning, Colonel Fitzwilliam felt happy and at peace with himself and with the world around him. He had completed the General’s commission successfully, thus justifying his presence here, and could now enjoy himself. His other, unstated, errand was also, in his opinion, progressing nicely. Ever since their hasty departure from Rosings in April, he had noted with concern that his cousin seemed often disturbed and lost in thought. With the goal of uncovering this mystery -- though, he had some ideas as to what it all pertained -- he invited himself to Pemberley for an extended stay, and after subtle maneuvering of conversations and getting Darcy somewhat drunk enough times, he finally discovered the truth of what happened in Kent and Darcy’s subsequent months of soul searching. Though he could not agree with Darcy about the entirety of his culpability, he was determined to bring some peace of mind to his cousin and friend.

Colonel Fitzwilliam cast a side glance at Darcy -- he seemed confident and relaxed, not as immersed into the seemingly impenetrable fog of his thoughts -- it was a welcome change, one that Georgiana no doubt will be very happy to see once they returned to England. He began to make plans for their eventual departure. So lost in his thoughts he was, that he hardly looked where he was going and almost bumped into a lady walking with her elderly maid.

“Oh, pardon me!” he exclaimed, and promptly forgot anything else he would have wanted to say. She was beautiful -- with black hair arranged around her small head in dark waves and her simple blue dress draping her figure elegantly, the color echoing in the depths of her eyes. Long lashes cast shadows on a smooth cheek. Their eyes met briefly before she glanced down again, and Colonel Fitzwilliam drew in a breath, captivated by the spark he saw there.

Summoning his courage and his German, which was the only language besides English that he spoke fluently, he coughed slightly and began: "Guten tag, Fraulein, Mein Name ist Colonel Fitzwilliam. Wie geht es Ihnen?"*

The lady, perhaps less shocked by his brazenness than a truly proper young lady should have been, raised her eyes towards his and smiled mysteriously without a response. Her smile, even such a slight one, sent shivers down Col. Fitzwilliam's spine. He tried again, thinking that he had been mistaken in her antecedents.

"Mademoiselle, vous avez un beau sourire..."** This time, he was sure she understood, as her eyebrow arched and her generous mouth turned up in amusement. Her maid looked alarmed for a moment, but seeing that her mistress was calm, she also relaxed.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy, who was hiding a smirk, and became even more determined to find out where she was from. He gathered all of his knowledge in foreign languages. "Vashi glaza blestyat kak zvesdi na nebe,"*** he spoke again, with his most charming bow.

She smiled, a blush suffusing her cheeks with a lovely color, and held out her gloved hand, acknowledging the accuracy of his guess.

“I am Alina Rostov, sir,” she replied with a soft accent.

Darcy saw that Fitzwilliam practically teetered. He bowed politely and introduced himself, assessing their new acquaintance. She was strikingly beautiful, and Darcy, despite his assurance after Hunsford that he was not going to look at a woman for a long, long time, was drawn to the sparkle in her dark eyes and the amused smile, which was faintly and inexplicably familiar. His cousin was now making some flattering remarks about Miss Rostov’s proficiency in the English language and was very obviously trying to appear to his best advantage in front of her.

“Oh, but I have some family in England,” Alina explained, still smiling. “My uncle, Mr Bennet, lives in Hertfordshire, have you ever been there?”

Darcy's jaw dropped. Mr Bennet! Hertfordshire! Now he knew why the eyes and the smile were familiar! A million questions crowded in his mouth, waiting to get out, but all he could manage was an incomprehensible "Buh... wha... how....Eliz..."

Both Fitzwilliam and Alina stared at him. "What language is your friend speaking? Does he not speak English?" she asked, perplexed.

Fitzwilliam elbowed Darcy painfully, but it helped him recover his poise. He tried to look dark and imposing -- that usually stopped people from questioning his actions -- but it did not seem that Miss Rostov was intimidated in the least. He should have known, he thought, that it would not work on a Bennet woman! He looked on through narrowed eyes as Fitzwilliam offered his arm to the lady and led her away, chatting amiably.

*Hello, my name is Colonel Fitzwilliam. How do you do? (German)
**Miss, you have a beautiful smile... (French)
***Your eyes shine as the stars in the sky. (Russian)

A/N: Two new characters are introduced in this chapter - Edward Fitzwilliam, the Viscount Harcourt and his wife, Diana Fitzwilliam, the Viscountess Harcourt. I thought it would be wise to give a little family history: Edward is the first born and heir of Darcy's uncle, the Earl of Sheffield (not Matlock, sorry guys). He is Richard's older brother and Darcy, Georgiana and Anne's cousin. The Earl of Sheffiled's seat is in Yorkshire and is called Asshaw Hall. Edward made a brilliant match several years prior to my story when he married Lady Diana, daughter of the Duke of Stone, bringing a large dowry and connections to the family. Most importantly, it was a love match and they are quite an enviable couple. They have no children thus far. Hope you like these two additions to our cast of characters! And now, on with the show.

Chapter 6

Posted on Saturday, 10 February 2007

August 5, 1810
Rosings Park, Kent

Dearest Diana,

You will no doubt be happy to hear that I have endeavored to liberate Georgiana from the wilds of Derbyshire; it seems that Darcy has, since April, been in a terrible mood (more on that next time) and we both know that she is too shy to complain and too much in awe of him to admit it. The poor child has been imagining that it is somehow her fault, I cannot understand why. It is well now, she is here with me for some time and I am attempting to provide her with some form of female companionship that she has been sorely lacking. Her companion, a Mrs Annesley, seems to be a good sort of woman, rather more intelligent than most, but surely, nothing can be so good for her development (and I flatter myself here) as the society of a loving cousin such as myself. I have managed to convince Mother (or, rather, I have allowed her to think she was convincing me) that the poor dear needs quantities and quantities of good food, fresh air, drawing classes and practice on the pianoforte, so Georgiana and I have been driving out in my phaeton every day, taking long walks and sketching and playing to our hearts’ content. The weather continues charming, which has greatly added to our enjoyment of the above activities.

I trust you and Edward are doing well and so are our esteemed Aunt and Uncle. I would invite you to visit us here, but firstly, I know that you are going to town for the fall and secondly, the last time you and Mother were in the same room together, we began to be afraid that an unfortunate accident would occur! Oh, do let me know if you have heard from your brother, Richard. I know he is overseas and correspondence is unlikely, but I am curious as to how he is faring in Baden. Take care, my dear friend, and write to me with all the news from town. Until then, I remain,

Yours, &etc,
Anne

Diana Fitzwilliam, the Viscountess Harcourt, frowned over the letter. Her husband, noticing her furrowed brow over the top of his newspaper, immediately inquired as to its cause.

“I have just received a letter from your cousin, Anne,” Diana replied. “She writes that Georgiana is to stay with her and Lady Catherine in Kent for the next several months.”

“Surely, that is good news, my love,” said her husband perplexedly. “A young girl such as Georgiana should not be hidden away in the North for half her life. That,” he winked, “is for old people like us,” and had to hide behind his newspaper again to escape his wife’s withering glare.

Diana continued, not dignifying the last remark with a response. “But Edward, you have missed the most important point, Georgiana is to stay with Lady Catherine! We must free her at once! Your aunt will either stifle the girl with attention or frighten her to half to death. Lady Catherine is such a--”

“Diana!” Edward looked up with a warning glance.

“Yes, of course, dear, I will not say it here, but you know perfectly well that I am right. Your own father says so, and she is his sister. In any case, even with Anne there, Lady Catherine will manage the poor child when what she really needs is guidance and controlled freedom.”

Edward looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. “I see the merit in your conclusions, Diana. But why must we ride in for the rescue? Let us write to Darcy and suggest--”

“Your wonderful brother took Darcy off on some voyage to the Continent, if you recall, Edward,” Diana said disapprovingly. “Therefore, we are left to fend for her ourselves. Let us take Georgiana to town when we go in the fall; she can stay with us until Darcy returns. It will be just the thing she needs. She is at such a tender and impressionable age now, and though she is not yet out, she could truly benefit from the varied society she will find with us. Darcy is a wonderful brother, to be sure, but he cannot replace a woman’s presence in Georgiana’s life.”

“Oh,” Edward groaned, “Darcy will kill me! He hates for his decisions to be interfered with, you know that! And my aunt…”

“Then we shall just have to take Anne as well,” Diana said firmly. “Darcy simply wanted Georgiana to spend time with Anne, I daresay he cared not where. So you see, if we bring Anne, Darcy can have no cause to be displeased. As for convincing your aunt, well, next to Darcy, you are by far her favorite nephew. She will deny you nothing you ask of her, she has always spoiled and indulged you.”

Edward rubbed his temples in contemplation of the logistical nightmare that he knew awaited him once he undertook this scheme. “I have had no peace since the day I married you!” he exclaimed, albeit with more humor than real frustration.

Diana arched an eyebrow. “And you would not wish for it to be any other way.”

August 22, 1810
Asshawe Hall, Yorkshire

Anne,

Edward will come to fetch both you and Georgiana in three weeks’ time and you shall come to London with us for the Little Season. Edward is now writing to your mother to arrange it all. Now, my dear Anne, please do not protest -- you know that once I have made up my mind to do something, there is no stopping me, and this is for your own good and for the dear girl’s as well. I give you full leave to be angry at my high-handedness once we are in town. Really, please do come, we shall be more than happy to see both of you, and you cannot spend the entirety of your life in Kent.

Yours, &etc,
Diana

“How would you like to go to London, Georgiana?” Anne asked one morning during their usual quiet walk. Two imposing footmen trailed the girls, keeping in sight but just out of hearing distance, exactly as Colonel Fitzwilliam had predicted earlier.

Georgiana looked up with big, alarmed eyes. “London! Why, Anne, do you wish to go?”

Anne laughed a little. “In truth, I do not.” She looked around the lovely, tall trees that shadowed their path, the splashes of sunlight on the sweet-smelling lavender, the crisp green grass underneath their feet. “I want nothing more than to stay here all my life and enjoy this beauty, Georgiana. Alas,” she smiled dryly, “our cousin, Diana, has decided that we need more exposure to good society and has insisted that we accompany her and Edward to town when they go in three weeks.”

“Oh,” Georgiana sighed with relief, “it is to be with Diana. She is rather alarming at times, but I do like her ever so much.”

“So you would not mind? She asked in such terms that I would be loath to deny her. Diana almost never asks for anything, and when she does, it must be for a good reason.”

Georgiana hesitated a little. “Would I have to go to many balls and parties?”

“No, no, my dear” Anne replied understandingly, “as you are not yet out, you will not be able to attend, even if you had wanted to, so it is quite lucky that you do not, in fact, want to.” She frowned. “I suppose I shall have to go, however. I detest dancing with strange men, although if Richard were here, it would not have been quite so bad, for I daresay he knows everyone in town and would shield me from the worst offenders against decency and good taste.”

A little frightened by her cousin’s frankness, Georgiana was unsure whether to be shocked or amused. “Is it really so bad, Anne?” she asked, a little breathlessly. “I have never been to a really big ball.”

Anne could not help smiling at her young cousin’s curiosity. She sat down carefully on a large, dry log and invited Georgiana to do the same. The peacefully shining sun put her in an excellent mood and she was quite prepared to be gracious about everything, even London. “No, it is not really so bad, Georgie,” she said. “It is rather exciting, really. Though I have never had a Season due to my health, Mother and I have been up to London several times and have attended some wonderful parties. You shall see, dear, you will quite enjoy yourself when you come out. You will be wearing lovely clothes with some of your mother’s jewels, no doubt; you will be the be most beautiful girl there and all the handsome gentlemen will want to dance with you.” Georgiana looked a little green at the prospect of so much attention focused on her, but Anne went on, oblivious. “There will be lots of music and tea parties and rides in the Park, and perhaps, one day, you will meet someone very special and--”

“No!” cried Georgiana, springing up abruptly and turning away. “I shall not meet anybody special ever again. I shall never get married, I do not wish to. I want to be always at Pemberley with Fitzwilliam.”

Anne was astonished at this uncharacteristic outburst and could only gape silently at Georgiana, whose face was contorted and flushed with an angry red color. It was almost as if the girl had deliberately wanted to shock Anne with her outrageous statement. Not knowing what to say, how to calm her, Anne could only repeat some banalities that sounded inane even as she was saying them. “How can you think that, my dear?” she said, trying to sound reasonable. “You are young, handsome, rich and well connected, you need not worry about being successful in town, why, everybody will love you…”

Anne’s voice trailed off into silence -- she could not keep saying ordinary things when there was so obviously something very wrong. She wondered what could be so bad as to have upset Georgiana this much -- whatever it was, there had been little indication of it during the several wonderful weeks they had spent together, chatting, laughing, almost like sisters. She waited silently for the outcome of Georgiana’s internal struggle.

“You have been very kind to me, Anne. Very kind,” the young girl said, walking a little way forward. The excitement of the previous moment having passed, the color left her face and her breathing subsided, but her brows were knit together in a frown and she was biting her lip in indecision.

Anne waited still, hardly daring to breathe, as if she were afraid to frighten a bird or a small creature.

Georgiana bent her head and looked at the ground with clouded eyes. “May I tell you something?” she asked with deceptive simplicity.

“Of course,” Anne replied softly, “you may tell me anything.”

“I almost eloped with the son of my father’s steward last summer who wanted to marry me for my fortune,” Georgiana said in one breath. She then told the story of the whole shameful affair in a calm, detached manner, as if speaking of someone else, of a stranger. Indeed, perhaps she was speaking of somebody else, for she was not the same person as that silly, romantic, idealistic girl of the previous year. Many times during her tale, Anne’s eyes filled with tears and at the end, she sighed with undisguised relief.

“I thank the Lord,” she said with feeling, “that you confessed the whole of it to your brother!” She then walked up to the shivering girl and hugged her tightly, not wanting to let go. Still holding her, she said: “I shudder to think of what would have happened…”

“Me too, Anne,” Georgiana whispered. Anne’s mind was whirling with everything she had heard; she was at once filled with revulsion at the actions of Wickham and Mrs Younge, anger at Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam for permitting it to happen, and overwhelming, almost physical relief that the girl she was now holding was not lost to them forever. It was fragile -- very fragile -- the fabric of life, she thought, held together by one coincidence after another, one step in the wrong direction spelling disaster and another step preventing it.

“But you do blame me?” Georgiana asked at length.

Anne frowned. “It was a damn foolish thing to do, Georgiana,” she said, “you could have ruined your entire life! Of course, I blame you!”

Georgiana did not seem as surprised at Anne’s harsh words as Anne half thought she would be, and nodded vigorously. “Good!” she replied with unexpected conviction.

“Pardon?”

“I deserve your censure, Anne! I know that my actions were inexcusable. I could have ruined my family’s reputation and my own life as well, and what is worse, I deceived and hurt Fitzwilliam. I am no child; I should have known not to trust Wickham and Mrs Younge.”

“Georgiana,” Anne said gently, drawing Georgiana once more into her embrace, “at fifteen, you were little more than a child--”

“But I should have known better!”

“Perhaps, yes, perhaps you should have. You told your brother, though -- and you did not go through with the deception. You allowed your sense of duty and reason guide you, and it was a wise choice; your affections may sometimes lead you astray, but your inner sense of right and wrong will always show you the correct path to take, as it did last summer. I am not trying to trivialize what you did, but Fitzwilliam loves you, as do we all, and everyone makes mistakes and can be forgiven.”

Georgiana shook her head mournfully. “You are too easy on me, Anne. I do not deserve such understanding.”

“Yes, you do! Your brother thinks you do, and as you know, he is never wrong!” Anne smiled shakily, for the first time since Georgiana had begun her tale. “Georgie, I am glad you told me of this; I hope you can begin forgiving yourself now, I believe you deserve it. We shall talk about this some more tomorrow -- you will not be sorry then that you told me?”

“No,” Georgiana frowned, “I do not believe I shall regret it. I feel-- lighter, somehow, now that you know as well as Fitzwilliam and Richard.”

“Richard knew?” Anne asked intently, and then nodded to herself. “Of course he did, he is your guardian.” She looked at Georgiana brightly. “He respected your trust, as shall I. Come, now, let us go to the Parsonage and liberate Mrs Collins.”

Georgiana blinked in confusion. “Liberate?”

“Yes,” explained Anne patiently, “I will say that Mother mentioned last night that the widow Higgins absolutely must have help getting her firewood chopped, you will nod in agreement and Mr Collins will scuttle off to find a man to do it, solely to please me and Mother. Mrs Collins will then be free to give us some tea and the widow Higgins’ firewood will be chopped. Unfortunately, she will have to endure an hour in the company of Mr Collins, but as she is almost completely deaf, I do not believe she will mind too much.”

Both girls giggled at this prospect and began the short walk to the Parsonage.

Chapter 7

Posted on Saturday, 28 April 2007

“Oh, the experience of this sweet life.” ~ Dante

August 27, 1810
Rosings Park, Kent

Dear brother,

I hope that this missive will reach you sooner rather than later and finds you and our cousin in good health. Please be assured that I am well -- more than well, actually, for Anne and I have been having such a lovely time together. The woods of Rosings are so beautiful at this time of year -- nothing to Pemberley, of course, but beautiful still.

The reason I write is that our cousins Edward and Diana have graciously invited Anne and myself to join them in town in three weeks’ time. I asked Aunt Catherine whether it was proper for me to go without having obtained your permission first, but she said that since she is my guardian in your stead and she permits me to go, it would be all right. Would it be, Fitzwilliam? I truly hope that you will not mind, and if you do, write to Edward and I shall come home immediately.

Fitzwilliam, I must confess something to you -- I have told Anne. She has been like a sister to me, and she knew something was wrong, I could not continue deceiving her. We spent half the night in conversation; I have never felt as unburdened as I do now. She told me that I must learn to forgive myself, but I do believe she is too easy on me. I am relieved that she knows, it was difficult to keep a secret from her, with whom I have become so close.

I miss you very much, dear brother. I play your favorite pieces for Anne on the pianoforte, as well as Richard’s, but Anne prefers Richard’s selections best -- she says his taste is livelier. Do not worry about me, stay as long as you wish on the Continent, I am perfectly content with our family here. Both Aunt Catherine and Anne send their warmest regards and hope for your safe journey home. Please give my love to Richard.

I remain your loving sister,
Georgiana Darcy

“Darcy?” Richard asked frowning, “What has happened? You look as if you are going to hurt someone.”

“Damn Edward,” Darcy replied grimly, as if those words could explain everything.

“My brother? What has he done now to provoke your ire?”

Rising from his chair, Darcy handed Georgiana’s letter to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who began reading at once.

“Having a nice time with Anne, I see. Excellent, excellent… Woods at Rosings beautiful… yes, they certainly are…” Suddenly, the Colonel stopped and stared. “Hold on a minute,” he said with alarm, “Edward and Diana are taking her to London? And Aunt Catherine sanctioned this, encouraged it even? Oh, I do not believe it!” He and Darcy exchanged glances full of apprehension.

Darcy gripped the sides of his armchair in an effort to calm himself. “I can believe it; Aunt Catherine would never deny Edward anything he asked. Georgiana dislikes London excessively, I cannot imagine how they convinced her to go. I cannot leave her alone there.” He rubbed his jaw in consternation, his mind already far away, making arrangements for their return.

“Well,” Richard attempted to pacify his cousin, “she will not be alone; Anne will be there and Edward and Diana, of course, and very possibly, my parents as well. And now that Anne knows -- that is a miracle in itself -- she will be able to prevent Georgiana seeing anyone who could remind her of him. Nothing untoward will happen to her.”

“I know nothing untoward will happen,” Darcy said impatiently, “but you must see that we need to be there with her, we cannot simply leave her at the mercy of our relations. She is young, easily excitable, and she is just emerging from the timidity that has almost paralyzed her since last summer -- she will need the two people whom she loves most at her side to brave the onslaught of society. As much as I love and respect our family… I would much prefer to be with Georgiana at this critical time.”

“But Darcy,” the Colonel protested, “Georgiana is not yet out, she will not see ‘society.’ I see no reason to simply abandon all of our friends here and rush like mad back to England. Do not mistake me, I love Georgiana, but I believe she is safe enough with our family.”

“Unfortunately, she will see enough of society,” Darcy said coldly, turning away from the Colonel. “You may stay if you wish, Fitzwilliam, but I shall go back to England within the week. I must be there for my sister.”

For several minutes, both men were silent; then the Colonel sighed in defeat. “I believe you are right, Darcy,” he said, his voice low, “we must go back. She is only sixteen and I am her guardian as well, we cannot leave her. I had just so hoped-- well, perhaps we shall have several days to say our goodbyes.”

“Miss Rostov?” Darcy asked quietly.

“Of course.”

“I had no idea it was that serious, Fitzwilliam. We have certainly seen a great deal of her, but--”

“I know, I know!” the Colonel exclaimed, pacing about the room with nervous energy. “I know all the reasons against it. She is so young, barely nineteen and I am an old man of thirty; she is rich and I -- I do not have anything to offer her beyond a Colonel’s pay and a soldier’s uniform; but that is not the worst… If she were only English! Like this, however, our family will never accept her, even though she is the sweetest, kindest and most beautiful creature in the world. Is that not unfair, Darcy?”

Darcy frowned, refusing to enter into a pointless discussion about women and unfairness; he felt that he had had his share of both for the present. “Have you gone to her father, then?”

“Her father?” Colonel Fitzwilliam looked up, startled. “Er… no, I confess I have not. When I saw her two days ago, she said her parents had arrived, but I never though to seek them out. Do you really think I would gain by soliciting their consent?”

“You know, Fitzwilliam,” Darcy stated decisively, “for such a clever man, you can be exceedingly foolish sometimes. It is very improper for you to continue this pseudo-courtship without requesting permission from her father -- for all you know, she has not even apprised her parents of your meetings. You must call on them immediately and rectify this mistake.”

“But Darcy, you disapprove of the match…”

“Yes,” Darcy replied primly, “but even so, I am not going to allow my cousin to comport himself without dignity or propriety.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam’s laughter rang out in the room; a familiar sound that somehow broke the tension that had been steadily mounting between the two men since the beginning of the conversation. “Thank you, Darcy,” the Colonel finally said with a smile.

“For reminding you of proper behavior in society?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked. “For making me laugh!”

“You are simply nervous,” Darcy parried with an answering smirk, “because you have never spoken with a girl’s father before. Let us go right away; we shall see how far your famous charm will carry you!”

Chapter 8

August 25, 1810
Longbourn, Hertfordshire

My dear Alexei,

The situation you describe certainly sounds alarming, I am glad you are assured of your children’s safety in and outside of Russia. In contrast, it is quite peaceful here, we are in very little danger from Bonaparte’s invasion; His Majesty’s Navy has thankfully endeavored to keep him occupied elsewhere for the benefit of the rest of the civilized world. However, you are more than welcome to cast your lot with us here in Hertfordshire, if you should so wish it, but I feel that I must warn you in advance of danger quite of a different kind -- you will be subjected to the behavior and conversation of five of the silliest women in the country! Excepting my Lizzy, of course. Please do accept our invitation. Convey my fondest regards to Catherine and to your daughters.

Yours, &etc,
Thomas Bennet

The sun had already cooled somewhat in Baden during the third week of September, the heat of the summer a thing of the past and more than a hint of the autumnal chill permeating the air. Some of the gaiety had left the town along with the more fashionable set, leaving somehow a more dignified and sober atmosphere, all the more suited to the stately carriage that was this minute pulling up outside of a large house on a fashionable Baden street. The servants, who had come in an earlier coach and were now well prepared for the arrival of their masters, bustled on the street unloading additional trunks, and the maid stood ready with a warm pelisse in the event that her lady was chilled by the late afternoon wind.

At last, the door of the carriage opened and a stout gentleman emerged, holding the door open for a pretty, full figured woman. The couple was no longer in their early years, but they had evidently retained much of the affection that is usually attributed only to the young, and the gentleman was most solicitous in helping his lady descend from the carriage, himself holding her gloved hand and supporting her waist as she stepped out onto the stool deftly presented by a young, eager footman.

Proceeding inside the house merrily, they warmly greeted all the servants by name, laughing and exchanging comments about trivial things such as the weather and the state of the roads at this time of year, and in all, rather contributing to than detracting from the general chaos surrounding their appearance. All, however, felt the strain of the journey, and the maid, an elderly and outspoken woman who had been taking care of her lady for night on twenty years, fittingly summed up the feelings of the general assembly when she said, clasping her hands to her ample bosom:

“Oh, Princess, it is so good to finally arrive!”

“Yes, Dasha,” replied Prince Alexei, smiling genially at his wife, “it is indeed good to finally arrive, just as you say. Now,” he turned to the housekeeper, “where is my wayward child?”

The housekeeper sniffed crossly. “She is out walking with that Eugenie. At this time in the afternoon, with the wind so cold! That is what comes from allowing the French -- well, you must excuse me, sir, it is not my place to say so.” Clearly, the Frenchwoman’s place in the household was causing some resentment among the other staff.

The Prince and his wife exchanged a silent look. “When did my brother and his wife leave?” the Prince asked, changing the subject.

“Yesterday morning, sir,” the housekeeper replied with more deference. “They wished to wait until you returned, but they were summoned home most urgently -- it seems that their eldest child was very ill indeed.”

“Oh,” the Princess exclaimed, “that is grave news, I hope…” she turned to her husband with a worried face, “Oh, Alexei, should we go back as well?”

He patted her hand soothingly. “Now, now, Katya, do not fret. I am certain it is nothing; you know we Rostovs all have the strongest constitution! Why, my brothers and I were sick many times as children, but it all came to nothing, and look at me, I am grown to a portly old age. I will see if Constantin left a note for me. If he wishes our presence, we will certainly go, but he and his wife may see our being there as only an unwelcome intrusion if we arrive uninvited.”

Their domestic conversation was interrupted by a commotion in the hallway, and a dark haired figure in a white dress flew into the Prince’s arms.

“Papa! Papa! You are back! How I have missed you!” Alina pressed herself to her father, who smiled involuntarily at this energetic reception and stroked her head.

After a moment, she stepped away shyly and approached her mother. “Hello, Mamma. I have missed you as well, very much.”

There had been a coolness between them ever since the Princess had chastised Alina for her previous behavior -- the Prince had done so as well, but somehow, Alina found it easier to bear from her father -- but now, Catherine’s eyes misted over and she took her daughter by the shoulders and pulled her into a warm embrace. “I have missed you too, my darling,” she whispered. Alina, relieved, returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

The next morning, Alina knocked on the door of her father’s study and upon hearing his voice bidding her to enter, walked in to find both of her parents engaged in what looked like a serious conversation.

“Ah, daughter, come in,” Prince Alexei waved Alina to a chair. “Your mother and I were just discussing you.”

This kind of introduction has never boded well in the past and Alina shivered; her parents were looking at her expectantly, however, and she decided to simply have it out. “I must tell you something,” she said with a bravado she did not feel, “I have been meeting a gentleman during my walks for the past several weeks, a Colonel in the English army, and I think I that am in love with him.” She closed her eyes, expecting the storm to break.

Instead, she saw with utter amazement that her parents exchanged an almost amused glance and her father picked up a letter that had been laying on his desk.

“Ah,” he said, “perhaps what you have said explains that mystery, then.”

“W-what mystery?” Alina dared to ask.

Catherine watched the scene with a grave expression, belied by the twitching at the corners of her mouth that she could not suppress. “Your father,” she explained, “received a note from a Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam this morning asking for an interview. He was quite perplexed as to the identity of the mysterious Colonel and I am certain is now quite relieved to have it all explained to him.”

“We knew that you were -- meeting someone on your walks lately,” the Prince said sternly, but then added with more softness in his voice, “but you have just acquitted yourself by telling us about it in such a straightforward manner.”

Alina could only gape. “You knew? Did you set someone to spy on me? Whom?”

Both her parents chuckled at the mixture of indignation and relief in her voice. “Close your mouth, or else flies will get inside,” Prince Alexei smiled. “We did not set someone to ‘spy’ on you, but do you really expect us to let you alone here, with only my oblivious brother and his harpy of a wife--”

“Alexei!”

“Oh, er, I apologize, my dear; I meant, his happy wife, yes, happy.” He did not, however, look repentant.

Catherine glared at her husband. “Dearest,” she then turned to her Alina, “we simply want what is best for you. You will understand one day, when you too are a parent. We had to know what was happening. I hope you see the necessity and forgive us.”

Alina thoroughly disliked when her parents explained their actions from their own perspective -- everything always made perfect sense then, robbing her of the ability to be the least bit angry or resentful. “Yes,” she mumbled reluctantly, “I see the wisdom in it, Mamma.”

“Good,” said Prince Alexei impatiently, “I am glad that this matter is resolved. Now, could you please tell me a little about this Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam? He is coming to call on me in an hour and I should not like to appear ignorant.”

Continued in Next Section