Beginning, Section III, Next Section

Chapter 12

We arrived at Augustine Lodge to a warm welcome from the Saxby family whose joy at seeing that Georgie was with us soon overcame their shock. We had little time to rest before joining the other guests for Mr Saxby's birthday dinner so that, while I am sure that everyone was amiable and kind, I confess that I was too tired to commit much of the evening to memory. I was glad when Emily excused Georgie and I from performing, allowing her own daughter and another young girl to play for us instead. They were much too young to be out, but their simple pieces delighted Mr Saxby and were perfectly becoming in the family setting.

Rather earlier than was strictly polite, Georgie and I begged to be excused, dragging our tired bodies up to bed. We were again to be sharing a room, but this one at least had beds and a small vanity at which we sleepily brushed out each other's hair before falling into the comfortable sheets and pillows that awaited us. I slept heavily that night, awakening long after my usual breakfast hour, refreshed and excited to see Emily and her loving family again. Sitting up and stretching to revive my sleep-heavy arms and legs, I looked over to where Miss Darcy still slept.

She was not yet as handsome as her brother, but I could see that in time, she would become a great beauty. In repose, she looked more childlike than when robed in her expensive gowns, arousing within me a fiercely protective nature. It struck me that she was in fact the same age as my sister Kitty, yet the difference in their characters could not be more marked. Still, having been away from my family for some weeks had given me reason to miss them and a little of my sister's boisterousness would not have been unwelcome at that moment. If only one could give Georgie a little of Kitty's liveliness and Kitty a little of Georgie's decorum – what charming young ladies they would be! It occurred to me that, if I made the effort to spent a little more time with my sisters, as Mr Darcy did with his, then I might be able to effect some positive change in them.

Forcing all thoughts of Mr Darcy form my mind, for surely it was not right for a maid to think of so handsome a man while sitting in her night gown, I crept from the bed as quietly as I could. Evidently my companion was already awake though, for she soon rose to dress also, each of us helping the other with buttons and laces before taking turns to sit and let the other dress our hair. I had to admit myself impressed by Miss Darcy's ability to style my long hair, especially since she had no sister or girlfriend on which to practice.

“You must promise me that you will not tell anyone Elizabeth,” she giggled, “But sometimes I am able to persuade Mrs Annesley to let me dress her hair for her. She does not let me often though,” she admitted, “so I made Fitzwilliam buy me a wig to practice on.”

The image of Georgie playing maid to a wig was bittersweet to me. My heart could only break for a girl so lonely that she her only playmate was a dummy, yet she did not seem sad for herself. Deciding to be the best friend to her that I could be while we were in exile at the lodge, I grabbed her hand and linked her arm through mine as we went in search of some breakfast.

Sitting in the sunny south facing drawing room, Emily and Mrs Tomlinson listened to our sorry tale of the blaze and its aftermath, punctuating our shared narrative with questions and shocked exclamations. Just as I was wondering how much of Lady Catherine's outburst I should relate, Georgie took the initiative and told them the whole story. Although Emily had never met the indomitable lady, she was evidently well acquainted with some of her less then endearing mannerisms.

“Oh my, Elizabeth! What you have suffered!” she cried consolingly. “And you Georgie. How do you do after so much unpleasantness?”

My friend shifted a little in her seat, as though deciding how honestly she should answer the question.

“I am not sure I know how to feel. Please do not think badly of me,” she pleaded quietly, “I do feel sympathy for my aunt, who could not? Yet she has been so unkind towards Elizabeth, even before the fire. It seems that a lot has changed since I was last here.”

She and Emily shared a secret smile at that, which left me curious but not inclined to pry. Since arriving the night before I had learnt that the two ladies were very close, that Emily was almost the elder sister that Georgie so badly needed.

“And how long do you suppose it will be before William comes to call on you?” she asked, a hint of girlish mischief in her voice.

“Oh I do not think it will be more than a few days do you?” replied Georgie with a grin.

All three ladies turned to me, the undisguised glee on each of their faces causing me to blush and look away in wonder and embarrassment. I still did not dare to believe that a man of such consequence as Mr Darcy could really be interested in me, yet these women who knew him so well obviously thought it more than a possibility.

Attempting to regain control over my features, which no doubt had the secrets of my heart written all over them, I was happy to join in the ladies' conversation about how we should take advantage of the fine weather. After spending long hours in the house followed by the lengthy carriage ride the day before, I eagerly suggested walking out, for I longed to see the sea again. Emily and her aunt had several jobs to attend to around the house, so it was agreed that Georgie and I would stroll along the shore together before lunch, and that we would all work together in the garden afterwards.

Wrapped in warm shawls, for there was a stiff breeze blowing off the sparkling sea, we walked briskly along the shore, pausing to collect any singularly attractive shells that we saw so that Georgie might have the opportunity to sketch them when she returned home.

“I do believe that I could live by the sea my whole life,” I declared at one point. “It is so very beautiful. I do not think I could ever be sad with such a marvelous sight before my eyes.”

“It is beautiful,” sighed my companion. “But not all of my memories of it are agreeable. I think I shall be content to visit the seaside occasionally but for the time being, I am happy to live at Pemberley.”

“Well that is lucky indeed Miss Darcy,” I laughed, “for I am sure that your brother is not ready to allow you to leave Pemberley for the seaside quite yet!”

To my horror, the delightful young woman beside me stopped still at my joke, her face frozen as she stared at me in shock.

“Georgie,” I gasped as I rushed back to her side. “What is it? Come, you must sit down.”

I led Georgie to a nearby bench, desperately searching my mind for an explanation for her current distress. Demurely she sat down, her eyes fixed on her trembling hands that she held, tightly clasped, in her lap. I covered her hands with mine, hoping to offer her some comfort as well as my sincere apologies. She looked up at the sound of my voice, interrupting my anxious request for her forgiveness.

“No Elizabeth,” she whispered between her sobs. “You have not done anything wrong. It is, it is just that – oh,” she cried, clearly very upset, “what will you think of me?”

“Georgie?” I asked gently. My mind whirled. What could possibly have caused her to be this upset? How could she ever think that I would think badly of her? I could as little imagine Georgie incurring anybody's rebuke as I could my own dear sister Jane. “I will listen if you wish to tell me, but please do not think that you must. I would not force a confidence from you that you do not wish to give.”

“I would like you to know. My brother has told me that he trusts you, and that is enough for me. Emily already knows, and I do not feel right keeping this from you.”

From this auspicious beginning, the quiet, unassuming girl I had lived with for the past few days went on to tell me a story which left me reeling.

Mr Darcy had, just less than a year ago, allowed his sister to leave the safety of Pemberley to live beside the sea at Ramsgate. While she was there, under the care of a paid companion, none other than Mr Wickham had also visited the small town, soon re-introducing himself to his childhood friend and lavishing his charming attention on her. Knowing how very congenial that man's conversation could be, I was not surprised to hear that Georgie had believed herself to be in love with him. My heart pounded in my chest as my mind raced ahead to the almost inevitable conclusion of her story.

“George assured me that he loved me, but that William would never agree to our union. He said, he said that William did not know what it was to love as we did, that his heart was too cold for feelings of such passion. I am ashamed to admit it, but at the time I believed him. I was so foolish that I would have believed him if he had told me that red was blue and that two and two made five.” I smiled at her attempt to lighten the atmosphere, squeezing her hands supportively as she gathered the courage to continue.

“It was all so exciting, Lizzy. He was so handsome and charming. It was as though we were the only two people in the world who existed. When he asked me to elope with him, I thought it the most wonderful thing imaginable. It was all I wanted. I did not even think about what William would say. I suppose I did not want to. Life was so much easier with George. I did not have to be Georgiana Darcy, the earl's niece, heir to the Pemberley estate. I could just be me. Only I turned out to be a fool.

“William came to visit me the very day that we were due to leave for Scotland. He could see from my face how happy I was, and when he asked me why, I could not lie to him. I told him all.” She finally raised her eyes to mine, fear creeping into them at the memory of that horrible day. “It was terrible. I have never seen him so angry. Not with me,” she hastened to add, “but with George, and with himself. He sent Mrs Younge, my companion, home straight away, then waited for George to come and visit me. When he did, he dragged him straight into another room and locked the door. I heard them yelling and punching each other. It was the most frightening thing I have ever known.”

The way in which her shuddering hands clung to mine as she spoke betrayed the depth of her distress. Around us, the sunny spring day continued, unheeding of her sorry tale. I sat silently as she composed herself again, knowing that she would continue when she was ready.

“When they finally came out, William called for two servants to escort George out of the house. He was covered in blood. They tried to get him out of the house without him seeing me again, but he must have caught sight of me hiding at the top of the stairs, for he stopped and shouted up at me, telling me that - that I was an unusually pleasant means of making money, and that he would have enjoyed being my husband. Lord, Lizzy, you should have seen the way he leered at me when he said that. It was, he looked like an animal. He certainly wasn't the man I had known, but I am glad that I saw it. Otherwise I am not sure that I would ever have believed the truth – that he did not love me. He just wanted my money.”

I took Georgie into my arms as she wept openly for the loss of her innocence and the corruption of mankind. The world was certainly no blissful paradise for her any longer. I marvelled at how composed she was considering all that she had been through at that cad's hands. She cried for a long time, weeping away her sorrow and hurt. When she had caught her breath again, she moved from my embrace and requested that we walk as she finished her tale.

“Ramsgate is on the east coast of Kent, about forty miles from here. The same day that he learned about George and I, William brought me here. That's why Emily and Anthony are so important to us – they looked after us when we did not know how to care for ourselves any more. I think my brother suffered even more than I did, that is why Anthony ordered him to take a holiday, to leave me here with the family and go to visit Mr Bingley in Hertfordshire.” Reaching out for me with both her hands, Georgie clasped my arms and pleaded with me. “Do not judge my brother too harshly Lizzy. He has told me that he was not in the best of moods in Hertfordshire, that he offended people wherever he went. But that is not how he truly is. He is the best of men, truly. If he was less than a gentleman, then it is because of me, not because of any fault in him.”

I could not hold her gaze when she spoke so earnestly. In truth, I had all but forgotten his proud behaviour when first we met. Georgie was right, he was a different man now. A happier man. Thoughts battled for space in my head: Mr Darcy, Mr Wickham, Georgie. The poor, innocent girl. I tightened my grip on her arm as we walked on, both silently meditating on all that she had revealed.

We were almost back at the house again before either of us spoke.

“Georgie,” I turned to her. “My sisters are still often in the company of Mr Wickham. I will not break your confidence, but I feel that I must warn them to stay away from him.” She nodded her ascent without looking at me. Wanting to cheer us both up a little, I then asked mischievously, “There is just one part of your story which I would like to confirm if I may? When Mr Darcy punched Wickham at the bottom of the stairs, did he hit him very hard?”

It did the trick. Miss Darcy glanced up at me, saw the laughter in my eyes and we were finally both able to laugh a little at the situation. Relieved, we hurried in to lunch, not wanting to be late for another of Emily's meals.

I'm sure that everyone could sense that there was something different about Georgie that afternoon. She withdrew into herself, doubtless reliving those awful moments in Ramsgate when her brother had been locked away with Wickham. How I detested that man for his lies and his scheming! How disappointed I was in myself for believing him! My resolution to write to my family to make them aware of how little that man was to be trusted remained firm, but the act had to be postponed until that evening as the chance to help Emily in her garden proved too tempting.

“Goodness,” I cried, standing up from the flowerbed and brushing soil from my skirts. Georgie was sat not far away, working on her sketches, and looked up at my exclamation. “What would Miss Bingley say if she saw me know?” I laughed.

I was pleased to get a genuine if small smile in response. “May I see what you are drawing?” I enquired, hoping that she would not mind my forwardness in asking. “I never learnt to draw I am afraid, but I do not think I would have had the patience for it anyway.”

“They are only small sketches,” she said quietly as I came to stand beside her to look over her shoulder. I had thought that she was drawing the flowers that she had picked and arranged on the table in front of her. Instead, her paper was covered with little drawings of Emily and I as we worked, bent over flowerbeds, digging up weeds, watering in newly planted seedlings.

“These are wonderful Georgie,” I exclaimed. “I had no idea you were so talented. The likenesses are so well captured. Why, you have even caught the way Emily bites her tongue between her teeth as she works.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean Lizzy,” came Emily's voice behind me. “Tell her I do no such thing Georgie.”

“I'm afraid you do Emily dear,” our friend asserted.

“Look,” I said triumphantly, pointing to the sketch as proof.

“Well there it is,” she said as she considered the drawing. “I cannot argue with that. But I never knew that I did it.”

“Really?” asked Georgie curiously. “You do it a lot of the time,” she added. “When you read, when you sew. Even William has commented on it.”

“Oh dear,” muttered Emily. “I wonder that no-one has ever told me before.”

“I shouldn't worry,” Georgie consoled her, a cheeky smile creeping back onto her young face. “William told me that Anthony finds it most endearing.” My friends both blushed deeply at that, but Georgie's good humour was restored.

“May I have this Georgie?” I asked her, picking up one of the sketches she had done of me. “I was intending to write to my family this evening, and I'm sure that they would be delighted with it.”

“But it is such a silly little sketch. I would be embarrassed for them to see it.”

After much assurance on my part that it was a very good and pretty little picture, I managed to persuade Georgie to let me have it and excused myself to go inside and write my letter, attempting to make my account of recent events as undramatic as possible for the sake of my mother's nerves. In a separate note to my father, and in the most direct terms possible without compromising my friend, I implored him to keep my sisters away from Mr Wickham, for once glad that my sisters and I had little in the way of a dowry to attract the attentions of unscrupulous men like him.

The next few days at Augustine Lodge passed happily for those of us blessed with its protection. Georgie and I participated in the life of the family, helping Clara with her lessons, flying the kite on the beach with Thomas, sewing in the parlour with Emily, reading aloud to Mrs Tomlinson. One evening, after Emily had given me a second, slightly more successful archery lesson, Georgiana approached me, fidgeting with the piece of paper she held in her hands.

Nervously, she offered it to me. Taking my time to look as whatever was so auspicious as to warrant such timidity in one who I had become so close to, I floated my eyes away from her and to the paper that now sat in front of me. I gasped as I took in the image before me – an exquisite line drawing of myself, posed with a bow and arrow, my head held high and my shoulders back. I examined the image carefully, absorbing every line, studying the expression that she had captured on my face. Remembering how I had felt exposed while Mr Darcy stood watching me shoot, I felt blood rush to my face as I now saw myself from the same angle.

Realising how rude my silence must seem, I sought words to tell Georgie how moved I was by her gift, which was indeed, one of the nicest things I had ever been given. She accepted my thanks and praise with her quiet grace, but I could see that she was genuinely pleased with my reaction. Standing up, I reached for her hand and squeezed it appreciatively, before asking Emily if we might practice the duet we had been working on.

Please do not think that in our comfortable situation with the Saxby's we had forgotten our friends as Rosings. Our thoughts were constantly with them, Georgie was often distracted with worry for her brother and her cousin's health. But at the same time there was nothing we could do for them at such a distance. Instead, our lot was simply to wait until news came. I know that Georgie was disappointed not to have received a letter by the third morning of our stay. We were all anxious for news, but knew that there would be little time for anyone to write to us when there was so much work to be done.

Still, on our daily walks, our conversations were full of speculation regarding the culprits behind the fire and their possible motivations. At times, some of our ideas were quite humorous, at others most serious and worrisome. Whoever had set the fire had shown little regard for the safety of those in the house, but, I reassured Georgiana, neither did her family appear to be the targets of the crime: more likely the thieves were after the contents of the safe. We decided that they were unlikely to be under further threat, rather it was the Colonel and Mr Darcy's health which was now in danger – from the unrelenting, impossible demands of their aunt.

Our waiting came to an end on the fourth morning after we had arrived when Thomas Saxby spotted a lone rider coming up the road towards the lodge. Georgie and I, accompanied by the whole family, hurried out to greet him as he descended from his horse, eager to hear all that he had to tell us. He greeted Georgie with an affectionate kiss, then turned and bowed to the rest of us before allowing Emily to lead him into the house for tea and discussion.

Chapter 13

“So Richard,” said Mr Saxby when Emily and Mrs Tomlinson finally sat down, indicating that they believed the Colonel to be suitably provided with refreshments and that conversation might begin, “what news from Rosings?”

“A bad business I am afraid,” he replied, with a shake of his head, and indeed, he did not look at all his usual carefree self. Clearly he had not slept well for the last few nights. “But before I tell you all, I have two promises to fulfil. The first is to convey to you all Darcy's apologies that he is not here. Unfortunately for him, he suffers the misfortune of being Aunt Catherine's favourite and most intelligent nephew. I believe that if one looked very carefully, in amongst the gaggle of workmen, lawyers, bankers, servants, stewards, constables and family members that currently surround Rosings, you might just find him somewhere in the middle, trying to make sense of it all.”

“Poor William,” exclaimed Georgiana, deeply concerned for her brother's welfare. “Is our aunt being very terrible to him?”

“More so than usual. She refuses to see sense and depart to London, which in itself is causing him all sorts of problems. But I believe he suffers more from her constant reminders about his how it is his familial duty to marry Anne.”

I felt Georgie's eyes on me, but refused to look up, embarrassed at the flush that I felt creeping across my face. How I wanted to see him again, to offer him comfort and help. It was too much that he had to cope with Lady Catherine, and I found myself growing angry with Colonel Fitzwilliam for leaving him to face her alone. He surely had enough to do, dealing with the aftermath of the fire while also trying to manage his own affairs without also having to deal with his aunt's marital fantasies. Poor William indeed I wanted to cry.

“My second task however is much more pleasant. How he found the time I do not know, but Darcy gave me this for you.” Even before I had time to realise that it would be impossible for Mr Darcy to have written to me, my head shot up with expectation, only for my hopes to be dashed when it was to Georgiana that the Colonel handed a letter. “These,” he said meaningfully, having caught my excited gaze, “are for you Miss Bennet.”

“A letter from Jane!” I cried happily, quickly recovering from my earlier disappointment. “And one from Charlotte. Thank you for bringing them.”

“In return for such a smile Miss Bennet, it is my pleasure. But you should really save your thanks for my cousin. It was he who collected them from Mrs Collins.”

“But it is you who brought them to me sir,” I added, hoping that my disappointment at the other cousin's absence was not too obvious.

“Well now,” Anthony broke in, “perhaps you ladies will excuse us if Richard updates us while you read your letters?”

As much as I wanted to read them, I was as eager as everyone else to hear of events at Rosings since we had been gone. However I was also aware of the fact that my relationship with the Darcy family was not the same as that shared by the Saxby's. Upon asking the Colonel if he would rather I leave to read my letters elsewhere, he replied that he had been given leave by his cousin to tell me all, since, they reasoned, I had a right to know the meaning behind all that had happened.

After receiving Georgie's ascent to proceed with his tale, her cousin immediately began speaking. Quietly, I slipped my finger under the seal of Charlotte's letter, which would no doubt contain my friend's astute opinions on all that had occurred. Her letter was not overly long, but I could tell at a glance that she had much to impart.

My attention divided between the two, I scanned the missive in my hand while listening to Richard's narrative. He began with the worst news, that Rosings had been condemned as uninhabitable: the bare ruins that remained were being pulled down to make way for an entirely new building. Lady Catherine had, apparently, set her heart upon hiring one of the finest London architects to create a thoroughly modern design, incorporating all the latest fashions and conveniences. Unfortunately for her though, Colonel Fitzwilliam explained, it was not to be that simple.

“Darcy has been his usual discrete self about this, but it appears that he has been subsidising the Rosings estate for some years now. Do you remember when Mr Archer – our aunt's old steward,” he explained for our benefit, “left several years ago Georgie?” She nodded nervously. “I am sorry to say that it turns out that Darcy had no choice but to throw him out after he discovered that Archer had been defrauding the estate of thousands. He left Rosings practically bankrupt and in a terrible state. The income from the estate falls well below its running costs, so that only William's generosity has kept Lady Catherine and Anne from ruin these last few years.”

Here he paused, to give us time to digest what he was saying. If my thoughts were with Mr Darcy rather than his aunt, I hope you will not hold it against me. What a terrible time he must be enduring. I wondered how much of the truth Lady Catherine had already known. In any case, I doubted that she would have listened quietly to his refusal to fulfill her desires.

“So any hope of our aunt overseeing the erection of her idea of a grand house have thankfully been avoided,” Colonel Fitzwilliam went on, in a poor attempt at humour. “Darcy has offered to purchase a home for her and Anne somewhere but she will not have it. The only option she will consider is that of removing to Pemberley, with Anne as its mistress. Needless to say,” he added, laying a consoling hand on his cousin's knee, “he will have none of it. Do not worry, my dear. There is no way that he will allow our aunt to even visit Pemberley before he is sure that she is happily situated elsewhere.”

“But what if she will not go anywhere else?” asked Georgie timidly.

“My father will insist that she does,” he replied matter of factly. “Lady Catherine may think she can persuade Darcy to bend to her will, but she will not even attempt it with Father. He is the only person who she dare not disobey.

“But I was speaking of that dog Archer. It turns out that he recently re-established contact with Wildgoose, our aunt's butler. Unbeknownst to Darcy, who had thought all of the staff's wages secure, Aunt Catherine appears to have been appropriating the money that he had set aside for that purpose and spending it on whatever she wished. Understandably then, Wildgoose and the others have felt less than loyal to her and Anne.” My mind raced ahead to what could only be the horrifying conclusion of his tale, a discovery that left me cold. Mr Saxby spoke my thoughts aloud.

“It was they who started the fire?”

“Indeed,” nodded the Colonel grimly. “Archer has been out of work since leaving Rosings, and Wildgoose – well, the man is a fool. Our aunt employed him years ago against the advice of Darcy and myself. I believe she liked the idea of having a handsome young butler to attend her. Anyway, once Archer found out that Wildgoose and the others had not been paid for months, he quickly began recruiting hands for his evil scheme.”

“To what end Colonel?” uninterrupted Mrs Tomlinson.

“Lady Catherine was fully aware of her financial situation, yet she refused to sell much of her jewelry, claiming that it was Darcy's duty to support her. Neither would she ever concede to the pieces being stored away from Rosings. Many heirloom pieces were stored in the safe -”

“That was found open and empty after the fire,” Georgie finished for him. He confirmed the sad news with a nod.

We sat in silence, absorbing the shocking truth. I could well believe that Lady Catherine's own greed and inflated sense of self had been the original spark behind the blaze, but still I could not help but feel a little sympathy for her. To lose all of one's wealth was an unthinkable horror

Georgie was the next to speak, asking after Miss de Bourgh's health.

The Colonel looked away, as though preparing himself to impart some terrible news.

“She is not well Georgie. She coughs and coughs, but she will not eat and is grown very thin and pale. She and her mother continue to insist that she must be moved, but I do not think she would survive the ordeal.”

I had already picked up my letter again, anxiously looking for Charlotte's description of the situation. “How does Mrs Collins sir?” I asked, eager to hear his view of her health.

“Your friend is a most amazing woman Miss Bennet,” he said with sincerity. “She nurses my cousin herself, and still manages her own household and provides my cousin and I with counsel. If I may speak candidly, then I would add that she seems tired – hardly a surprising consequence of attending a sick woman, but I must also confess that Anne is a terrible patient, whom I would not wish upon anyone in even the best of circumstances. Darcy has of course insisted on hiring a nurse for her, but I believe that much of the burden still falls upon your resourceful friend.”

The admiration that the Colonel felt for Charlotte was clear in his voice, and for a moment I could not help but wish that he had come to Hertfordshire with Mr Darcy and his friend, that he might have made her acquaintance before Mr Collins arrived. But it had not happened that way, and now was not the time for romantic musings. Besides, Charlotte would not thank me for them.

“And what about William?” asked Emily.

“He is overworked and overburdened, so not altogether different from usual,” replied the Colonel, earning a genuine laugh from Mr Saxby. “More seriously though, he is surprisingly well for a man who has taken on such a task. Do not forget Emily, Darcy thrives under pressure. But I think he is at the limit of what he can handle. There is much that needs to be done, and he insists upon handling all himself. It is almost as though I were not there!”

“How is his health cousin?” asked Georgiana, clearly wishing that he would be more serious.

“Do not fret sweetling,” he replied, his carefree smile supporting his words. “He is well, if a little tired. He would have been here today had Lady Catherine not arrived unannounced at our lodgings this morning to demand his attendance upon her.”

I was sure that I knew why she had done that. It could hardly be a coincidence that, on the morning he was to see me again, that woman had insisted that he remain with her. I turned away that the others might not see my fury at her scheming and interference.

“When will he come Richard?” queried Georgie, her voice full of longing to see her brother again. “Not that it is not wonderful to see you,” she added quickly.

“As soon as he can, I promise. I will tell him that you were all terribly disappointed by my visit today and that he must come at once to cheer you all up!”

Of course, we all sought to assure Colonel Fitzwilliam of our happiness in seeing him, causing that gentleman to laugh greatly at our exaggerated protestations of delight.

“Ah, that is better,” he sighed dramatically once he had been satiated by our praise and adoration.

Emily got up at that point to refill the teapot and serve refreshments. While the others ate, Georgie and I finally took the time to read our correspondence. I laid the letter from Jane aside, intending to read it later when I was at leisure and could detach my mind somewhat from the tragedy of all that we had spoken of this morning.

Charlotte's letter was not long – from what Colonel Fitzwilliam had told us I presumed that she had not had much time for writing. Reading between the lines, I was able to gather that Lady Catherine continued to make her unwanted presence felt at the parsonage, much to everyone's misery, and that Miss de Bourgh had managed to become an even more difficult patient since Georgie and I had left. Poor Charlotte, I thought, an audible sigh escaping me and catching the ear of the Colonel who moved to take a seat nearer to mine. Looking up at him, he gestured for me to go on reading, happy to wait until I had finished the letter before speaking.

Despite her attempts to sound cheerful, Charlotte was my oldest friend and I could tell that she was unhappy. She praised Mr Darcy and his cousin for their gentlemanly attentions and support, but it was obvious that the demands of the two de Bourgh ladies were weighing heavily upon her. Her husband, unsurprisingly, was only making matters worse, pandering to Lady Catherine's whims and encouraging her daughter;'s outlandish behaviour.

Most of the rest of the letter contained details which had already been related to us that morning, with the exception of one little addition that Colonel Fitzwilliam had not mentioned. Apparently, when Charlotte had helped to bathe Miss de Bourgh that week, she had found a number of bruises and marks covering her body. At first, Charlotte had not spoken of these to anyone, preferring to speak first to Miss de Bourgh herself once she had recovered a little. On attempting to raise the matter with her patient though, Charlotte had received only a torrent of abuse from the one she was trying to care for, and so she had let the matter drop only to mention it in the strictest confidence to Mr Darcy the next morning.

Neither of them could find an explanation for the marks, some of which Charlotte said appeared to be quite old. It was indeed a great puzzle, and for the first time in a while I felt a degree of sympathy for the pathetic creature.

Perhaps observing the change in my expression caused by reading this latest piece of news, the Colonel leaned forward to ask me if I was alright. Not certain as to whether he was party to this information or not I dared not mention it to him, for, I decided, if Mr Darcy had chosen not to tell him then he must have done so for good reason. Assuring the Colonel that I was quite well, just concerned for Mrs Collins' well being at such a time, I was able soon to move the conversation on to safer topics, including Georgie's happiness at seeing the Saxby's again.

“Yes, they are good people,” he replied hesitantly. Realising that he did not know that I now knew of Georgie's history with Mr Wickham, I sought to inform him as unobtrusively as possible that she had confessed the truth of events to me.

“It seems that you have quite captivated my cousins, Miss Bennet,” he said with a short laugh. “First Darcy, and now Georgie seek to include you in all their secrets.”

There was no answer to that, except that I am sure I blushed from head to toe.

“And what's more,” he added off handedly, “I think that they are both much improved for having done so. Georgie laughs more than I have seen, and Darcy. Well! Except that he is still the same impenetrable wall of good breeding and restrained politeness when he is around my aunt, he is almost a different person.”

My ears burning, I could not constrain my curiosity.

“Mr Darcy certainly is not the haughty gentleman that I first mistook him for when we met in Hertfordshire, but I am intrigued as to how you think he has changed over this last week sir? Perhaps he is making jokes with the servants and wearing his hat at a jaunty angle?”

“Dear me, was he really so terrible in Hertfordshire as all that? I suppose he must have been, after all that he had been through that summer, to have Bingley drag him off to his new estate had seemed like a wonderful plan, until we learnt that the dreaded sister was to be there too. Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but I suspect that Miss Bingley failed to win over the hearts and minds of the good people of Hertfordshire?”

“Indeed she did sir,” I laughed. “If I had not already met Mr Bingley, then I would doubt the possibility that anyone could remain in the company of his sisters for long and remain good humoured. I should apologise to Mr Darcy for not realising how he suffered before!”

We spoke of other things for a while, until I gave in to an impulse that had been gnawing away at me for some time.

“Tell me Colonel. Do you have any idea why Mr Darcy has been so courteous to me since coming to Rosings? I do not mean,” I rushed to add as I realised how my question could be taken, “I do not mean to ask if he – that is,” I took a deep breath, attempting to ignore the knowing smile on my companion's face, “When we met previously, Mr Darcy was, to put it mildly, somewhat withdrawn. But since coming to Rosings, he has been most courteous and attentive. I am at a loss to explain what has changed.”

Taking his time to formulate a reply, the Colonel drew his chair a little closer to mine, and angled it so that he could observe the room in front of us.

“I believe the answer to your question is not what, but whom.” I followed his line of vision to see his eyes resting upon Georgiana.

“Georgie?”

“Last summer, after that scoundrel took advantage of her, Georgie taught Darcy everything he knows about withdrawing. Both of them are shy by nature, but after he found her with Wickham, it took all of our efforts to get more than a syllable out of her. It was like she was broken inside and there seemed little sign of her getting better. When Bingley and I forced Darcy to go to – what was the name of his estate?”

“Netherfield,” I supplied, slightly annoyed at his attention to detail at such a point in his tale.

“That's it. Right, well, at the time when Bingley dragged Darcy off to Netherfield, Georgie had still not recovered but for both of their sakes we felt that putting a little distance between them might be helpful, so, against his wishes, Darcy went to Hertfordshire, still suffering the consequences, as he saw it, of sending Georgie to Ramsgate with that deceitful woman.”

I stared at my hands, the enormity of all the siblings had suffered overwhelming me.

“But when he left Netherfield last December, he found Georgie better,” I supplied.

“Yes. Not as well as she is now, but vastly improved from a few months before,” he concurred.

“And hence her brother is also happier and more himself.”

He nodded, pausing as we both dwelt upon all that he had revealed. Across the room, Georgie must have sensed us both observing her, for she soon looked up and came over to join us, begging her cousin to stay for lunch and to join us both on our daily walk.

Desirous of reading Jane's letter, I encouraged them to walk on ahead, as I wished to stroll through the gardens and enjoy the news from home. No doubt even my mother's ramblings would be peaceful after all that happened to me in Kent.

After collecting our shawls, I parted company from the cousins in front of the house and settled myself on a small bench overlooking Emily's well tended garden. I ran my fingers over Jane's letter – it promised to be long and full of news from home. A pang of homesickness shot through me as I thought of them all, sitting around the breakfast table, squabbling and shrieking as usual, with Jane and Father observing them all in their habitual quiet. How I missed them!

Ripping open the seal, I feasted my eyes on three pages of my sister's neat penmanship.

I gasped aloud after reading just the first two lines. Skipping the usual pleasantries, my calm sister's excitement bounced off the page: Mr Bingley had returned to Netherfield!

I read on, unable to contain my excitement as I learned that he had arrived the same day that Jane wrote, that he had visited my family at Longbourn as soon as may be, and that he had been as attentive to Jane as she could ever have hoped.

“But what of his sudden departure last year Jane? Do not let yourself be hurt again,” I cried.

She continued on, singing the praises of Mr Bingley, in raptures – by anyone's standards – over his manners and amiability. And then I found the answer to my question:

Mr Darcy.

He had discouraged his friend from his courtship of Jane, had told him that he did not believe she truly cared for him. But, Jane went on, all was forgiven for it was the same Mr Darcy who had visited Mr Bingley in London just a few days ago to tell his friend that he had been wrong and that, if he still cared for my sister, he should return to his estate at once.

Jane's explanation was not the clearest I have ever read – but what can you expect from a young woman in love – and it took me several readings to understand what had happened. Mr Darcy had separated Jane from Bingley, but had then told his friend to return to the woman he loved. There were several blanks in Jane's story that I could fill for myself. It was I who had told Mr Darcy that my sister loved his friend, and it was the very next day that he had gone to London, ostensibly on business. What was it he had told Mrs Tomlinson? That his business had gone better than he had dared hope.

I rose, walking around, my sensibilities greatly agitated by what I was reading. I did not know whether to be angry at him for his interference or to be thankful for bringing them back together. Jane and her Mr Bingley had evidently forgiven him, but who was he to interfere in their lives in the first place?

My conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam had revealed a different side of Mr Darcy's personality to me, had shown me that he was a man who felt deeply, who had been hurt badly. No doubt it would have been hard for him to see one of his closest friend's almost ally himself with a penniless girl who refrained from showing her emotions, especially so soon after Wickham had nearly destroyed his sister.

“But really,” I exclaimed with a stamp of my foot, “Who does he think he is?”

Realising that there was still more than half of Jane's letter to go, I returned to the bench I had previously been resting on to finish reading. Mostly Jane wrote lover's nonsense, but also snippets about life at home: our mother's exclamations over Mr Bingley's return, our sisters' silliness, a line mentioning that Father missed me.

After all that had occurred in the past week, it was enough to tip me over the edge. Tears welled up in my eyes, tears of happiness for Jane, of sympathy for Charlotte, even a few of sadness for all that had befallen Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh. But mainly I cried for myself, as though my heart could not contain all the emotions that had been stirred up inside it.

Chapter 14

Following the Colonel's visit, I had much to think about, and was glad of a few day's reprieve before Mr Darcy we finally saw his cousin. His interference with my sister's happiness I could not forgive easily even while I knew that the parties most intimately involved had managed to do just that.

Curious to have their opinions, I brought up the topic of Mr Bingley with the family and Georgiana at breakfast the next morning.

“Bingley?” Mr Saxby had repeated cheerfully. “Now there's a charming fellow. Not the best of students, but you just can't help liking the man.”

“And such a good friend to William,” added Emily, with Georgie's nodded agreement. “From the outside, they seem like such an odd pairing, but I do believe they bring out the best in each other.”

“My brother does always seem more relaxed around Mr Bingley,” concurred Georgie. “If it was not for his persistence, I don't think William would ever go out in the evenings at all.”

I smiled wryly at that, immediately rousing the interest of the others at the table.

“Oh my Lizzy,” cried Emily, “I do believe you have a story to tell us. Some dance in Hertfordshire perhaps?”

For a moment I hesitated, not sure if I could relate the story fairly after yesterday's revelations. But a bubble of laughter escaped me and after that there was no holding back.

“I am afraid that it would be more correct to say 'dances'.” Good humoured disapproval showed on everyone's faces – they truly did care for Mr Darcy, but his faults were not hidden to any of them. “The first incident was at a local assembly, when he danced but twice, with Miss Bingley and her sister, even though gentlemen were scarce and many ladies had to sit out.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Georgie. Understanding that she probably blamed herself for her brother's ill humour at that time, and not wanting to distress her in any way, I squeezed her hand and flashed her my most mischievous grin as I continued.

“But there is worse!” I continued dramatically. “Mr Bingley – who danced every dance with such good humour that he became an instant favourite – attempted to persuade your brother to dance rather than, as he put it, stand around in that stupid manner.”

“And what did Will say to that?” asked Georgie, sensing that this was a story to be laughed at rather than taken too seriously.

“You will be shocked I am sure, and I am sorry to have to relate your brother's impoliteness to you but his reply was that there was no-one in the room apart from Mr Bingley's own sisters who he could possibly stand up with. Which in itself was not so very bad, except that then, Mr Bingley encouraged him to ask me to dance, to which Mr Darcy responded that I was merely tolerably and not nearly handsome enough to tempt him.”

The responses of the family at the table ranged from shocked giggles to full laughter, with Emily and Mr Saxby particularly enjoying the anecdote. Now that sufficient time had passed, I too could laugh at the encounter, but my appreciation of it was soured somewhat by more recent revelations.

However I must have disguised my feelings well enough, for I was soon telling them an abbreviated version of events at Lucas Lodge and the Netherfield Ball. I did not tell them the full extent of my previous dislike of Mr Darcy or of his ungracious behaviour towards the good people of Meryton. But we all enjoyed a little sport at his expense over our morning meal, and if it made me feel a little better to speak badly of him for a time, then I have no regrets.

Our time at Augustine Lodge would have been blissful had it not been for the shadow of the tragedy at Rosings. Georgie and I both suffered several nightmares while we were there. Mine often featured the dying boy I had held, or transported the blaze from Kent to Longbourn, with my own family its victims. One time, I awoke panting, images of Mr Darcy's burnt body still haunting my mind, and making it impossible for me to return to sleep that night.

But our days were largely free from such worries, and with few useful occupations to fill our time, Georgie and I enjoyed a week of reading, long walks and archery lessons from Emily. By the time that Mr Darcy returned I was becoming moderately proficient, hitting the rings of the target with relative frequency and with an increased understanding of the correct technique. It was a sport I enjoyed, and it provided us with a leisurely means of passing an afternoon. Clara often shot with me, with Thomas collecting any wayward arrows and keeping score for us.

And so it was that Mr Darcy found us one sunny afternoon. We had not heard his horse approaching, for Georgie was seated just inside the house, playing for us as we practised, but one moment, when I looked up from making a particularly good shot, he was simply there, standing beside the gate, his horse behind him, both of them hot from the journey.

Noticing where my gaze fell, Clara was the first to greet him, crying his name and running to open the gate for him. As he stepped inside, the rest of the party hurried to meet him, Emily calling to the kitchen for a cold drink. I followed more slowly, carefully returning my bow to its stand before joining the others.

“Miss Bennet,” he bowed to me as I approached, a strange smile on his lips as he did so.

“Mr Darcy,” I returned his greeting, confusion at my feelings for the gentleman overwhelming me as I did so.

I left it to Emily and Georgie to lead him to a seat and fill him in on all that we had happened in the last week since we had seen him. He demurred on relating the news from Rosings until later. Disappointed though she was, as she desperately wanted to hear of Anne's health and her aunt's situation, I do not believe that Georgie would have dared to push him even under the best of circumstances, but as it was, his countenance betrayed how tired he was, and it was clear that he simply wanted to enjoy our company for a while.

My determination to speak with him faltered as I observed how happy he was to be in his sister's company again. At the next pause in the conversation however, he reached into his coat and handed me another thick packet from Jane.

“Thank you sir,” I said, refusing to meet his eye as I reached out to take it.

“I also received a letter from Netherfield this morning,” he informed me, a note of a smile in his voice. I looked up, to see the same strange look on his face that I had noted earlier.

“And did you approve of all that Mr Bingley had to tell you?” I could not help asking.

“I was most pleased with all of his news,” he replied. “Perhaps you would like a moment to yourself to read your own letter,” he added.

“If you will excuse me,” I said to Emily, attempting to look as though I was asking for my own sake and not at his encouragement, “I should like to see what Jane has to say.”

“Of course Elizabeth,” she granted. “Take as long as you need. I will have tea served when you return.”

Fingering Jane's letter excitedly, for I believed that I knew what might have prompted her to write again so soon, I walked inside to the parlour where Georgie had previously sat at the instrument. It was as I had hoped – Mr Bingley had proposed to my beautiful, worthy sister, and words could not express her joy. Not that that stopped her from trying. Line after line was filled with her love for him. I was thrilled for her, delighted that she had found a man who returned her love and respect.

Half way through my letter I could not contain my happiness and ran out of the room to rejoin the others in the garden and share the happy news with them. Mr Darcy of course, knew already, but he had refrained from telling the ladies that, I suspected, I might have the pleasure of doing so.

Georgiana was truly pleased, jumping up to embrace me and ask when she might have the chance to meet Jane. Emily was equally excited, and also expressed her hope to make the acquaintance of my sister one day.

“And you sir?” I asked with as little malice as I could manage. “What are your opinions on the news?”

If I had not been looking for it, I would have missed the momentary hesitation that preceded his answer.

“I am delighted for them. It is a wonderful love match, and my greatest pleasure is to hear that my friend is so happy.”

“Yes,” replied Emily before I had a chance to respond. “We had heard that Charles had been disappointed in love, but I suppose that is all forgotten now. He has always been able to bounce back quickly.”

Suddenly I was able to stare directly at our visitor, determined to see how he reacted to Emily's little speech. When he did not reply, I foolishly let my emotions rule my tongue.

“Actually I believe that the attachment between my sister and Mr Bingley has existed for some time, but some of those closest to her fiancé thought her an unsuitable match for him and tried to separate him from her.” I could see that my statement had upset more than one person around the table, for it was not the sort of thing that one was meant to say aloud. “I am sorry,” I said abruptly, before repeating my apology in a more sincere tone. “Forgive me Georgie, Emily. It is just that my sister has been denied six months of happiness and I find that hard to accept. Maybe I will go for a walk to clear my head.”

I rose to leave, and had got halfway across the garden when I heard Mr Darcy call my name. When I turned, I saw him walking towards me with long, bold strides. Soon he was beside me, requesting permission to accompany me.

I did not have much choice, since a refusal would surely distress his sister unduly. I nodded my acceptance but chose to ignore his offered arm.

“Your sister told you of my advice to Bingley last winter?” he asked at length.

“Advice? I would rather say that she related to me how you worked to separate them,” I retorted angrily.

Again he remained silent, which only infuriated me further. This time though, I was determined that it would be he who spoke next. “Your sister and my friend have forgiven me Miss Bennet. Will you at least hear me out?”

I did not answer immediately, finding it easier to be angry with him than accept the possibility of a reasonable justification for his actions. Eventually I walked to a rustic seat at the end of the garden and sat down upon it, telling him as I did so that he should go ahead.

“Very well, but first, let me say again how pleased I am for Miss Bennet and Bingley. I am sure that they will be very happy together.” I nodded to show that I had heard him and gestured for him to continue. “Last year at Netherfield, I observed that Bingley was well on his way to believing himself in love with Miss Bennet. It also came to my attention that many, including your own mother, expected him to propose soon after the ball that he held. What your acquaintance did not know was that Bingley has something of a reputation for falling in and out of love easily. I did not believe him to be as close to a proposal as you may have suspected.

“Equally, and I will admit that this was my major consideration, I watched your sister closely and did not see Bingley's affection returned by her. She smiled and accepted his attentions, but there did not appear to be any sign of deeper feeling in her reaction to him. My friend deserved better than to fall prey to a fortune hunter, and I was determined to save him from that at all costs.”

By the time he stopped speaking, I was almost unspeakably furious at his presumptions.

“And you decided that you should be the person to make that decision for him? You assumed that you knew better than the two people -”

A sudden noise attracted my gaze to where Georgie sat with Emily. Instantly I ceased my rant as I recalled all that she had told me of her own near elopement for, I realised, while Mr Darcy had not been fair in his judgement, it was not solely his own errors that had caused him to act thusly.

Taking a deep breath, I realised that I had a question to ask him.

“Why did Mr Bingley return to Netherfield after all this time?”

He seemed to relax at my question, no doubt because he was expecting a venting of my anger.

“After we spoke of your sister last week, I realised my mistake and made it a priority to speak to Charles as soon as I might.”

“Which is why you traveled to London on Tuesday rather than Friday as you had originally planned?”

“Yes. Hearing that Miss Bennet was as unhappy as I knew Charles to be, I could not allow them to continue in that way any longer.” He paused, running a hand through his hair and pacing in front of me a good deal as though debating with himself whether to say anything further.

When he did not speak, I took the opportunity to say something.

“I will admit, sir, that when I first read the letter that Colonel Fitzwilliam brought with him, I was upset by your officious interference. Since then however, I have heard of several reasons why I should not judge your behaviour at that time too harshly, as well as your own explanation today. I am not as good as my sister - I cannot say that I have forgiven you yet, for I require more time to think on what you have told me, but I do not think that this will cause any lasting damage to our friendship.”

I willed my face to support my words, wanting to reassure him that he had not lost my good opinion forever.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, finally ceasing his pacing.

“Has Mr Bingley always been so amenable to your advice?” I asked, trying to sound light hearted.

“My friend has a very trusting nature,” he replied cautiously. “But he is also without malice or my own cynicism. Since we have been friends, I believe that we have taught each other many things, with varying levels of success. He has tried to teach me to relax, and I have helped him to manage his business affairs. On occasions I have also assisted him in difficult social situations.”

“Such as the society mama's and their daughters?”

Without looking directly at me, he nodded. I caught his hesitancy and easily inferred his meaning.

“And when you met our mother, you believed that she was only interested in promoting a marriage between Jane and Mr Bingley for his wealth?”

“It happens all the time, but I know it is not what Bingley wants. He has told me so himself,” he quickly added for fear that I would think him presumptuous again.

I took a moment to think on this. It was true that Mama wanted Jane to marry well, that she believed that to be the best means of securing her comfort after our father's death. But Jane herself would never have been happy with such an arrangement. Never having been very good at hiding my thoughts, I twisted my lips as I pondered all that he had said.

All of a sudden, he was sitting beside me, speaking.

“I readily admit that I was wrong about Miss Bennet. She was not merely following your mother's wishes in paying attention to Charles. But at the time,”

“That was what you assumed,” I finished for him.

“Yes.”

“And that was your only objection to the marriage?”

He was up and pacing again.

“Mr Darcy?” I enquired, curious to know what had agitated him so.

“No, Miss Elizabeth. I will not lie to you. It was not my only objection.” He continued to pace as he organised his thoughts. “Your sister is a beautiful and kind woman, but I had – still have in some ways – doubts about her suitability to be the mistress of the estate that Charles will one day own. She does not possess the accomplishments of many women. She does not play, or sing, she does not draw, she has not your wit or breadth of reading. These things hardly matter if she and Bingley truly love one another, but when I thought that she did not, I was concerned.”

“And that was all?”

“No,” he conceded. I was pleased to see his face redden as he spoke, evidence of his own discomfort. “I am afraid there were other objections.” He took a fortifying breath, and I prepared myself for another blow. “You and your sister have always behaved impeccably, but I am afraid that the same cannot be said for your family. Your mother in particular, but also your sisters and even, at times, your father, show none of the restraint or good sense that you and Miss Bennet possess. I am sorry to offend you, but it is true, and when coupled with your lack of relations or dowry, it must be a consideration for anyone thinking of proposing.”

That was a blow indeed. I had never thought of Jane as so wholly unsuitable for marriage before! It was my turn to stand and pace. His words about my family, while shaming and saddening were, I had to concede, also correct. They could be embarrassing and thoughtless, but I was fond of them and could also see the good in them. Speaking gently, for I did not want to provoke another argument, I told him so before going on to speak of Jane.

In some ways, I could accept that what he said of Jane was true, but my love for her and better knowledge of my sister's abilities enabled me to see what he had missed.

“I believe sir, that you have never had the opportunity to be in my sister's company away from our mother. Jane is very modest, but while I have always chosen to deal with my mother's rather boisterous nature by deliberately losing her favour, Jane has always preferred to remain quiet, revealing as little of her thoughts to Mama as possible. When we are alone, Jane is really very different, still kind and gentle, but much more willing to offer her own opinion. She also has the potential, when she can be her own mistress, to be a most charming hostess, with all of the skills needed to make her guests feel at home.”

“I am beginning to believe it. My own sister has always been quiet in company, but when with those she trusts, she has a quite charming personality. I simply regret that so few people get to see it.”

Now was the time for me to make a confession of my own.

“Georgie told me of her history with Mr Wickham,” I said simply.

“She did?” he asked in wonder. “I must say that I am surprised. She must trust you a great deal.”

“I believe that we have formed a very special friendship over the last week. But I should also say that it was I who asked.” I resumed my seat on the bench, making room for him to join me should he wish to. “I was trying to work out your character, and to understand how it was that you seemed so very changed from when we had met in Hertfordshire.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “There cannot have been many people in Meryton who regretted my departure. I certainly gave them little reason too.”

“No,” I agreed, “You did not. But then, from what I have heard, you had good reason to be unhappy.”

“Thank you for your understanding, but I cannot look on my behaviour at that time without regret.” He looked so unhappy that I felt the need to offer him some comfort.

“That may be so, but my sister has already forgiven you, and I believe that I am well on my way to doing so too. Perhaps in time even my mother might come to accept you as a potential suitor for one of her less favoured daughter's.” It took me a moment to realise what I had said, but once I did I coloured deeply. Mr Darcy, however, did not seem so discomforted.

“And do you think that one of her less favoured daughter's might ever be persuaded to accept me?” he asked quietly.

My breath caught in my throat, his meaning was all too clear. I retreated to my customary humour to deflect the tension that had formed between us.

“Well,” I began nervously, “I'm not sure that you are quite Mary's type, but Kitty may be tempted should she ever see you in a red coat.”

My joke, unfair to him though it was, seemed to do the trick as he let the subject drop, albeit with a slight sigh of disappointment.

“Perhaps we should rejoin the others Miss Bennet?” he asked, offering me his hand to assist me to stand.

Not wanting to finish our conversation at such a point, I remained where I was, trying to decide what I should say to him to convey my feelings.

“I have learnt a lot of things in this past week sir, all of which involve you in some way and most of which have been surprising in their honesty. I must ask you for more time to make sense of them all. I fear that at the moment you know better than I how long I will remain in Kent, but I hope that, whatever happens, I will see you again before long when perhaps I will be able to better understand my own feelings.”

“I would be here again tomorrow if I thought that was what you wanted Miss Elizabeth,” he breathed. “But since you have requested some time, then I suppose I can manage to wait until the day after before returning.”

His answer pleased me enormously, how could it not, and I let him know it as I allowed him to escort me back to the others.

Chapter 15

We returned to Emily's tea table to find it abandoned. One glance at the sky told us why – clouds where looming over the shoreline, threatening a heavy spring shower. As yet though, it remained dry, so Mr Darcy and I took our time wandering through the garden on our way into the house. We talked a little more of Jane and Bingley, my companion repeating his assertions of delight for the couple. At his prompting, I told him a little more of my family, especially of my parents and the curious upbringing my sister and I had shared.

He did not say so aloud, but it was clear that he could not comprehend why a governess had never been engaged for any of us. I too had often wondered about this, especially in my moments of despair over the conduct of my younger sisters. Ever discreet, what Mr Darcy instead chose to say, many times over, was that he and Charles had often remarked during their stay at Netherfield on how unlikely it was to find two young ladies such as Jane and myself amongst such a family. He did not need to say any more, his comments had me blushing enough – though whether with shame or modesty I cannot say. The two were closely intermingled, but I was not insensitive to the compliment.

By the time we joined the others in the drawing room, the first drops of rain were beginning to fall. As promised, Emily had tea and cake ready for us all, over which Mr Darcy related to us all that had happened at Rosings.

His news took much of the afternoon, and left us all deeply shocked. Since it is a long and sadly complicated story, I will retell it is the words of that usually quiet gentleman.

“Much has happened since Mrs Tomlinson kindly brought you and Miss Bennet to Augustine Lodge Georgie. But I should begin by telling you of our cousin and how she does.

“I am pleased to report that she is much improved, and that the doctor has consented to allow her to sit in Mrs Collins' parlour for part of the day. However, your friend will be possessed of her houseguest for some time yet Miss Bennet, as the good doctor still fears for her ability to withstand a journey of any length. In the meantime, Mr O'Keefe has done a marvellous job in finding accommodations for our aunt which she deems acceptable. Merely acceptable mind you,” he added with a wry smile. “It took all of Richard's charm and our uncle's obstinacy to get her to agree to it at all.

“In the longer term, it has been agreed that Lady Catherine will neither remain in Kent, where she refuses to stay unless Rosings is rebuilt for her, nor in London, where she simply refuses to go. Instead, our uncle has granted her and Anne the use of Clarendon Manor in north Wiltshire until such a time as they no longer require it. I do not suppose you remember it Georgie? We used to go there sometimes when the season became too much for mother, but I believe the house has been little used for many years. It is, however, in a good location, close to Bath and not too far from London, and we believe that our aunt will be well provided for there. She will be given an allowance of her own, but the staff will be hired and paid by my uncle.

“It appears that my aunt has got,” he paused, looking for the right words, “rather old without any of us noticing. Without meaning to, I think we have all rather neglected her of late. Of course, she is not the easiest person in the world to look after – and what an understatement that is,” he added with a genuine laugh, “I cannot tell you how many times I have had to bite my tongue around her this past week - but I realise now how wrong I was in trying to keep her mismanagement of the estate from wider attention.”

“Fitzwilliam,” interrupted Georgie, rising at once to go to him and kneel by his feet. “You cannot think that what happened was your fault?” He did not respond so she continued. “You are right that our aunt is not an easy person to help. She lives to dispense advice, but not once in my life have I seen her to take any. You did what you could to help her, and have done so much more since the fire. No-one could doubt the sincerity of your actions.”

He looked at his sister, gazing at her as though seeing her for the first time. Indeed, she was quickly transforming herself from a dependent girl to an accomplished young woman. I just hoped that Mr Darcy would be able to accept her as such.

“Thank you my darling,” he responded quietly. “I hope you are correct. Certainly I have learnt a lesson from this,” he said with a glance in my direction. “No single person can always solve everyone's problems on their own, no matter how hard they try or how good their intentions. Other people must be allowed to take their share of the burden too. I could never have persuaded Lady Catherine to take up residence in Wiltshire, yet Richard and his father managed it in no time at all.”

“And so you are saved from having her to live at Pemberley Darcy!” laughed Mr Saxby, saving his friend from the awkward silence that threatened to follow his confession.

He allowed himself a relieved grin. “Indeed I am, and I am thankful for it, believe me! It seems my uncle has even managed to quiet her on the issue of my marriage for which I am most grateful. But I am more happy to see her situated in a place that she is contented with. There will be many changes in my aunt's life in the coming months, and it will be easier for all of us if she has some element of choice in all that happens to her. Otherwise I fear she may become intolerable.”

Here the discussion veered away from direct events somewhat, several people commenting on Lady Catherine's character and joining Georgiana in her encouragement of Mr Darcy. There was much I could have said and I knew from the way he looked at me that Mr Darcy was aware of it too, but I really had no choice but to keep quiet. I could hardly tell my friends all that Lady Catherine had accused me of, although, from their amusingly satirical characterization to her, I was sure that they would enjoy my telling of it.

Seeing that his tea cup was empty, I rose to refill it, gaining a warm smile from that gentleman that brought a flush to my face. Once I had resumed my seat after pouring for Mrs Tomlinson and Emily also, he took up his tale again.

“It is hoped that Anne will be well enough to remove to Wiltshire by mid-summer, which has the advantage of allowing my uncle time to ready the house for them. Finding staff will be unfortunately difficult. The story of what has happened at Rosings will circulate quickly, and there will not be many ready to work for such an employer. However, between Matlock and Pemberley, we may be able to fill some of the senior posts – the current housekeeper has indicated that she wishes to remain in Kent but Uncle has already suggested a woman who he feels may be willing to accept the position in return for the promotion. I am hopeful that, with suitable enticements, a trustworthy staff can be found.”

He paused to take a sip of his tea, allowing Emily just enough time to jump in with a question.

“But what of the perpetrators of the crime Fitz? You must tell us what has become of them.”

Mr Saxby smiled indulgently at his wife, amused by her eagerness to hear all.

“Give a man time to drink his tea while it is hot,” he pretended to scold her.

“Oh there is plenty of time for tea,” she cried. “But he is only here for a few hours, and I must know what has been happening before he returns. I am ashamed to say it, but it really is the most exciting tale, if only it did not involve people we know and care about – it would be almost like a novel!”

Voiced by anyone else, her comments would have seemed heartless and insensitive, yet Emily's love for the Darcy's shone through her words, enabling everyone to smile at her easy way of dissolving the tension in the room. Mr Darcy balanced his teacup carefully on his knee, staring thoughtfully at it as he composed his thoughts.

“You already know, I believe, that Archer and Wildgoose had been caught and arrested for their part in planning the arson?” We nodded to confirm that Colonel Fitzwilliam had informed us of that. “Well, it was only yesterday that we were able to persuade them to talk. I will spare you the details, but the constable had some persuasive methods for getting information out of people, yet they have both held out for some days. Eventually, however, Archer's tongue was loosed and he told us all.

“I warn you now, it is not a happy tale.

He sat back in his seat, his ever correct posture relaxing slightly as he focused his mind on the story he was about to tell us. No doubt he was deciding which facts he should leave out and which were suitable for his sister or myself to hear. He raised a hand to his face as he thought, absent mindedly rubbing his knuckles against his chin in a gesture that made me long to be alone with him. Before my thoughts had a chance to become any more inappropriate, he spoke again.

“It all began several years ago, when my aunt first became aware of certain financial restraints that had befallen her estate. In the main, these were due to wild overspending and mismanagement – both on her part and that of Archer, her then steward. What she did not discover at the time was that Archer was also embezzling money from her. Unfortunately, rather than seek help from another member of the family, my aunt chose to deal with the problem herself, reducing the wages of her staff and withdrawing her patronage from the local community. In turn of course, the income for the estate as a whole dropped, and everyone connected with the estate suffered as a consequence of my aunt's selfish pride.

“It did not take long for this to create resentment, which in turn began to fester into something worse. It was this general unrest that Richard and I noticed when we visited Aunt Catherine two Easter's years ago and which prompted me to look into the state of affairs at Rosings more closely. We discovered what Archer had been up to and acted immediately to relieve him of his position. At the same time, we reviewed the finances of the estate and made several recommendations to Lady Catherine about how she could improve the situation. Poor Richard spent a miserable few weeks trying to reassure all of the tenants that things would improve, while I sat in the study trying to figure out how. The measures we came up with were strict, they had to be given the circumstances, but we believed that our aunt intended to follow them.

“A new steward was installed, with instructions to report to me four times a year. It appears however, that I was not diligent enough in my oversight of the estate. Lady Catherine continued to find ways to increase her expenditure, largely by living on credit and not paying her staff. When news of this reached Archer, he decided to exploit the situation as a means of taking his revenge.

“The events which occurred last week have been many months in the planning. The perpetrators were careful in establishing a market for the goods they intended to steal, building themselves a network of contacts as well as ensuring their own escape. Only two of the household staff were involved, Wildgoose and Anne's own maid – the sister of the boy who rescued her from the fire. Archer and two others completed the gang, one of whom was found dead at the scene.

“It appears that certain events forced the hand of the servants. They had not intended to put their plan into action just yet. Archer's contact however found himself in desperate need of cash and demanded that they act as soon as possible. I do not think I flatter myself too much when I say that they would not have had the gall to do it while I was in residence, but by removing myself to London, I granted them the perfect opportunity.

“Much of what happened next you already know, too much of it in Miss Bennet's case.” I flushed as everyone turned to look at me, and deferred his comment by pointing out how little I had done in comparison to Charlotte or himself. “The thieves managed to break into the safe and remove the jewels, few of which have yet been retrieved. Most, I fear, are lost to us forever. Lady Catherine's fortune has been destroyed, but at least she and Anne escaped alive.”

Here Mr Darcy chose to pause, standing and walking a little around the room. Seeing that Georgie was looking deeply shocked by all that she had heard, I moved to sit closer to her, putting my hand in hers to comfort her. She wrapped her delicate fingers around mine, squeezing them and offering me a small smile.

“What more is there Fitz?” asked Mr Saxby, evidently aware that Mr Darcy had not quite finished his tale.

With a deep breath he turned to us. “Two more things Anthony. But they are not good.”

He stood a little longer before coming to sit on the other side of his sister. “Do you wish to hear all Georgie? I would not want you to be pained by what I have to say next, however my story will not be complete unless I do so.”

She paused thoughtfully before answering, the effort it took to hold her voice steady clear as she told him that she desired to stay and listen.

“Very well,” he said, accepting his sister's decision as that of a mature young woman. “The first concerns Anne's maid. She was, as I have said, the other servant involved in the crime. Apparently she and Wildgoose have been, shall we say, intimate – they hardly warrant the term 'sweethearts' – for some time. I believe they had ambitions to remove themselves to the north and set themselves up as a gentleman and his wife of some consequence. If the arson were their only crime then I should be glad to see them both thrown into jail.

“However Miss Piper is also guilty of a much more malicious offence. Mrs Collins first alerted me to a series of bruises and marks which covered my cousin's body. I have not seen them for myself but have that lady's description of them. Anne herself refused to tell us the source of the bruises, and it was only when Miss Piper – who proved her own guilt by disappearing on the night of the fire – was discovered in London that I found out the truth.

“She – the maid – confessed to inflicting the marks upon Anne's body to revenge the ill treatment which she and the other staff suffered at her hands. The hatred which she revealed for my cousin was startling. To think that Anne had often been alone with her is most disturbing. However, since Miss Piper could not risk being turned out of the house, her means of harming Anne were limited. If she pushed her too far, she knew she would be discovered. So she restrained herself, committing only small offences – pinches, overheated bath water, leaving a pin in a piece of clothing, forcing her into the wrong sized shoes. If you wonder at her telling me all of this, I believe she only did so in the hope of redeeming herself somewhat in my eyes. Needless to say she failed to engage much pity from either myself or Richard.

“Her behaviour continued thus for some months, until the day of the fire when she and Wildgoose conspired together to lace Anne's tea with a sleeping draft before dragging her into an unused room near where they planned to light one of the fires. It was there that Miss Piper's own brother discovered Anne just as the fire started to creep into the room where she lay. Fortunately for my cousin, the fire nearest to her took longer than the others to take hold, otherwise I dread to think what would have happened to her.”

Here he paused again, furrowing his brow as he watched his sister to see how she took the news. Apparently observing her to be strong enough to take the next blow that he had to deliver, he looked up in time to catch my observance of him. Holding my eye for a moment he appeared to relax a very little, as though he found peace from his troubles amongst those he could trust.

“The final thing I have to relate is the identity of the gang's London contact. As I have said, there would have been little point in them conducting this crime if they had no means of selling on the stolen goods. What they needed was someone who could tell a pretty story, charm the right people, play the part of a gentleman down on his luck. Loathe as I am to mention his name ever again in this company, I am afraid that you and I know the cad of whom I speak.”

“Mr Wickham,” breathed several people at once.

“Indeed,” he replied grimly. “We have not found him yet, but the others have all confirmed his involvement. It seems that man has not yet had his fill of causing harm to my family.” His voice broke as he spoke that last, catching as a small sob finally escaped from Georgiana. Immediately he had her in his arms, comforting her and soothing her anguish.

All of a sudden the room felt too small, too enclosed. I needed to escape, to allow the siblings their privacy and to regain control of my own emotions. Picking up Jane's letter as I stood, I hurried from the room without a word to anyone, desperate to be outside and alone. Alas when I reached the front door I found that rain fell heavily all around the house, leaving me with no choice but to remain indoors. Still I could not return to the drawing room with the family so I took myself instead to the bedroom that I shared with Georgie. Once inside I found myself too restless to sit, and paced the floor in agitation for some time.

All that Mr Darcy had said left me in a state of shock and confusion. It was a long and complicated story and it took many moments before I was able to assemble my memories into the correct order. Of all that he had told us, of the horrors that her maid had inflicted upon Miss de Bourgh, of the fire and the loss of Lady Catherine's wealth, it was, unsurprisingly perhaps, the involvement of Mr Wickham that most dominated my thoughts. That rogue deserved the very worst punishment that could be devised. Unchristian a thought as it was, I hoped to see him suffer for all that he had done to the loving brother and sister that I had left below.

After a while, I felt the need to distract myself from my unhappy reflections. I remembered Jane's letter and the joy that I had felt on hearing her praises of my future brother. Grateful that I had not finished it before, I seated myself on the bed and reopened the thick packet, finding the place where I had ceased reading earlier. In mere moments I was flying down the stairs again.

My youngest sister had eloped with that scoundrel!

Chapter 16

At the foot of the stairs I hesitated, unsure of the reaction my news would receive. As much as I physically longed for the comfort that only being near to Mr Darcy could bring, suddenly I doubted that he would want to be connected to someone with such a foolish sister. In the mere seconds that I stood there, I realised how correct I was – there was no hope for us now. In despair I ran to the front door, pulling my cloak from the cupboard as I passed. I barely heeded the crash of several brooms falling over as my cloak brushed against them, so eager was I to find solitude.

Just as I pulled open the front door, Mrs Tomlinson stepped out of the kitchen and hurried towards me.

“Elizabeth, my dear, whatever are you about heading out into all that rain?” she cried in a voice full of concern.

In my misery, I could not help but wonder how concerned about my welfare the inhabitants of the house would be once they discovered my news. Still ignorant of what I myself had only just learned though, Mrs Tomlinson laid her hand on my arm and encouraged me to turn to face her. Keeping my head bowed so that my tears might be concealed for a moment longer, I acquiesced, silently following her when she led me through to the kitchen.

“There now child,” she said in a voice so motherly and gentle that my sobs increased. “You take your time and cry all you like, and when you are ready we will talk about whatever has distressed you so.”

No doubt she thought I cried over Mr Darcy's tale rather than being distressed about news of my own. I wondered how I could ever tell him, even while I knew that I must tell him before he left Augustine Lodge. Since I doubted my ability to ruin myself in his eyes, perhaps letting Mrs Tomlinson pass on the story was my best option. Gratefully taking the cup of tea that she offered me, I endeavoured to catch my breath enough to speak.

She listened quietly to my tale, without the dramatic gasps or exclamations that so many women would have felt compelled to add. When I finished she asked if she might see my letter. I had not the heart to refuse and quietly handed it to her, thinking that if nothing else, I would soon be on my way back to my dearest Jane.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as she read it, noting that she skipped quickly over the first portion that had been written before my family learned of the elopement. When she had read all that she was interested in, she refolded the letter and placed it on the table between us.

“Do you feel ready to speak to Fitzwilliam now?” she asked, as though I was merely required to tell him that the post had arrived.

Immediately I felt tears spring into my eyes again. Refusing to look up, I shook my head vigorously.

“He must be told Elizabeth, and I think he would rather hear it from you.”

I shook my head even harder that time. “He will not be able to look at me,” I choked out between my sobs, “once he hears what has happened.”

This time I did hear her sudden intake of breath. “And that is what worries you so?” she asked.

I nodded, my lips locked together in the battle against further tears. Three words insisted on being spoken however, especially since this may be the only time I could ever say them.

“I love him.”

“Then trust him my dear,” she instructed me, handing me a handkerchief on which to dry my face. “Wash you face, tidy your hair and we will go and speak to him together.”

I felt that I had no choice so, childlike, I did as she said, took the letter she handed me and slowly walked behind her into the parlour. The others were seated much as we had left them. Emily and her husband occupied one couch and Mr Darcy and Georgie the other. They fell silent when we entered, and although I found myself to be unable to look up, I could feel his eyes upon me. As always, he had stood upon our entrance, and now offered his seat to me that I might sit with his sister.

Realising that I was not about to speak, Mrs Tomlinson declined the offer on my behalf and asked Mr Saxby if we might make use of his study. On receiving his puzzled assent, she told Mr Darcy that we wished to speak with him and ushered us both out of the room before anyone had time to react.

Utter misery washed over me as the kindly woman shut the door, sealing my fate with that one gesture. I stood with my back to the room, trying to regain the power of speech. It would not do for him to think me prone to attacks of nerves. Even if he would no longer desire to court me, I wished to retain his good opinion.

For several minutes, no-one spoke. I could not see what was going on behind me, but I could sense the growing unease that was spreading through the room.

“Miss Bennet?” came his voice. “You have something you wish to tell me?” He sounded tentative and unsure, a little like he had when he had requested permission to call on me at the parsonage. The memory did nothing to bolster my courage.

I nodded miserably, sure that he was watching me, but unable to add more.

“Perhaps you might like to sit down?” he asked, sounding much nearer this time when he spoke. I looked up to find him a few paces in front of me, his hand held out to me as though I were a child who needed to be tempted out of a hiding place. “Good God!” he exclaimed on seeing my tear stained face. “What is the matter?”

Shocked at his outburst, and fearing the effect his touch might have on me, I walked to a chair unaided. I noted that Mrs Tomlinson had positioned herself beside the door, and smiled wryly as I realised that I would not be allowed to leave this room without telling Mr Darcy all that I knew. This and this alone prompted me to action, and suddenly I found the whole truth pouring out in an unordered rush.

“I have just finished reading Jane's letter – the one I started earlier but then did not finish as I wanted to tell you all about her engagement. I found that I could not stay in the drawing room after you had told us your story, so I went upstairs to read it, since I could not go outside due to the rain. Jane is a wonderful letter writer. She always takes time to relate an anecdote with humour and to include all the latest news.” I glanced up at him and could tell that he was a little alarmed at my rambling. Still, I could not halt my tongue and babbled on.

“She wrote about the assembly and the annual Easter fayre. As you can probably imagine, our mother has apparently been busy with ideas for the wedding already, even though it is less than a week since Mr Bingley proposed.”

“Elizabeth,” interjected Mrs Tomlinson quietly. I knew exactly what she meant.

“And she wrote that Lydia has eloped with Mr Wickham.” The words were out before I had even thought them and now there was no way of taking them back. I stared at my hands, not daring to look up to see the anger on his face.

The silence went on for so long that eventually I had no choice but to raise my eyes.

He was stood in the centre of the room, unmoving as a statue, staring at me with a completely unreadable expression on his face.

“Is it certain, absolutely certain?” he finally asked in a strained voice.

I nodded.

“And when did it happen?”

“The letter is dated from three days ago,” I replied.

“And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover them?”

“My father is gone to London, to my uncle's house, to search for them,” I told him, humiliated by the manner of his questioning. Clearly any feelings he may have had for me had already dwindled. And who could blame him? We were, after all, talking about the man who had conspired to steal his aunt's fortune and who had nearly killed his cousin, not to mention attempting to elope with his younger sister and repeatedly betraying his trust. If I had been able to, I could almost willingly have disowned my careless, stupid sister at that moment.

“May I read the letter?” he asked after some moments of awkward silence. “I would not ask, but there may be something in it that will help us to find him.”

“I do not believe there is anything that I have not already told you,” I told him, my embarrassment and distress making me angrier than his request warranted. “It is not as though Lydia left a forwarding address.”

He said nothing, but merely stepped towards me to take the offending missive from my hand. Like Mrs Tomlinson before him, his eyes skipped the first, happier part of Jane's letter, focusing on the terrible revelations of the conclusion. Evidently nothing caught his attention, for he soon returned it to me without comment.

Everything that came next happened in a whirl. One thing followed the next without me really being aware of any of it. I remember him silently leaving the room and closing the door behind him. At this my humiliation was complete, I no longer had anything to lose: my reputation, my family, my love were all ruined. Tears flowed unchecked down my face, and I lowered my head to the desk and wept.

I heard doors opening and closing, someone calling for a horse to be readied. My heart bled at the idea of him riding out in such weather, but I would never now have the privilege of worrying over his health. Voices approached the study door, only to fade away again without anyone coming in. I was glad to be left alone, knowing that someone would come to get me if a carriage had been found to take me home. No doubt someone was seeing to that so that Miss Darcy would be spared my company. I was utterly ashamed at being the cause of further pain to such a kind, ill-used girl, but trusted her brother and their friends to help her through it.

I do not know how much time passed while I was alone in the study, but soon I became aware of Mr Darcy taking his leave of the family. I was unsure I would survive the wave of sadness and despair that swept through me at the thought of never seeing him again. Nausea, tears, a sharp pain in my chest all overcame me as I listened to the muffled goodbyes taking place beyond my cell. Desperate for one last glimpse of the man I loved, I dragged myself to the window, hugging myself against the overwhelming feeling of cold that sliced through me.

Fast footsteps in the hall outside indicated that one last person had come to bid farewell to the traveler. Deliberately I forced my ears not to listen, not wanting to hear tender sentiments expressed by those still permitted to share them. But there was no way I could have missed what was said since the speakers stood directly outside my door.

“Where is Elizabeth?” Mrs Tomlinson inquired.

“I believe she is still in the study,” someone replied.

“You have already said goodbye then?” she asked. I stood very still at that, shocked yet fearful of hearing his scornful reply.

It was a while before he replied, and even then I was able to catch only part of what was said. “I do not believe that Miss Bennet would wish to see me,” he began before his voice became inaudible to me.

Coward, I thought to myself. I would have thought him above naming me as the person who would have no wish to further our acquaintance. After all, he was perfectly justified in snubbing me given my sister's appalling behaviour.

Several minutes passed in which I heard nothing more, nor did I get my glimpse of him as he departed. Apparently he was still in the house. Shivering at the chill that seeped in through the window, I moved away from the view and sat down in a chair beside the book case. I hoped that someone would rescue me before nightfall, as I did not relish the idea of having to ask where I was expected to sleep.

Just as I was tormenting myself with thoughts of being thrown out of the house to make my own way back to Hertfordshire, the study door opened to reveal a very discomposed Mr Darcy.

Alarmed by his sudden appearance, I stumbled out of my seat, quickly wiping my face with my sleeve, all the while aware of what a ladylike picture I must have presented!

When he simply stood there, I did not know what to do.

“Mr Darcy?” I stammered, not quite able to trust my ability to speak after all the tears I had shed.

He seemed startled by my voice, which I could not mind since it had the desired effect of bringing him back to the present.

“You thought I was leaving you?” he said it more as a statement than a question.

I moved to look away, not wanting him to see how much it cost me to remain composed in his presence.

“I can see why you must sir,” I quietly responded, almost wishing him away that my heartbreak might be suffered in solitude once again.

That feeling lasted only until he spoke again, breathing out my name as though it were the precious thing in all the world.

“Elizabeth.”

In a moment his arms were around me, pulling me to him and holding me tight against his greatcoat.

“Oh my love,” he whispered. “How I have wronged you! Forgive me my selfish ways.” I felt his voice wash over me, soothing away my fears as his lips explored my hair and forehead in a way which I was sure was most unsuitable. If it had not felt so wonderful perhaps I might have had the sense to tell him that my father would not approve of him acting in such a manner but oh! What kind of a woman would I have been if I could withstand such loving attentions from the man I desired?

My weeping had exhausted me, so that I almost lay against his chest, allowing him to bear the weight of both of us. From his reactions, he did not seem to mind. Willingly I submitted to his endearments and caresses, rejoicing in each and every one. I had not lost his love and in that moment, that was all that mattered.

“I thought you knew that I would never leave you,” he said once I had regained control of my emotions. I did not know if it was meant to be a question, for it was clear for anyone to see that I knew no such thing.

“You are in no way beholden to me,” I told him. “I did not think you would want anything to do with Wickham's wife's family.”

“I want everything to do with you my love,” he murmured in response.

It was not enough. I could not believe that he was in his right mind. Pulling myself out of his arms I stepped away that he might not gather me in again.

“You do not know what you are saying sir. You forget yourself.”

“Do not insult me thus Elizabeth. I know exactly what I am about. Ever since I met you at the parsonage, I have endeavoured to show you how I feel about you. I would already have asked for your hand had it not been for the blasted fire, and now it will take more than Wickham to stop me from making you my wife.”

“You cannot mean that Mr Darcy.”

“Do not tell me what I mean madam,” he exclaimed. “I am grieved and shocked by what has occurred at Longbourn, but not so much that I am out of my senses. I have long desired to take you home with me as my wife, as the one woman in the world whom I love.”

“Yet just a moment ago you were about to leave this house without so much as a farewell!”

He had the grace to blush at that, looking everywhere but at me while he composed his reply. When it came, its softness disarmed me.

“I did not think you would receive me,” he confessed. “I did not want to see reproach in your eyes for not having spoken of Wickham's true character while I was at Netherfield. I thought that you would blame me for what has happened.”

Such a strange interpretation of the situation had not occurred to me, and I told him so at once. The relief that overtook his features was a delight to me, as was his touch when he approached me again and led me back to the chair I had previously sat in. He kept hold of my hand as he stood before me.

“Elizabeth,” he breathed again in the way that only he could. “I must away to London before it becomes dark, but I will not make the same mistake again. With all my heart, I love you. When I see you father, may I ask his permission to marry you?”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, but it was hardly the proposal I had been waiting for.

“No, I am afraid you may not,” I told him, hoping that he would notice the smile on my face.

“But – I do not understand,” he declared.

“Call me a foolish romantic sir,” I teased him, “But I have always hoped that my future husband would propose to me before speaking to my father.”

“I thought I just did that?” The confusion on his face was delightful and I could not help but laugh a little.

“Almost my love. Only instead of asking me to marry you, you asked if you might ask my father.”

“And if I had asked you?” he replied, joining in my game.

“It seems you will never know,” I said in the most carefree tone I could muster.

“Elizabeth!” he cried desperately. “Have mercy on a starving man! Do not toy with me in such a way. Say you will marry me or I shall have to go to Mr Bennet and tell him how I have compromised you.”

“I do not think a few caresses is enough to force a marriage Mr Darcy,” I continued in the same playful tone, even though I knew full well that many couples had been sent to the altar for less.

“Perhaps not,” he threw back, “But I am sure I can come up with something more suitable!”

To say I was shocked by his response would have been an understatement. I had never before seen him so mirthful.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well what?” I threw back somewhat petulantly. “I still have not been asked a question.”

With a grin that belied the heavy sigh that accompanied it, he reached once more for my hand and bowed over it most formally.

“Miss Bennet,” he began, raising an eyebrow at me as if to check that this was more suited to what I had in mind. “I have long admired you. Will you make me the happiest of men and do me the great honour of becoming my wife?”

I pursed my lips as I pretended to consider his question.

“What exactly do you admire about me?” I eventually asked.

“I'm sorry?”

“I'd like to know what qualities of mine you find worthy of admiration,” I explained.

He looked most taken aback by my impertinence, and I hoped that I had not gone too far.

Finally a smile cracked onto his face as he pulled me out of my seat, positioned himself where I had just been and gathered me into his arms and onto his lap.

“Let's see shall we?” he murmured as his lips found their way to my ear. “We know that you are only tolerably handsome,” I slapped him gently on the arm for such a statement, which only earned me a laugh and, surprisingly, what felt like a slight nibble on my earlobe. It was a few seconds before either of us was ready for him to speak again. This time I found him embarrassingly serious in his comments.

“You are beautiful, kind, witty, generous, a loving sister, a hard worker, a great friend, wise, dutiful, intelligent - “

“Stop!” I cried. “Please do not go on.”

“But I have hardly started,” he protested.

“I do not think I need to hear any more. The answer is yes,” I said simply.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

If I had thought his previous embrace intimate, it was nothing to the one I now found myself experiencing. My fiancé's passion was unleashed in a most pleasurable way and it was some time before I was again conscious of the world around me.

Too soon though it became imperative for him to be gone from Augustine Lodge if he was to make London before nightfall. We arose from the room and went in search of the family. We found them in the same drawing room I had left earlier and quickly shared both our distressing and our happy news. Georgiana's heartfelt joy delighted me and I was gratified to see that she too was still willing to embrace me as a sister.

Mr Darcy took his leave of everyone in the drawing room, before holding out his arm to me so that I might escort him to his horse. Feeling the others' eyes on us, I flushed at his attentions, but was nonetheless grateful for the opportunity to have another private moment with him.

Chapter 17

Before Fitzwilliam – as I was now permitted to call him – left that evening, he promised to send his carriage for me the next day, that I might be home as soon as possible. Mrs Tomlinson again offered her services as a traveling companion, an offer which I gratefully accepted before falling exhausted into bed. Perhaps those of you with a more romantic spirit than mine will assume that I lay awake all night, my emotions in a flutter at the thought of my handsome fiancé. If that is the case then I am sorry to disappoint you, but the harrowing situation that my youngest sister had placed my family in, combined with the tragic events of the past week left me too tired to do anything other than slide easily into a dreamless sleep.

Despite my much needed rest, I awoke early as usual and was the first member of the household to rise. Happiness duelled with despair within me, so that at one moment I wished to skip with joy, only to find my eyes pricked by tears the next. Many thoughts assaulted my mind as I took a final stroll along the beach, the beauty of the sun sparkling water helping to soothe my spirit somewhat. I marvelled at Fitzwilliam's willingness to marry me despite all that had happened – the dark humour of him proposing on the same day that my family's failings were at their most public not lost on me. I worried for my sister, but must admit, whenever her foolish, selfish behaviour occupied my mind, I found myself using all sorts of unladylike phrases against both her and her intended.

In truth, my heart bled for her – for all her flirting and silliness she was really no more than an overindulged child. When I compared her likely lot in marriage to my own future, I could not but pity her. Mr Darcy's confession that he held himself partly responsible for her elopement continued to fascinate me, and caused me to ponder my own role in all that had happened. Had I not spoken vociferously in favour of Mr Wickham's version of events and encouraged all of my acquaintance to treat him with warmth and favour? How great a contrast between my outspoken opinions regarding him, who I now held in utter contempt, and Mr Darcy, whom I had learned to think of as one of the best men of my acquaintance. I frowned as I asked myself if I had ever really sought to check Lydia's wild behaviour. Certainly I could recall many times when I had scolded her or spoken harshly to her, yet I remembered disappointingly few occasions on which I had ever spent any real time with my sister.

Contemplatively selecting several beautiful shells to take home with me, I sighed deeply as I realised my own failings. While I could acknowledge that the burden of responsibility for her recent behaviour laid most heavily on my parents' shoulders, not to mention her own, it occurred to me that I was not entirely blameless either. I decided that I could let my new understanding affect me in one of two ways, either I could wallow in my own guilt – which was not my way at all, or I could change the way I treated my younger sisters. I vowed to spend more time with Kitty and Mary when I got back to Longbourn, in the hope that we could grow closer as sisters before I left my childhood home for Pemberley.

The farewells I exchanged with the Saxby's and Georgiana were solemn, not the jubilant embraces that I would have hoped to receive following my so recent engagement. These were not people who would reject me because of my sister's elopement. Rather, they were so good natured that they shared my fear and anxiety for her well being and reputation. Georgiana in particular was most anxious for news of Lydia as soon as there was any to relate, and I promised most faithfully to write to her of it at the earliest opportunity. She nodded quietly, before astonishing me by pressing two letters into my hand.

“I believe that I rose only a little later than you this morning Elizabeth, so I have had plenty of time for reflection. The first letter is for you, for there is so much I want to tell you. The second,” here she paused to take an encouraging breath, “is for your sister. I do not know what will happen, but if they should not be married, perhaps what I have written may help her to see Mr Wickham for what he truly is.”

I felt my eyes grow round in response to her words. Before I could reply she added,

“I have not signed the letter, for it would not do for it to fall into the wrong hands. No-one but you will be able to identify the author to her. But I beg you to do so if you feel that the situation demands it. I have no fear of her knowing, only of her ruining her chance of happiness by attaching herself to such a man.”

This was the girl that Wickham had described as proud! What a nasty piece of work he was! I grasped Georgiana by the shoulders and pulled her to me, holding her close as we silently formed a bond of love and affection that was as strong as any blood tie. I would be blessed to have such a sister.

Mrs Tomlinson and I spoke quietly all the way to Longbourn. I felt it my duty to warn my companion of the likely state of the household upon our arrival so that she might be prepared for my mother's all too predictable outbursts. I told her a little of our family, of my father's propensity towards reading rather than socialising, of mother's nerves and worries over finding husbands for all of her girls. I spoke of Jane, so newly engaged to Mr Bingley, as well as my other sisters. Mr Darcy's housekeeper had provided us with a basket of splendid foods for luncheon, so that we did not interrupt our journey for long. Once we resumed, our conversation turned to happier matters, namely Fitzwilliam and Georgiana.

The good lady had known the Darcy siblings for many years and was able to tell me much about them that I did not yet know. She spoke warmly of my fiancé as a younger man, recalling the first time she had met him, several years before the death of his father. In essentials, she believed that he was still the same man, even then, but less grave than he became upon coming into his inheritance so early. Through her descriptions, I was able to see another side of the man I loved, fascinated by her insights into how the changes in his life had affected him.

She told me about Pemberley, and I was intrigued to find her as transfixed by its beauty as either of its inhabitants. How I longed at that moment to be travelling to his home instead of my own; how I wished that Lydia was safely at Longbourn with our mother and sisters, and that I might be happily seated opposite my darling Fitzwilliam without a care in the world. But wishing was of no use, and before long the reality of home was upon me.

It was much as I had anticipated. Mama was all a flutter, Jane bore the full weight of the household and those of the family still present on her deceptively strong shoulders, while my younger sisters continued in their usual selfish behaviours. I had to force myself to remember my resolution to be a better sister to them, especially when Kitty had the gall to bemoan the fact that it was always Lydia who got to do exciting things.

I was appalled that she would ever express such an ignorant belief, let alone in the presence of my guest. What Mrs Tomlinson made of my family at that stage I hate to guess, but I will always be grateful to her for the grace with which she greeted them. Immediately we arrived, she asked to be introduced to my mother, and then proceeded to sit by her bedside for several hours, listening to her womanly concerns and doing her best to calm her near hysterical mood.

Able to relax now that someone else was caring for Mama, Jane accompanied me on a stroll about the gardens while she enlightened me about events since she had last written. No further news had yet been received from our uncle or Lydia herself, not that anyone was expecting a letter from her any time soon. Whatever my mother liked to think, it was clear that her family were the very last people she would ever trouble herself to think of. And yet, even as I thought that, my fears for her safety grew. Young women like myself were not brought up to know about such things, but I had at least some idea of the kind of situation which an unprotected, unmarried female far from home might find herself in. It chilled me to the core to think of her in a seedy part of town, on Wickham's arm in some dirty bar, or worse, abandoned on her own with no money and no-one to help. I feared greatly for her well being, and prayed anxiously that she might return to us unharmed.

Finding ourselves near the stillroom, Jane begged my assistance in preparing some relaxing tea for our mother, for her constant outbursts had begun to grate on even my gentlest of sister's nerves. While I worked, we continued our conversation, which naturally turned to the happier news of Jane's engagement. Mr Bingley had escorted our father to London, and was yet to write to his fiancée, but the serene look of contentment that overspread my sister's beautiful face when she spoke of him was sufficient to assure me of the depth of their shared affection.

“If only you could know such joy dearest Lizzy, my happiness would be complete,” she concluded.

I had wondered how the subject would come up, and now it seemed it was time for me to share the news of my own engagement with Jane. I feared that I would not be able to convince her of the truth of it, and not for the first time regretted having mentioned Fitzwilliam so little in my correspondence home. That at least might have prepared them somewhat for my revelation.

Feeling a familiar burning sensation overspread my cheeks, I dared not turn to face Jane. Instead, to my great shame, I continued shredding flower heads as I mumbled something along the lines of,

“Actually Jane, I believe I do know what you speak of, for Mr Darcy and I are also to be married.”

In the few moments that passed while my sister realised what I had said, I felt compelled to look at her, bursting into laughter at the look of sheer confusion marring her beautiful countenance.

“Lizzy!” she finally scolded me, “You must not joke like that. However much you dislike the gentleman, it sounds as though he took prodigiously good care of you in Kent and at the very least I would think that that deserves your thanks.”

“Oh dear,” I laughed when she had finished being indignant with me. “If this is how you respond, I hate to think how hard it will be to explain it to anyone else. But I promise you that it is true. Mr Darcy and I are engaged. He proposed to me yesterday evening.”

It must have been more shocking than I had contemplated, for my elegant sister, who has never made an ungraceful movement in her life, fairly plopped down onto the bench behind her.

“How can this be though Lizzy? Have you not always hated Mr Darcy? Why would you agree to marry him? Unless,” she said in horror.

“No Jane,” I hurried to reassure her. “There is no reason why I must marry Fitzwilliam, except that I love him with all my heart and think him the very best of men. I suppose I should start at the beginning, only there is not time at the moment to tell you all that I would wish to. Suffice to say though, that my opinion of him has altered so very much. I cannot think of my earlier sentiments without shame, and now feel so very differently about him. He was in the house when I found out about Lydia, and I thought then that I had lost him forever, but that was not the case Jane,” I gushed, beaming at her through my tears. “Even before we were engaged, he had intended to return to London to search for her. How close we came to losing each other last night, except that Mrs Tomlinson brought us back together. If it weren't for her we would never have understood each other well enough to be engaged now, but thankfully we spoke before he departed and I accepted his offer. I am to be Mrs Darcy.”

I could tell that she believed me now, although the shock was still to wear off. Slowly a huge smile overspread her face, until she suddenly jumped up and pulled me into an enormous hug.

“How happy we shall be Lizzy! How fortunate we are!” she cried. The happiness fell out of her voice as both of our thoughts turned instantly to our youngest sister. “What hope do you have of her?” she asked me in a whisper.

“I do not know Janey,” I replied. “If, and it is a big if, Wickham has married her, then all will be well. But if he has not, I do not how he can be worked on. I have learnt much of Wickham since I have been away, and none of it is good. He is to be despised, and yet I find myself hoping that he is already our brother.” I paused, overcome by the dreadful reality of the situation. “Poor, stupid Lydia,” I sighed.

Mrs Tomlinson left us late that afternoon, having blessed each of us with her motherly presence and well delivered advice. Mama in particular seemed calmed by her attentions. I had not yet found the opportunity to tell her of my engagement. I truly doubted the strength of her health and dared not risk her well being at that moment. There would be plenty of time for her to exclaim over it later, when the current crisis was resolved.

Exhausted by all that had been demanded of her over the last few days, Jane retired to bed early, promising me that we would speak at greater length the next day. While Mary occupied herself at the pianoforte and Kitty retrimmed an old dress, I sat down to read the letter Georgiana had given me that morning.

I smiled as I read it, reveling in each expression of delight and joy. It was most flattering to be the source of such happiness, especially from a girl who was known to be timid. I wholeheartedly shared her enthusiasm at becoming sisters, and found, once again, that I could not wait to accompany her and Fitzwilliam around the grounds at their beloved Pemberley.

As much as I was sure that I would miss my family home, and much as the thought of becoming mistress of a great estate daunted me, I longed to see my new home. I had heard such tales of the place that I hardly dared to believe them true. Pemberley was obviously a source of great pride to both of the Darcy's, and with good reason if the Saxby's and, I recalled with a smile, Miss Bingley were to be believed.

How would I cope with the demands of such a life? Our odd courtship had left Fitzwilliam and I with little time to discuss his expectations of me, and yet somehow I already knew that he would support me through all the changes that I would experience. In many ways, I found myself relishing the challenge, and in terms of intelligence, I am not embarrassed to say that I believed myself more than equal to the task. My doubts lay in other areas. I had observed the ladies of the ton in London, imperious women who oversaw grand houses and estates, and, on the whole, had not liked what I had seen. If people expected me to become like them, they would be sadly let down. I hoped that Pemberley's staff would not dislike me for being the daughter of a small landowner from the country.

A noise from the other side of the room brought me out of my reflections. Kitty was struggling to turn the dress she was working on inside out, and without Lydia or Jane to help her was attempting to rearrange the mass of fabric alone. Was I such a bad sister to her that she did not think I would assist her if she asked?

Looking around, I saw Mary, still playing away, and realised how solitary each of us was, even though we had been sat together for nearly an hour. It pained me to acknowledge how little I knew my younger sisters, especially now that I would be leaving. With a rush of love for them both, I put my letter aside.

“Here Kitty, let me help you,” I offered. “Mary, won't you leave that for a moment and come sit with us? I would like to speak with you both about something.”

It was such an unusual request that neither of them seemed to know quite what to say. Mary even looked slightly offended.

“I did not mean to boss you about Mary,” I explained. “I truly wish to tell you of my trip to Kent and of the many things that happened while I was there.”

They looked suspiciously at each other, unable to quite believe that I, their normally uninterested older sister would ever choose to confide in them.

“Please,” I repeated. “I'm bursting to tell someone of my news, and since Jane is abed, I would like it if you would listen to my secrets.”

“You would tell us before Jane?” asked Kitty incredulously.

I nodded, grinning at her excited tone.

“Ring the bell for tea Kitty,” I commanded in my best impression of our mother, eliciting giggles from both of the girls, before settling more comfortably into my chair and taking up a needle to help Kitty with her sewing.

Over the next hour I told them everything that had happened while I was away. Of Charlotte's new home and husband, of Lady Catherine and her daughter, my visit to the Saxby's, the fire, Georgiana, but mostly about Fitzwilliam. Prepared by Jane's response, I was greatly amused by the looks of disbelief that my sisters shared upon realising where my story was going. A hopeless romantic, Kitty guessed first, but to her credit, Mary was not far behind. Perhaps, I thought to myself, she was not as entirely bookish as she made out. I found myself looking more carefully at her than I had in a long time, and while she would never be as beautiful as Jane or as outgoing as Lydia – thank goodness – I could just see a spark of something new in her. Catching myself staring, I smiled gently at my odd little sister, promising myself that I would do all I could to encourage that spark to blossom into something wonderful and unique.

By the time I had told them of my engagement it was getting late, but I could not finish my story without also telling them some of what I had learnt about Mr Wickham. I kept my revelations brief. There was no need for them to know more and I did not want them to hate him if he was to be Lydia's husband. Needless to say they were shocked, but to their credit they believed me once I had given them sufficient detail. More importantly, I wanted to impress upon them the seriousness of what Lydia had done, to convince Kitty that it was not something exciting, but a terrible, dangerous thing.

“Jane and I might both have lost the men we love over this.”

“But you have not,” protested Kitty in defence of Lydia. “No man who truly loved you would leave you over someone else's behaviour.”

In some ways I agreed with her, but it was not the way of the world.

“Life is not like it is in your novels Kitty,” I said sadly. “A woman's reputation is all she has, and much of that depends upon the actions of her family. Do you not remember Anne Whitelock? Her brother was caught with one of the dairy maids, and she never saw her fiancé again. She had done nothing wrong, yet his family would have nothing to do with hers. Society would have sided with Mr Darcy and My Bingley had they chosen to distance themselves from us because of this. Especially given Mr Darcy's past acquaintance with Wickham.”

Normally, I would have expected Mary to fill the silence with one of her moral platitudes, but even she, it seemed, understood how feeble they sounded against the messy reality of life. Instead, no-one spoke for several minutes, until I rose from the table and suggested that we all go to bed. As we parted at the top of the stairs, I found myself pulled into a tentative hug by Kitty. Embracing her back, I pulled Mary in too, so that for a moment the three of us stood cuddled together in the hallway.

Kissing each of them goodnight, I smiled wanly as I hurried down the cold corridor to my room. As much as I was delighted by my first attempts to improve my relations with my younger sisters, I feared what news the next morning would bring.

Continued in Next Section