Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter 9

Posted on Tuesday, 15 May 2007

“Dear Sir,

If it would not be too much of an inconvenience, I would appreciate a half hour of your time to discuss a matter of some importance. I shall call on you at one o’clock on Wednesday.

Yours, &etc,
Colonel Hon. Richard Fitzwilliam

Both Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were on edge as they walked to the Rostovs’ townhouse for the Colonel’s interview with the Prince; the reasons for their mood, however, were vastly different.

For the Colonel, it was indeed the end of an era. He could not believe that he, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, the soldier, the confirmed bachelor, the son of an English earl, was this minute ready to ask permission to court the daughter of a Russian nobleman. Really, it was beyond crediting, and if it had not been happening to him, he would have even found the situation immensely amusing. Notwithstanding these sentiments, he could neither deny his feelings nor halt his actions -- he had fallen in love for the first time in his life. Alina was everything he could ever desire in a woman -- beautiful, lively, spirited, intelligent, sweet-tempered and, yes, with a fortune that would allow them to live quite comfortably. Some days, the Colonel imagined he could lose himself in the depths of her eyes, listening to the bell-like tones of her voice; life was more interesting when she was present, the very colors themselves brighter and more vibrant. He thought not about the numerous obstacles in their way, for he was certain that all would sort itself out in due time, but rather about the exciting life they would lead together once Alina was his forever. Alina’s parents, however, gave the Colonel pause. From her description, they seemed perfectly pleasant, but he knew parents like that -- he had seen the fiercest of generals, lions of the battlefield, turn into purring tomcats when faced with the pretty sparkling eyes of their daughters, and turn back into roaring lions when facing the same daughter’s prospective husband. He hoped, rather than believed, that Prince Rostov was not one of those fathers.

“For a man who has stood unflinching before enemy troops, you look very pale,” Darcy observed with an amused glance, as if reading his thoughts.

Colonel Fitzwilliam narrowed his eyes. “I certainly hope you are not implying that I am afraid of her father.”

Darcy smirked. “Oh, no, not at all. I was simply remarking on the rather interesting shade of your complexion.” He then had to move aside as Fitzwilliam swung his cane quite viciously in Darcy’s direction.

“I hope you realize, my friend,” Fitzwilliam retorted, “that while I am in chambers with her father, so to speak, your duty will be to entertain the Princess. In other words, you shall get to spend a pleasant half hour with Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s aunt, the sister of that lady’s esteemed father!”

It was the Darcy’s turn to turn silent and slightly pale. After so unexpectedly making the acquaintance of Miss Rostov, he had spent several very uncomfortable hours contemplating her relationship to Elizabeth. The coincidence of meeting her, in Baden of all places, was staggering, but in the end, Darcy was glad that it had happened.

For a short time after his disastrous proposal, he had believed that he could put Elizabeth out of his mind, but after seeing the sparkling eyes of her cousin, which so reminded him of Elizabeth’s, he knew that it was a futile effort. Elizabeth had stirred his heart and his soul, he loved her. He realized it fully only when he was alone on the ship, looking out into the vastness of the universe and feeling a foreign emotion -- loneliness. His initial burst of passion had now faded into a deep longing, and Darcy could clearly imagine the life they could have had together; he could almost hear the laughter of their children, taste the sweetness of her skin. The love for her was a part of him now, and he woke up each morning with the realization that he needed Elizabeth and went to sleep each night missing her all the more.

After Hunsford, Darcy thought that nothing could bring them together again, for he had no reason to visit Hertfordshire and indeed, if Elizabeth hated him so, it would be ungentlemanly for him to impose himself on her. Even his friendship with Bingley, his remaining link to Elizabeth, was now uncertain. Consequently, after the initial shock of discovering that Miss Rostov was Elizabeth’s cousin had dissipated, Darcy found himself anticipating the time he and Fitzwilliam spent with Miss Rostov, though he was ashamed to say that the pleasure did not arise solely from that lady’s company. She was charming and bright, and although Darcy disapproved of Fitzwilliam marrying a foreigner, he felt that he had had his share of interfering in people’s love affairs and in any case, there could be no objections to the lady herself aside from her not being English. Fitzwilliam was a grown man, after all, and Darcy had said his piece and now had only to support his cousin as a true friend should. When the three of them met in the park or along the main avenue of Baden, Darcy was sometimes startled by how like Elizabeth she was -- not overtly, but a hint of a smile, something about the eyes -- it reminded him sharply of all that he would never have. And yet, every time they met, he could not help searching out the resemblance, all the while feeling a pang in his heart that he could not suppress.

“Darcy, wake up, man, we are here.” Fitzwilliam tapped his arm lightly and Darcy looked up to find himself in front of an elegant house. A smart butler showed them into the well-appointed drawing room, where the Prince, the Princess and their daughter were awaiting their arrival. A becoming blush suffused Alina's cheeks as she perceived Colonel Fitzwilliam's entrance and she smiled nervously at the visitors. The necessary introductions were performed and they sat down for the obligatory period of small talk, discussing the weather, the Rostovs' journey, and their own errand in Baden. Soon, the Prince nodded suggestively to Colonel Fitzwilliam and invited him to retreat to the study. With a final glance that conveyed more anxiety than Darcy had ever seen in his fearless cousin, the Colonel followed Prince Alexei out of the room.

Prince Alexei closed the door of his study decisively and, with a gesture, invited Colonel Fitzwilliam to take a seat.

“In truth, sir,” he began without a preamble, “I am very pleased that you have called on me so soon after my wife and I arrived in Baden. It shows good sense and proper respect, and without that, I would have not allowed your acquaintance with my daughter to progress any further.” He seated himself behind the large mahogany desk, across from his guest.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was undeniably startled by this abrupt form of address, so different from the Prince’s mildness when in the presence of his family. It had been a very long time since anyone had dared speak to him in this manner, as if to an unruly child -- his position as a Fitzwilliam and a Colonel in His Majesty’s Army typically ensured that he was treated with at least polite respect. He bit back a sharp retort, recalling in time that this was the father of the woman he had come to adore.

“Thank you, sir,” he replied, with as much civility as he could, “I would like to assure you, however, that neither your daughter nor I have ever engaged in any inappropriate behavior which could have exposed either one of us to public censure.”

The Prince’s frown receded a little. “That is a good beginning, young man. My daughter can be… spirited -- I am glad one of you has had the sense not to overstep the boundaries.”

“Your daughter” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, drawing himself up, “has always comported herself with the utmost propriety and respect for your authority.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Prince Alexei said calmly, diffusing the Colonel’s anger. “This is what you have come to speak with me about, is it not?”

“Yes, sir.” Looking earnestly at the Prince, Colonel Fitzwilliam explained how he and Alina had met accidentally and how they had seen a good deal of each other during their daily walks. He made sure to mention that he had taken great care that they should never be in each other’s company for longer than it was proper and that his cousin and her maid accompanied them at all times. “I have come to admire your daughter a great deal, sir,” the Colonel continued, a dreamy smile grazing his lips, “and I would like your permission to court her.”

The Prince sat back and sighed. He liked this young man, he really did, in spite of himself in fact; he liked his earnestness, his open countenance, his apparent attachment to and admiration for Alina. The Colonel came from an excellent family, and though had little money, his breeding and intelligence shone in his every word and gesture. Although Prince Alexei would have wished for his daughter to marry a Russian, he understood the hypocrisy in prohibiting the match because of the gentleman’s English origins. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Sir,” he said, “I am highly gratified that a gentleman of your caliber has come to love my daughter. Certainly, she deserves no less. I am not inclined to deny your request outright, but I would ask you to perhaps amend your motives. Alina is so young, she is only nineteen, and after such a brief acquaintance, I do not believe she can know her own mind.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Colonel Fitzwilliam interrupted, his agitation rising as his hopes sank, “both your daughter and I truly believe in our love for each other. I am not asking to marry her, but a period of courtship should solidify our feelings while demonstrating their strength to you.”

Prince Alexei frowned at being interrupted, though he was secretly pleased that this young man was so eager to defend Alina’s feelings and understanding. “Please, allow me to finish, and I believe you will agree with me,” he said. “You have known each other but a month; you are in love and I can certainly understand why you wish to proclaim your feelings to the world. However, society, as you know, is unforgiving, and all the difficulties you will face together multiply under public scrutiny. Court Alina privately, discreetly, allow time for all of this to settle, and then, when both of you are sure of your intentions, I will grant you permission to marry her.”

“But sir,” the Colonel protested, albeit more politely this time, “how shall I see her? We are even now called back to England and, while I will make every effort to return to Baden as soon as I can manage it, I am not at all certain it could be accomplished in a short period of time.”

“Ahh,” Prince Alexei smiled slightly, “but we, too, are traveling to England soon.”

The astonished Colonel looked at him questioningly.

“It was our intention all along,” the Prince explained. “The air in Europe smells too much of danger for our liking, and my wife and I have decided to take a house in London until that man is safely defeated, as I am sure he will be in due time. We are simply awaiting the arrival of my nephew, Peter, and then we will be on our way. So you see, it was quite fortuitous that you have been called away just at the time we were planning to leave ourselves.”

“Er… yes, of course, sir,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, still surprised at the neatness with which the events around him were settling into a tidy pattern. “I will do as you say, sir. Please allow me to call on you when you arrive to London.”

“Certainly, young man,” Prince Alexei replied, settling more comfortably into his char. “Now, tell me about yourself.”

As he watched his cousin and the Prince depart to the Prince’s study, Darcy realized that he was left alone with the two women.

He hated this part -- he was now obliged to make conversation with two people whom he barely knew; even his acquaintance with Alina was slight at best, as she spent most of their time together talking and laughing with the Colonel. Luckily, the Princess perceived his discomfort and took up the reigns of the conversation.

“Mr Darcy,” she began, “my daughter tells me that you hail from Derbyshire?”

“Yes, ma’am, I have an estate there.”

“Derbyshire is a lovely place,” Catherine said warmly. “When I was a girl, my parents took me on a tour of the Peak District and I was left with the most wonderful memories. I am not sure whether you know, but I, myself, am English, although after so many years,” she chucked slightly, “I do begin to feel more Russian than anything. My brother has a small estate in Hertfordshire, I am told that you spent a little time there yourself?”

Though the Princess’ soothing monologue had put Darcy more at ease, he could not help coloring at the mention of Hertfordshire. “My friend, Mr Bingley, is leasing an estate there called Netherfield,” he said, “I believe it is not three miles from Mr Bennet’s estate.”

“Of course! I remember Netherfield well. My brother and I used to run through the woods as children.” She sighed at the old, half-forgotten memories. “You must have met my nieces, then?”

“I had the pleasure of seeing the Miss Bennets on numerous occasions,” Darcy replied carefully, looking down. He was afraid that if he looked at the Princess, with her kind eyes, she would see his inner turmoil, feel the emotions even now threatening to overtake him. In every look, in every intonation, he searched for Elizabeth, and maddeningly, he could find only traces. Until that moment, he had not realized how intertwined his thoughts were with images of her, how powerful were his feelings. And he made a decision.

“I hope your brother’s family is well,” he said evenly, though his heart pounded.

Catherine’s eyes widened for a brief moment. “Yes, I believe they are. Unfortunately, Thomas is an unwilling correspondent, but I believe my daughter has had better luck with another member of the family and writes quite frequently to Elizabeth, my brother’s second daughter.” She watched the effect of her words and was not disappointed. During her years in the Moscow society, where sincerity was an even rarer commodity than in London, Catherine had learned to read the nuances of expression with a delicate accuracy. The calm and controlled demeanor of the young man in front of her could not hide his inner agitation.

Darcy turned to Alina, continuing on his chosen path. “I hope you will convey my regards to your uncle’s family when you write to them next, and particularly to the Miss Bennets.”

Alina blinked in confusion, but catching her mother’s encouraging glance, she assured Darcy that she would do as he asked. Apprehensive as she was about the Colonel’s audience with her father, she discerned the undercurrents in her mother’s conversation with Darcy, though she did not understand them.

After a brief silence wherein Darcy tried to formulate his next inquiry in general terms and failed completely, the Princess took pity on him. “I will also make sure,” she said, “to mention that I had met you in my next letter to my brother. I am certain my nieces will be pleased to hear that you remember them, since they are all still at home and new acquaintances are not as soon forgotten as they are for men of the world such as yourself.”

Darcy looked at the Princess gratefully. “I assure you, ma’am,” he said warmly, “I am not so much a man of the world as to forget so quickly.”

Catherine nodded, understanding, and began to speak on a more innocuous subject.

“Were you successful in your errand?” Darcy asked his cousin when they had walked a far enough distance from the house.

“Yes and no,” replied Fitzwilliam thoughtfully. “Her father gave me permission to court her, but asked that I do so privately. I suppose that will have to do for now.”

Darcy was not surprised; he imagined that if a similar situation arose with Georgiana, he would wish the same thing -- time away from the prying eyes of society. “So he was not so much of a dragon as you feared him to be?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “No, I confess he was not. Neither was he, however, as mild mannered as he seemed in the society of his wife and daughter. I do believe he liked me, though, else he would not have allowed me to continue with my suit.” He beat his walking stick against the pavement energetically. “Did you know,” he said happily, “that they are going to London?”

Astounded by this news, Darcy almost stopped. “London? Of course not, how could I have known that? When are they leaving?”

“As soon as the Prince’s nephew arrives, apparently. Luck has smiled on me, old man! I will see her in London!”

Darcy looked at the Colonel, who was oblivious in his happy daze. “Yes, luck,” he murmured distractedly. Perhaps his cousin was right, perhaps it was luck; or chance, or fate, he could not really say, but he felt that another door was opening for him, and that knowledge made his heart beat stronger and faster.

Chapter 10

Posted on Monday, 21 May 2007

October 21, 1810
Grovesnor Square, London

Dearest Lizzy,

Yes, the post mark is correct, I am indeed in London! Can you believe it? It hardly seems real. Father has taken a house for us here and we are going to spend some time in England, taking refuge from the storm threatening to engulf Europe. My cousin Peter has come with us -- I have told you about him before -- you will like him very much, Lizzy, he is like an older brother to me (well, a second older brother, but as I see him more than my real brother, well… I believe I am permitted to think of him as such) .

Lizzy, although we are not traveling to Hertfordshire for an extended visit (however, we hope your parents will allow us to come to you for a few days at least), my parents have asked that I invite you to stay with us in London for as long as your family can spare you! Is this not wonderful news? I am so excited, I can hardly speak (which is why I am writing). We can collect you on our way back from Hertfordshire. We shall really get to know each other, and not only through letters! Please, oh please do say yes! I will await your answer with the greatest anticipation. I believe my father is writing to your father to also request your presence with us. I hope we shall see each other very soon! I will end now, for I think I have exhausted my share of exclamation marks for one letter…

Your affectionate (and very excited, as if you could not tell) cousin,
Alina Rostov

Alina signed her letter with a trembling hand and laid it aside; she could hardly believe it -- they were actually in England! Her parents had given her the news in gentle tones, but she could not hide her excitement. All her life, she had traveled throughout Europe; she had seen clothes made in London, tea and other types of products imported from there, had heard tales of the splendor of London society and the beauty of the English countryside, which some even said could rival the beauty of her own country. And now, she was actually there! She stilled her hand against the writing desk and imagined seeing her beloved cousin and getting to know her mother’s family. The soft voices of her parents seeped through the walls -- her dear parents, how she loved them, and how she loved everything in the world right now.

Picking up the candle, she crept out of her room and knocked softly at a door down the hall.

“Who is it?”

She pushed the door open slightly. “Peter, it’s me,” she whispered.

The door opened for a brief moment to reveal a tall young man with dark hair and large grey eyes. He pulled her into his room and quickly closed the door.

“Malishka*, what are you doing here at this hour?” he asked, frowning. “Is ought the matter?”

“No, no, I just… I just could not sleep, Peter,” Alina answered sheepishly. “I am sorry if I woke you.”

His frown relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched. “So, you go scampering about the place like a little white ghost?” He indicated with a gesture her billowing nightgown and the disheveled state of her hair. “What if anyone had seen you? You would have frightened the servants half to death. These English servants do not understand this sort of thing. And, you almost frightened me half to death, I will have you know!”

Alina looked up at him, almost fooled by the seriousness in his voice, but found that his eyes were smiling. “I did not think that men at the great age of thirty were so easy to scare as that,” she scoffed, seating herself in the deep armchair by the fire. “Now, tell me a story, like when I was a little girl.”

Peter ruffled her hair and took the other armchair. “You are a little girl still,” he murmured under his breath. He looked at her for several seconds, as if coming to a decision, and began a light-hearted tale of his exploits during his service with the Russian Army, and ended only when he saw that Alina’s eyelids were drooping and she could not stifle a yawn. He ushered her out of the room then and, his own head full of thoughts, went to sleep.

*Little one (Rus.)

The next morning, Peter and Alina walked to the Park in the crisp autumn air. Though it was the end of October, the weather remained mild, and they could just catch glimpses of the majestic red-gold foliage of the trees through the grey buildings.

“Oh!” Alina exclaimed excitedly, holding on to Peter’s arm, “It is so lovely to be here, do you not think? London is a wonderful city!”

“I confess that I do not see anything wonderful about it just yet,” Peter replied, shrugging. He looked around at the throng of people populating the streets, some going about their business doggedly and not paying the least attention to anybody else, some looking about intently to catch sight of their neighbors and acquaintances, eager to compare their own style of dress or coach, and the flash of an inevitable beggar child, immediately removed roughly by a smart policeman.

“It is not as beautiful as Paris,” he said, “nor as clean, and certainly cannot hold a candle to Moscow.”

Alina shook her head in exasperation. “Really, Peter, you are simply determined to dislike it, and I know not why. I find it very exciting -- new places, new people, new ideas -- does not this hold a promise for a grand adventure?” She smiled at her own fancy, making Peter laugh as well.

“Yes, perhaps you are right,” he acknowledged reluctantly. “And it is safer than Europe…”

Further musings were interrupted by the appearance of a party, members of which were familiar to Alina; it was Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy, walking with two ladies. Upon perceiving Alina, the Colonel’s face lit up and he crossed the street and hailed her in his usual friendly manner.

“Miss Rostov, what a pleasure!” he exclaimed, bending over her hand. “I confess, I have been impatient for your arrival. I trust that your parents are in good health and I hope that I may call on them shortly.” He bowed politely, but his eyes sparkled in a warm greeting, making Alina’s heart beat more quickly. Peter’s dry cough brought them both back down to earth.

“Oh, yes,” Alina said hurriedly, remembering her manners, “I do not believe you have met -- Colonel Fitzwilliam, this is my cousin, Peter -- I mean, Count Orlovsky. Peter, this is the Colonel Fitzwilliam whom I met at Baden. You arrived the day after the Colonel had to leave back to England.”

Peter bowed. “Colonel, it is always a pleasure to meet a friend of my cousin’s,” he said in a neutral tone. The Colonel bowed as well and acknowledged his own pleasure at the acquaintance. By this time, the rest of the Colonel’s party had caught up with them, and he had the opportunity to introduce Darcy and the two ladies, who were of course, Anne and Georgiana.

They had spent the past week, since the return of Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, listening to the Colonel’s descriptions of Alina and her family. It had seemed so fascinating and so exotic, that they had been greatly anticipating meeting the object of their interest. Before them stood a lively young girl, uncommonly pretty and evidently possessed of good humor and a lightness of spirit that made it immediately obvious why the Colonel had been so attracted by her. Her manners were elegant and yet, so easy and friendly that she dispelled in several words any awkwardness of the first meeting. The Count, her cousin, presented a more mysterious figure. He seemed to be about Colonel Fitzwilliam’s age and was certainly handsome, though very quiet. In fact, aside from bowing to the ladies with a warm smile and exchanging a few words with the gentlemen, he preferred to merely observe -- rather than participate in -- the conversation. Darcy and Anne both noted this and wondered what was behind the polite façade. Both also found themselves suppressing a pang of annoyance at the way Colonel Fitzwilliam so light-heartedly brought strangers into their tightly knit family circle.

Meanwhile, the object of their irritation was talking and laughing nonchalantly with Alina, having persuaded her to join their group and walk to the Park together. Alina took Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arm and their group, now expanded by two, continued on their path. Anne heard the two of them chattering, saw their heads bent towards one another, amused by some private joke, and suddenly felt tired and cross, though she did not know why; nether the sunshine nor the mild temperature gave her any pleasure, the street noise grated, and all she could think about was returning to their townhouse.

“Miss De Bourgh, are you well?” a low voice inquired, and she turned to find Count Orlovsky bending towards her with concern.

She nodded. “Yes, thank you,” she replied quietly, so as not to alarm the others.

His grey eyes looked at her kindly. “Perhaps we should find a place to sit down?” he suggested, and when Anne shook her head in protest, he simply offered her his arm. After a slight hesitation, Anne took it and found that she was indeed tired and grateful to lean on someone taller and stronger than she.

After several minutes of silence, Anne realized that she held the responsibility for initiating the conversation; it was an unfamiliar feeling -- all her life, she had been Miss De Bourgh of Rosings Park, and she was accustomed to people talking to and trying to please her, not the other way around. After a brief hesitation, she decided to begin.

“How long are you planning to stay in London, Count?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“We have no fixed plans yet, Miss De Bourgh,” he replied. “However, we would like to wait out the war, if such a thing is at all possible. I hesitate to bring up the topic before a lady's delicate sensibilities.”

Anne laughed. “No, please, do not be anxious in that regard. I do not believe my sensibilities are so very delicate after all.”

Meanwhile, Colonel Fitzwilliam was very happily monopolizing Alina once again after their prolonged separation.

“Darling,” he whispered, “you have no idea how much I have missed you. The journey was miserable without you by my side!”

Alina blushed and glanced around quickly to make sure that no one else heard his amorous expressions. “I have missed you as well,” she replied warmly, “I was uncertain whether you would still wish to see me…”

She was amply rewarded with an ardent look and a brilliant smile that left her with no doubts of her companion’s feelings; the look was returned in the same vein and both gazed happily at each other, as lovers are wont to do, until forced to stop by the practical necessity of crossing a busy street and avoiding being trampled by carriages.

They walked into the Park and for a moment, all conversation died down as they allowed its loveliness to overtake them. The trees had only begun to shed their leaves and many stood yet draped in their autumn mantles of red and gold; occasionally here and there, a leaf would float gently downwards on the soft winds, a flash of vibrant color against the blue of the sky. Even Peter, who was convinced that nothing could compare to the beauty of his native country, stopped involuntarily.

“Oh, how marvelous!” Alina exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “What a lovely park!”

“It is, indeed,” agreed Peter quietly.

Georgiana, who had been too intimidated by Alina’s vivaciousness to speak, finally found her courage when the subject was one she felt so passionate about. “Oh, the country is really so much more beautiful,” she said wistfully. “There is so much open space and the flora and fauna is infinitely more varied than here. I wish you could see what it is like there…”

“Oh,” Alina turned to her, “but we shall! We are to visit my uncle and aunt in Hertfordshire soon. I do not know what it would look like to an impartial observer, but my cousin, who has lived there her whole life, seems to think it a charming place.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam, already thinking of ways to travel to Hertfordshire, looked over at Darcy. “Darcy,” he said teasingly, “you were in that part of England recently, were you not? Is it as charming as Miss Rostov’s cousin suggests?”

Darcy glared at him. “Yes, quite.” The mention of Hertfordshire, so suddenly, disturbed him, and he struggled not to let it show; so many of his private thoughts were consumed with the place -- Elizabeth, Bingley and Miss Bennet, his behavior there -- that it was somehow strange to hear the name aloud. He still had not had a response to the letter he wrote Bingley; though, perhaps, it was not surprising, given that Bingley would naturally write to Pemberley. Darcy made a mental note to write to Bingley once again.

Aloud, he only requested that Miss Rostov convey his regards to her family. He wanted to ask more, but could not, and was grateful when Colonel Fitzwilliam inquired about the planned trip and its particulars; he was astonished to learn of the tentative plan to bring Elizabeth to London. He felt as if he could not quite absorb the import of that news just yet.

Darcy felt like a spectator, watching his cousin talking and laughing with Miss Rostov but unable to participate; Georgiana’s hand felt warm against his coat, but his mind was far away in Hertfordshire. Would she still want to see him, talk to him, or did his harsh words last April destroy any chance he had with her? Time was so precious, and yet, he could not think of a reason to travel to Hertfordshire to see her. His rational self declared that it was the most foolish thing he could possibly do, and he could not, and neither did he wish to, ignore that part of himself. Love should not make one foolish, he thought, as he looked at Fitzwilliam whispering to Miss Rostov.

Later, in the evening, Anne sat next to him with her cup of tea. “So, what do you make of Miss Rostov?” she asked without a preamble.

“She seems a sweet, well-mannered girl,” he replied cautiously.

“Come, Fitzwilliam, that is not an answer. You knew her before today, you must have some sort of an opinion -- is she a good match for Richard?”

“All right.” Darcy turned to her. “No, I think she is not. How could she be, being a foreigner and so young, in age and in disposition? They come from different worlds, and they know too little of each other yet to make an informed decision. Her father was wise to insist on a private courtship.”

“Informed decision!” Anne laughed. “Happiness in a marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the disposition of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation.”*

Darcy looked at her closely. “Is that what you really think, Anne?”

“Yes, of course. How can it be otherwise? We have little choice in whom we marry -- other considerations must always intrude before love. I am fully resigned to it, Darcy. I only wish to respect my future husband, if such a one should come along, I do not hope or expect love.”

“Perhaps,” Darcy answered gravely, “perhaps, Anne.” He fought an instinctive desire to disagree with her, but he realized with a start that such was his own opinion about marriage not too long ago. Elizabeth had changed all of that -- it was not that he now expected to find love in a marriage, rather, Darcy could no longer see a happy future without her in it. The small flame of hope, kindled in Baden with the meeting of Miss Rostov, had now blossomed into a renewed desire to erase his past mistakes and show Elizabeth the kind of man she had helped him become. As the conversation of others around him retreated into the background, Darcy slowly allowed himself to imagine a different kind of happiness than he had ever known before.

* I think we all know where this comes from (hint: not from me - thank you, JA!) :)

Chapter 11

Posted on Sunday, 27 May 2007,

“To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.” ~ Clara Ortega

All four felt relieved when they left the noise and dirt of London for the wide open spaces of the road to Longbourn. Peter, especially, was pleased at the idea of this brief trip; he hardly knew why it should be so -- it was true that unfamiliar situations discomposed him somewhat, but in going from London to Longbourn, he was only stepping from one new location into another, even less familiar. He felt, however, that the family of his well loved and respected Aunt Catherine would surely be less -- less unpredictable -- than many of the people he had met in London during the first week of his exploration of that city. Peter attempted to scale back his rather uncharitable thoughts, but could not suppress his annoyance at the type of fashionable young man so often seen at the good clubs he had chanced to drop into. The connections his family had made enabled him to attain a recommendation that opened almost all the doors to him, even here in England, and he was no more impressed by the English dandies than he had been by their Russian counterparts. If he were honest with himself, Peter knew that he was homesick. He longed for his father’s estate in the countryside, for the smell of fresh bread in the morning, for the slow awakening of the earth after its long winter slumber and for the cool breeze over the fields in the summer. Hearing the aloof, foreign sounds of English made him wish for the hearty guffaws of the Russian peasants, and drinking watered wine every night with dinner -- for a strong shot of vodka that would course down his throat and burn the insides of his chest.

Alina stirred against his side. She had been uncharacteristically quiet during this part of their journey, simply content to gaze out of the window and think her own thoughts. The passage from the Continent and their first week in England must have been exhausting for her, Peter thought, and then, looking at the dark head at his shoulder, recalled exactly why he had agreed to make this journey with his uncle.

The Princess observed the children from under closed eyelids; it was useful, she found, to seem asleep when she really had no intention of succumbing to the rocking motion of the carriage and the admittedly inviting warmth of her husband at her side. In her mind, they were still “the children,” though the time of them running around and playing in ponds was long over. Peter was thirty, and would soon take a wife, and Alina was like a rose in first bloom, not a child still but not yet a woman. Catherine’s heart ached for Peter, for she had come to love and admire him very much since his return from serving with the Army and studying at the University. He had never truly found his place among the fast-paced life in Moscow and seemed most comfortable in the circle of like minded intelligent, industrious young men, who were always few and difficult to find among the frivolous group in town, bent on their own pleasure rather than on the betterment of their minds and their estates. Catherine gave a quick prayer of thanks that her own son, Alexander, seemed to have finally followed the footsteps of his cousins and settled down to a more sedate lifestyle. Glancing at her daughter, she pursued the trail of Alina’s eyes and wondered whether she was thinking about her Colonel. He was a handsome man, intelligent and well bred and seemed kind, so Catherine would not be displeased with the union; and yet, in her heart, she yearned for Alina to marry someone not quite so energetic and charming, someone more like her own Alexei -- someone who would not overshadow Alina’s enthusiasm for life with his own, but would nurture and understand her. Catherine supposed philosophically that one could not direct the flow of love and it would be hypocritical for her to try, but she thought that the mother’s eye saw what Alina’s nineteen year old girlhood did not. Natasha and Eugene -- now, that had been a good match -- she was certain there would be happiness. She thought drowsily about their wedding day, Natasha’s bridal splendor, the flash of Alina’s red sash on the white of her dress, Alexander’s protective arm around her when the sleigh bearing Natasha and Eugene had ridden away in a flurry of ribbons and bells. Her kids… she has had her hands full with them, but they were good children in the end and God had been very good to her indeed. Then Alexei’s warmth and the peaceful clacking of the horses’ hooves on the road finally overwhelmed her and she sank into a fitful sleep.

The arrival at Longbourn had always been a noisy affair, even in the times of its previous mistress; the little village of Longbourn and the neighboring town of Meryton provided little excitement, and every new visitor was eagerly welcomed. Such was the case currently, especially after the whole romantic story of Mr Bennet’s disgraced sister who was now a Princess had spread like wildfire among the four and twenty families the Bennets dined with. The occupants of the carriage took little notice of the people gawking at their progress, but could not ignore them altogether, and Catherine wondered for the first time what her brother’s family would be like. Her niece Lizzy, she knew was an intelligent and lively young woman -- she gathered at least as much from her letters -- and her niece Jane was sweet and kind, but the rest of the family remained a mystery.

The carriage pulled up to the house Catherine grew up in, and she had to swallow past a lump in her throat, so much did it look like it had when she was still an idealistic young girl and resided there. Alexei pressed her hand understandingly and that was enough to bring composure back to her face. It was a different lifetime and she was no longer that girl.

The first thing they saw as they alighted from the carriage was a positive throng of women, descending upon them with introductions and embraces and, in two cases, inquiries about presents. When this tangle of feminine arms was sorted out, and Lizzy and Alina had found each other among squeals of delight, and Peter’s coat and saber examined and admired, Catherine glanced around searchingly. At first, she thought he may not have come out to greet them. Though the past ten years of letters had done much to smooth the pain and regrets of earlier years, she realized there was still resentment and she was afraid, knowing her brother’s nature, that there would never be forgiveness. Finally, she located him, standing by himself in the shade of the balustrades by the door. She walked over slowly.

“Hello, Tom,” she said, looking at him searchingly.

“Kitty,” he nodded.

Catherine took a few steps towards him. “I am so sorry…” she faltered.

That was Mr Bennet’s undoing. If she had said anything else or had not looked at him in this way, he may have become angry and resentful, sarcastic, or simply silent. He had spent too many years and drank too many glasses of port imagining what he would say during such a meeting; but now that it was finally here, he found that all the bitterness drained out of him in an instant, and he took her outstretched hand and squeezed it warmly. And then they were embracing, and Catherine was crying, and he was stubbornly trying to hold back his own tears.

“Well, well,” Mr Bennet said finally, releasing his sister, “well, well.”

Catherine laughed. Some things never changed. “Marriage has been good to you, I see,” she said, prodding her brother’s generous midsection.

“Yes,” he replied dryly, “the source of all my earthly joys.”

“Surely not quite so bad as that?”

Mr Bennet smiled. “No, not so bad as that.”

Then, his wife descended upon them. “Oh, my dear Princess,” she gushed, “welcome, welcome to our humble home. Please allow me to say how pleased we are to have you grace our abode with your presence. Mr Bennet and I--”

“My dear Mrs Bennet,” her husband interrupted hastily, “our guests must be very tired from the road -- please arrange some tea in the sitting room.”

“Oh, certainly, certainly!” Mrs Bennet fluttered, excited at this chance to prove her prowess as Mistress of Longbourn with a lavish tea display.

Catherine, who had gathered enough from his brother’s letters over the years not to be surprised at this onslaught from his wife, barely contained a smile.

“Is she always this -- enthusiastic?” she asked innocently.

“Heh,” Mr Bennet replied, poking her in the ribs, “If you continue your insolence, I may just leave you to bear the full brunt of her fervor next time.”

“Shocking, Thomas!” And then the full company, including Prince Alexei, were startled to hear the quiet Mr Bennet and the dignified Princess giggling like schoolchildren at their own private joke.

They sat down to tea in the same sitting room which Lady Catherine may have bemoaned as inconvenient, had she ever seen it; however, none of the party felt the slightest inconvenience just now -- the substantial tea, the merry fire crackling in the grate and the chatter of seven women did not leave much to be desired for in the way of domestic comforts. This, all three of the men felt acutely, and relaxed in the sensation of it. Mr Bennet’s eyes followed his sister and niece fondly; really, he thought, his memories dulled by the veil of time, she almost had not changed at all; and Alina was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. She resembled their mother so strongly that Mr Bennet was often at a loss for words during the days that followed.

Dinner was also a cheerful affair, even more so because Mrs Bennet, sufficiently in awe of her guests’ rank and station in life, was on her very best behavior and remained most civil, if not at all clever. Kitty and Lydia were too busy giggling and flirting with the handsome Count, who to their chagrin did not return the sentiments, to discuss officers, and even Mary was politely but firmly thwarted by her older sisters from saying anything embarrassing. The Bennets’ joy was further increased when Mr Bingley called and the happiness of Jane’s situation was explained. A case of very fine wine, brought by the Prince as a gift to Mr Bennet, was opened and the happy blushing couple was toasted to many times during the evening.

Having waited a respectable amount of time after dinner, Mr Bennet invited his sister to join him in the library, leaving the rest of the female contingent in the somewhat startled hands of Prince Alexei and Peter. Mr Bingley was there as well to, presumably, lend support, but since he only had eyes for Jane, and she for him, his presence need not have been counted upon to fortify the male element of the party. Even Mrs Bennet did not protest her husband’s maneuver in depriving them of his and his sister’s company; she could sense that this was one of those times when it would be wise to fulfill her long-ago and oft-forgotten promise to obey. Not a soul ever knew, despite multiple inquiries from all sides, what transpired between the siblings in the hour which they spent alone. Some said, based on the servants’ gossip, that there were sounds of tears, and some said that there was only the characteristic for Mr Bennet silence. Only Thomas and Catherine knew, but it was observed that upon exiting the library, he pressed her hand most affectionately and there was a slight moisture in her eyes, and on the morrow, many a servant’s job was made easier because the Master was uncommonly happy.

Overall, it was a lovely day, Elizabeth reflected as she readied herself for bed, marred by only one thought, that she would have liked Mr Darcy to witness her family thus, and not at their worst, as he always seemed to have the misfortune of doing. She did not know why Mr Darcy seemed to be so often in her thoughts, but she found herself recalling him at the most unexpected moments. Elizabeth had felt such a keen sense of disappointment when she had received that letter from her Aunt Gardiner telling her of their inability to journey North this summer; in the back of her mind, she recalled that Mr Darcy’s estate was in the North. They might meet at Mr Bingley and Jane’s wedding, and then, she would let him know with a look that his extraordinary letter produced such a change of her earlier opinion as to enable them to become friends, if he still wished to speak to her. After the way she had behaved, Elizabeth felt that such a possibility was highly doubtful, but resolved to try nevertheless. Her train of thought was interrupted by her cousin entering her bedroom, which they were to share during the week of the Rostovs’ stay at Longbourn.

“Lizzy,” Alina smiled as she nestled under the covers, “I feel as if I’ve known you all my life. It is such a pity that we live so far away and cannot correspond or see each other more frequently.”

Elizabeth looked with tenderness at the girl next to her. Through their letters, she had gotten to know her cousin quite well during the last ten years, and their meeting in person only confirmed the affection she held for Alina. “It is a great pity, dear,” she replied, “but perhaps we shall see each other more often now that you are established in London.”

Alina raised herself on her elbows with a stricken look. “Oh! Lizzy! Do tell me you are coming with us!”

“Truly,” Elizabeth said, “I do not feel that I can presume on your hospitality, Alina! It is a very kind offer…”

“No, it was not just a kind offer,” Alina exclaimed, “we all would like you to be our guest, and perhaps Jane if your parents will allow! Who else will guide me through the English society?”

“My dear, I know even less of English society than you do,” Elizabeth laughed.

Alina took her hands and looked at her pleadingly. “Then we shall be confused together. I am very determined, Elizabeth, please come!”

Elizabeth smiled gratefully. “I would love to. Thank you so much, I truly appreciate it.”

“It is I who am thankful, say no more about it.”

Elizabeth smiled again and pressed her cousin’s hands. “Now,” she said, her eyes sparkling mischievously, “you must tell me about whomever you have been leaving out of your letters from Baden.” Seeing Alina’s surprise, she continued with a smirk: “Do not attempt to conceal it from me by looking shocked, my dear cousin, I am too clever for such amateur tactics. Out with it!”

As Alina poured out her story to her cousin, Elizabeth sat in stunned silence. Colonel Fitzwilliam! Mr Darcy! It was beyond crediting that out of all people Alina should fall in love with in the entire world, she should find the cousin of the man nearest to her thoughts. Elizabeth was happy for the darkness which concealed her emotion.

“And did you suffer very much at the hands of his cousin?” she asked when she recovered sufficiently.

Alina frowned. “Suffer? No, not at all. Mr Darcy is a quiet man, that is true, but he is very much a gentleman.”

That word struck Elizabeth sharply.

“He asked about you most particularly,” Alina continued, “and was very insistent to Mamma that we convey his regards to you and your family. He is very pleasant and Mamma liked him very much.”

Elizabeth was all astonishment -- this conflicted directly with all her previous impressions of Mr Darcy. That he would be pleasant to people of rank and means she could easily believe, but that he inquired most particularly about her and sent regards to her family? What could have caused such a change in attitude? Surely, her reproofs at Hunsford, discourteous and inadequate as they were, would not have prompted such an alteration. She was gratified, of course, if perplexed, and drifted off to sleep with the most pleasant thoughts.

Chapter 12

Posted on Friday, 1 June 2007

October 23, 1810
London

Harrowby,

Attached are my further instructions for the harvesting, to supplement those I sent two weeks ago. I shall be there myself in a week or so, depending on the roads. I trust the enclosed sufficiently answers any questions that may arise prior to my arrival, but if it does not, or if something requires an immediate decision, do not hesitate to rely on your skill and experience to resolve the issue. If you need to contact me, I will be stopping over at my usual stop, the Rose Inn in Bedfordshire -- you may leave a letter to wait for me there.

FD

The week at Longbourn passed by quickly, for Mrs Bennet had attempted to fill their time with such amusements as were available in the country, Mr Bennet was more sociable than ever, and Mr Bingley was always ready for any activity that would include his beloved Jane. While the young people walked, read and played, Catherine and Mr Bennet sat together in the drawing room recalling their youth and laughingly comparing it to their present middle-aged state, while the Prince and Peter hid from Mrs Bennet in the library and sampled Mr Bennet’s excellent reserves.

Mrs Bennet had never been happier -- not only were her guests exotic, rich and titled, but they also conversed with civility with any of her other invited guests and complimented her table and her house. It was truly the pinnacle of her social dominance of the neighborhood, even the light of Jane’s engagement to Mr Bingley was dimmed slightly because these exalted personages were staying at her house. What Mrs Bennet did not know, and did not stop to ascertain, were the private feelings of her guests, whom she so thoughtlessly put on display before the whole neighborhood. Perhaps it was best after all that their culture dictated absolute respect for one’s host and that their private conversations were conducted in a language Mrs Bennet could not understand.

“Katya, when are we finally going back to London?” the Prince asked his wife crossly on the sixth day of their stay at Longbourn.

Catherine looked over at her husband with surprise. He had been behaving so well this entire time -- too well, now that she really thought about it; she should have realized how difficult this provincial living would be for him. “Soon, darling,” she promised. “We will stay as planned, just two more days.”

The Prince’s expression brightened a little. “Good,” he said, “because I think Peter and I have exhausted your brother’s reserves of port. I shall have to send him two cases, just to compensate for what we drank.”

“Well, you did not have to drink it, dear,” Catherine reminded him gently.

“Oh,” Prince Alexei said darkly, “if you had had to endure the poking and prodding from Mrs Short -- no, wait, that was Long -- and Lady What’s-Her-Name, I wager you would want to drink the port as well. And poor Peter! They descended upon him like vultures, parading their daughters in front of him as if they were prized cattle.”

“Oh, dear,” the Princess sighed.

“And that Bingley woman!” Prince Alexei frowned. “If I did not know better, I would have thought she was making up to me. What a disgrace! That Bingley fellow is a likeable enough chap, but to be cursed with a sister like that…”

Catherine suppressed a smile and put her arms around her husband; she knew that he needed affection when he was in one of his moods. “There, there, dear. We will be back in London soon enough. I daresay when the Season really gets underway, you will think fondly on these days of Mrs Long, Lady Lucas and Miss Bingley. The women we see in town will be much less amateur than this.”

“Still, one knows how to deal with subtlety at least,” her husband muttered. “I have never liked living in the country, except on our own estate, and this certainly does nothing to improve my opinion of it.”

“Alexei! This is my brother’s house!”

“Oh…er… I am sorry, my dear,” he said, a little ashamed that his temper had carried him so far. “You know I like your brother very much. Really, it is just being here with nothing to do, and all these women… I just miss being alone with my own girls.”

He earned a kiss for that.

Their departure from Longbourn was no less noisy than their arrival had been, but differed in that they were taking away one of its inhabitants, Mr Bennet having consented to Elizabeth accompanying her aunt and uncle to London for the winter. Alina talked excitedly throughout the whole journey, punctuated by Elizabeth’s lively and clever remarks which attracted even Peter to the conversation. The Prince and Princess simply watched the young people make the most out of a long carriage journey and exchanged amused glances every so often.

Upon their arrival, the Princess immediately noticed several cards which had been left for them during their absence. They did not know many people in town, but Peter’s father, a cousin of the Prince, traveled to England quite often and had sent letters of recommendation ahead of their arrival.

The Princess picked out several cards from the pile on the heavy silvery tray.

“Oh,” she said nonchalantly, “I see that Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy left their cards.”

Alina blushed furiously and Elizabeth started at hearing Mr Darcy’s name.

“Perhaps,” the Princess continued in the same tone, “we should put off returning the call until next week -- we do have so many other people we should see first…”

“But Mamma!” Alina exclaimed pleadingly, and was about to present a full bevy of reasons for returning the call immediately, when she noticed that everyone was trying to restrain a smile and understood that her mother was teasing her. “Oh…” she said sheepishly and laughed at herself.

Catherine took pity on her daughter. “We shall all go tomorrow,” she said. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is staying with his elder brother, the Viscount Harcourt, in Berkeley Square.”

The morning came soon enough, despite Alina’s fears that it would never arrive. Elizabeth dressed herself carefully in her room. There was no reason to suppose, she thought, that Mr Darcy would be present when they called, but -- her hand hesitated over the dresses hung in the closet -- she chose a light yellow muslin she knew particularly suited her. In fact, she recalled wearing it the night she played for Mr Darcy at Lady Catherine’s dinner, when he had looked at her in [i]that[/i] way. At the time, she thought she was playing for the charming Colonel Fitzwilliam, but now, with the wisdom gained by time, she knew whom the flirty Italian pieces were really meant for. And yet, Elizabeth knew that she was not in love with Mr Darcy -- she knew him too little for that, their few meetings having been characterized by antagonism rather than thoughtful discourse. How he had fallen in love with her, Elizabeth could only guess, and that he loved her still she thought unlikely, but she knew that she wanted to see more of Mr Darcy and wanted to erase their previous misunderstandings and start anew.

The visit, however, brought disappointment to Elizabeth, for not only was Mr Darcy not in attendance at the Viscount’s townhouse, she found out that he went to Pemberley to supervise some matters concerning the harvesting and would not be back for several weeks at least. It was unwelcome news, but Elizabeth resolved to enjoy herself despite his absence. The townhouse was very elegant and the Viscount and his wife, Lady Diana, were very correct and polite, if aloof. Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, compensated for any coldness on the part of his brother and sister by entertaining them with stories of the Continent for the duration of their visit. Even Georgiana Darcy, who was staying at the Viscount’s townhouse while her brother was at Pemberley and was in the drawing room when they were announced, was provoked by his teasing into making several remarks, when there was the least danger of them being heard.

Even Anne had her share in the conversation. She noticed Elizabeth’s astonished look and understood its meaning.

“You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet,” she said, taking her tea cup and sitting down next to Elizabeth, “at my liveliness here, when during your visit to Rosings Park I was quiet and reserved.”

“I thought perhaps London air agreed with you, Miss De Bourgh,” Elizabeth replied mildly.

“Oh, in a way, it does,” Anne smiled. “Although I do prefer the country more, I cannot say that I miss one aspect of our neighborhood…”

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “I believe I know what, or rather whom, you mean,” she said, laughingly.

“Oh, do forgive me, Miss Bennet” Anne suddenly remembered, “he is your cousin--”

“No, please, Miss De Bourgh,” Elizabeth replied, waving her hand slightly, “I am not offended, nor am I deceived in Mr Collins’ nature. As long as I have known him, which is, admittedly not very long, he has only shown good sense in one instance -- in that of picking Charlotte for his wife!”

Anne nodded. “True, Mrs Collins is lovely. Mr Collins is indeed a very lucky man. You see,” she continued on her earlier train of thought, “the reason I am so hesitant to speak often when he is present at dinner is that he makes so much of every little thing I say that it quite embarrasses me.”

“You must at least admire the creativity of his address,” Elizabeth exclaimed, recalling some of Mr Collins’s less ingenuous “elegant compliments.”

Anne shuddered, possibly remembering the same thing. “Oh, I do, I assure you. However, I cannot believe the sentiments are sincere,” she said, “nor am I comfortable with so much attention constantly brought upon myself. So I try to visit Mrs Collins when he is away on parish business, and my mother also keeps him quite busy. She, at least, does enjoy his company.”

“He certainly admires Lady Catherine a great deal,” Elizabeth said, “so it is fortunate that she likes his presence.”

Elizabeth was very pleased with this forthrightness on the part of Anne, whom she had dismissed at Rosings as a sickly creature with no manners or conversation, and they talked amiably until the visit came to an end. For her part, Anne had already formed a positive opinion of Miss Bennet, and thought that while Darcy could have made a far superior match in terms of money and connections, her spirit, frankness and joie de vivre would serve him better than any rich dowry of town heiresses.

Upon recalling that it was Alina’s first visit to London, and that the Princess had not been there since she was herself seventeen or eighteen years old, Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately implored his sister and cousins to take the ladies to Bond street and show them their favorite shops. Lady Diana wanted to refuse, knowing that her endorsement of this scheme would be perceived by anyone who saw them together as acceptance of these newcomers -- of whom she knew nothing as of yet -- into the highest circles of London society. Such important decisions made hastily and without proper knowledge could be socially disastrous in London’s unforgiving environment, and Lady Diana wanted a chance to be more familiar with this family before engaging on a definite course. However, Richard’s pleading glance, Georgiana’s palpable excitement, and most importantly, her husband’s slight nod when she looked to him for his opinion assuaged her doubts for the moment and she gave her assent. Consequently, all parties having found themselves without engagements, the date was affixed for the morrow for their shopping expedition, and the visitors took their leave.

Later, when the Viscount and his wife were alone in their chambers, he caught her look and addressed her question before she even proffered it.

“I know what you are going to ask, my dear,” he said, “and yes, I really do think you should go with them.”

“But Edward -- should we really endorse people we know so little about? What if there is something untoward in their past or their behavior, will it be harmful to Georgiana when she comes out next year? I know you and I can recover from any scandal easily and we have no children, but Anne and Georgiana are under our protection and we must be very careful.”

Edward put his arms around his wife. “You are very attractive when you are impassioned like that,” he said smilingly. “But to respond to your concerns -- Richard and Darcy have both spent time with the family and have not seen anything amiss, and the Rostovs seem to be people of intelligence and fashion. I spoke with Count Orlovsky while you ladies were going on about shopping, and his father is actually a frequent visitor to London, and gave him a recommendation to the best clubs. I knew the name sounded familiar when I first heard it, but I could not immediately place where I had come across it before.”

Diana nestled further into his embrace, where it was warm and comfortable. “What have you heard?” she asked.

“I cannot remember anything specific connected with the name, which means there was had been no scandal, but I recall hearing that they are very wealthy and very well traveled. I believe the elder Orlovsky is actually in line for the Russian throne -- very distantly, though. The Count, his son, certainly has excellent manners. Besides, if Richard indeed means to marry this girl, which he apparently does, she can do no better than be seen in society with you. It will quell the gossiping tongues before they even begin to wag.”

“You are so eloquent,” Diana said dryly. “But her connections! Her cousin, Miss Bennet’s uncle is in trade in Cheapside, and another one is a country attorney!”

Edward shrugged. “But one cannot fault the connections on her father’s side, and their manners are quite perfect. Besides, you liked Miss Bennet for herself, despite the uncle in trade, did you not?”

“Well, yes, I did,” Diana admitted, smiling a little at the recollection of Miss Bennet’s contribution to their conversation. She then grew serious and turned to Edward, looking at him searchingly. “Did you like Miss Rostov?” she asked.

“In truth?”

“Yes, in truth.”

“Let me preface my answer,” he replied, “by telling you that I do not like any women while I have you, my adorable wife.”

Diana sighed. “Oh, Edward, do be serious! And do not ever call me ‘adorable’ again, if you value your life.” But she was pleased with his response nevertheless.

“In truth, I do like her. I do not think one could help it, she is a likeable creature, though she is too light and bubbly for my taste; but I think she will suit my brother just fine. To be sure, she is a foreigner, and society will not look kindly upon that fact, but she is young, beautiful, fashionable and very rich, and has the exotic aristocratic connections, all of which just might negate the initial prejudice… Especially if we show that we accept her. The rest of the ton will take their cue from us, as they always do.” He stroked her hair lightly. “Did you know, darling, that we have so much social responsibility lying on our fragile shoulders?”

“Indeed,” said Diana, folding away his thick silk robe and revealing broad shoulders that no one could have possibly called fragile.

“Oh…” Edward said quietly, his eyes catching the fire from the solitary candle in the room. “Yes, indeed.”

Chapter 13

Posted on Tuesday, 12 June 2007

“For gala dresses and the ball-room, the habiliments of the fair are yet more diversified; white and gold is still very prevalent, and lace gowns, both black and white, over various coloured satins: white satin, ornamented with a rich trimming of coqlelicot, with cornelian ornaments, for coral is now only worn in a morning, or to receive a small dinner party: pale pink gossamer satin, with pearl ornaments; and white crape and leno frocks for the younger part of the assembly, form the most prominent features in the annals of full dress.” ~ La Belle Assemblee, 1812.

The next morning, the most exclusive shops on Bond street received visitors in the form of a group of ladies, each of whom took the opportunity to add to her wardrobe, first selecting a dress pattern at Mme Lenore, the modiste, and then purchasing muslin, silk and lace at the linen-draper’s, and completing the ensemble with gloves, slippers, ribbons and other female adornments. After a brief and discreet disagreement, Elizabeth was forced to submit to the fact that her aunt wished to do as much for Elizabeth as for her own daughter, and she accepted the welcome additions to her attire with pleasure and gratitude. Lady Diana generally conversed with the Princess and received such a favorable impression of that lady’s genteel manners, even temper, and the Rostov family status in Russian high society as to be generally satisfied. The Princess’s daughter, also, seemed to be a sweet-tempered girl, and though Lady Diana very much disapproved of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s sudden and seemingly irrevocable affection for this foreigner -- why could he not be normal and marry an English girl? she thought -- she no longer despaired of his future.

Elizabeth Bennet, however, was not so easy to make out. Anne, who had stayed at home due to a headache, had hinted at many things without revealing anything, and Lady Diana found several instances during her pleasant conversation with the Princess when she could observe Miss Bennet without arousing the attention of the others. She had poise, this girl, one was forced to admit that at least; she was not as empty-headed and awe-struck as one would expect from a country Miss of obscure origin who was having her first Season in town. And, when those irritating Miss Claytons fawned all over Lady Diana, as they always did when they saw her, Lady Diana noticed Elizabeth hiding a smirk behind her gloved hand. Elizabeth was neither too bold nor too forward, though, which pleased that lady further. Perhaps, this forced excursion was not going to be as much of a disaster as she anticipated, Lady Diana thought with cautious optimism.

“My dear Diana,” she heard a familiar voice exclaim behind her.

She turned around and saw her friend from her schooldays. “Emma! I have not seen you these three years, where have you been?”

Her friend blushed pink under her hat. “His Lordship and I were in Italy for the first year, and then we settled at his estate in York. But,” she grasped Lady Diana’s hand, “let us speak no more of me, tell me about yourself! How is the Viscount?”

Lady Diana frowned at this obvious evasion, but did not probe. “He is as usual,” she replied in a neutral tone.

Emma looked at her with unexpected intensity. “So marriage agrees with you? You are -- happy?”

“I -- yes, I suppose I am,” Lady Diana said, even more perplexed.

Suddenly Emma’s intensity vanished; it was as if a veil had dropped over her eyes and she became charming again and smiled, shaking her blonde curls.

“Oh,” she said, “do introduce me to your friends!”

Lady Diana turned around and noticed that Georgiana and the other ladies had been waiting for her at a slight distance while she had been speaking with Emma. She performed the necessary introductions and watched as her friend spoke gaily to the Princess and the younger ladies, all traces of earlier unease gone. What has happened to her? she thought. She remembered their first entrance into society together, the first balls, the first suitors. Emma was younger than Lady Diana had been when she had her first Season, and her family was neither titled nor wealthy, though the name was old and well respected; it had not mattered to Lady Diana then, Emma had breeding and the sweetest disposition, and the two girls had navigated the glittering lights of the ton together. Towards the end of her Season, Lady Diana had met Edward, and everything changed for her in that first bloom of love; friendships and rivalries receded into the background, only her family and Edward remained. The next time she really saw Emma, she was already married to Edward and Emma was being courted by an older Earl with a grand estate in York, whose first wife had died suddenly without producing an heir. What has happened to her? she thought again, noticing a tightness around her friend’s eyes, a sadness that the charming smile could not erase.

Emma turned to her. “Oh, I have forgotten the most important thing,” she said. “His Lordship and I are having a ball next week to celebrate our return to town. I have written the invitations, you will of course receive one shortly, but I would like to convey it to you myself.” After Lady Diana gave the appropriate answer, Emma addressed Princess Rostov. “Princess,” she smiled, “you and your family are invited as well.”

“Thank you, Lady Carrington, it would be our pleasure to accept your kind invitation, if we have no previous commitments,” the Princess nodded politely.

“I hope,” Emma added to Lady Diana, “that your brother, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and your cousin Mr Darcy are in town and will be able to attend as well.” She infused as much casualness into her voice as she could, but Lady Diana saw that she paled slightly and her hand tightened around her parasol.

“I cannot answer for them, but I will certainly relate your invitation,” Lady Diana said. “Darcy is currently at Pemberley, supervising the harvest, but if he comes back earlier than expected, I will speak to him. Thank you, Emma.” It came out more formally than she had intended, but Lady Diana felt that a great divide had opened between her and her former companion which she could neither understand nor breach. They said their farewells with all the appearance of civility and pleasantness on both sides, but Lady Diana allowed herself to look at Emma’s retreating figure for a moment longer, and she wondered.

Chapter 14

Posted on Friday, 15 June 2007

“It has been asserted by a great author, that a people may be known by their amusements. If so, I think the present times would give a foreigner a deplorable idea of the English nation if he were to judge from their Country Dancing, which is considered one of their principal amusements, and is, in my opinion, a credit to the nation when properly conducted and executed, if not, it wants only the addition of grimaces to reduce it to the Dances of the savages of Terra del Fuego.” ~ The treasures of Terpsichore; or, A companion for the ball-room, T. Wilson, 1816.

Lord and Lady Carrington’s ball was a definite crush -- Elizabeth felt that as soon as she walked into the hall and was immediately separated from her companions by a tide of people, all of them smiling, gossiping, hoping, dreaming, playing out the range of human emotions in the microcosm of the ballroom framed by gleaming crystal and a myriad of candles.

They had arrived very late, which accounted for the number of people already present. Elizabeth made her way amidst the ladies -- adorned with glittering jewels and clad in elaborate gowns -- and the gentlemen in their more somber formal attire, but looked in vain for her cousins. After searching for some minutes without success, she decided that she would be better served by observing the gathering from a higher vantage point, and to that end, moved towards the grand staircase on the other side of the room. However, as before, her progress was impeded by the crowd of people, and, hiding her annoyance behind her fan, she walked out into the narrow corridor hung with mirrors and paintings which flanked the ballroom. Its emptiness was a relief from the stifling air inside, and Elizabeth followed the corridor, hoping that it would lead her to another entrance, closer to the grand staircase. Candles shimmered in their ornate holders, casting flickering shadows on the portraits, rendering them almost alive and Elizabeth shivered and pulled her shawl closer about her. Her soft slippers tread noiselessly on the stone floors as she walked past several doors that were slightly open to reveal several offices and a small library. The house was very grand, and with the sounds of the ball echoing through the corridor, Elizabeth was not afraid; rather, her imagination took flight and for a moment, she felt herself to be the heroine of a gothic novel, uncovering hidden secrets in an imposing mansion. She laughed a little at the thought and walked along, glancing briefly at the paintings and wondering who the people depicted in them were.

So far, all of the rooms she had passed had been dimly lit and quiet, but voices from beyond the next door, left slightly ajar as if the occupants had forgotten to close it tightly in their haste, slowed her steps. Elizabeth knew it was wrong, but her momentary fancy and her natural curiosity drew her towards the light and the voices. What she saw through the narrow crack surprised her -- it seemed to be a small sitting room of some sorts, lit only by a few candles and the fire crackling in the fireplace; furnished in soft light damasks, rounded armchairs and intricately carved tables, it was definitely a feminine space. Therefore, it was a little incongruous to see a man’s tall figure, elegant in his evening black, reclining against the high marble mantle of the fireplace. Elizabeth followed his gaze and only then did she notice a young woman sitting straight in one of the armchairs, head held high, but her hands twisting in her lap. Her beautiful face held uncertainty, and perhaps apprehension; The man’s face mirrored both of those emotions. Seeing the intensity with which they now locked their gazes, Elizabeth knew that this was no ordinary rendezvous.

Much later, Elizabeth could not have told what force held her at that door, looking onto things which were none of her business, she only knew that she could not yet have left.

The young man was holding a letter in his hand, breaking the seal with a sudden determination and reading every word intently. The woman watched him with concentration and it seemed that neither of them breathed. After a moment, the color drained from the man’s face and he threw the letter into the burning fire with a harsh laugh.

“He will not consent,” he said bitterly. “I need not tell you what he reminded me of, you know only too well. He will disown me and cast my name into the dirt, as he so eloquently puts it. My father has lived with his vendetta far too long to give it up now.”

The woman said nothing, but her shoulders seemed to bend forward a little as if in defeat.

“We could defy it…” The young man said, his voice hoarse and unsteady.

She shook her head hopelessly. “It is not only a matter of money, Edmund, or even of society -- you know how little I care for that. You are the only son, the only male who can continue the family line. You have a duty. We cannot battle this any longer. While your father lives, you must obey his wishes.”

There was a pause while he fought her statement, and then he closed the space between them in one step and sank onto his knees before her and sought comfort in the almost involuntary caress of her hands upon his hair.

“Oh, Jenny,” Elizabeth heard him whisper a choked cry.

The intimacy of it startled her out of her daze and she hurried away silently, cheeks burning, conscious of having witnessed a supremely private moment. Stumbling almost blindly into the first open door, she found herself once again in the ballroom, near the grand staircase which was her original, now almost forgotten, goal. Dazzled a little by her sudden entrance into the brightly-lit room, Elizabeth ascended the staircase slowly and sought out her family. Surprisingly, she found her aunt and uncle more quickly than she had expected and gratefully made her way towards them, pushing the disturbing scene she had witnessed to the back of her mind.

“Elizabeth, dear,” asked her aunt with a sigh when she approached, “would you fetch Alina for me, please? After that display, I must speak with her and I am too comfortably situated to rush about ballrooms like you young people do.”

“Of course, Aunt,” Elizabeth replied, “what display?”

“Oh,” the Princess shook her head, “I am glad you did not see it. She was talking to Sir Stephen Clayton with so much animation and so little restraint that I fear her behavior would have invited reproach from anyone who saw. My daughter forgets how reserved the English are; such openness, though not unusual in our circles back home, is not condoned here. I must speak with her so she understands. Now, Lizzy, would you please find her for me?”

Elizabeth nodded, moving off in search of her cousin. She was still distressed by what had happened, but she knew that it was not any of her business, the encounter had not been meant for an outsider’s eyes, and so she resolved to forget what she had witnessed immediately. Her eyes scanned the ballroom looking for the shimmer of Alina’s primrose colored gown, and unconsciously, also looking also for a tall, broad shouldered form of a certain gentleman. Elizabeth blushed when she realized what she was doing.

It took her a while, but she finally found Alina standing with three ladies, looking for all the world the picture of innocence and propriety, with modestly downcast eyes and primly folded hands. Two of the ladies were speaking to her and Elizabeth was shocked to find that instead of censure, they addressed her with a sort of benign amusement, as if scolding a naughty and yet a favorite child. Elizabeth wondered, not for the first time, at her cousin’s easy way of endearing herself to people, so much so that they forgave and forgot her every fault. If Alina had been the least bit conscious of it, she would have been insufferable, but she simply went through life believing that there was at least some good in everyone, and surprisingly, the most unlikely people proved to answer her expectations.

Alina smiled sweetly when she spotted Elizabeth’s approach.

“Lizzy!” she called out, turning to her companions, who surveyed Elizabeth with thinly-veiled suspicion. “May I introduce my cousin, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Elizabeth curtsied politely.

“Lizzy, Mrs Isabella Stradbrook, Lady Alexandra Ethering and Lady Jennifer Ethering.”

The two elderly matrons, Mrs Stradbrook and Lady Ethering, inclined their heads in acknowledgement of her relationship to Alina. The third woman, whose face Elizabeth could not see earlier, turned around and made a curtsey just polite enough not to be considered an insult. Elizabeth realized with shock that this was the young woman whose rendezvous she had witnessed earlier, and it took all of her self control to maintain her composure; she felt so ashamed of having listened in to this woman’s private conversation and she clenched her fists to keep from blushing. Lady Jennifer was possibly one of the most striking women Elizabeth had ever seen. Hers was a cold perfection -- so unlike Jane’s warmth, Alina’s sparkling vivacity or the dewy prettiness of young debutantes -- a sophisticated grace, an untouchable loveliness; she hid the light of green eyes under half-lowered eyelids and her beautiful features did not change expression in acknowledgement of Elizabeth’s presence. Elizabeth was chilled by her impersonal rudeness, but recovered her poise and explained her errand.

“I suppose Mamma wants to reprimand me,” Alina sighed. “Do excuse me, please.”

“Go, child,” Mrs Stradbrook waved her away. “No doubt your mother had some words of wisdom for you. You had better attend carefully, you remind me too much of me when I was your age and that is never a good thing.”

Elizabeth suppressed a smile.

“Yes, ma’am” Alina curtsied to the three women and led Elizabeth away.

She linked her arm through Elizabeth’s as they pushed their way through the crowded ballroom. “Is Mamma truly upset?”

“It was very wrong of you to be so open with Sir Stephen, Alina, people will talk. And -- if I may say so--” Elizabeth coughed, “I do not think Colonel Fitzwilliam would be pleased.”

Alina seemed to wilt a little. “I know, I know. I suppose I was not thinking clearly. I would not wish to appear improper -- or to upset Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

Patting her hand, Elizabeth relented. “Come, I do not need to chastise you. Tell me instead about your companions.”

“Oh, Mrs Stradbrook is perfectly lovely. She has a son who is not yet thirty and I hear he is very handsome, Lizzy.” She gave Elizabeth a conspiratorial look.

Elizabeth shook her head and smiled. “Stop trying to find me a husband! Were the other two ladies mother and daughter?”

“Oh.” Alina made a face. “That is Lady Alexandra Ethering and Lady Jennifer Ethering. Lady Ethering is not so bad, but Lady Jennifer treats everyone with equal disdain. I have heard that she was disappointed in love, but I do not believe it for I have never seen any emotion from her.”

“Alina, that is unkind! You should not judge people based on rumors and appearances.” As she said it, Elizabeth realized the irony in her statement. It brought back uncomfortable memories.

Alina giggled. “You sound just like Jane, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth smiled. “As long as I do not have her sweetness, there is little danger in that, cousin. Now,” she raised her eyebrows at Alina, “I hope you have left a dance for Colonel Fitzwilliam!”

Alina blushed. “Shhh, Lizzy, of course I have. In fact, he asked me first.”

“I hope,” said a quiet male voice behind them, “that you have left one for your cousin as well.” They turned to face Peter, who had just arrived.

“Peter!” Alina almost embraced him from habit, but remembered at the last moment that such a thing was not done in England. “I thought you were not going to come--” she teased him, “something about ‘boring’ and ‘pompous’ and ‘infinitely preferring a book’…” Elizabeth stifled a laugh -- it sounded so like what her sister Mary would have said.

“Well, little one,” he replied, “how could I resist coming, knowing that such illustrious personages as yourself would be in attendance. And Miss Bennet, of course.” He inclined his head towards Elizabeth politely.

Several emotions flashed across Alina’s face like quicksilver. “Oh, Peter, you are always teasing me; but I am glad you are here nevertheless and I will certainly dance with you, as it completes my dance card!” Peter bowed with a small smile. “And,” she continued, straightening her shoulders and frowning a little, “I am not so little anymore, Peter.”

He made a show of looking her up and down appraisingly, but his voice was serious when he answered. “I can see that, and I apologize for my mistake.” He turned to Elizabeth. “May I have the favor of a set also, Miss Bennet? If your card is not full already, which I daresay it may well be.”

As it so happened, Elizabeth’s card was empty, due to her foray into the corridor, so she acquiesced with pleasure, acknowledging the compliment. The young Count Orlovsky was a welcome partner -- besides being Alina’s cousin, he was also possessed of quiet good looks, a sharp intellect and a store of knowledge which made him an interesting conversationalist in and out of the ballroom. However, even had Elizabeth been inclined that way, she had seen the look he gave to Alina, and that look, though restrained, hinted at more than cousinly affection. Elizabeth only wondered that Alina could not see it, but, she ruefully thought, perhaps the women in her family were not good at detecting that sort of thing when it was aimed towards themselves.

The rest of the ball passed in the fashion of other balls. Elizabeth was asked to dance and enjoyed her partners; the number of catty and disdainful looks directed at her was less than she had anticipated and she hoped that, in time, she would gain the acceptance of London society. She would have liked to say that she did not care what they thought of her -- but she did care, and she was glad that people she had previously met had smiled at her and some had actually approached to speak with her on their own accord. To be sure, her cousin’s influence was in large part responsible for that. Though strangers -- and what was worse, foreigners -- the Rostovs had somehow fit into the ton life better than Elizabeth did; it seemed that their life in Moscow had been very similar, excepting the difference in language. Alina navigated the waters of the ton effortlessly, whereas it took all of Elizabeth’s education and courage not to flounder. And, what was the most astonishing, society had actually accepted them as one of their own. In part, it was the Fitzwilliams’ acceptance of them, no matter how grudgingly it was done in private; in part, it was their great wealth and title, their intelligence, wit and almost flawless English, their beautifully tailored, fashionable clothes and that unconscious air of breeding that seemed to entitle them to respect and admiration in the highest circles -- but also, it was somehow recognized that the Rostovs were of the right kind, and doors opened for them which would not be open to Elizabeth.

Mr Darcy not being at the ball stung more than Elizabeth was willing to admit. She hoped that it was because he was still at Pemberley, and not that he was purposefully avoiding her, that he held her in such contempt after her shameful behavior in Kent and did not wish to risk being in her company again. She could not ask, of course, for even a casual question would mean so much. Elizabeth imagined that his feelings for her were gone, and though she had not sought his affection, she felt the loss of it keenly. She determined to brave the disappointment of not meeting him as best she could; after all, she reasoned, it was not as if she were in love with the man. However, she could not rid herself of the memory of the man sighing the name, “Jenny,” with such exquisite tenderness, such -- no one had ever said her name in that way; nay, no one had ever looked at her in that way… except for Mr Darcy. She brushed the thought aside and resolved to enjoy herself without silly romantic fantasies of the kind her younger sisters might indulge in.

Elizabeth did not see Lady Jennifer again, the rumor went that she felt unwell and left early, but she did see the young man who was with her in that room, a Lord Talchester, who was in attendance on his mother and sister. His face was a mask of politeness, but his eyes were dark pools of sorrow and his laugh, when it came, was forced and hollow. Though in the excitement of the dances Elizabeth almost forgot the conversation she had overheard, Lord Talchester’s unhappy face came up again and again in her memory during the carriage ride back to the Rostovs’ townhouse.

It still haunted her as she was settling in to sleep, so she was startled when she heard a soft knock at her door. She opened it to find Alina in her nightdress, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, holding a candle.

“May I come in, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth ushered the girl inside. “What is the matter? Is something wrong?”

Alina bit her lip in consternation. “I do not want to intrude, but I felt that something was wrong with you. I am not looking for forced confidences, but I wanted to make sure -- I wanted to make sure that no one -- that you were not…” She trailed off, not knowing how to finish, but Elizabeth understood. Her cousin, in her own way, had discovered that people who smiled and simpered at her, may have turned a cold shoulder to Elizabeth, and wanted to somehow give comfort if that had happened. Elizabeth’s heart melted at this sweetness, and she quickly assured Alina that nothing of the sort had taken place.

“What is it, then?” Alina asked. “I noticed how quiet you were during the ride back -- is something else troubling you?”

“I do not think I can say, it is not my story to tell,” Elizabeth sighed, torn between the need for secrecy and the desire to speak of this to someone. Jane, she knew, would only be shocked at her reprehensible behavior of eavesdropping on a private conversation, and oddly enough, she trusted Alina not only to not judge, but also to not divulge what she told her to anyone else.

Alina turned away, hurt. “As I said, I did not want to intrude. I simply wanted to know that you were well. You may be assured of my silence, Lizzy, for though I might be a young and silly thing, I know well the value of keeping my friends’ confidences.”

Elizabeth knew the truth of that statement, so little by little, she revealed the scene she had witnessed between Lady Jennifer and Lord Talchester. She blushed fiercely when recalling how she came to acquire the information, but finished the story.

Alina’s eyes looked big in the candlelight and she was thoughtful for some minutes. “Yes,” she said at last, “I remember hearing something about this -- I had forgotten to tell you. Apparently, the Talchesters and the Etherings have been feuding with each other for generations, no one knows the real reason; it is doubtful whether they even know themselves anymore. It is not openly spoken of in polite society, of course, so I have only heard rumors. Lady Jennifer is the only child of the Etherings and the male line in his family ends with Lord Talchester, so you can imagine what the families felt when the two fell in love. It is all very Romeo and Juliet, Lizzy, except that their parents will not let them marry. Both of their fathers were so violently against the match that all London knew about it. Lord Ethering died three years ago, and everyone thought that after the death of his archenemy, the old duke would now consent to his son marrying Lady Jennifer, but he remains as stubborn as ever. What you saw tonight was possibly just one of the many attempts Lord Talchester has made to gain his father’s consent.”

“But,” Elizabeth asked, horrified by the cruelty, “why do they not defy their parents? Both must have separate incomes, and surely, society would look kindly upon them…”

“Did you not hear what Lord Talchester said?” Alina asked sternly. “He is the last male descendant of the house, he owes a duty to obey his father’s will. He would be disowned otherwise, and the line would die out with his father. They are of very old noble blood, it would be unthinkable to allow that to happen. They could wait for the old duke to die, but it may be years and years, and they both must marry. Lady Jennifer is almost seven and twenty and Lord Talchester must also soon choose a wife.”

Elizabeth wanted to protest, but then thought better of it and accepted it as an inescapable part of this new world she had entered.

“Lizzy,” Alina whispered, clearly still affected, “we must help them.”

“Help them! We are barely acquainted with them, and it is none of our business. In any case, I highly doubt that either Lady Jennifer or Lord Talchester would accept our help, even if we could give it. And what could we possibly do? No, it is silly to even think about it.”

“I do not know, Lizzy, but it pains me to see anybody suffer so, especially two such people. Though I may jest that Lady Jennifer is superior, I hear that they are both as noble of character as they are of blood.”

Both girls sat quietly for a moment, lost in thought, and then Elizabeth shook her head. “Alina, how can I make you understand -- there is nothing you can do, and it would be unwise to try. You must leave it alone.”

“It is such a story,” Alina sighed. “Perhaps I can talk to Georgiana -- Miss Darcy, I mean. I need not use names… She is not yet out and is unlikely to know about whom I am speaking.”

“Oh, it is ‘Georgiana’ now, is it?” Elizabeth smirked, amazed again at her cousin’s way of breaking barriers -- Elizabeth herself could hardly get two words out of the shy girl when they met.

Alina colored, looked down. “Oh, she is the sweetest girl, Lizzy,” she said. “And such a lady, much more than I ever will be with my rashness and jumping about. Her brother raised her, did you know?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth admitted guardedly.

“What a fine brother he is,” Alina said, awe in her voice. “I only wish Alexander had paid half as much attention to me as Mr Darcy does to Georgiana. Jane says you dislike the man,”

Elizabeth choked.

“But,” Alina continued pleadingly, “he is Colonel Fitzwilliam’s cousin, and we shall be brought often into his company. I would ask that you give him a chance. Georgiana -- she says that he is kind and thoughtful. Surely, a good brother cannot be a bad man, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth released a breath she did not know she was holding. “No,” she patted her cousin’s hand, “he cannot be. I do not dislike him, Alina, truly. Oh, I admit, I have not always like him, and I do not know him well enough to like him now, but…” she trailed off, unsure how to explain what she felt.

Alina put a warm hand on her shoulder. “But…”

Elizabeth did not know what came over her -- it was the ball, the wine, the darkness, and her cousin’s kind eyes -- but she rushed the words out. “When I am with him, it feels… it feels familiar somehow, as if I can tell him anything, and he would understand. What a funny thing it is, I had not even realized it when I was in his company; but now, looking back on the whole of our acquaintance, I know that I have been more frank with him than I have ever been with another man.” She frowned and looked down at her hands. “It makes no sense, but there it is.”

“No,” Alina said quietly, thoughtfully, “it is not so strange. I know just how it is.”

She would not say more, though, and the moonlight streaming through the window illuminated their faces. This is what it must mean to grow up, Elizabeth thought. There is no simple ‘like’ and ‘dislike’ any longer; complicated thoughts, complicated emotions. She sighed. “We are a pair, are we not,” she said with a rueful laugh.

Alina looked up, smiling genuinely. “But of course we are,” she exclaimed. “We are young, we are beautiful, and we are loved -- at least by each other! Is that not a thing to be thankful for?”

Elizabeth shook hear head. “One cannot even sulk indulge in a good sulk with you around!” she exclaimed with mock petulance.

Meanwhile, the Viscount and his wife were preparing for sleep after the tiring ball. Usually, Lady Diana preferred her own light and spacious chambers, but on a chilly night such as this one, with limbs aching deliciously from dancing, she knew the delights of sharing a bed with her husband who could always be relied upon to soothe and warm her just as she needed.

After establishing herself comfortably, she suddenly recalled the one thing she had neglected to ask her husband.

“Edward?” she said frowning slightly.

“Mmhm?”

“Emma, Lady Carrington, was excessively attentive to your brother tonight, did you not think?”

“Mmm…”

“Is there a specific reason she should be quite so attentive?” she asked.

“Mmm…”

“Edward!” her tone was dangerous.

Her husband gave up feigning sleep and sat up in bed, sighing. “Yes, my dear?”

Lady Diana looked at him pointedly.

He sighed again, becoming slightly aggravated at having to answer questions in the middle of the night. “Well, what do you wish me to say, I know as little about it as you do. I recall some talk at the club three years ago, but -- ahem -- I was quite preoccupied myself at the time, courting you, and such… Besides, the talk died down when she married Carrington and they went away, so it is of no importance now.”

“Yes, but--”

“My brother,” his voice hardened, “conducts his affairs in his own way. Not very differently, I might add, from most gentlemen of the ton. I do not presume to interfere. Besides, I thought you disliked her.” Lady Diana understood that he was now speaking of Miss Rostov.

“She is such a -- nice girl,” she murmured. She did not know herself why she took such interest in the affair, but she found the thought of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lady Carrington abhorrent.

“In any case, he has not done anything yet, I presume” the Viscount said, his voice softening.

Lady Diana shook her head. The appearance of interest had been all on Emma’s side, at least this night.

“I will speak to him, my dear, but have faith in my brother. If he is really in love with Miss Rostov, ten Lady Carringtons will not sway him. And if he is not, she had better find out now, while their understanding is not yet public. 'The course of true love never did run smooth',” he quoted unsympathetically.

“Hmpf.” His wife went to sleep thinking that he was perhaps cruel, but unfortunately correct.

Continued in Next Section