Section I, Next Section

Chapter One

Elizabeth Bennet looked on pensively at the manor house as they approached. Her husband had bought this country estate for her last year. She had fallen in love with the English countryside during their travels, and as a surprise, he purchased Cresthaven for use as a summer home.

They had only been here once together and she had not realized how difficult it would be for her to come back here alone. But here she was entering the long curving drive, alone, except for the driver, Ralph Watson. He and his wife Bessie had, in a way, come with the house. The Watsons had been serving the previous owner before her husband made the purchase and so they decided to keep the couple on to care for the property in their absence. Ralph - "It is actually pronounced 'Rafe', Madam," he indignantly told her when she had first addressed him as Ralph in her American tongue. She laughed to herself at the remembrance. That seemed so long ago - a lifetime ago.

I don't know what made me come here, she thought. This house only makes me think of him more. She fought back tears as she slowly followed Bessie upstairs. Ralph had already brought her baggage to her chambers, and Elizabeth was longing to rest alone in her room.

Bessie had greeted her with eagerness, but Elizabeth could tell that she was straining to be considerate and not offend her. "I will have to speak with her, and let her know that she need not walk as if on eggshells in my presence. If I cannot be comfortable in my own home, then I'll go mad!"

She and Bessie had struck an instant friendship last year, and the older woman looked after Elizabeth as if she were her own daughter. Bessie had never had children of her own and showed great concern for Elizabeth and her family, especially "Master Peter," Elizabeth's son and only child. Although he was a grown young man of twenty-three years, Bessie referred to him as the young master of the house. I wonder what she'll call him now? she mused as she lay on the bed gazing out the large window at the star filled sky.

Peter had not come with her to England. He was busy finishing his first year of law school back in the States. He was worried about his mother traveling across the globe alone and had seriously considered making the trip with her, but Elizabeth had encouraged him to stay and finish with school. Being a very good son, he promised her that he would come to see her as soon as he was able, even though he really didn't care for the English countryside himself.

As she lay on the right side of her bed, she habitually draped her arm over to the left side in order to draw closer to him, but was once again reminded of her loss. It has been eight months since he had been in their bed. Eight months and she still could feel him there next to her, breathing deeply in peaceful repose. Oh, how she missed him; at times she could hardly credit that he was gone.

"Did you sleep well, my dear?" Bessie asked as Elizabeth settled herself at the breakfast table.

"Yes, very," she dissembled, and thought to herself, as well as can be expected.

"Are you very much in the mood for a hearty breakfast?" Bessie questioned in her thick accent.

"Nothing too heavy, Bessie," she responded. "I don't feel very hungry this morning. Just some toast and juice will be fine."

"Come now, Elizabeth, you must not neglect your health now," she scolded, then quickly realized her mistake. "I'm sorry dear. I meant nothing by it. I didn't mean to make reference to..." Bessie stammered.

"Bessie!" Elizabeth said rather loudly. "Please, don't! I cannot have you afraid to make innocent comments or to broach any subject with me because of the events of this past year."

Bessie stood silent as Elizabeth's words started to register within her mind. Relief effused over her countenance, then she began crying as she embraced Elizabeth.

Elizabeth found herself crying in Bessie's arms, releasing the pent up pain and emotion of the past ten months. It all came pouring out now in the caring embrace of this woman whom she loved dearly and whom she knew returned that love.

"Now I know why I came back here," she sobbed incoherently. Bessie just held her tighter, as Elizabeth wept in her arms.

Regaining her composure after her unexpected show of emotion, Elizabeth was more than ready to talk with Bessie about everything.

"Tell me, Elizabeth, why did you come here?" Bessie gently asked her. "You're not trying to run away from your life are you?"

"No. Not exactly," she responded. "At first I thought a change in geography would ease my pain. But when I arrived here I realized that this place reminds me of Jonas just as much as any place we lived together."

"You are a little old to be running away from home, Elizabeth, but I'm sure you already know that."

"Yes, I do. But it's certainly nice to be able to run away to you, Bessie!" Elizabeth smiled as she spoke and it warmed Bessie's heart. "Being here with you and Ralph is a comfort to me. I know it won't take long for me to get on with my life and realize that Jonas is not coming back." She choked back the tears. "I never imagined how painful it is to lose the one person in the world who means the most to me. And to lose him so quickly, and unexpectedly, has made it even more difficult to endure."

Bessie just sat and listened as Elizabeth spoke. Last year at this time Elizabeth and her husband, Jonas Bennet had come to stay at Cresthaven for the first time with the intention of spending several months. They had briefly returned to America to see Peter graduate from university, and then they all came back to Cresthaven to spend the summer.

"You knew Jonas was not feeling well when we left last July. Well ... he saw his doctor almost immediately upon returning home," Elizabeth related to Bessie, her voice straining with emotion. "Within a week we knew he had the cancer, and by the ...by the end of August ... he was gone," she concluded, her voice barely audible, holding back tears.

Bessie wanted nothing more than to hold Elizabeth and take away her pain, but she knew that wasn't possible. Elizabeth needed to work through her grief, and all Bessie could do was be there for her. I am amazed at her strength, she thought. She will be fine. I'm sure of that.

"So now, I need to get on with my life," Elizabeth spoke again after regaining control of her emotions. "It has been eight months since his passing. I am feeling stronger now," she paused. "I just didn't plan on being forty-seven and widowed."

"Would any of us plan for such an occurrence?" Bessie cautiously responded. "I mean, we can say that we've planned for it and provide for ourselves if it were to come to pass. But really, dear, how can we possibly know what we're planning for when we don't know how we ourselves will react to it?"

"We were to spend our retirement here. At least, that was our hope." Elizabeth smiled, recollecting the times she and Jonas had talked about spending their golden years together. "But now that has changed, and I will decide if I want to live here in the country or return home."

"Well, don't let me influence you. But if you were to choose the country, I would most happily rejoice in your decision!" Bessie chuckled as she smiled.

Elizabeth spent her first few days in the country just puttering around the house, walking aimlessly from room to room looking out each window at the well-groomed gardens swelling with colorful spring blooms. She would sometimes pick up a book - leaf through the pages for a while then replace it on the shelf - all the while reflecting on the past eight months: getting Peter situated at school, reassuring him that she was fine, finalizing the details of Jonas' burial, taking care of his business partnerships, and making decisions regarding her future involvement in his business ventures. She was mostly quiet, and this concerned Bessie. But if Elizabeth needed time to think, then Bessie would give it to her.

Soon Elizabeth was spending less time meditating and sifting through the elements of her life. She started actually reading some of the books she had pulled off the shelf, and even felt the inclination to write letters to some friends. But the day Elizabeth pulled out her painting supplies, Bessie rejoiced.

Elizabeth had earned her Bachelor's degree in Behavioral Science and had volunteered as a counselor in a youth program, but she also had many creative talents, watercolor painting being her favorite. Last year when she first arrived, she cluttered the sitting room with brush and easel and tried to capture the vibrant picture which spring had afforded her. Many of her efforts she discarded, but Jonas, ever the admirer of his wife's talent, had several framed and they now adorned the walls in the very room she had rendered them.

Bessie saw it as a good sign for Elizabeth to start painting again and couldn't help but smile as she watched her contemplate the vista, as if awaiting inspiration.

Elizabeth sat by the open window in the sitting room, paintbrush in hand, enjoying the cool morning air caressing her face and hair. A smile touched her lips as she recalled the day when she had met Jonas. She and her sister Jane had arrived early at the annual neighborhood summer party. Just back from her first year of college, she had not yet met their new neighbors, the Bennet family. Jane was anxious to introduce Elizabeth to her new friend Naomi Bennet, but more especially to Naomi's brother David, who was very handsome and just about Elizabeth's age. Jane pulled Elizabeth along, anticipating her sister's reaction to David. She just knew they would hit it off - he was very nice looking, had lots of dark hair, a great sense of humor, loved to joke around and laugh, and always seemed to be the life of the party. Just Elizabeth's type - or so she thought. What a surprise to Jane when they found the Bennets and it was not David who captivated Elizabeth, but Jonas, his older brother who was in town visiting his family. He was a nice looking man, although perhaps not as handsome as his brother. Like his brother he had lots of dark hair, but he was definitely not the life of the party. He was quiet, but not shy, extremely intelligent, and funny - not in a noisy stand up comedian sort of way, but in a witty, clever, dry humored sort of way.

Tears fell from her eyes as her brush stroked color across the parchment, revealing the glory of nature in every movement. The smile never left Elizabeth's lips as she relayed the joy she felt in her heart onto the page before her. Joy for the time she had spent married to this wonderful man - for being able to hold him in her arms for twenty-six years and in her heart forever.

Chapter Two

The day was warm, the sun bright in the afternoon sky as Elizabeth strolled in the less manicured gardens on the southernmost edge of the property. In the distance she could see a playing field with children clustered in a small group. She had never noticed the field before, or at least never noticed that anyone made use of it. Upon further observation she could see goal nets at both ends of the expanse.

She watched, wondering what had drawn the attention of the youngsters, when suddenly out of the middle of the huddle stood a tall man. He motioned his arm around and the youths dispersed across the field - this was obviously some sort of team and he their coach. He set the ball in the center of the field and blew his whistle, which Elizabeth heard faintly from the distance, and the play commenced.

Elizabeth watched for a short while with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, amused with the antics of the young boys - for it was now obvious that they were boys - then continued her amble of the grounds.

The grounds were not large - no more than five acres she guessed. I don't even know how extensive they really are, she thought. It held neatly groomed formal gardens close to the house itself; further down the narrow gravel paths the verdant growth became less organized, more natural, but not at all displeasing to behold. A greenhouse and vegetable gardens were located at the southwest corner of the property and the carriage house and stable on the far northeast with the manor house comfortably situated in the center with a northwesterly exposure.

It was a fine house - spacious, although a bit drafty. All in all, very comfortable for Elizabeth and her small circle of family and friends. For the time being though, she preferred to keep it to herself.

As she walked back toward the house she encountered Ralph returning from the greenhouse carrying what looked to be radishes.

"Good afternoon, Missus," he greeted her.

"Hello, Ralph. What have you there?"

"Fresh radishes and sweet peas from the greenhouse." He proudly displayed the produce. "Bessie's been anxious for some fresh vegetables in the kitchen."

"I'm sure she has." Elizabeth smiled and walked along in companionable silence with him.

After several moments, Ralph spoke. "Will you be goin' to the Tea at Stansburys' tomorrow then?"

Elizabeth was surprised to have Ralph initiating a conversation with her. "I hadn't really . . . wasn't feeling . . . I've not yet decided," she stammered, wondering why he would bring up the subject knowing that she had refused all the invitations she had received since her arrival.

She thought she wasn't ready to socialize, and besides, she didn't really know many of the neighbors. She and Jonas had only attended two or three gatherings when they were here last year before their abrupt departure.

I prefer to keep to myself anyway, she justified, although she knew that what she really needed was to be in company. Spending so much time alone was only drawing her deeper into her shell. The longer she waited to go out, the more difficult it would become. She continued to battle herself as she slowly made her way back to the house, unaware that Ralph had proceeded without her.

As she approached the back door she could hear several voices exuding from within - Bessie, Ralph and a third voice belonging to a woman. It sounded familiar to Elizabeth, and as she opened the door and entered, she recognized the voice as that of Charlotte Lucas.

Charlotte was the closest neighbor to Cresthaven and had been an invaluable friend to Elizabeth when she first came to England. She was a few years older than Elizabeth, plain in looks and quiet in speech, but just as keen an observer of human nature as Elizabeth was. Her husband Collins was a successful insurance agent who amassed his business by ingratiating himself upon the unsuspecting residents of Lambton and the surrounding country. He was one Elizabeth was sure to avoid at almost any cost, but she liked his wife and had spent considerable time cultivating that friendship.

"Charlotte!" she exclaimed in greeting to her friend. "I didn't know you were going to visit today."

"I thought perhaps you might like to go into the village." Charlotte quickly glanced over to Bessie and Ralph. "It's a lovely day and I would enjoy your company for my errands."

Elizabeth eyed Bessie suspiciously as she busied herself with her fresh vegetables. She knew they were conspiring against her - all three of them!

Have I really been so despondent lately to raise their concern? She mused. I have been spending most of my time alone and have only seen Charlotte once since I've been back these three weeks. She thought before responding to Charlotte's request.

"That sounds like a fine idea. I'll just go get my . . ." she turned, then stopped abruptly as Ralph held out her jacket and bag.

He neatly avoided her scrutinizing gaze as he helped her with her jacket, then turned her toward the back door where Charlotte was waiting, keys in hand.

With a wink of her eye Charlotte bid farewell to the grinning couple then ushered Elizabeth to her waiting Rover.

Shortly after Elizabeth and Jonas had arrived in Derbyshire last spring, the Lucas' called to welcome them to the neighborhood. Jonas had viewed the visit as purely mercenary, as Collins had quickly brought his professional aspirations to the forefront of the conversation, but Elizabeth had felt differently.

Although Charlotte was soft spoken - at least in comparison to her husband - Elizabeth was impressed with her innate intelligence and practical judgment, and sought Charlotte's opinion and companionship regularly. The time spent with her new found friend had often caused Elizabeth to wonder about Charlotte's wisdom in her choice of mate, especially given her reliability on most other matters.

Charlotte and Collins seemed to have nothing in common, other than their three children, and Collins' ineptitude in his dealings with his wife were unpleasant for Elizabeth to witness as her fondness for Charlotte grew. But Charlotte bore it well, without complaint, and turned her attentions to her children and their needs.

Now, as she sat next to her friend while they rode into Lambton, Elizabeth couldn't help but smile as she realized that Charlotte was indeed a very caring person, and had obviously deemed it necessary to turn her attentions toward her needs. She's a sly one, Elizabeth thought. I know she won't rest until she knows I'm content.

After making stops at a few shops, Charlotte suggested they have tea at the Peacock Hotel.

"You know I'm not a tea drinker."

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten. I'm sure there's something else for you to drink," Charlotte urged Elizabeth inside.

They were seated at a small table near the window overlooking the gardens.

"You need to learn to like tea if you want to be English, you know." Charlotte watched as the server walked away after depositing the tea tray at their table.

"What do you mean? I am English!" Elizabeth feigned insult. "I'm also German, Scottish and Irish, but definitely English ... with American flair."

Charlotte laughed. "Well then, what about joining me for tomorrow's Tea at the Stansburys? It's a very English thing to do."

A pained look crossed Elizabeth's face. "I don't drink tea."

"There will be more than just tea." Charlotte shook her head at her friend. She can certainly be obstinate!

"I'd much rather stay comfortably at home."

"I would love for you to be there, Elizabeth," Charlotte looked at her beseechingly. "Please, say you'll go and share my misery with me!"

Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh at the look of mock desperation on her friend's face. "You know I despise these pointless social gatherings, Charlotte."

"I know. You're not the only one who does. Have mercy on me, I have no escape!"

Elizabeth was wavering in her resolve and Charlotte, recognizing her indecision, threw an unexpected curve. "I know you've been through a great deal. I can't even begin to comprehend what it's been like for you, but I really miss you, Elizabeth." Charlotte's tender expression spoke more to her friend than any of her words possibly could.

The look on Elizabeth's face revealed her surprise at Charlotte's declaration. She didn't quite know how to respond. She knew she had been neglecting their friendship. Charlotte had dropped by or telephoned several times to find Elizabeth unavailable. The expression Charlotte wore exposed deep concern for her and shed light on how shallow her own existence had become as she continued to withdraw deeper into herself and her loss.

Charlotte risked offending her friend further than she may have already done. "I can't imagine that Jonas would have wanted you to stop living because he is gone," she hesitantly said. "I miss you and want to spend time with you. The real you, the whole you."

Tears filled Elizabeth's eyes as the import of these words sunk in. She had thought she was alone in this world. Her son was half a globe away, busy with his life. Bessie and Ralph were extremely caring, but she had managed to build a wall around her to prevent increasing attachment to them. And she now realized how superficial she had been in conducting her relationships with everyone else in her life. If she felt she was alone it was because she had caused herself to feel that way.

She struggled to find her voice, as Charlotte waited apprehensively. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how . . ."

"You're sorry?" Charlotte's eyes opened wide in disbelief. "I should be the one. I should never have said ..."

Elizabeth cut her off. "Don't be. You were only expressing your concern, and you were right to." Relief washed over Charlotte as she realized Elizabeth would not resent her frankness.

"I've been dwelling far too much on my past, and I think it's definitely time for me to start living again," Elizabeth smiled genuinely. "Now, what time is that dreaded Tea Party tomorrow?"

The afternoon spent with Charlotte had left Elizabeth with a great deal to think about. By the next morning she decided that she had been spending most of her time thinking rather than living. I don't want to walk around only half awake - I want to be fully awake and alive for the rest of my life!

With this renewed desire to truly live she set about preparing for the Tea at the Stansburys' that afternoon. So when Charlotte and Collins arrived to pick her up, she greeted them both with a smile and engaged Collins in a conversation about actuarial tables, much to his delight and Charlotte's amazement.

The Stansburys were one of the prominent families in the Lambton area. Elizabeth had met them last year at the Annual Charity Ball held in June. Robert Stansbury and his wife Portia reigned as the most fashionable couple in the area and enjoyed their notoriety.

Elizabeth inhaled deeply and braced herself before entering the large drawing room. Charlotte gave her hand a quick squeeze - a reassuring gesture to remind Elizabeth that she was not alone.

The Stansburys stood ready to greet the new arrivals. "Charlotte. Collins. How good of you to come," Portia cooed, then quickly turned her attention to the woman standing next to Charlotte.

"Portia. Robert. You remember Elizabeth Bennet. She lives at Cresthaven," Charlotte reminded them.

"Of course, how could we forget?" Robert stepped up to take Elizabeth's hand and greet her.

After a caustic look at her husband, Portia plastered a spurious smile on her face, then added to her husband's greeting. "It is so nice to see you again, Eliza."

Usually a forty-seven year old widow would not cause a stir upon entering a full room, but as Elizabeth turned away from her hosts to join the other guests, she caught the attention of many in the room. Few remembered her since she had been so long absent from their society, so most everyone was wondering who this woman was.

She was beautiful and looked stunning in her well-fitted, yet modest, dress. She had thick, naturally wavy chestnut colored hair that she wore stylishly and deep, steel blue eyes that glistened when she smiled. Her complexion was clear and belied her age. One might guess her to be ten years younger than she actually was. She worked hard to fight the effects of gravity and her youthful figure was the reward for her efforts.

Collins quickly left his wife's company to meet and greet as many potential clients as he possibly could.

Millie St.Clair, an older woman of Charlotte's acquaintance, whose greatest pleasure in life was attending to everyone's business, immediately approached Charlotte and Elizabeth.

"Millie, how are you?" Charlotte queried.

"I am very well, dear. How have you been? I understand that Thomas is back from school again." She then related all she knew about Charlotte's seventeen-year-old son.

Charlotte bore it with great equanimity, then turned her attention to introduce Elizabeth. "Millie, I believe you've met Elizabeth Bennet."

Millie looked at Elizabeth for a few moments. "Oh, yes. I think we met last year at Sir Percy's. Yes, you and that handsome husband of yours. I heard he had become ill. Is he feeling much better?"

Charlotte grimaced, glancing over at Elizabeth to see how she would react to Millie's thoughtless remark.

With a slight smile, Elizabeth mischievously responded, "I would venture to say he is not feeling much of anything."

Astounded at her friend's reply, Charlotte stood wide-eyed. She looked over to Millie, who wore a puzzled expression and gazed at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth immediately regretted her playful quip and quickly added, more seriously, "He became ill last summer and passed away in August."

Millie turned white as a sheet, grabbed Elizabeth's hand and nervously uttered her profound apologies for her poor manners and lack of information.

Elizabeth smiled gently, trying to ease Millie's discomfort. "Don't be uneasy. You couldn't have known." Elizabeth felt horrible for the way she had toyed with Millie. "I'm not at all offended," she tried to reassure the poor woman. "That was unfair of me, I should really apologize to you for not telling you outright."

With Millie sufficiently recovered, Charlotte directed the conversation back to her own family and gave Elizabeth an amused look.

What a great friend Charlotte is, Elizabeth thought. She can hear the worst comments I utter, even those said under my breath, and never reproach me for it, though I might deserve it! Although she regretted her indecorous remark, she couldn't help but smile back at her friend. I'll need to be more judicious.

After disengaging herself from Millie's company, Elizabeth sought out the refreshment table and was soon involved in a discussion with Sir Percy Rutherford. Sir Percy, who was a few years past forty, was average in height and considered to be fairly handsome. But what he may have lacked in looks he made up for in personality. Ladies loved Sir Percy for three reasons, the first being his charm, the second, his money (although some might rank that as first), and lastly, his single status.

"Are you enjoying your stay in the country, Mrs. Bennet?"

"Please, call me Elizabeth, we aren't such strangers as that. And yes, I love the country and always enjoy being here."

"We have not seen you since your return."

"No. I haven't ventured out much lately."

"I understand you have good reason. I was sorry to hear of your husband's passing. He was an excellent man. My condolences," he sincerely offered.

"Thank you. You are very kind," she gratefully accepted.

With the formalities over, the conversation turned to more trivial topics, which led to the subject of Sir Percy's family and his properties.

"My family has been in this county for almost two hundred years and they have acquired a vast amount of real estate. But it is not equal to that of the Darcy's."

"I've heard of the Darcy family, but have not as yet met any of them."

"I'm sure you will have your chance. I've seen Fitz stalking around here today, although he usually avoids these gatherings."

"Well then, that's one thing I share in common with him," she laughed. "But I can tell you seem to love crowds. Or is it just crowds filled with ladies that you enjoy?"

"You have discovered my weakness indeed!" he playfully responded.

She laughed and her eyes shone brightly. It had been ages since she had felt this lighthearted.

"And while on the subject of gatherings, I must convince you to attend the Charity Ball next month."

"I'm not even certain I will still be in the country next month."

"You must stay! At least until the ball. How cruel of you to deprive me of an opportunity to dance with the loveliest woman of my acquaintance!" Sir Percy feigned heartbreak, raising his hand to his chest. She laughed in response. "The focus of the fundraiser this year is our youth programs. Surely that must convince you to stay, if I am not temptation enough!" he flirtatiously implored her.

Once again she laughed in response. "What programs do you have for your youth?" Elizabeth's interest was piqued.

"There are many. But I must own that my particular favorites are the athletic programs."

"Such as the little soccer team I've seen play in the field behind Cresthaven?"

"That, and others."

And the discussion continued as Sir Percy explained further about the programs and his involvement in them.

While this conversation was taking place, unbeknownst to Elizabeth and her companion, a tall middle-aged gentleman had positioned himself at a window not far from the couple. As he stood - drink in hand, gazing out at the falling rain - he heard the majority of this exchange.

"Sir Percy, forgive me, but there is someone here I would like Elizabeth to meet," Charlotte intruded and led Elizabeth away to meet her old friend.

As Sir Percy shifted to watch the ladies walk away he noticed the gentleman at the window.

"Fitz, old boy! I thought perhaps you had left already," he greeted the older man.

Fitzwilliam Darcy, a man of fifty years, turned to face his old neighbor. Although many men his age carried extra pounds, Fitzwilliam Darcy was tall and trim. Thick dark hair, which was speckled with gray throughout having high concentrations at the temples, framed his fine looking face, which bore a pair of enigmatic sea green eyes.

"I admit, I have been tempted," Darcy replied. "I think Stansbury turns over every stone in the county to populate his socials."

"Perhaps, but there is at least one fresh new face." He looked toward Elizabeth and her group clustered a short distance away. "She is a delight. Would you like me to introduce you?"

Darcy followed Sir Percy's gaze. "You mean the American?" A doubtful expression crossed his face. "Really, Percy, I'm not that desperate for company."

"You can't be serious! She's a beautiful, intelligent woman. What could you possibly have to say against her?"

"Let's just say I have no need to consort with a woman reared amongst savages who insist on calling football soccer."

Sir Percy stood momentarily still, thinking on what his friend had said until he realized Darcy was joking. "You had me going, Fitz. I can never tell when you're serious."

"I am serious about not needing an introduction. The last thing I need is another woman in my life!" he quietly chuckled while rolling his eyes.

"Yes, tell me. How many Mrs. Darcys have you left along the roadside now? Five? Six?" Percy asked facetiously, knowing that Darcy had been through his second divorce two years previously.

The two men continued conversing amiably, never knowing that Elizabeth Bennet had been standing near enough to hear Darcy's remarks about her.

At first she was curious, then amused, and finally perplexed at his comments. She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders, and when she and Charlotte were alone, she shared what she had heard.

"I can't even imagine what he meant by it. He must have said it in jest." Charlotte justified.

"Or perhaps he's a Neanderthal with limited brain function. You know the type - 'eat football, sleep football'!" she said in a mocking tone.

The two friends laughed heartily, drawing the attention of those around them, including the gentleman of whom they were speaking.

Elizabeth happened to look his way as he directed his eyes at her. He wore a deep penetrating gaze upon his face. She returned his stare with a cheeky smile, then with a soft laugh returned her attention to Charlotte.

Chapter Three

It rained for nearly a week following the Stansburys' party, limiting most activities to inside the house. Elizabeth felt restless. She longed to be outdoors running or gardening - just breathing the fresh air. She was beginning to enjoy her stay in the country.

Despite the rain, she and Charlotte had been spending more time together. They had gone into Lambton village this morning to shop and ended with lunch at the Peacock.

They talked about everything - their pasts, their dreams, their disappointments, their children, their husbands. When the dialogue turned to their futures, Charlotte pointedly asked Elizabeth about hers.

"Do you think you will ever remarry?"

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "When Jonas was alive, long before he became ill, he told me if anything ever happened to him he wanted me to remarry. But I told him that I wouldn't want to," she paused and Charlotte thought that was all she was going to say.

Elizabeth took a deep, steadying breath. "When he was dying, Jonas worried about me being alone, so he asked me to promise that I would marry again. I promised him if I ever found someone worth marrying, I would."

"So, you might remarry."

Elizabeth looked at her with a doubtful expression. "I don't think there's another man in this world I could love the way I love Jonas." She sighed. "I can't even imagine it."

The two ladies sat quietly for a few minutes until Charlotte broke the silence. "You're right. You won't ever find a man you can love in the same way you loved Jonas." She gently smiled. "But you may find a man you can love in a whole new way."

Elizabeth sat in the window seat of the drawing room watching the rain beat against the panes. She couldn't stop thinking about Charlotte's observation.

I can't even begin to imagine it, she thought. Love another man? In a whole new way?

She gathered her legs up, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin atop her knees. I don't think I could ever love another man intimately...not after the times Jonas and I have had together. She sat contemplating the thought of sharing her life and love with some unknown man.

"It's the last thing I want in this life. I'm not going to worry about it," she spoke aloud, then succumbing to her restlessness, grabbed her coat and umbrella and ran outside into the drizzling rain.

The rain was falling gently from the thick, gray clouds hanging low in the afternoon sky. A light wind occasionally stirred the descending drops causing them to swirl upward, speckling Elizabeth's face with moisture.

Breathing the cool, wet air deeply she continued her brisk walk and headed out to the small road that passed Cresthaven on the north.

As she walked along, keeping a rapid pace, she noted that she was the only one about - not unusual even in good weather since there were very few houses to the east of hers. She continued on, random thoughts working their way through her mind, oblivious to the falling rain, when a figure appeared in the distance. A human figure on the opposite side of the road was nearing her.

She slowed her pace, wondering whom this could be. Slowly the details formed the identity. A man, running . . . in this weather? She laughed aloud. The same might be said of me! she thought with amusement.

As he approached, Elizabeth recognized him as the man who had spoken to Sir Percy about her. She smiled as she remembered the humor of that afternoon at the Stansbury's. The smile remained on her face as he looked at her directly. She added a hearty "Good afternoon!" as she returned his steady gaze.

He said nothing, just continued jogging, never breaking his stare - turning his head to meet her eyes even as he passed. Elizabeth chuckled at this encounter, then heard a faint thud followed by a series of muffled grunts and groans. She whirled around to see the man no longer running, but laying in the grassy ditch beside the road.

She ran over to the other side and called out to the fallen runner, "Are you hurt?" Before he could answer she cautiously began to descend the shallow trench, careful not to slip on the wet grass.

"Don't bother!" he yelled. "I'm fine." But she had already reached him by the time he responded.

"Here, let me help you." She offered her hand.

He threw her an irritated glance, then pulled himself up from the ground, unaided. As he applied weight to his left foot, he winced and grabbed hold of the nearest stable object, which happened to be Elizabeth.

Elizabeth almost lost her footing at his sudden dependence upon her, but steadied herself, and him. "So now you want my help?" she quipped as she tried to loosen his hold on her.

"Yes . . . I apologize," he stammered while trying to avoid her piercing look.

"Can you walk?" She urged him to move. "It would be best to get you out of this ditch I think."

"I really am terribly ..."

"I'm sure you are," she cut him short. "But we really must get out of this ditch. Unless you would prefer to stay?" While wrapping her arm around his waist to support him, she again urged him to walk.

Taken aback by her curt behavior, yet realizing he was indeed dependent on her assistance, he yielded to her direction.

They managed the slope slowly. The wet grass and falling rain adding complications to their progress causing his grip to tighten each time they nearly fell back. Elizabeth was eager to release him when they reached the road. It was a little unnerving to be held so tightly by a man she didn't even know, but especially by a man who had insulted her the only time she had ever encountered him.

With a futile attempt, he raked his hand through his hair trying to shake the wetness out, then ran his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes with thumb and forefinger. He looked at her, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I thank you for your assistance. I don't believe we have been properly introduced. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy." He offered his hand.

With an eyebrow raised, she hesitantly took his hand. "Elizabeth Bennet."

"You have been truly obliging. I apologize for my abominable behavior." He looked deeply into her eyes as if trying to see into her soul.

"It's beginning to rain harder, can you walk?" She avoided his most unsettling gaze and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her heart was pounding in her chest. It must be from the exertion, she thought, but it continued to beat rapidly as he draped his arm around her shoulder and applied his weight as she guided him toward Cresthaven.

"How did you happen to fall, Mr. Darcy?" Ralph asked with a curious grin.

"I must have lost my footing on the wet road," Darcy replied, trying not to reveal that he had, in fact, not been watching the road at all.

"Uh hmm," was Ralph's only response.

Ralph and Bessie were surprised, yet amused to see Elizabeth coming up the walk with Darcy - who stood more than a head taller - hanging on to her as he hobbled his way to the house. They were both soaked to the skin, the umbrella having been abandoned at the roadside.

Now Darcy rested in the sitting room wearing some dry clothes borrowed from Peter's closet with his foot elevated on a stool.

Bessie came in with a small bag of ice for his ankle, which had swollen to twice its normal size and was a deep shade of violet.

"I don't think it's broken." Ralph pronounced as he rotated Darcy's foot in his hands while Darcy did his best not to grimace as pain shot throughout his entire foot and ankle. "You might want to see the doctor about it."

"I intend to," was Darcy's reply as Ralph placed his foot back on the stool in a very rough manner. I believe this man is trying to torture me, Darcy thought irritably.

"There now, that should help," Bessie spoke in a soothing tone while placing the ice pack on his foot. "You should stay off your feet for a while though. Perhaps you would like something to eat?"

"I thank you, but no. I really should be leaving." Darcy tried to raise himself from the chair. As soon as his left foot hit the floor he fell back into his seat.

With a concerned look Bessie said, "I'll just go and get that soup," then hastily left the room before he could object.

When Elizabeth entered the room, Darcy was seated comfortably near the fire with his foot propped up. Bessie was setting a tray filled with food on the table next to him.

"Perhaps when you have finished there you would like to call your family," Elizabeth suggested to Darcy as she handed him the phone.

She wore an unreadable expression, leaving Darcy to wonder exactly what she meant. Is she throwing me out, or is she concerned that my family may be worried?

"I appreciate your hospitality. I am sorry to trespass on your kindness." He once again attempted to stand only to have Bessie gently push him back down.

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Darcy." Bessie took the phone from him and pressed the bowl of steaming soup in his hands.

Elizabeth laughed softly as she watched Bessie apply her pampering skills on this resistant gentleman.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy," she said with a more inviting tone in her voice. "Please, be comfortable. Your presence is not an imposition."

Sensing that she was in earnest, he relaxed and allowed Bessie to carry out her ministrations on him.

As he ate, he watched Elizabeth across the room as she gathered her watercolor supplies that were scattered on the table. She had changed into a pair of well-worn jeans and an old sweatshirt that looked to be at least two sizes too large. Her hair had been dried and pulled back into a clip with a few unruly strands escaping as she moved about. She presented a very different picture from the one he had seen at the Stansburys last week. Percy was right. She is quite lovely. He thought as he watched her tuck the stray curls behind her ear.

She cleared away her mess, saying nothing to Darcy, almost oblivious to the fact that he was in the room. After latching her case shut, she looked up at Darcy and smiled.

"Do you go running often, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth approached him, choosing a seat near his.

"Yes, I do. In fact, I run at least five kilometers a day." He smiled, glad she had chosen to acknowledge his presence in the room. "Please, call me Fitz."

"Fitz? Is that the only name you go by?"

"Most everyone calls me Fitz," he answered, then added with a grin, "my ex-wife has a few choice names for me she likes to use, but those are hardly fitting."

She laughed as she tried to imagine what those names might be, then gave him a scrutinizing look. He was certainly an enigma - gruff and uncivil one moment, affable and humorous the next.

"Do you always run in this neighborhood?" She was curious to know more about this man.

"Not always. I try to vary my route to have diversity in the landscape."

"I've found that all the views in Derbyshire are pleasant."

"I would have to agree with you on that point," he answered wistfully. "I was born here and have spent most of my life just up the road."

"Do you have family?"

"Not with me. I have two sons, but they live with their mothers."

Mothers? She wondered. "How old are your boys?"

"Ian is nine and lives just a few miles from here with my second wife, and Hugh is sixteen. I don't see him as often. He lives in London with his mother. I haven't really spoken to her for nearly five years." Why am I telling her all this? he thought uncomfortably, then decided not to let her lead the discussion. "What about you? What brings an American woman to the English country?"

"I love the country. The house was of no use to me just sitting empty, so I came for a visit."

"Is your husband with you on this visit?" He had noticed she wore a wedding ring.

"No." she answered succinctly avoiding eye contact with him.

She has a husband, but he's not here with her. He wasn't certain he wanted to press any further, but felt very curious about this woman and wanted to know more of her. "Do you have children?"

"One son."

I've had more involved conversations with a telephone operator, he thought. I can always ask Percy about her. No, he would get the wrong idea. He tried a new approach. "Tell me about your son."

"Peter is twenty-three and in law school back home," was her brief response.

He almost rolled his eyes in exasperation. She is certainly willful and not very generous with her answers.

"You must miss him," he said, attempting to get her to respond more openly.

"Very much, as I'm sure you miss your sons."

"More than you know," he answered before he realized that she had once again taken control of the conversation. What is it about this woman that makes me want to open my life up to her? I don't even know her. I don't even want to know her. And with these thoughts foremost in his mind, he decided it was time to leave.

Without thinking, he set his foot down and cried out at the pain he inflicted upon himself.

"I really need to leave. May I use your phone?" Agitation was evident in his voice.

"Certainly. The phone is on the table where Bessie left it." She pointed next to him, then got up and left the room thinking. On second thought, maybe I don't want to know more about him. And she quickly dismissed any thoughts of Fitzwilliam Darcy from her mind.

The late afternoon sky was darkening. A steady rain started to fall from the black clouds. She looked around, she couldn't tell where she was - nothing looked familiar. A feeling of panic began to rise within her. She wanted to cry out for help, but didn't know whom to call for. Everyone was gone. She was alone. She started to run. She didn't know where she was going or what direction she was headed - she ran aimlessly. She could hear strange noises all around her - she ran faster. The skies grew even darker - she continued to run. The rain now fell from the heavens in torrents - she ran faster still. Suddenly her foot caught on something and she began to fall headlong to the ground.

Elizabeth was jarred awake in her bed. Perspiration beaded her forehead, her breathing was rapid and shallow and her heart was pounding. She blinked her eyes to get her bearings. All was quiet. She felt around her. She was alone in her bed. It was only a dream. She sighed with relief, her body relaxing. Only a dream, she reassured herself, then sank back down into the emptiness of her bed.

Chapter Four

Elizabeth lay awake in bed, unable to regain sleep - images of her dream intruding on her consciousness. Outside her window she could see the dawn spreading across the sky. She rose from her bed to start the day.

When she entered the kitchen, she startled Bessie with her greeting.

"Oh, dear! What are you doin' up and about?" Bessie placed her hand on her chest as she steadied her breathing.

"I was having trouble sleeping ... how could I possibly sleep with the smell of your scones luring me downstairs?" Elizabeth opened the oven door to view them browning.

"They won't bake with the door open, you know." Bessie shooed Elizabeth away, closed the oven door, then returned to the fruit she had been slicing.

Elizabeth took a seat and poured a glass of fresh orange juice from the pitcher Bessie had placed on the table. As she sat staring out the bay window, thoughts of her dream playing in her mind, the telephone rang.

"You're busy. I'll get it." She jumped out of her seat and hurried to the phone before Bessie had even set down her knife.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom!" an enthusiastic voice cried out on the other end of the line.

"Peter!" Elizabeth was surprised at this unexpected call from her son. He was in the habit of calling her once a week, usually on Sundays.

"How are you?"

"I'm great."

"Really?"

"Yes, why do you ask?" She wondered what he was up to.

"Just making sure, that's all. You're really okay?"

"Yes." She laughed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've just been on my mind. I wanted to make sure everything was all right."

"Everything here is good. The weather's been rainy so I've been cooped up inside lately. You know how that drives me crazy!" she tried to convince him. "How are you?"

"Good. Really good."

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" she scolded after calculating that it was the middle of the night for him.

"An ocean between us and you're still checking up on me!" He laughed.

"I am still your mother. I'll always be looking out for you."

"Are you looking out for you, Mom?" he said more seriously.

"Am I looking out for me?" His question surprised her. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"Just that. Are you taking care of yourself? Are you spending all your time alone? What have you been doing? That's what I mean by that." He sounded like he was the parent.

"You worry too much, Son! Of course I'm taking care of myself, and I'm not always alone. For your information, I even went to a party last week."

"Really?" He sounded astonished. "I hope you behaved!"

"That depends on what you mean by behaving," she replied lightheartedly.

Peter laughed at his mother's playfulness.

"But back to my original question. Shouldn't you be in bed, asleep?"

"I've been up studying. I called because I kept thinking about you."

"Hmm..."

"Oh, by the way, have you, by chance, been checking your email?"

"No ...I haven't."

"Jim Lamoreaux called me the other day. He's been trying to reach you. You really should check your messages - that is why you have the laptop," he reminded her, once again sounding like a parent.

"I just never think of it, but I'll start making a point to."

"Just to make sure you do, I'm going to email you everyday!"

He reminds me so much of his father sometimes! She smiled. "Sounds great! I'll definitely look at them now! It'll be the highlight of my day."

"Okay ... well, I've got to go now. I do need to get some sleep!" He laughed. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Peter. Thanks for calling, it was great to hear your voice." She hung up the receiver and thought on the brief conversation, wondering why he felt the need to call. Did it have something to do with my dream last night?

"Now, where is that laptop?" she said aloud, then went in search of it.

"Sixty-four unread messages. I guess it has been a while since I've checked these," she said to herself as she sat at the table looking at the computer screen.

Most of it was junk, but there were two from Peter, a few from assorted friends, and seven from Jim Lamoreaux, a former colleague.

"What does Jim need to so desperately tell me?" She opened his first message.

Elizabeth,
How is England? Are you ready to come home yet? I could use your help here. Let me know your plans.
Jim Lamoreaux

It was a week old. She moved on to the next one.

Elizabeth,
Did you get my email? Let me know.
Jim

The remaining messages all read about the same, except the last.

Do they have computer accessibility out there in England? Are you just ignoring me? If you don't want to come back to work, just tell me. Please, tell me something. Awaiting your reply.
Jim

"A little persistent aren't we, Jim? Well, what else is new?"

Jim,
Yes, we do have computer accessibility here in the outer reaches of the kingdom. No, I'm not just ignoring you - I'm ignoring everybody. I've made no decisions. As soon as I have something to tell, I'll tell you.
Elizabeth

After sending the email and turning off her laptop, she recalled that she had not yet eaten breakfast.

"Charlotte!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she closed her book and stood to greet her friend.

"I've come to borrow you this afternoon." Charlotte gave Elizabeth a quick hug.

"For what reason?"

"I have a terrible need to buy shoes and I want your opinion."

"Shoe shopping? Again? Charlotte, you are the last person in the world who needs a new pair of shoes!"

"Collins had my closet fitted with shelves and I need to fill them with something - shoes would be perfect." Charlotte laughed playfully. "Come on, Elizabeth. Get your bag - let's go!"

When they arrived in Lambton, Charlotte headed straight to the lane that held her favorite row of shops.

The two women browsed throughout the first shop they had entered and Elizabeth was surprised to see Charlotte uninterested in the shoes on display.

"I thought you were going to buy shoes." Elizabeth pointed to a table covered with summer sandals.

"Oh, well...my need to buy shoes is not as great as my need to be out of the house." Charlotte winked.

Elizabeth cast a knowing look. Collins must be working from home today. She thought as she sat down to try on a pair of sandals that had caught her eye.

"So shopping was just a ruse to..."

"To allow my husband a productive work environment, of course!"

Elizabeth laughed at Charlotte's mischievous grin and stood to admire the footwear in the mirror.

As they left the shop, Elizabeth carrying her latest acquisition to her summer wardrobe, and Charlotte empty handed, a male voice called out to them.

"Charlotte! Elizabeth!" They turned to see Sir Percy crossing the road to join them. "How are you ladies today?"

"Very well, Percy, and how are you?" Charlotte answered.

"I'm well." He smiled charmingly and positioned himself between the two women. "Which is more than I can say about Fitz." Elizabeth's back stiffened at the mention of the name. "Have you heard about the old man?"

"I haven't heard anything - is he ill?" Charlotte asked with concern.

"I wouldn't say ill - he just had a mishap." Sir Percy chuckled, causing a reproving look to cross Charlotte's face. "It's nothing serious. He only sprained his ankle while running yesterday."

Charlotte was relieved. "How awful, but I'm glad it's not serious." She turned toward Elizabeth and noticed the pink hue brightening her face. "When did you see him?" She questioned Sir Percy, redirecting her gaze at him.

"Earlier today. He was just coming from the doctor's. He was in a foul mood."

"Understandable. He must be in considerable pain."

Sir Percy scoffed. "Considerable pain? It's a minor sprain!"

"Still..."

"Fitz is fine. He was already walking on it - he can't be in that much pain. He's probably brooding about something entirely unrelated to his ankle."

"Or, more likely, you said something to irritate him."

Sir Percy laughed at Charlotte's accusation. "Can you believe this, Elizabeth? I'm the cause of Fitz being in bad humor."

"I wouldn't know." Elizabeth tried to stay out of the conversation.

"Oh, right. You don't know Fitz." He turned to look at Charlotte. "But I do, and he was peevish before I even spoke to him. Anyway, I didn't call your attention to discuss Fitz. I want to invite you to attend a garden party at my house next week."

"Next week?" Charlotte asked.

"Yes, on Saturday. Geoffrey and Anne are to visit and I'm gathering old friends, and new," he looked pointedly at Elizabeth.

"You know Collins and I will attend." Charlotte turned to Elizabeth.

"I suppose I'll be there as well." Her answer was met with smiles from both Charlotte and Sir Percy.

"Now, I have one more request. Would you ladies join me for supper?" Sir Percy gave Charlotte a wink.

"Kind of you to ask, but I'm afraid I need to get back home. I'm sure Elizabeth would enjoy going with you though."

"Marvelous." Sir Percy smiled broadly.

"Here, let me take your package, Elizabeth. I'll drop it past your place and let Bessie know you won't be home till later." Charlotte eased the bag from Elizabeth's hand and turned to leave. "I'll ring you tomorrow. Have fun!"

Elizabeth watched as Charlotte walked away briskly, dazed by her friend's cunning.

"Where shall we go to eat?" Sir Percy roused her attention.

"You know Lambton better than I do."

"To the Queens Arms then." He placed his hand on the small of her back and gently led her down the lane to his car.

"So you and Charlotte have known each other your entire lives." Elizabeth smiled across the table at Sir Percy.

"Essentially. Her brother James was a schoolmate of mine - I spent a great deal of time with him. Charlotte is closer in age to my brother Geoffrey, and, of course Fitz."

"Fitzwilliam Darcy?" He didn't notice her voice nearly falter.

"Yes. They let me tag along sometimes. I took a fair amount of abuse from them, but you know how older brothers can be - especially when with friends."

"Not really."

"You have no brothers?"

"Only sisters."

"Hmmm...it wasn't really all bad."

"Are you very close?"

"I believe so. Geoffrey is a barrister - he's married, lives in London and works constantly. I'm amazed he agreed to visit next weekend."

"It seemed as though my husband was always working. But, surprisingly, I never felt neglected."

"A happy marriage...a rarity indeed."

"Indeed." The corner in which they sat was dim, and Sir Percy could hardly see the glimmer in Elizabeth's eyes as the candlelight flickered.

"One of the reasons I've remained single - I've seen too many friends suffer from bad marriages or divorce." He grimaced.

"That's no reason to deny yourself the joy that can come from marriage."

Sir Percy shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps."

"Surely you've seen some couples stay together in a relatively happy state?"

"Happiness is subjective."

"True, and perhaps I have a narrow scope because my experience was pleasant, but you're losing more than you realize by not trying to find, or make, that happiness."

"All I know is that many people - Fitz for example, tried to make it work, twice. Well, maybe the second time he shouldn't have attempted, but he tried, and it didn't work well for him."

"Not being personally involved, you can't possibly know exactly what happened, so your argument is groundless. You may have seen your friend suffer, but you still don't know what he did or didn't do to make his marriage work. And you most likely don't know what his wife...wives did."

"True."

"I just think that's a sorry reason for you to not marry. If that is the real reason."

"Point taken." He smiled at her boldness. "Now, tell me, did your poor husband ever win an argument with you?"

She grinned. "I don't recall."

"Most likely not." He laughed.

Elizabeth laughed and wondered why such a pleasant, good-natured man would choose not to settle down. There's more to this than he wants to admit.

It was dark when Sir Percy drove Elizabeth home. He opened the car door for her and walked her up to the back door. She almost expected that he would kiss her goodnight, but he didn't, much to Elizabeth's relief.

The next morning when she came downstairs, Elizabeth found Bessie and Ralph prepared to leave the house.

On Fridays the couple generally spent the day with Bessie's sister who lived in Nottingham, and today was no different from the past five Fridays since she had arrived.

After the couple departed, Elizabeth fixed some toast and juice for breakfast and decided to forgo her run for the day - she was feeling lazy and relished the thought of being alone in the house for twenty-four hours to do whatever she pleased.

She opened her paint case only to close it again. No, I don't even want to paint today. Running her finger down the line of books on the shelf, she decided that a good read was what she wanted to involve herself with. Several titles appealed to her, so removing them all from their places, she situated her small stack of books on the table nearest the window and settled herself in for a relaxing day.

About midday, the telephone rang and Elizabeth debated whether she would answer or not.

"Hello?"

"How was your date with Percy last night?" Elizabeth could hear the mirth in Charlotte's voice.

"It was nice, but it wasn't a date."

"Nice? Did you tell him it was nice?"

"I don't remember...probably."

Charlotte laughed.

"Well, it was nice." Elizabeth repeated.

"I don't suppose you'd like to join us for dinner tonight?" Charlotte petitioned her.

"Not really, this time alone has been very agreeable."

"What have you been doing?"

"Relaxing and reading. I'm thoroughly enjoying myself."

"All right, I'll leave you be. Ring if you need anything."

"Thanks, Charlotte."

Elizabeth smiled. If I stay here in England, I'll never need to worry about being lonely as long as Charlotte is nearby.

Settling back into the winged chair, she picked up her book and found where she had left off.

The light grew dim in the room as the sun set in the evening sky, forcing Elizabeth to turn on the lamps. As she stood to do so, a hunger pang reminded her she had not eaten since breakfast.

"Let's see what Bessie has left in the fridge."

Before leaving the room. She stopped at the stereo and turned it on. She loaded the CD player with several of her favorite discs, hit the shuffle button, and turned the volume up so she could hear it in the kitchen.

The refrigerator held an assortment of leftovers, none of which sounded appealing to her. Finally, she found some beef from dinner two nights ago, an onion, some peppers and cheese. "All I need is some sort of bread." She rummaged through the breadbox.

"Perfect, just what I wanted." She grabbed the rolls and proceeded to prepare a pepper steak sandwich. With onions and peppers sliced and sautéing in the skillet, she turned to prepare the beef, when a knock sounded at the back door.

Thinking it was most likely Charlotte, Elizabeth promptly opened the door and was shocked to find not her friend, but Fitzwilliam Darcy standing in the entrance.

"Mr. Darcy!" Surprise was evident in her expression.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I only came to return these clothes you were so kind to lend me." He handed her a bundle of freshly laundered clothing.

"That's very good of you," she responded, wondering why he had brought the articles back personally.

After relinquishing his parcel, instead of retreating, he stood still in the doorway. His lips were moving slightly, as if he wanted to speak, but could not form the words.

Ever since their encounter Wednesday he had thought of little else. He was anxious to be near her again. He battled within himself for nearly two days. He didn't need another woman in his life, especially a married woman. Her reasons for being here without her husband were her own and she most likely would not welcome him coming around. I'm sure it would only complicate things for both of us.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked in a kindly voice.

"Yes, thank you." His desire to be near her won out.

He entered the kitchen with a slight limp, looked around and noticed they were alone.

"I see your ankle isn't giving you as much trouble today." She gestured toward his foot.

"It's actually feeling quite well, thank you. The doctor said it was only sprained and I should be running again soon." He recalled his behavior two days ago and reddened with embarrassment.

"I'm afraid I owe you an apology for my erratic behavior the other day." He said, looking anxious. "Would you let me buy you dinner to make amends for all your trouble?"

For the second time in as many minutes, Darcy surprised her.

"That really isn't necessary." She was perplexed that he should think it essential to make amends with her.

"But, I insist. You were very helpful to me, and I was nothing but rude towards you."

Seeing that he was seriously determined to win his point, and feeling disinclined to argue, she conceded.

"Fine, if you feel it necessary. But it will have to be another evening as I'm in the middle of preparing dinner now," and without giving it a second thought she added. "Would you like to join me?"

He hesitated for only a moment. "I don't want to impose on you yet again."

She smiled and softly laughed at herself. Only two days ago I said I wanted nothing to do with him, now here I am accepting dinner invitations and offering to cook for him!

"I would like you to stay." She looked him straight in the eyes. "I owe you an apology as well. My behavior was not above reproach." She recalled her semi uncivil conduct, then sincerely appealed to him. "Please stay. You can tell me more about your sons."

"Thank you." He returned her earnest gaze. And you can tell me more about you, he thought as he smiled at her, nodding his head.

"What can I do to help?"

"If you'd like, you can fix the salad while I prepare the beef." She motioned toward the vegetables sitting on the board.

He immediately went to work cutting vegetables for the salad. "So, what's on the menu tonight?"

"Nothing fancy, you might be disappointed." She knew this meal was not impressive. Why did I ask him to stay? "I'm making pepper steak sandwiches." She looked at him to gauge his reaction.

"Sounds good. Is it your own creation?"

"No. I'm not much of a cook. It actually came from an old friend of mine. Her family ran a little deli and they were famous for these sandwiches. But don't get your hopes up. Mine doesn't compare to the original!" Her lips curved upward in a warm, natural smile.

He smiled in response, not being able to think of a reply, feeling overwhelmed at the intimacy of standing close to this woman as they prepared a meal. Her smile was easy, and so genuine, and her deep blue eyes glistened like the ocean on a summer's day. I've never met a woman like her - she's so natural, no pretense at all.

With the preparation nearly complete, Elizabeth grabbed the dishes, handed them to Darcy, and together they set the table. All the while she was thinking, this is so bizarre. Who is this man? And why am I encouraging him? She shook her head slightly and masked the frown that began to appear on her face. Am I encouraging him? I don't even know how things work nowadays!

"I think this is the best sandwich I've ever tasted," Darcy commented after they had sat down to eat.

"You must not get out much!"

He laughed a gentle, sonorous laugh. "You obviously don't give yourself enough credit for your abilities."

"And you obviously have either a very bad cook or a deadened sense of taste." A glint of mischief appeared in her eyes.

He laughed again, displaying a broad smile that revealed the dimples on his cheeks.

Elizabeth smiled at him, noticing how much more handsome he was when he laughed.

"So, tell me, cooking aside, what have you been doing here in the country to occupy your time?" Darcy asked, wanting to keep the dialogue moving.

"I've been trying my hardest to stay out of the kitchen," she playfully replied, then gently laughed.

"Seriously. What do you do with your time?"

"Like you, I run. But not in the rain."

"Ah, yes." He grinned. "But the rain doesn't keep you from being outdoors and waylaying innocent runners."

She laughed openly in response, being caught off guard by his unexpected quip about his misstep. "That is my favorite pastime."

He chuckled, enjoying the mischievous twinkle in her eye and the dulcet sound of her laughter. "What would rank second as a diversion for you?"

"Lately, I've been reading quite a bit, and painting a little." This answer was more serious.

"Painting? What sort of painting?" His interest was piqued.

"Nothing serious. I just dabble a little in watercolors."

"You must show me some of your work."

"I promise, you would be disappointed," she responded, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable.

"I'm certain you are once again underrating your abilities. I would love to see them." He gently tried coaxing her to share her paintings with him.

"Perhaps, I'll show you some other time." She was a bit disconcerted and wanted to change the focus of their discussion. "What about you?"

"If you mean, am I gifted in the arts? Perhaps in my younger days, but not of late. But, like you, I do have a fondness for reading." He was upset with himself for making her uncomfortable. "What have you been reading since your return?"

"Only what I've found on the shelves here. Mostly poetry. I find I have been waxing idyllic lately." She wore a distracted, faraway look.

Wondering what her look might signify, he ventured. "A hopeless romantic?"

"No, not at all." She looked him in the eyes and spoke solemnly. "I've lived the dream...and lost."

He gave her a curious look. "How did you lose?" He couldn't stop the question once it had formed in his mind.

"In July I would have been celebrating my twenty-seventh wedding anniversary." She continued to look straight into his deep green eyes. "I would have been, except for the fact that my husband passed away nine months ago."

A perplexed expression crossed Darcy's face. What did she just say? Passed away? Her husband is dead. Oh my . . . no wonder she's here alone. What an idiot I am! And I asked if her husband was here with her! What must she think of me? He passed his hand over his face and rubbed his forehead.

"I am so very sorry about your husband's passing."

"Thank you." She noticed the pained expression on his face. "I'm quite reconciled with his death. You need not worry for me."

"You must think me dense and ill-mannered. I really am a lout. You must forgive me." He hung his head as he berated himself. I should have known about this...I shouldn't have bothered her.

"You are too hard on yourself. Really. We were having such a nice conversation and now you've quite spoiled it," she said in mock rebuke. "You may be right. Perhaps you are a lout."

She laughed softly and placed her hand on his. He looked up and saw the gentle expression on her face and the playful smile on her lips. A truly amazing woman! He raised her hand and placed a tender kiss upon it.

"I ..." he began to speak.

"If you say you're sorry once more, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stop," she said abruptly.

He smiled. "I was only going to thank you for being so gracious."

"That's fine then. I just get a little tired of people repeatedly telling me they're sorry about my husband's death. Once is enough. I thank you for that."

"But you do accept other apologies?"

"Definitely." She smiled.

"That's good to know." He smiled back at her. "There's nothing worse than a woman who won't accept apologies."

"That coming from a man with experience in that area, I take it?"

"Most definitely!" He rolled his eyes.

"But, could a woman who won't accept an apology be any worse than a man who won't offer one?" she playfully mused aloud.

"Are you, perhaps, speaking from experience?" he bantered back.

"Didn't I just tell you I had been married almost twenty seven years? I think you might be very forgetful, Mr. Darcy." She laughed. "Surely you know. It's a truth universally acknowledged that a man will not make a simple, sincere apology when his wife is in want of exactly that."

He laughed aloud, joining his voice with hers. "You need to stop calling me Mr. Darcy. Seriously, call me Fitz."

"I don't mean to be rude, but there's something about the name Fitz. I have a difficult time calling you that."

He laughed. "I've never cared for the name myself. My family has always called me Fitz or Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam is too long and seems outdated, but it's a family name. My middle name is George and I find that even worse."

"But I suppose, if we're to continue conversing, I should call you something other than Mr. Darcy."

"Yes, please do," he implored. "And, may I call you Elizabeth?"

"By all means, do," she answered, enjoying the sound of her name spoken with his rich voice. "And for now, I'll call you Fitzwilliam."

The meal was long finished. The dishes having been cleared away, Darcy and Elizabeth sat at the table, in friendly, sometimes jovial conversation. They talked about a variety of subjects, including their marriages and children. As they talked and laughed, Elizabeth decided she was glad she had asked him to stay.

She found herself standing in the darkness, vaguely recognizing her surroundings. It all seemed oddly familiar to her, like she had been here before but couldn't exactly remember when. It began to rain from the darkened sky, and a panic arose within her. She was alone with no one to call upon as she stood, almost paralyzed with fear. She began to run, trying to escape this forlorn feeling, as the rain poured from the pitch-black sky. A flash of lightning brightened the sky for a moment and in that instant she could see a figure in the distance and began to run towards it - hoping it was someone and not her imagination - when suddenly her foot caught on something and she began to fall headlong to the ground.

Chapter Five

Elizabeth awoke in her bed, her heart pounding, her hair damp, her brain addled. She sat upright. Her breathing slowed and her heart gradually returned to its normal pace. That was strange.

The dream was almost identical to her dream of two nights ago. At least in this one she could see what she was running towards, or at least see that something or someone was there. But this time the feeling of emptiness was more acute. Even now, although awake and in her bed, she ached from the great void she felt within. Not since the first months after Jonas' death had she felt this intense ache. She fell back into her pillow and wept.

She rose early, not wanting to stay in bed any longer. As soon as the first light touched the sky, she dressed in her running clothes and left the house.

Why am I having these dreams? She anguished as she set out on her run. The air was cool. Only the sounds of the birds in the trees and the pounding of her feet on the pavement could be heard.

As she ran, she tried to fill her mind with thoughts that would keep her from recalling dream images, hoping to fill the hollowness it left inside her. But all subjects seemed to fail in that effort - all she could think of was her dream.

She wasn't certain how long she'd been running, but the sun was now visible, hanging low on the horizon. As she slowed down to a walk, she found herself at the head of a long drive, which lead to a residence. I've never been down this road before. I wonder whose land this is, she thought as she looked for some sort of marker. A short way up the drive she saw a gate with markings identifying the entrance to the Pemberley Estate. She immediately recognized it as the name of Darcy's ancestral home. Last night Fitzwilliam had mentioned Pemberley and his great love for it.

A slight smile rose on her lips as she recalled the previous evening. She and Fitzwilliam had sat and talked for almost two hours after they had eaten. The conversation was mainly superficial, not revealing deep thoughts or feelings, but enough was said for Elizabeth to gain a better understanding of the man, and she found him to be much more agreeable. Amazing how a few hours can change your opinion of someone.

She turned away from the drive and began a brisk walk back home, but before she reached Cresthaven she crossed the road to Charlotte's. She made the quick turn and slowed her pace as she approached her friend's house.

Elizabeth rang the bell. Charlotte came to the door, surprised to see her. "Elizabeth, what are you doing here?" She noticed how flush her friend appeared. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine," Elizabeth reassured Charlotte as she was ushered to the breakfast table, where Collins was sitting, reading a newspaper. "I was out running and decided to visit as I passed your street."

"This is an unexpected surprise. I'm glad you've dropped by. Please, sit down. Let me get you something. I have some of that herbal tea you like."

"I'd love some, thank you."

Collins lowered his paper, looked over to Elizabeth and gave her a nod.

"Good morning, Collins," Elizabeth greeted him.

"Morning," he mumbled as he raised the paper and resumed his perusal of it.

Obviously not in a talkative mood, she observed as she quietly waited for Charlotte to return.

A few minutes later, Charlotte entered the room carrying a tray of muffins and scones surrounding a steaming teapot. She settled herself and started conversing with Elizabeth as she prepared the tea. "You're out early this morning."

"I was feeling restless and couldn't sleep. I thought fresh air and exercise would help."

"Feeling restless? Is something troubling you?" Charlotte handed her a steaming cup.

"No ... it's nothing." Elizabeth looked over at Collins as she absently played with the spoon in her teacup.

Sensing that what Elizabeth really wanted was to speak privately, Charlotte stood up. "It is such a beautiful morning, why don't we take our tea out on the veranda?" Without waiting for a response, she gathered up the tray and left the room, leaving Elizabeth to follow behind her.

"Now, tell me what is the matter, and don't tell me it's nothing. I know it has to be something for you to willingly sit at the same table with Collins." Charlotte gave her an encouraging smile.

Elizabeth laughed softly, but did not answer her friend.

Charlotte sat and waited, hoping Elizabeth would share whatever was troubling her. She watched as Elizabeth sat biting her lower lip.

"Have you ever had a recurring dream?"

The question surprised Charlotte. Not really sure where the discussion might lead, she tried to recall if she had, in fact, ever had such dreams. "I've had some vivid and even very strange dreams in my life, but I don't recall ever having a recurring dream." Charlotte gave her a concerned look. "Why do you ask? Have you been having them?"

"Twice this week I've dreamt almost the exact dream. Last night it left me with such a barren feeling, and it has been haunting me all morning."

Charlotte placed her hand on Elizabeth's arm and gave it a squeeze. "What is it you're dreaming?"

Elizabeth then told Charlotte all the details of her dreams and the feelings they had left her with.

"Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something," Charlotte suggested after hearing Elizabeth's account.

"I'm sure it is, but what exactly is it trying to say? If it's trying to tell me, I'm alone, believe me, I'm acutely aware of the fact that my husband is no longer here and I miss him ... sometimes terribly."

They sat silent for a few minutes. Each woman lost in thought - Elizabeth, leaning back with closed eyes, once again anguishing over these unsettling thoughts, and Charlotte, sitting with her chin cupped in her palm, trying to put words to the ideas that sparked in her mind.

Charlotte broke their contemplative peace. "Perhaps ... it's trying to remind you of that empty space in your life, so that you might look to fill it."

Elizabeth gave her friend a skeptical look and opened her mouth to speak.

"Now, hear me out," Charlotte scolded. "I think you're the type of person who needs someone close to them."

"I have people close to me," Elizabeth defended, knowing Charlotte's meaning, but not willing to entertain the idea.

"Someone close to you - singular, not plural. You know what I mean."

Elizabeth stirred her tepid tea as she gazed into the cup. Finally, she met her friend's eye. "I know you would love to see me happily paired off. But, I don't think I'm ready for that."

"But your subconscious is."

"Please, don't push me, Charlotte."

"I'm not trying to push you. I'm merely pointing out something you may not be seeing."

"And what might that be?" Elizabeth had a confrontational tone to her voice.

"The fact that you need someone to fill the void in your life," Charlotte answered boldly and continued on without letting Elizabeth interject. "You are lonely, Elizabeth. You wander around the house, filling your time with trivial activities, trying to feel like a whole person."

"Well, at least I'm trying!" Elizabeth abruptly stood, making to leave.

Charlotte rose, took hold of her arm and spoke tenderly, "Yes, you are, and I'm sorry for upsetting you." Charlotte urged Elizabeth back into her seat. "I just don't like seeing you so alone. I'm sorry. I have no idea what it is you're feeling. Forgive me for being so insensitive."

Elizabeth wiped the tears from her eyes, and was silent for a moment. "You know, I always try to appear so calm and in control, when sometimes, deep down, I'm quite the opposite." She looked up and smiled weakly. "Sometimes I feel like I'm going to absolutely lose it, and what I need is a pair of loving arms to wrap around me and a strong broad shoulder on which to rest my head and cry on."

Charlotte took Elizabeth's hand. "Oh, Elizabeth."

"I'm so tired of being alone, Charlotte," she said in a feeble voice, then broke down and cried. Charlotte leaned over and took Elizabeth in her arms. "I'm tired of being alone, and yet, I'm afraid of having to start over again." She continued to cry as Charlotte held her.

Charlotte's eyes welled with tears as she held her friend in a caring embrace. She hadn't meant to upset Elizabeth; she just wanted her to open up to the idea of finding someone to love. I'll let her find her own way - she obviously won't be pushed.

Charlotte made a fresh cup of tea, and handed it to Elizabeth after she had calmed herself. They talked a short while longer before Charlotte's family needed her attention.

"Thank you, Charlotte. I'm glad I have you to talk with." Elizabeth stood and walked down the garden path with Charlotte.

"You didn't feel that way a few minutes ago." Charlotte opened the gate and followed Elizabeth out to the front drive.

"True, but you always seem to tell me exactly what I need to hear. Whether I want to hear it or not!" Elizabeth gave Charlotte a brief hug, then left for home.

Sunday evening Elizabeth was sitting at the far end of Cresthaven's gardens in the shade of a young oak, when she looked up from her drawing to see Bessie hurrying down the path followed by Sir Percy. Closing her tablet, she stood to greet her guest, surprised that Sir Percy was calling on her - she couldn't recall him ever visiting her home previously. Bessie stopped and motioned him toward Elizabeth, before retreating to the house.

"Sir Percy, what a pleasant surprise."

"I'm sorry to intrude on your relaxation. I was passing by and thought I might stop and see how you were."

Sir Percy lived on the opposite side of Lambton, and Elizabeth wondered about his chance visit. "Please, have a seat." She gestured toward a garden bench.

He sat down across from where Elizabeth had seated herself. She watched as he tried to position himself comfortably on the old stone bench. Finally satisfied, he looked at her and smiled. "How are you this evening?"

"I'm well, and you?" She chuckled at their formality.

"I find myself in very good humor today."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"I was wondering, Elizabeth..." He leaned forward, "if you would be interested in attending a concert with me Tuesday evening."

"A concert?"

"An open air concert, actually. And perhaps we could get a bite to eat beforehand."

Myriad thoughts crossed her mind. Why is he interested in spending time with me? Should I go? Have I been spending too much time alone? Would it be raising his expectations if I did go? Have I been going out too much? Surely there are plenty of younger women more appealing than I am. I'm not looking for a relationship. It's only dinner and a concert, not a serious commitment. It might be enjoyable. He's a pleasant man - no major deficiencies.

"That sounds very nice. I believe I would like to go with you."

As he waited for her reply, Sir Percy had watched the expressions cross Elizabeth's face and wondered what she was thinking. He smiled broadly at her response. "Marvelous."

Sir Percy's good humor increased after hearing her approval of his plan, causing him to talk and laugh more openly, leaving Elizabeth little room to speak. He stayed for a short while longer and as the light in the sky began to grow dim, he escorted her to the back door and bid her goodnight.

After she had put her drawing tablet in the sitting room and found her book, the telephone rang. She had already spoken to Peter earlier in the day, so it wouldn't be him.

"Elizabeth, dear." Bessie entered the room. "Mr. Darcy's on the telephone for you."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you, Bessie." A phone sat on the table next to her, an arm's length away. She waited for Bessie to exit before picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Elizabeth, how are you?" His voice was deep and lively.

"I'm well, and how are you, Fitzwilliam?" She smiled, thinking that the conversation she just had with Sir Percy began in this same manner.

"I am lacking one thing that would make this day completely satisfactory."

She waited for him to continue, but he was silent. "And ... what would make your day complete?" She laughed, thinking he must have wanted her to ask about that one thing.

"If you would agree to have dinner with me on Wednesday. I thought we could go into Haywood, if you don't mind the drive."

The smile on her face broadened when he confirmed her suspicion. "I don't mind the drive. That would be lovely."

"This has been a most gratifying day indeed!"

"I'm glad to have helped." She laughed at his playful demeanor.

"I'll come past at six on Wednesday to pick you up."

"All right. I'll see you then."

"Goodbye, Elizabeth."

"Goodbye." As she hung up the phone a gentle smile touched her lips.

Elizabeth quickly shuffled through her closet. "What to wear? What to wear? Black..." She held up a simple black dress in front of her and viewed herself in the mirror. "Too elegant. What about red?" She repeated the process. "A bit too bold. Let's see..." She pulled out a delicate ivory colored dress - one of her favorites - and held it up. "That's the one!"

She slipped into the dress and stood at the mirror, examining her appearance. Her hands fidgeted at her sides. "Why am I so nervous? It's not like I've never been on a date before!" She ran her hands down over her hips, smoothing the soft fabric. But I've never been on a date with him before.

Pacing anxiously across her bedroom floor, Elizabeth stopped once again in front of the mirror. There was a time in her life when she never worried about how she looked; youth and natural beauty had been on her side. Now time was telling its tale in every detail of her face and she no longer possessed the natural glow of youth.

The sound of a car pulling onto the drive disturbed her ruminations. Looking out her open window she could see the midnight blue Mercedes slowing to a stop. She quickly left her room and rushed downstairs to the back door. At the sound of the knock she opened the door with a smile.

"You look lovely, Elizabeth."

She almost giggled and could feel a faint blush on her cheeks. "Thank you, Fitzwilliam."

The smile on his face broadened when he noticed her blush. "Are you ready?"

Nodding her head, she walked past him and out the door. He opened the car door for her and she couldn't help but admire him as he walked around the front of the vehicle. He wore black slacks, and a black blazer with a white shirt, opened at the collar. He looks especially handsome tonight. She could feel her pulse quicken as he took his seat next to her, so she took a deep breath in order to relax.

They drove to the neighboring village of Haywood, a twenty-minute ride alongside rolling hills and grazing sheep, speaking very little. Elizabeth felt slightly awkward and nervous although she couldn't understand why. Just last night I was out with Sir Percy and felt completely at ease. Why should this be any different?

Sir Percy had taken Elizabeth to the village chippie to eat before they attended the concert, and she had been amused with his choice for dinner.

"You really know how to treat a girl well!"

"Only the best for you, Elizabeth!" He laughed. "You mean to tell me you don't like my choice of restaurant?"

"No, I love it." She reached over and patted his hand.

"I do believe you're patronizing me - a cutting blow to a man of my caliber for certain." He winked. "Truly, the food here is marvelous - very traditional. You haven't tasted England until you've had the great British invention of fish and chips!"

From the chip house to the park where they sat on a blanket on the grass listening to a quartet of strings playing classical music, the mood was light and playful. Elizabeth had enjoyed the evening conversing easily with her gregarious date and was pleased with the casual atmosphere.

But tonight was different. It wasn't as though she felt uncomfortable with Fitzwilliam - they had already spent one evening together in enjoyable rapport - but it was different than an evening with Sir Percy.

They arrived early enough in Haywood to walk through the town square. Fitzwilliam parked at the edge of the square and opened Elizabeth's door for her. Taking her by the arm, he led her to a row of shops.

"I don't think I've ever been here." She turned slightly to face him.

He released his grip from her arm. "Really?"

They walked momentarily in silence, passing a few shops and one of the local merchants who happened to be standing near the entrance to his establishment. Fitzwilliam nodded to the man's greeting and wished him a good evening.

"Here, Elizabeth." He stopped and looked into the large paned windows of a shop. "Let's go inside." He opened the door and followed her into the building.

It was a gallery of sorts, housing paintings, contemporary and antique, as well as ceramics and glassware from England and Europe. Elizabeth's eye brightened as she looked about viewing the artwork and was immediately drawn toward a wall where a display of watercolors hung. She moved slowly along taking in each piece and stopped when she came to a painting of a mother playing with her child on the beach.

Fitzwilliam had been quietly watching her and stationed himself by her side as she studied the painting. "It's the unique ability of watercolors to extend the palette beyond the normal range of pigments that I find fascinating."

Elizabeth turned to look at her companion with a curious grin. "Yes, the colors can have unpredictable qualities."

"The play of light and shadow renders a luminous effect."

She looked up at him, wonder apparent in her expression. "Do you paint?"

"Me? No, merely an admirer." He gave her a winning smile. "Is there anything else here you would like to see?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take a look at the glassware." She pointed to several tables near the front window.

Placing his hand on her back, he escorted her to the window display. Elizabeth smiled and paid little attention to the glass items she had only just expressed a desire to see. Fitzwilliam picked up a lavender colored perfume bottle and held it up to the light.

Elizabeth noticed the bottle he was holding. "That is beautiful."

"Yes...it is and the workmanship is very fine." He turned to the shopkeeper and asked him to wrap it for him.

Fitzwilliam held the door for Elizabeth and handed her the bag with the newly purchased bottle when they had resumed their walk. "This is for you, Elizabeth."

A look of complete surprise crossed her face. "Why...what..."

"I would like to give it to you." He smiled. It was that deep smile of his - the one Elizabeth had thought made him appear more handsome.

"Why would you do a thing such as that?"

"When I held it up to the light it reminded me of you ... I thought instead of flowers or candy it would be a nice token of our evening together." He looked at her earnestly, not at all awkward or embarrassed for having shared this thought with her.

Elizabeth looked down at the bag she now held, unable to respond. I don't know if I should accept this or not. It's hardly an equal substitute for flowers. She lifted her head and met his eye. "I don't quite know what to say ... thank you."

They once again walked in silence until they arrived at the entrance of The Black Swan and entered a small foyer. "What a charming place this is." Elizabeth looked around the restaurant, noting only a handful of diners.

"I'm glad you approve."

As they were led to their table, Fitzwilliam again lightly placed his hand on her lower back.

Their table was situated in a quiet back room with full windows down the length of the wall. It was still light outside allowing them to view the entire garden. They conversed easily over the meal, regaining the rapport they had shared at her kitchen table last week.

When they left the restaurant, instead of heading back down the lane where the car sat, Fitzwilliam turned to open the garden gate. "Come this way." He motioned for her to join him.

"Where are we going?"

"I'd like you to see something."

He led her around the back, across the lawn and continued down past the hedges at the far end of the yard. Beyond the garden a natural stream flowed gently past, and the bright three quarter moon reflected light off the liquid currents.

Elizabeth gasped. "This is lovely."

"A lovely way to spend an evening." He grinned down at her.

The moon cast its radiant glow, illuminating the pathway alongside the stream, as Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth enjoyed the sound of the rippling water flowing downward. Few words were spoken between the two as they strolled in the moonlight, but the silence was agreeable.

They eventually made their way back to Fitzwilliam's car. He made certain Elizabeth was comfortably seated before starting the drive back. The conversation was quiet and relaxed on the trip home and Elizabeth found herself staring up at the moon as they rode through the countryside.

"Thank you for this evening. I had a wonderful time." She stepped up to the door.

"Goodnight, Elizabeth." He took her hand in his and placed a tender kiss upon it.

"Good night." She closed the door behind her and softly sighed. A lovely way to spend an evening.

True to his word, each day Peter sent his mother an email. Every morning for the past week Elizabeth checked for his daily message - it usually came with some sort of amusing attachment or link to a website he thought she might enjoy and it never failed to make her smile.

Jim Lamoreaux had also continued to email her regularly, and was soliciting her opinion on several troublesome cases he was working on. He claimed to need her insight, but Elizabeth couldn't help but feel that he was trying to lure her back to work with him at the counseling center.

On this beautiful Thursday afternoon, the fresh breeze blowing in beckoned to Elizabeth, along with the warm rays of sunlight touching her face as she sat at the desk reading her messages.

She grabbed her tablet and strode out to the far southern edge of the estate and positioned herself on the low stone wall which served as a property line. While freehand sketching a grouping of iris in full bloom, the sound of a distant whistle caught her attention. The local soccer team was practicing again. She watched for a short while, then returned to her drawing. The flowers soon lost their appeal to her as she unsuccessfully tried to capture them on her page. She then began searching for a new object of interest. While engaged in her search, she heard a familiar voice call her name. Turning to look, she saw Fitzwilliam and a young boy approaching the wall where she had been seated.

"Elizabeth!"

"Fitzwilliam, what are you doing here?"

"We're just coming from football practice." He turned to the boy. "I'd like you to meet my son Ian."

"Hello, Ian," she greeted him with a smile.

"Hello," he answered shyly.

"I'm happy to meet you. Your father has told me quite a bit about you." Ian smiled at Elizabeth as she spoke to him. It was a broad smile, revealing a pair of dimples much like his father's. She looked up at Fitzwilliam and saw his matching pair. "Although, your father didn't tell me you played football." She emphasized her last word, making certain Fitzwilliam caught her usage of the term. "But, he neglected to tell me that he played as well." She smiled up at Fitzwilliam, with an arched eyebrow.

Her engaging smile momentarily dazed him, but he soon came around when he realized that Ian was rattling away in conversation with Elizabeth. He listened for a moment, trying to realize what it was Ian was talking about, then stood in amazement as he watched Elizabeth intently listening and conversing with his son. She spoke to him respectfully, and paid full attention to all he said.

"Yes, would you like to see them?" she asked Ian.

He looked to his father to gain permission. "May I?"

"What is it you'd like to see?" Fitzwilliam asked, embarrassed to reveal he had not been following their discourse.

"The horses, Dad!"

Wondering why his son would want to see Cresthaven's horses when there was a stable full at Pemberley was beyond his understanding, but to remain in Elizabeth's company was an entirely agreeable situation. "Sure, let's have a look."

He smiled at Elizabeth as she motioned the way to the stable. Ian ran ahead, and was soon gone from his line of vision. "You certainly have a way with children. I've never seen Ian speak so freely with a new acquaintance."

"He's a delightful boy."

"I'm afraid his mother doesn't feel quite the same." He looked over to see her reaction.

"Unfortunately, that is not uncommon," she replied with a serious expression, thinking back on all the kids she had counseled with who had abusive or neglectful parents. "But I can see that his father doesn't share the same point of view."

"In that you are correct. Ian brings a great deal of happiness to my life and I treasure the time we spend together."

They walked along, momentarily quiet, until Elizabeth broke the silence. "You never mentioned that you coached his ball team."

He shrugged his shoulders. "We never happened upon the subject."

"I thought that looked like you out there with the boys."

He grinned in response, pleased she had noticed him, and continued silent, wondering if she thought about him as much as he did her.

"My husband and son always played soccer together. They both loved it." She smiled at the remembrance. "I, on the other hand, have never completely grasped the rules of the game."

"Truly?" He was astonished. "It's really quite simple."

"Easy for you to say!" She smiled while defending herself. "You were raised with it."

"Well, I'll just have to teach you how it is played." They arrived at the stable, finding Ian poking his head through the open doors. "Shall we go inside and see these horses you're so anxious about?" Fitzwilliam guided the boy inside.

As they entered the stable Ian was excited to see the three horses that resided within. "Dad, since there are three horses, we can all go for a ride!"

"I don't think so."

"You are welcome to ride them, if you'd like," Elizabeth offered.

"You too, Elizabeth," Ian cried, tugging at her hand.

"I haven't been on a horse in years."

"Why do you have horses if you don't ride them?" Was the curious question of the nine-year old.

"Well, Amelia was here when we bought this house." She stroked the muzzle of a beautiful chestnut mare. "Thor too." She motioned to a golden brown gelding. "He's my favorite. He's such a calm, even-tempered creature."

"Whose is this horse?" Ian pointed to a pitch-black male.

"This is Horatio. He belongs to my son Peter." The horse snorted and stamped as she and Fitzwilliam approached. Fitzwilliam slowly neared Horatio, and speaking to him in a low voice, began to rub its neck, calming the animal effectively.

"So, can we ride them?" Was Ian's next question.

"I'm afraid not, Son. Your mother is expecting you home soon." Fitzwilliam looked at his watch. "In fact, we need to leave now."

Ian's shoulders slumped as he pursed his lips in a pout, causing Elizabeth to smile and make a suggestion. "Why don't you and your father come back later to ride when you'll have more time?"

He looked up at his father eagerly, waiting for his response.

"When we have the time, Ian, we'll come back." He placed a hand on his shoulder and gently led him out.

Ian ran across the lawn and climbed atop the stone wall to await his father. Fitzwilliam took this opportunity to speak privately to Elizabeth. "Thank you for showing us your horses." He smiled. " I look forward to riding with you sometime." He winked, then quickly scaled the wall. Both Ian and his father called out their goodbyes as they ran off.

Elizabeth stood, waving at their retreating figures, shaking her head. I'll look forward to that, Fitzwilliam.

Continued In Next Section