Chapter Thirty-Three

Posted on: 2008-10-22

The second day at Pemberley, Darcy ordered the curricle and a picnic basket readied. There were a few tenant issues to resolve, and not keen on abandoning his wife - that word still brought a smile to his face - he brought her along. It was a perfect opportunity to begin introducing the new mistress of the estate.

Not surprisingly, the tenants easily warmed to Elizabeth's friendly manner, her genuine interest in their situation and unpretentious attitude. Even the most suspicious of the lot had to concede, the master had chosen well.

After making a several stops, and a tour of the eastern border of the estate, they broke for a mid-afternoon snack at the grove where they had often played as children. It was a bit overgrown, but the stream still flowed, and the grass was starting to turn a lush green.

"It has hardly changed," Elizabeth said. She smiled at a weathered length of rope that still dangled from the limb of a large oak. The stream here was not wide, but without assistance, one's feet would get wet.

Darcy set the down the picnic basket, and with Elizabeth's help, spread out a blanket. He sat down on it, and watched as Elizabeth inspected the place.

"Do you come here often?" She plunked down in the grass next to the blanket, and then made quick work of discarding first her gloves, and then her bonnet.

"It has been a while."

Much to Darcy's surprise, she began unlacing her half boots.

Feeling his stare, she looked up at him with an unembarrassed chuckle. "It is not as if you have not seen my toes before." With a saucy grin, she added, "Besides, we are married now."

Though he was tempted to kiss away that smugness, he leisurely leaned back on his elbows, watching her intently. Never had the removal of footwear aroused such a reaction from him. If he did not know better, he would have sworn she was trying to seduce him. By the time her first stocking was laying in the grass, his heart was beating erratically, and was threatening to leave his chest. Unable to look away, however, he took a slow, deep breath, and watched as she worked the laces of the other boot. God how he loved this woman!

After laying her stockings neatly next to her boots, Elizabeth pulled up the hem of her skirts so she could watch her toes wiggle in the grass. "Take off your boots," she said with an impish smile. "The grass feels nice."

Afraid of what he might do if he moved, he remained still. "It is too cold to be barefoot. You should put your boots back on."

"Fine," she clipped. "I shall go wading in the stream alone." She sent him a teasing look. "It is probably safer that way." As she neared the edge of the stream, she hitched up the hem of her gown even further, allowing him a full view of her calves. Entranced, he watched as she dipped her toes into the water, testing its temperature.

"Elizabeth, you will catch your death. It is too early in the year; the water has not warmed." His tone lacked any conviction.

Typical, Elizabeth turned a defiant arch of the brow, and then trounced into the water with both feet. Not even a full minute later, she jumped out of the water with a shriek, and scurried over to the blanket.

Darcy collapsed with a hearty laugh. "I told you!" Pulling himself up on his elbows again, he watched as Elizabeth attempted to warm her feet, which were now pink from the cold, with the blanket.

"See what your wilfulness has gained you?" he chided. "Cold feet and a wet blanket." Unable to hold in the giggle any longer, Elizabeth, too, began laughing.

When she was once again sporting half boots, the picnic things were rearranged so the food basket covered the blanket's wet spot. Lazily stretched out, the two ate cucumber sandwiches, interspersed with bites of fruit. There was also a bottle of sweet wine with which to wash it down.

"I love this place," Elizabeth said. She popped a piece of fruit in her mouth. "It is always so tranquil. Even on windy days, it is peaceful like it is now." She turned towards him. "Do you and Georgiana come here often?"

"No. I never brought anyone here." At Elizabeth's surprised look, he shrugged and bit off part of a sandwich. "It never came up."

Not wanting him to see the way his response affected her, she lay back with her arms spread wide and her eyes closed. Her face was so serene, she looked as if she belonged there; as though she were one of the trees or part of the tall grass.

"This was a lovely idea, Fitzwilliam," she practically sighed. Then worried she may have conveyed more than she wanted, she added, "I shall have to thank Mrs. Reynolds for the basket."

There were no words that could add to the moment, so Darcy remained silent. He was grateful her eyes remained closed, allowing him to admire her sunlit features; her dark curls that encircled her porcelain face, and the way her chest gently rose and fell with each breath. Ever since she had fallen asleep against him in the carriage, he had wanted nothing more than to feel her in his arms again, and the urge to pull her there now was almost overwhelming.

Following her example though, he laid on his back, closing his eyes and lacing his fingers across his chest. With full stomachs and a warm sun, it was not long until they each drifted off.

A long companionable silence filled the area.

"Elizabeth?" he asked tentatively, unsure if she was awake.

"Hmmm?" came the drowsy, absent reply. He made no response.

Sometimes words are not necessary. Intimacy comes from sharing the quiet moment, and simply acknowledging the other's presence. This was one of those times. Whether they were recalling fond memories of the past, or contemplating their future together was irrelevant; only being together mattered.

An "I love you, Elizabeth," escaped, with a long, contented sigh.

"I love you too, Fitzwilliam," came the natural response.

A heartbeat later, both of them bolted upright and stared at each other in disbelief; disbelief that they had said those words out loud; disbelief that they had heard the other person correctly.

Darcy managed to find his voice first, though it was not strong. "You mean it?"

Elizabeth blushed and took an earnest interest in the blanket's weave.

Her confirmation was a nearly imperceptible nod, but he had seen it, and that was all it took. In an instant, he was kneeling before her. Gently, he lifted her chin so he could see her eyes, but Elizabeth was still unable to look at him, and turned away.

"Elizabeth, please," he implored. He had glimpsed the realization of his fondest wish, but it was still just beyond his reach. "I love you so much, Elizabeth. Please. Tell me I heard you true."

At this, Elizabeth finally looked at him. "You love me?" she whispered.

They may have still been at the game of confessions and consolations had Darcy not demonstrated his feelings. After a first tentative kiss, he said softly, "Yes, I love you."

Elizabeth pulled back and stared at him wide eyed. "Truly?" When he nodded, she could not stop herself from throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, Fitzwilliam! I love you, too!" She squealed. As his arms encompassed her, they fell back to the ground, laughing.

The sound of joyous laughter filled the area for some time. Though hours, days, and weeks had been spent in silent torment, with such an outcome, they could only feel unfettered bliss.

When the initial release was over, Elizabeth laid her head against Darcy's shoulder, and he held her close to him. Even then, it was some time before words were spoken.

"How long have you loved me?" Darcy asked finally. He let out a happy sigh. Speaking those words somehow made it more real. She loved him!

Elizabeth bashfully turned her face into his shoulder. Then daring to look at him fully, she said, "I can not fix the day or hour, but I knew for certain before I left London."

"That long ago?"

She chuckled. "This is an auspicious beginning. Are we to spend our entire marriage questioning one another's statements?"

To this, he could only laugh. "You will have to forgive me. I am only now reflecting on how foolish I have been, and how much time I have wasted." Elizabeth rested her chin on his chest with a questioning look. "I have loved you for a very long time, Elizabeth." He kissed his finger and then pressed it to her lips. "I think I have always loved you."

Elizabeth placed her head on his shoulder again and snuggled close. Like this, they watched the birds overhead flit from branch to branch, and listened to the slight rustling of the leaves and the babbling of the stream.

"There were so many times I was tempted to tell you." His tone was distant, as he recounted each event. "The night after the Granville Ball, the night of the opera, and then again the night before our wedding. When you fell asleep against me in the carriage..." His voice trailed off and he gently stroked her arm. "I did not want to let you out of my arms that day, but I was so afraid you did not feel the same way. I would have done anything to maintain our friendship."

"I know." She wrapped her arm tightly around him. "Since it seems to be the time for confessions, I should tell you, that day in the carriage... I was awake." Feeling his surprise, she buried her face in his shoulder again. "I felt the carriage slow, but was so comfortable I did not want to move, so I pretended to be asleep." She dared a peek at him to gauge his reaction at her deception.

Darcy, caught between surprise and regret, let out a groan. "Why did you not say anything? Did you not feel me kiss you?"

It was Elizabeth's turn to be stunned. "You kissed me?" When Darcy returned a sheepish nod, Elizabeth could only sigh. "When? Where? I did not feel anything."

Silence descended as they both took the time to a moment to reflect upon all their missed opportunities.

"The night of the opera-" Darcy asked.

"I loved you then."

"But you returned my handkerchief!" His tone was louder than intended, as he searched for some explanation for his misunderstanding.

"I held it as long as I dared," Elizabeth explained, "but at the end of the night, it was not mine to keep."

Darcy closed his eyes, lamenting his gross misinterpretation of her actions. "I thought you returned it because you felt nothing for me." He pressed a deep kiss into her hair. "What an idiot I have been!"

Elizabeth's laughing eyes looked up at him. "We both have been."

Unable to stop himself, he rolled on top of her, and kissed her deeply on the lips, pouring into it all the emotion, all the love, he had held back thus far. When he pulled back, he was met with a glowing smile.

"I love you, Elizabeth Darcy. Thank you for marrying me."

"I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

The statements were punctuated by another deep kiss before they returned to their previous position. How long they remained like that, neither one knew, but neither was inclined to move.

In time, the sun fell behind the trees. Even knowing it would be dark soon, Darcy had difficulty ending the interlude. Even while holding Elizabeth tighter, he said, "We should return to the house."

Elizabeth nodded, but made no effort to rise. They remained as they were until a chill ran through Elizabeth and she snuggled even closer to him. Darcy, however, would have none of it; he was not about to let her fall ill. "Come," he hesitated for just a moment before saying, "my love."

Elizabeth blushed at the appellation, causing him to chuckle. "I see this will take some getting used to," Darcy said with a light blush of his own.

After loading the curricle once again with a now lighter picnic basket, he turned to assist Elizabeth. For several breaths, both of them stood still, staring at one another. Finally, Darcy reached out and ran a finger along Elizabeth's cheek. She closed her eyes in response, and pressed her cheek into his palm. The next thing she felt was Darcy's lips upon hers.

She melted against him, and Darcy willingly wrapped his arms around her. When the kiss was broken, Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, taking in his affectionate countenance.

"I love you," he breathed, and a large smile, with dimples wreathing his reddened lips, broke free. Finally, he was able to voice all he felt and found he could not say it enough.

There was only one way to respond to such a statement, with a few more small kisses. Darcy then handed Elizabeth into the curricle. After checking the horses, he climbed up himself, and with a flick of the wrist, they were on their way back to the main house.

As they rode, Elizabeth watched Darcy's masterful hands guide the horses. It seemed so effortless. "Will you teach me to drive?" Elizabeth asked.

"Are you certain you wish to learn?" His reluctance was evident in his voice. Elizabeth did not back down, and unable to deny her anything, he said, "If you wish. Perhaps after we return from London."

"Why not now?" She was met with silence. "You can not object to my learning. Your cousin drives her own phaeton." At Darcy's astonished look, she added with a smirk, "Mr. Collins spoke often of the condescension your cousin paid to the parsonage by driving by it."

Darcy could not but roll his eyes. "Very well, we shall begin your lessons on the morrow, if the weather permits. But I do not want you driving in London until you are more practiced. Driving at Pemberley is very different than in crowded streets."

Elizabeth wiggled in her seat with delight.

"And I do not want you driving alone, until I say so." He stared straight ahead, knowing he had drawn her censure. When she said nothing, he turned to her with a pitiful half smile. "I only wish to keep you safe." He squeezed her hand. "I am rather fond of you." He was relieved when he heard Elizabeth giggle, and felt her head rest against his arm.

Dinner that night was a lively affair, despite it being just the two of them. Their comfort with one another was evident, and in fact, the only change in their interactions was the constant contact they kept with one another, and the way their eyes never left the other.

Afterwards, Elizabeth played the pianoforte, while Darcy turned the pages. They laughed, talked, teased, and joked - interspersed with quick kisses on the lips, cheeks and hands - with one another, until the chime of a clock indicated it was getting late.

"May I?" Darcy asked, gallantly, holding out his hand to her.

"Of course, sir," she replied with the same formality.

Together they walked to their rooms, arm in arm. As they climbed the stairs, the tension grew, evident in the sudden silence between them.

For his part, Darcy was struggling against his own desires. He wanted nothing more than to carry Elizabeth to his bed and remain there for the rest of his days. The thought of parting from her was almost painful, but she was not ready for such intimacy.

Elizabeth's turmoil was somewhat different. At times when she looked him she saw very dear friend with whom she had grown up - the boy who climbed trees with her and taught her swing on the branches of the willow. Other times, she would see her husband and the man she loved with her entire being. That these two were one and the same, and that he loved her in return, was difficult to comprehend. She was afraid to wake up tomorrow and find it all a silly dream.

She did want to please her husband, and was cognizant of her marital duty, but was hesitant of giving more liberties than she had already. Darcy had said they would wait until they were both ready. Yet, if her aunt's and mother's word was to be trusted at all, he had been ready since the day they wed.

All of a sudden, they were standing in front of her bedroom door.

Darcy looked down at her lovingly. He reached out and traced her cheek with his fingers, before gently kissing her. Then, he stepped back. "I usually read for a while before turning in." He bit his lower lip for a moment, and then said awkwardly, "I would... perhaps... if you want to..." Elizabeth smiled, realizing what he was saying.

"I believe I would enjoy reading a bit, too. Perhaps I could join you?"

"I would like that." Darcy expelled a breath. "Would you prefer the library, or," he nodded towards his own apartments.

Elizabeth turned a lovely shade of pink from head to toe. "I will join you shortly," she paused, before saying, "in your rooms." Embarrassed at such a forward statement, she hurried into her rooms.

Darcy inhaled and exhaled slowly as he leaned his head against her door, that was once again closed. After collecting himself, he nearly ran to his rooms, impatiently calling for Franklin.

After giving hasty instructions to his valet, he began undressing. He removed his jacket, waistcoat and cravat, and was about to remove his shirt, but hesitated. He raked his hand through his hair. Would Elizabeth be uncomfortable seeing him in his night shirt and dressing robe? Perhaps trousers and shirt would be better.

Thoughts of his attire naturally drifted towards hers. What would she be wearing? Images of her in a sheer silk nightgown with her hair flowing around her shoulders flooded his brain, and his body was quick to respond. He bit his lip in an attempt to regain control of himself. He rubbed his hands over his face. God help him if she did! He would not be able to stop himself, not now, not knowing she loved him.

With considerable effort, he turned his thoughts to something less alluring. He picked up the book on his side table, and began reading as he paced slowly. It was a journal by Roman Gladiators. There was nothing arousing about flea infested prisons, and vicious bloody battles to the death, and in time, his composure returned to that of a gentleman.

All too soon though, there was a soft knock on the door that joined his room with that of the Mistress. He looked over to the sofa and chairs. Seeing Franklin had seen to all of his requests, he took one last deep breath, bracing himself for whatever awaited him on the other side.

He opened the door.

There stood his Elizabeth. He could not help staring. After taking a moment to remember how to perform basic movement, he motioned her inside. As she settled herself into the corner of the sofa, he thanked heaven above; she had been kind enough to cover herself with a dressing robe. Still, the material was thin, and did nothing to hide the fact that there was a chill in the air.

Pointing to a thick wool rug, he said, "There is a blanket if it is too cool in here." Despite the fact that it felt like to raging inferno to him, he silently beseeched the gods that she would cover herself, and cursed his weakness that had created this situation. He should have simply bid her good night.

"Would you like some sherry?" he asked, desperately trying not to look at her.

"Yes," she said, in a tremulous voice.

Darcy poured two glasses and handed one to her, then downed the other. Placing his empty glass to the side, he was relieved to see her lower half well covered. He then settled into the other corner of the sofa, placing a pillow in his lap, and resting his book upon it.

For almost an hour, the two kept up the charade of reading. Finally, after catching Elizabeth once again looking at him through her lashes, and realizing he could not remember a word of what he had read, he noisily closed his book.

He snickered when Elizabeth quickly raised her tome to cover her face, and began studying it in earnest. Not at all fooled, he gently took the book from her hands and pulled her to his side. When he felt her hesitate, he said, "I only want to hold you. I know you are not ready for more."

Guiltily, she dropped her eyes to her lap, but did as she was bid. Less than a minute later, all her anxiety had vanished, and she let out a dreamy sigh. He responded by kissing the top of her head and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

Arranged thusly, they both fell asleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Darcy woke. Feeling Elizabeth pressed against him caused a broad smile to emerge. It had not been a dream. Tempted as he was to remain as they were, reason took over, and told him neither would sleep well on the small sofa.

For a long minute, he contemplated his own bed, but fear of her reaction in the morning prompted him to change his mind. When she came to his bed, it would be willingly, and in full control of her faculties. For now, he would have to wait for sleep to come, for in his dreams, he could love her how he wished.

Gingerly, he woke her, just enough to make it safely to her own rooms. Once in her own bed, she was quick to fall back asleep, allowing Darcy the freedom to watch her unabashedly. He was tempted to pull up a chair and watch her the rest of the night, but told himself he would have that privilege soon enough. Eventually he tore himself away, but not before whispering, "I love you, my sweet Beth."

Chapter Thirty-Four

Posted on: 2008-10-30

The following morning, Elizabeth was startled to find herself in her own room, and alone. The last thing she remembered was being curled up next to Darcy in his rooms. If that had truly happened though, how had she ended up in her own room? Without any other explanation, she wrote off the previous night as a dream. But what a glorious dream it had been!

Her conjecture was further confirmed when she found the hallway void of her husband. Every other morning since their wedding, she had found him waiting for her.

Seeds of panic began to grow, as she considered the possibility that it was not a dream, and her solitary state was because he had realized his mistake, and had rejected her and her love. She tried to tell herself to be reasonable, but until she saw him, she could not relax.

She had been pushing food around her plate for some ten minutes before she heard her husband approach. Uncertain of what she might find, she could not bring herself to look at him, and therefore, she missed his look of pure joy.

"Good morning, Elizabeth."

"Good morning, Fitzwilliam." His warm tone, which she hoped was a sign of his regard, inspired a small smile, but she barely raised her head.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Um, yes... I suppose so..." When she did look up, he was standing next her.

Without another word, he took her hand. Instead of kissing the back of her fingers, as he had often done, he turned it over pressed an ardent kiss to her palm.

Instantly, Elizabeth brightened and her heart swelled. "I thought it might have been a dream," she whispered. A bashful, but brilliant smile broke free.

"No dream." he replied, just before grazing his lips against hers.

She was disappointed when he straightened and made his way to the side board. Reluctantly though, she admitted that any further display in front of servants would be unseemly.

After a morning attending to matters of the estate, Darcy made good on his promise. Though he still had reservations on the idea of Elizabeth driving, he could not come up with a good argument against it. Even Georgiana took the phaeton around Pemberley, not that Elizabeth knew of it.

As he contemplated the lesson though, his eagerness grew. He would have to remain close to her through the lesson, and help her hold the reins until she was accustomed to the pull. If only he could teach her as his father had taught him, seated upon his lap. Then, realizing such an arrangement might result in very little driving being done, he resigned himself to the original plan.

So it was that, after their mid-day repast, a phaeton was made ready for Elizabeth's first driving lesson.

Elizabeth exited the house with the flutter of excitement and anticipation in her belly. She was unsure of what had inspired her to make such a request, but further examination of its benefits increased her determination.

As Mistress of the estate, she would be required to call on tenants, taking them medicines and other necessities. Longbourn was small enough that walking or horseback was sufficient; Pemberley, however, was not. And as much as she enjoyed Darcy's company, he would not always be available to drive her. Nor did she like the idea of having to rely on a servant to cart her to and fro.

Not wholly unexpectedly, she found Darcy waiting. The sight of the cart and horses caused her courage to falter -- it somehow seemed bigger than she recalled -- but her husband's encouraging smile, and the prospect of spending time with him, triumphed.

Before handing her up, Darcy graced his wife with a small gift of driving gloves. "You will need these."

Gently, he removed her thin, lace gloves that matched her gown -- kissing each palm as he did so -- and then assisted her in putting on the new, sturdier, kid leather ones.

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam. Whenever did you have a chance to get these?"

Darcy's eyes crinkled with amusement, "I can not let you know all my secrets just yet. How else am I to impress you?"

Elizabeth let out a merry chuckle, and allowed Darcy to assist her up.

After going over the basics of driving, he took hold of the reins. "Take them like this," he instructed. He then helped her weave the reins between her fingers for a steady grip. "Now flick them."

He watched as Elizabeth feebly flicked them once with no success. She flicked them a second time, a bit harder than necessary this time, causing the horses to startle, and the phaeton to lurch.

At her sheepish grin, he said encouragingly, "You will find the correct rhythm and tension with a little practice."

Once they had the cart and horse moving, they worked on slowing down and speeding up, awkwardly following the paths that wove through Pemberley. Elizabeth would often overcorrect, crushing the edges of the paths with hoofs and wheels.

Despite the frustration, both enjoyed the intimacy of the exercise. They were seated close together, their thighs touching; and through most of the lesson, Darcy's hands covered Elizabeth's, poised to take over if necessary.

Darcy proved to be a patient teacher, but also a distracting one. In such close proximity to his new wife, and so soon after their new understanding, he found himself unable to resist the urge to occasionally squeeze her hand affectionately, or kiss her cheek. This would, in turn, cause Elizabeth to lose focus, and steer them off course.

When Elizabeth had had enough, Darcy took over, much to the relief of the horses, and they returned the house. Once there, despite their inclinations, duties of Master and Mistress beckoned, and they separated once again.

Elizabeth had matters of the house to look after, and despite Darcy's praise of her ability to perform, she felt guilty for having not practiced the pianoforte these last two weeks. She had no doubt she would be expected to play at her debut dinner and ball, and was determined to do credit to both the Darcy and Matlock names.

Not long before dinner, Darcy entered the music room. Lovingly, he watched as Elizabeth played and sang quietly to herself. It was every bit the picture of domestic tranquillity he had imagined. All that was missing were the children and his sister, but that would all come later.

When the song ended, Darcy clapped as he strode to his wife's side. "That was beautiful," he said, taking both of her hands in his as she stood.

Elizabeth bowed her head to hide the blush that had imposed itself on her cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured.

Darcy tipped her chin towards him. Drawn to her by the adoring look in her eyes, he leaned down and kissed her. They remained thusly engaged until Darcy felt the tatters of his reserve slipping.

Though their eyes remained locked, they each took a half step back, knowing the smallest touch would only reignite passion. As the sun was still above horizon, and servants moved about freely, restraint was still required.

The following morning, Elizabeth watched as her husband took another bite of the morning pastries, and resumed his perusal of the paper. She could not help becoming engrossed in the way his eyes moved quickly over the page, and the way his brow creased and straightened as he read the articles.

She took a moment to warm her morning coffee, while gathering her courage.

"Fitzwilliam," she said tentatively.

He looked up instantly, with a smile, "Yes, dearest?"

"Are you expecting to meet with Mr. Seymour today?"

Darcy instinctively checked his watch. "No, I am not expecting any callers." He smiled adoringly. "I am entirely at your disposal."

Elizabeth felt a blush creep into her cheeks. "I..." She took a deep breath. "I thought if you were not busy, we might visit Pemberley's chapel this day."

"If you wish." Seeing his wife's apprehension, he asked, "Is there something in particular that holds your curiosity?"

Elizabeth bit her lip for a moment. Quietly she said, "I wished to pay my respects." She looked up at him through her lashes.

Of course! he thought, ashamed he had not considered that himself. It had been nearly a year since he had visited, before the whole Ramsgate incident. He had been unable to face them since. "Certainly." He smiled appreciatively. "It is a lovely idea."

So, after seeing to a few things concerning the servants, Elizabeth and Darcy made their way the graveyard near Pemberley's chapel. The sky was an appropriate grey, and dark clouds in the distance threatened rain.

Nonetheless, Darcy solemnly stood in front of the grave markers of his mother and father. Carefully, he laid a nosegay of spring flowers between them, and then pressed a hand on the top of each one.

"You were right, mother. She did grow up to be very beautiful," he said quietly. "She has brought such happiness to our home. I am sorry for failing you both last summer. Things will be different though now. Georgiana loves Elizabeth like a sister, and has matured so much these past months. Every day she reminds me more of you. I hardly recognize her sometimes." He went on making amends and informing his father of all that was happening on the estate. When he was finished, he walked over to where Elizabeth stood. They touched noses for just a second. "Take as much time as you wish," he said softly.

Elizabeth knelt before the headstones, nervously pulling at some small weeds. Quietly she began. "I know I am not what you envisioned in a wife for your son. I do not have a title, nor a large dowry. My family's name is not known in London, much less amongst the first circle. I can promise, however, to love him for the rest of my days; and to do my best to be worthy of the Darcy name. I only wish to see him and Georgiana happy." She went on to apologize for not visiting until now, and for the rift between her and Darcy and Georgiana, and other matters of the heart. When she was finished, she kissed her fingers and then pressed her hand to each of headstones.

She returned to Darcy's side and was met with a silent embrace. After a moment, he pulled back and kissed her forehead. There were no words for such a moment, so taking her hand, and placing it on his arm, Darcy led them back to the phaeton that awaited them.

The ride back to the main house was quiet, neither ready to share what was in their hearts, and upon their arrival, they went their separate ways.

That night, as was becoming tradition, Elizabeth once again joined Darcy in his sitting room. Tonight though, Darcy did not intend to put up the pretence of reading. He sat, and then signalled for her to sit beside him. When she did, he was quick to pull her into his arms. He pressed a deep kiss in to her hair. "I love you, Elizabeth."

She cuddled up next to him, resting her head against his shoulder. "I love you too, Fitzwilliam."

"Thank you," he said. "I had not visited them since last spring." As expected, Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise. "I could not face them after last summer. I was too full of guilt. I had to fix things first."

Elizabeth pulled back and placed her hand against his cheek. "Fitzwilliam, your parents do not blame you, nor does Georgiana."

Not unexpectedly, Darcy turned away. "She was my responsibility," he said lowly.

Elizabeth looked up at him with a tender, understanding look, and then kissed the tip of his nose. "You must allow yourself to be forgiven, and let go of the things you can not control. You have many under your responsibility: Pemberley's tenant families, the servants, the servants in London, Georgiana," with a pert smile, she added, "and a wife." She kissed his cheek. "and God willing, someday children." She saw his expression intensify, but continued. "And while you are the best man I know, you will not be able to protect all of us all of the time."

The last word was barely out of her mouth when she found his lips pressed hard against her own. After being thusly engaged for some time, he leaned his forehead against her. "I shall try, if you will be patient with me."

Elizabeth nodded, and placed a final kiss on his lips, before nestling against his shoulder again. Darcy let out a deep sigh. A long contented silence filled the room.

"I would have liked for them to see us marry. They would have been proud to welcome you into the family." His tone was distant but light. "My father always wanted a daughter like you. He claims it was his idea to give Georgiana your name." Feeling her smiling against him, he kissed the top of her head. "My mother adored you, even if she could never convince you not to play with us boys." He snickered. "She used to tell me I should be nicer to you; that I may regret it someday."

Unable to stop herself, she asked, "And do you?"

"Should I?"

"Perhaps. But then I may not have found you nearly so entertaining, and become friends with one of your cousins or even Lord Blakeslee."

"Elizabeth," Darcy growled, causing her to giggle. She pressed a brief kiss to his lips, and then resumed her previous position. "You have nothing to fear, dearest husband. You alone hold my heart."

Darcy seemed content with that, and held her close, taking a moment to breathe in her essence.

"When I was young," Elizabeth said a few moments later, "I used to break loose from the house and make plans for my escape to Pemberley." She chuckled. "Once I even drew a map to Derbyshire so I could have the gypsies take me there. I was certain even they would be happy to live at Pemberley."

A chuckle escaped them both.

"You are a Darcy now, and I intend to keep you at Pemberley for a very long time."

After a while, he said absently, "Do you have any idea how difficult it was to watch you dance and speak with other men during our time in London? I kept thinking any day you would break our engagement."

With tender look, Elizabeth ran a hand down his cheek. "That would have been quite impossible, dearest. I believe I was already quite in love with you. I simply did not know it."

Darcy responded to such a statement the only way he could, with a deep, passionate kiss. As it intensified, their hands began roaming freely. When Darcy's lips found their way to Elizabeth's bare shoulder, he felt her inhale sharply. He immediately pulled back. He was about to apologize when Elizabeth pulled his head back down to her.

After another long kiss, she whispered, "I am not afraid, Fitzwilliam."

Feeling a surge of desire, the likes he had not permitted thus far, he pulled her body tightly against his. "I love you, my Beth," he murmured.

"Make me your wife, Fitzwilliam," came the soft reply. "I am ready."

Having waited what seemed an eternity to hear those words, it took Darcy a moment to react. When he did, his actions were swift and decisive. Before Elizabeth had a chance to change her mind, if she was so inclined, he scooped her up and carried her to his bed.

Elizabeth woke in the middle of the night to an unfamiliar noise. She turned her head, searching for the source, but froze when she realized she was completely unclothed. A flush consumed her, and worsened when she realized the source of the sound that had woken her was her husband.

The newness of the situation made her bashful, and she longed for her nightshift. Trapped below his arm though, there was little she could do. She lay awake, listening to her husband snore. A giggle began to bubble up, and she had to press her hand against her lips to keep it from escaping. There are worse situations.

After a while, she tried to escape his arm. Just when she thought she was free though, he turned over and pulled her closer to him. He murmured something incoherent, and then the snoring returned. She was stuck. She sighed.

My husband. The word still sent a delightful thrill through her. Never did she imagine a year ago that she would not only be reunited with her friend, but they would be married and very much in love. "I love you, Fitzwilliam," she breathed.

She shifted about and finding a comfortable position, fell back asleep with her head buried against her one true love.

The next morning, Darcy woke, feeling something warm and soft beneath his hand. He cracked open an eye, and seeing his wife, grinned broadly. For once it was not a dream! His beautiful, alluring wife was slumbering next to him.

He turned, trying not to wake her, for a better view. He stifled an adoring chuckle, seeing her hands tucked innocently under chin, and the gentle upward curve of her lips. He was the most fortunate man in all the land.

As it was still early, and he had absolutely no desire to leave his bed, much less his chambers, he made himself comfortable once again, and then pulled her body alongside his.

"Good morning, my love," he whispered when she stirred. Her dreamy eyes twinkled up at him in response.

"Good morning, dearest husband," she replied. She stretched, yawned, and then cuddled up next to him again. "I shall have to thank Lady Catherine," she murmured.

"For what?" His eyes widened in horror. That woman's name in his bed chamber was nearly enough to kill any ardour.

"Why, without her persistence in seeing you married to Anne, you would never have been forced to marry me."

Darcy chuckled. "She does like to be useful." With a pinch on her bottom, he added, "But this is the last I shall tolerate that name in this room, or hear the words ‘forced to marry me' from your lips."

"And how will you go about stopping me, dear husband?"

Darcy ferociously attacked her lips with his. After a few moments, he growled, "I seem to recall you taking a vow of obedience."

Elizabeth laughed out loud. "But, I may forget," she replied coyly.

Hungrily he attacked her neck, causing her to squeal. "You were saying, dear wife?"

"I love you, dearest husband." She pulled his head down for another deep kiss.

Darcy returned it with equal fervour. When the kiss broke, they remained locked in each other's gaze, seeing each other's soul. Without moving, he said softly, "I, Fitzwilliam George Howard Darcy, take you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth Rosamond, for my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love," He kissed her fully on the lips. "Cherish." He punctuated the word with another kiss. "'Till death us do part." After a long kiss he added, "All that I have is yours, my Beth."

With his thumb, he brushed away the tear that had formed in the corner of her eye, and then gently kissed each of her lids. "I wanted you to hear that as I meant it."

Overwhelmed by such a heartfelt declaration, Elizabeth snaked her arm around his neck and pulled him into deep, lingering kiss. It led to her own, though less verbal, recitation of her vows.

It had been four weeks since they wed. Since then, Elizabeth and Darcy had spent a week at Pemberley, and another ten days touring the peaks and surrounding area. Now, they were back at Pemberley, preparing for their return to London.

"I realize this is our honeymoon, dearest," Darcy began the day after their return to Pemberley. "But would you mind terribly if we entertained this evening?"

Elizabeth's brows immediately moved towards her hairline. Her reticent husband wanted to entertain when they could rightfully refuse all visitors? "I... I suppose. The kitchen has not had time to prepare, and..." She inhaled deeply, trying to calm fluttering stomach. All at once the admonishments of Lady Matlock flooded her brain.

"There is no need to go to additional effort. Whatever you already have planned will be sufficient."

"Might I inquire who the guests will be?" If the callers were prominent members of the neighbourhood, a great deal of effort would be required, despite her husband's assurances otherwise.

"Mr. and Mrs. Phillip Strelley. Mr. Strelley has an estate north of here, but his family's legacy is a charity school for young men and wounded soldiers. My family has been assisting the Strelley family in finding places of employment for his men for many years. The men are able to make their own way and learn new skills, and it is good for the business owners. Many businesses would struggle were it not for these men, and the assistance of the families that support Mr. Strelley's efforts.

"Pemberley's under-gardener came to be in my employ from Mr. Strelley. More recently, Mr. Stohner's apprentice, Mr. Dunhill and his family, was saved from the workhouse on a recommendation from Mr. Strelley. Mr. Stohner has no sons to take over the smithy; and since Mr. Dunhill can no longer work the fields, it was a good match."

Feeling more assured such a couple would easily overlook any of her small faux pas, Elizabeth replied more cheerfully. "It all sounds so elaborate. I was only aware of the charity home in London, and the charity house to which my aunt makes donations."

"It can be difficult finding the right situation for a man, but the benefits are well worth it."

"I had no idea you were such an accomplished matchmaker, dear husband. My mother will be so pleased." She could not help the tease, nor the smirk at Darcy's look of utter disgust. "Is that not what you are doing? Matching the right business owner with a suitable apprentice?"

"We are not matchmaking." Darcy said gravely.

She could not help the trill of laughter that escaped at Darcy's admonishing look. "Very well, my non-matchmaking husband. You may inform Mr. and Mrs. Strelley, I would be pleased to have them for dinner this evening."

Exercising no little amount of restraint, Darcy kissed the inside of his wife's wrist. "Thank you. I would not ask this of you, but we shall be for town in but a few days, and I need to discuss a few things with Mr. Strelley."

Elizabeth's eyes twinkled. "It is no difficulty. I can hardly deny a meal to a man who helps so many others." After finishing her cup of coffee, she rose. "I, however, must speak with the cook and inform her that we shall be a few more tonight; but if she is angry and ruins the pudding, it will be upon your head."

Darcy chuckled at his wife's retreating form. He would deal with her impudence later tonight, when they were alone.

Despite Darcy's assurance that the Strelley's did not expect anything elaborate, Elizabeth could not help but fret. It was, after all, her first dinner as Mrs. Darcy. She tried to console herself, that at least this was not London, but at the same time, railed against the lack of time for preparation.

With the assistance of Pemberley's kitchen staff, Elizabeth had modified the dinner menu to include a full new course, and had tweaked a few of the dishes to be a bit more elaborate. Though the mutton would remain as planned, the fish would be served a la crème now, and an herb soufflé would be offered alongside the lemon custard. For better or for worse, the only vegetables available were spring ones; though the asparagus was changed from being curried to being served with a buerre blanc sauce.

After those preparations were set in motion, she set her mind to the dining room. Being just the four of them, she decided to dine in the small formal dining room. She had fresh flowers cut, and then spent a prodigious amount of time deciding on the place settings. When everything was brought together, she looked over the arrangement and smiled. Lady Matlock would have been pleased.

As the dinner hour was nearing, she took one last sniff of the floral arrangement to test their freshness and fragrance, and then she hurried above stairs where Penny was waiting.

Her observant maid, Penny, had picked up on the importance of this evening, and had outdone herself in styling Elizabeth's hair with dainty violets tucked under silver combs.

Darcy was waiting in the small parlour when Elizabeth finally made her way down to greet their guests. He stood immediately upon her entrance. "You are utterly enchanting, dearest." As the servants were milling about, he settled for a lingering kiss on her cheek. As his fingers brushed against her cheek he murmured, "I was a fool to suggest entertaining guests tonight."

Elizabeth pulled back and kissed him chastely on the lips. "I shall forgive you... This time."

A little while later, the Strelleys were announced. After the gentlemen exchanged greetings, Darcy introduced Elizabeth.

"Mr. and Mrs. Strelley, may I introduce to you my wife, Elizabeth Darcy." He could not suppress the broad smile that cracked his formal façade.

The evening passed easily, and without incident. Mr. and Mrs. Strelley were good conversationalists, and despite the age difference, the two couples were able to find a great deal of common interests.

After speaking some time about the school, the four discussed the Darcy's recent trip around the area. When Mrs. Strelley learned of Elizabeth's desire to visit The Lakes in the summer, she was quick to praise its beauty and provide advice of the towns to visit.

There was a brief separation of the sexes after the meal, in which Elizabeth was able to better make Mrs. Strelley's acquaintance, and Darcy and Mr. Strelley were able to conduct their business. When the four rejoined, Elizabeth entertained them all with a few pieces on the pianoforte.

Cognizant that they were intruding on the newly married couple's honeymoon, the Strelleys declared the evening very lovely, but made their excuses to depart at an early hour.

The Darcys too retired earlier than their wont.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Posted on: 2008-11-06

Elizabeth sat pensively in the coach, doing her best not to notice the way the vehicle swayed with each gust of wind, or how the grim clouds threatened overhead. Despite her efforts, she could not help thinking the setting lent itself perfectly to a horrible accident, and that by this time tomorrow, the London papers would be declaring its sorrow at losing such a prominent member of society. That was, if they were found.

"I am looking forward to seeing Georgiana, again." Elizabeth said, attempting to make conversation. Her sewing was serving her very ill in the capacity of a distraction.

"Aye." was all the response she received. With a heavy but silent sigh, she re-examined her stitches, and after finding her place, recommenced her effort to attach a piece of lace to the handkerchief. It was to be a gift for Jane.

A few minutes later, she attempted conversation again. "Has there been any word from Colonel Fitzwilliam?"

Receiving only a clipped "No," Elizabeth looked over at her husband. He was engrossed in his book, and seemingly impervious to the impending doom. Another blast of wind rocked the carriage just as its wheels hit a rut in the road. The combination caused Elizabeth to let out a squeak as she nearly lost her seat.

When she was recovered, she looked over at Darcy, who appeared completely nonplussed. "Fitzwilliam!" she cried. "How can you remain unaffected when we are about to be thrown from the road?"

Darcy chuckled, instantly sparking her ire. "Dearest, we are perfectly safe. If there was cause for concern, the driver would have alerted me, and we would stop for the day at the next inn."

If he had intended his statement to quell her fears, he had failed miserably. Indeed, her fears were now compounded by her anger. Too emotional to see to the careful stitching required for working with delicate lace, she put away her sewing. Then, with several sharp movements, she situated herself in the corner, and folded her arms across her chest.

Twenty minutes passed before Darcy took much notice of his brooding wife. "Are you cold?"

Elizabeth shook her head, but would not look at him. So, setting his book aside, he called to her with open arms. She hesitated a minute before situating herself safely against him.

"Is this better?" he murmured into her hair.

"Yes," she said petulantly. "But I do wish the wind would calm."

Darcy rubbed her arms soothingly. "Surely you have ridden in more inclement weather than this."

"Not often, and I did not like it then either." she pouted, causing Darcy to chuckle once again. He quickly pacified her with a kiss on her head. "I will not let anything happen to you."

For perhaps the first time since the journey began, enveloped in the strong arms of her husband, Elizabeth relaxed; that was, until the wind once again blew heavily, testing the carriage springs.

"We shall stop for the day at the next inn," Darcy soothed, feeling Elizabeth shiver, and seeing her fears would not abate. In truth, the last gust had unnerved him as well. "For now, however," releasing Elizabeth for a minute, he reached under the seat across from them and pulled out a wool rug, "this will keep you warm."

They rode for almost another hour before reaching a suitable inn, at which their day's journey could end.

Thankfully, the remainder of the travel to London, while albeit cooler than the season warranted, passed uneventfully.

As the sounds of town infiltrated the carriage, Darcy's formal mien returned in full force.

Well attuned to her husband's mood, she teased, "You are not looking forward to parading your new bride around town?"

Darcy rolled his eyes at her teasing. "You know very well I am not fond of town. And to placate your vanity, if you must know, I would prefer not to share you at all."

Elizabeth blushed appropriately. "Not even with your dearest sister?"

With a playful nibble at the inside of her wrist, he growled, "Not even with my dearest sister."

After emitting a short giggle, Elizabeth replied with a wistful sigh. "I, too, wish we could have remained at Pemberley."

Darcy pulled his wife close to him. They were testing the bounds of propriety - being so close to town - with such intimacy, even within the confines of their carriage, and knew it must soon come to an end. "Then it is decided. There is no need to stay until the end of the Season. We shall depart from town no later than six weeks hence. That should give the gossip mongers plenty of fodder."

"How little faith you have in me."

"You know very well that is not true, Elizabeth." He levelled a playful scowl, causing her to crack a smile.

Not long after, the couple arrived at Arryndale, where they were warmly greeted by the chief staff.

"Miss Darcy is in the music room," Mrs. Brenton informed them, as Elizabeth and Darcy headed to their rooms to discard their travel clothes. "Lady Matlock has requested to be informed of your return as soon as may be, and Lord Blakeslee has called twice. Mr. Seymour has your invitations in your study, Mr. Darcy; he was uncertain how you wished to coordinate them, so has both yours and Mrs. Darcy's. Mrs. Darcy's calling cards arrived two days ago; they are in her private parlour. Mr. Keenan wishes to let you know he will, of course, reprint them if they are not satisfactory. Mr. Tattersall also called with the utmost urgency yesterday morn."

On and on, the housekeeper went until they reached the Master and Mistress' quarters. Darcy and Elizabeth thanked their housekeeper for her fastidiousness, and then asked for a tea service to be sent to the music room in thirty minutes.

After ridding themselves of their travel dust, Elizabeth and Darcy made their way to the music room. The moment they entered, Georgiana jumped from the bench at the pianoforte, and in a most unladylike display, ran across the room. She threw her arms around Elizabeth, greeting her with a sisterly kiss on the cheek.

After Elizabeth returned the kiss and a hearty embrace, Georgiana turned to greet her brother.

"Married but a month, and already I am relegated to second choice." Darcy grumbled, though his bright eyes belied his amusement.

"Really, Fitzwilliam," Georgiana laughed. After hugging her brother, she took his arm and led him to the sofa. "I wish to hear everything."

Tea was brought in, and the three spent most of the afternoon acquainting each other of their comings and goings over the past month. Elizabeth spoke of their trip to the Peaks and the dinner with the Strelleys. Darcy relayed pertinent information about the tenants and Pemberley, while Georgiana told of her many shopping excursions with Lady Matlock and Lady Fitzwilliam. She also mentioned having received calls from Miss Woodall and Miss Bingley.

After a while, Elizabeth reluctantly excused herself from the quiet reunion to spend an hour meeting with Mrs. Brenton. Based on the housekeeper's monologue upon their arrival, the more sedate induction into her role as Mrs. Darcy and society was not to be. Not only that, the remainder of the Bennet family would be descending on Arryndale later that week. There was plenty to do.

Dinner that evening was a pleasant affair, but tired from travel, an exhausted Elizabeth climbed the stairs and readied for bed earlier than her wont. Unwilling to leave all of the Pemberley way of life behind in Derbyshire, she entered her husband's sitting room after knocking lightly.

She was not surprised to find Darcy waiting for her. A chess board at the ready, instead of his usual reading material, however, did amuse her. Surely he did not expect her mental faculties to be at their peak.

"I thought to sharpen my game, if you are up to it," he said. "Wesley or Woodall will no doubt issue a challenge."

"Surely your skills have not decreased, dear husband." Elizabeth flattered. "Why, I had heard you to have championed all of London." She settled into the sofa, away from the game, and opened her tome. "Besides, an accomplished lady of the ton could hardly be expected to engage in such activity." She began reading, studiously avoiding her husband's gaze.

Darcy stared at his wife with his mouth agape. Had she really refused to play? Because it was unfashionable? After a moment, he shook his head, trying to hide his amusement. She was teasing him again.

Seeing she was not going to relent without further prodding, he walked over to her and stood towering over her; his shadow casting a shadow over the words.

Finally, she looked up at him. "Is there something troubling you, husband?" She smiled innocently and held her book closer to the candle.

"Indeed there is," he said gravely. "I seem to have lost my wife on my way to London. You have not perchance seen her, have you?"

Elizabeth gasped, pressing her hand to her lips in feigned distress. "Perhaps. I have myself just come from the north. If you were to describe her for me, I could inquire as to her whereabouts."

Darcy drew in a breath, and then manoeuvred the two of them so Elizabeth was repositioned on his lap. "I am most distressed over losing her for she could never be replaced. She was the most beautiful woman in all the land. She has dark curls I love to watch bounce as she walks." He brushed his fingers through her dark locks; then ran his hand along her neck. "And the most graceful neckline a man could ever hope to lay eyes upon." He placed a feather-light kiss on her throat. "Her eyes," he added huskily, "they are fine, beautiful, brown orbs. But not just any brown; they are soft and warm, and sparkle when she laughs." He sighed wistfully. "A man could get lost forever in them."

Though the chess board remained untouched, Darcy spent the remainder of the night practicing various tactics, including removing the guard of his opponent, cornering the queen, and exploiting each and every one of his opponent's openings.

The following day, even before the acceptable calling hour, Elizabeth was whisked away by Lady Matlock, Lady Fitzwilliam, and Georgiana. Her presentation at court was in two days time, and according to the great lady, there were a hundred things to do.

They started the morning with a final inspection and fitting of her gown. Elizabeth stood stock still as the modiste pulled and pinned her gown. After that, she was subjected to the same thing as Penny curled her hair, and then stuck it with pins and feathers. Then, fully frocked, Elizabeth practiced walking, taking her bow, and kissing the hand of the queen.

Though it would all have to be done again the day of her presentation, even Elizabeth did not mind the activity. She was nervous, and her flawless execution during the practice session bolstered her confidence. Now, if only there was something she could do about the ridiculous, frilly gown!

While Elizabeth was being surrounded by the gaggle of women, Darcy attended to business until Lord Blakeslee came to call. The two immediately proceeded to the armoury for some fencing experience.

"You are out of shape, old man," Blakeslee chided, after scoring his third point in a row.

Darcy nodded in agreement while attempting to catch his breath. He was out of shape, but that was hardly surprising. It had been six weeks, and like more, since he had last picked up a foil. He had no reason to repine his lapse though; if he never picked up a foil again, he could never regret his marriage to Elizabeth.

After several more rounds, Darcy conceded a sound defeat. The two towelled down, and then retreated to Darcy's study for some refreshments.

"I do hope you have at least managed to keep your chess play sharp, or you shall be no good to me at all." Lord Blakeslee drawled, before taking a sip of his lemonade. "I shall have to resort to playing with Landon and Woodall, and neither of them have decent port."

"I assure you, my chess game is quite fine," Darcy replied. Recalling his last attempt at the game, a private smirk emerged.

"We shall find out soon enough. You will be at the Woodall's dinner party tomorrow?"

"Indeed. I thought it would be a good way to ease Elizabeth into the Season."

Blakeslee rolled his eyes amusedly. "I shall have Woodall ensure the chess boards are at the ready. How is Pemberley?"

"It is good. How are Lady Blakeslee and Julian?"

"Mother has completed the list of acceptable debutantes I am to entertain this season, and Julian is at Cambridge. Any word from Richard?"

Darcy shook his head. "There was a letter he arrived safely on the continent, but nothing since then." He shrugged.

The two spoke of other news of town and family. Lord Blakeslee was invited to dine with the family, but declined.

The following day was more subdued than the previous one. Elizabeth was busy making herself comfortable in her new home, and dealing with matters with the servants, the house, and preparing for the arrival of her family.

Darcy was busy re-establishing acquaintances at his club and around town.

That evening, the two prepared for their first public appearance as man and wife.

As much as Darcy tried to reassure her, Elizabeth was still nervous. The last thing she wanted to do was commit some faux pas that would embarrass either of them. As a result, the carriage ride was quiet.

Once they arrived however, it was not long before Elizabeth felt at ease. The Woodall dinner party included a few relatives and friends. It was about the size of the gatherings at Longbourn, and most of the guests seemed more interested in currying the Darcys' favour, than finding fault with Elizabeth.

They were both having a pleasant time, until two unexpected guests approached. "Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley greeted enthusiastically. "It is so good to see you!" With an upturned lip, she added, "Mrs. Darcy."

Elizabeth could feel Miss Bingley's appraising eyes rake over her, but did not have time to react, as Mr. Bingley greeted them next.

"Mrs. Darcy, may I say how charming you look this evening." To Darcy he said, "Darcy, married life seems to suit you." His tone was more formal than expected, and his friendly sparkle was all but gone.

The small smile that already graced Darcy's face grew. With a single nod, he replied, "Thank you, Bingley. I am enjoying it."

With an unspoken embargo on almost every topic, silence fell on the group until Mr. Bingley asked, "May I inquire after your family, Mrs. Darcy?"

"Thank you, Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth replied, hoping her shock was not too evident. "Miss Darcy is well." She raised a brow, almost daring him to inquire after Jane.

When Bingley did, Elizabeth replied tartly, "Oh, I had not thought they concerned you. How kind of you to ask after them. I heard from them just before departing Pemberley; they are well." When Mr. Bingley flinched, however, Elizabeth immediately felt remorseful. How Jane would chastise her now if she were present! Not only that, Mr. Bingley, he still was her husband's friend, and she should be kind to him, regardless of her feelings.

"And... um... are you enjoying yourself in town?" Mr. Bingley asked, looking anywhere but at Elizabeth.

"We have only just arrived, but I have no complaints." Elizabeth replied lightly. "Though I must own to already missing Pemberley's walking paths." She smiled up at Darcy.

The awkwardness of the situation was diffused by a call to dinner. Elizabeth noted with increasing respect how Bingley was quick to offer his arm to his sister, relieving Darcy of any obligation he might have felt.

Throughout the dinner, Elizabeth, and to a lesser extent Darcy, answered any number of questions regarding her family, Longbourn, her previous connection with the Darcys, places she had visited in town, merchants she patronized, and many other subjects. The questions were polite and kindly meant, in most cases, even if they were impertinent.

After dinner, the men separated from the ladies.

Without the protection of her husband, Elizabeth felt the eyes of the room upon her. At any moment, she expected the ladies to turn and begin finding find fault with her. Having been well prepared for such an occasion, Elizabeth maintained a neutral, nonplussed appearance. She continued answering questions politely, and was relieved when her fears were discovered to be mostly unfounded. She would later learn most of the women were from families considered beneath the Darcys, but more than one lady present had entertained hopes of an alliance.

In another room, filled with the scent of tobacco and liquor, Darcy too found himself the centre of attention. The gentlemen, it seemed, were intent on picking up where they had left off when they last met in London.

"Darcy," Woodall proclaimed while exhaling a puff of smoke, "I believe I liked you better unmarried." A ruckus of laughter filled the room. "That grin on your face is downright insufferable. It has been what, a month? Have you not tired of it already?"

"Fortunate for me," Darcy replied, "I have not. I find myself rather enjoying being married."

The men all laughed knowingly.

"Careful, my friend," Blakeslee warned, "or you may find yourself too stupid to bring in the harvest." Loud laughter resounded and glasses clanked.

"I have my lovely wife for an excuse," came Darcy's retort. "What will be yours, Blakeslee?"

More guffaws were heard. For some time, all the men exchanged jabs and insults - some more crude than others - with one another. After a while, chess boards were set up, and Darcy proved that while marriage may have affected his fencing skills, it had not affected his mental capabilities in the least.

As the evening grew late, the men finally rejoined the ladies, and Darcy unashamedly took a place by his wife's side. After performances by several of the ladies at the pianoforte and other instruments, the evening ended.

Back in the privacy of their own carriage, Elizabeth leaned heavily against her husband. If this evening was any indication of the days to come, the next six weeks would be trying indeed. The ladies that evening had been too conscientious of their station to openly show their displeasure by Darcy's choice. Yet even that did not stop their brazen inquiry. One lady had even gone so far as to question the size of Elizabeth's dowry and settlement.

Her only saving grace would be a quick acceptance by good society. Once she was no longer considered an interloper, such questions would cease; at least so she hoped.

"You were lovely this evening, Elizabeth." Darcy grinned smugly, though the dark of night hid it. "Everyone was quite jealous of me."

A tired snicker could be heard. "And of me. Though I doubt the men were quite so curious of the arts and allurements you used to capture one of London's favourites."

Darcy squeezed her tight. "Whatever ones you used, I hope you continue using them," he murmured huskily.

Elizabeth responded the only way she could, given their current surroundings. She sidled up next to him. "I love you, Fitzwilliam."

The following day, Elizabeth sat quietly in the carriage next to Lady Matlock; across from her, sat Fitzwilliam.

It was over. She had kissed the hand of the queen, and had managed to exit the room without tripping over her train. Rather than feeling relief, however, Elizabeth felt strangely empty. All those hours of practice, the trips to the modiste, the time spent to ensure her hair was just right, and the anxiety while waiting in the cold entrance hall. It had all culminated to a short ten minutes in front of Her Majesty. It just did not seem to balance.

Perhaps her befuddlement might have been less, had being in the presence queen met her expectations. But it did not. True, she did not know what to expect, but disenchantment was not amongst it.

Queen Charlotte was magnanimous to be sure, but she reminded Elizabeth more of her grandmother, not the ruler of England and its colonies. The Queen was a person! A person past her prime, and whose experiences, both happy and sad, were etched in the lines of her face.

The more she thought about it, the more Elizabeth realized she had expected to be awed in the presence of the Queen. She had expected to be intimidated, to have her worthiness tested. Yet it was nothing like that.

"I understand your family arrives tomorrow?" Lady Matlock asked, interrupting Elizabeth's reflections.

"Yes."

"And the plans for the dinner are under control?"

"Everything should be as planned." She turned towards Lady Matlock. "I must thank you for agreeing to sponsor me, and your assistance in the dinner and ball."

Lady Matlock acknowledged the words with a single nod, and then began speaking of other general news around town, until the carriage stopped in front of Lanelle House.

The three said their goodbyes, and after Darcy saw his aunt to the door, he and Elizabeth returned to Arryndale.

Alone in their rooms, Elizabeth and Darcy were finally free to speak of the morning.

"You have already changed." Darcy observed upon entering the Mistress' chambers.

"As soon as possible." She shrugged into a dressing robe. Seeing her husband's look of disappointment, she laughed. "Surely you could not have found it... becoming."

Darcy's cheeks reddened, betraying his thoughts. "I did not think it so awful," he mumbled. "Who am I to disagree with the Queen's preferences?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and groaned. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. "You are incorrigible sometimes."

They settled on Elizabeth's sofa, before Darcy inquired about how it all proceeded.

"I managed not to make a fool of myself," Elizabeth teased. "Though I own, it seems like a great deal of trouble for just a few short minutes."

"She is the Queen," he lightly reprimanded; it was an automatic response.

"Yes. But somehow, I expected something more inspiring, and less... normal." She shrugged. "I find Lady Matlock more intimidating than Queen Charlotte." A light blush touched her cheeks.

"Only you, my dear, would make such an observation." He kissed his wife's head. "But I think I comprehend you. The first time I met the Prince Regent, I was taken aback at how normal he appeared." He chuckled. "Were it not for everyone bowing to him, and the scads of guards that followed him, I would not have known him to be different than any other courtier."

Elizabeth smiled and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "I knew you would understand."

"Are you pleased it is over with?"

Elizabeth nodded. "If only the dinner and ball were over as well. Then I could rest easy."

"You shall be marvellous, my sweet Beth. Even if Lord Matlock should end up wearing the soup course, I shall love you all the same."

Elizabeth could not help laughing. "I love you, dearest husband."

Chapter Thirty-Six

Posted on: 2008-11-13

As planned, the Bennet family descended on Arryndale the day before Elizabeth's debut dinner.

The reunion was met with clashing emotions - excitement, dread, and an unexplained nervousness. Elizabeth was not blind to the faults of her family - namely how taxing her mother and youngest sisters could be when excited - but she loved them nonetheless. She was anxious to show them, especially her father and Jane, how happy she was. And despite enjoying her time with Darcy, she had to admit she had missed her family.

Standing at the front doors, waiting for the Bennet equipage to arrive, it was all she could do to contain her excitement. By the time the carriage door opened, she could hardly stand still.

"Go on," Darcy whispered.

The words were like opening the door to an animal's cage. All thoughts of presenting herself as a lady of high society were gone, and she flew down the steps of the house and threw her arms around her father.

Behind her, Darcy followed at a more reserved pace. After Mr. Bennet released his daughter, Darcy bowed respectfully and welcomed him to Arryndale.

Mr. Bennet barely had time to return the greeting before Mrs. Bennet could be seen in the doorway of the carriage. "Mrs. Darcy!" she cried, taking her husband's hand to step down. "How well that sounds." She pulled Elizabeth into a tight embrace, and then set her aside to view the house. "Oh my!" she gasped. "How many windows? Why there must be thirty or forty at least."

All at once, the elation of seeing her family again vanished, and Elizabeth sent her eyes skyward in a silent prayer. Her prayer was evidently not to be immediately answered, as a crass outcry about the Darcy wealth from Lydia made Elizabeth flush in embarrassment.

Preferring to keep future such outbursts private, Elizabeth led her family into the house. Thankfully, the grandeur of the home had most of them too much in awe to say anything, and the silence continued as the Bennets were led to their rooms to refresh themselves.

A half hour later, everyone had gathered in the primary drawing room. Unfortunately, by then, Mrs. Bennet's silent appraisal of Arryndale had turned more vociferous, and she insisted on an immediate tour of the grand house.

Though tea service had been ordered, Elizabeth decided it best to concede to her mother's wishes. If she was fortunate, her mother's seemingly endless commentary would be expended by the end of the tour, and her husband and new sister would be spared most of the vulgarities.

Arryndale was an impressive home. Indeed, at times, even Elizabeth had trouble believing that she was mistress of it all. Still, she struggled to bear her mother's and sister's comments with equanimity. Apparently nothing in the house matched Mrs. Bennet's sense of style, and she was quick to voice suggestions. "Certainly a man of Mr. Darcy's means can afford Brussels lace for the windows. The covering for that chaise is simply dreadful; puce would be much more fashionable."

Whether or not Elizabeth agreed with the current mode of fashion, she did a tolerable job in assuring her mother she would consider all of her recommendations, and had heard every last effusion. That was, until they made their way through the portrait gallery.

In truth, Elizabeth had not intended to make a show of the gallery, given her family would not recognize any faces, but Mrs. Bennet had other ideas. Though the connection was new, and only through marriage, Mrs. Bennet insisted on seeing this line of her relations.

So, full of apprehension, Elizabeth guided her mother and sisters through the room. She did her best to provide enlightening history, but she was unfamiliar with most of them, and therefore could say little. Unfortunately, Mrs. Bennet was never one for long silences, and therefore felt incumbent to provide her own commentary. Elizabeth was grateful she had the foresight of leaving her husband to entertain her father, because Mrs. Bennet seemed intent on finding fault with all of the Darcy relations.

"The poor man," Mrs. Bennet tutted, nearing the end of the line of paintings. "His wife was not very attractive. She must have had a large dowry. What I could do for you girls with such a dowry." She beamed proudly at Elizabeth's white cap. "I suppose with Lizzy so well married now, it is less important now."

In Mrs. Bennet's defence, she did not know she was speaking of Lady Anne Darcy, having met the lady only a few times when Elizabeth was just a toddler. Nor could Mrs. Bennet know the likeness had been taken after the lady had fallen ill. But even taking all this into account, Elizabeth found herself furious at her mother. Why could her mother not be more gracious? It was as if by criticizing the Darcy ancestors, Mrs. Benent's own status would be uplifted.

Elizabeth did her best to hide her distress, but was relieved when shortly thereafter, her mother declared the tour over, and herself too fatigued for tea.

After seeing her sisters and mother to their rooms, Elizabeth sought out the comfort of her husband. Without knocking, Elizabeth entered Darcy's study, and availed herself to his comforting embrace.

"My Beth, whatever is the matter?" Darcy consoled, holding his wife close. He was met with silence.

"Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth implored, finally. "What are we going to do?"

"Perhaps if you could tell me what has you upset, I might find a solution."

"She does not mean to be so cruel, but why must she say anything at all?"

"Who has said what? Are you speaking of your mother?"

Elizabeth nodded, without lifting her head from Darcy's chest. "There is simply no accounting for her tongue. What if she says something uncouth at the dinner or the ball?"

For a moment, Darcy said nothing. He had similar concerns, but had kept them to himself. His wife's current state of distress did not make this the appropriate time either though. "It will be well, dearest. Your mother is just a bit excited. By tomorrow, she will walk about the house as if she owns it, as if she has been a Darcy relation all her life."

"But..." Darcy silenced her by placing a finger against her lips, and guided her over to the settee. After settling Elizabeth on his lap, he said, "Your aunt and uncle Gardiner will be here for the dinner and ball. They have proven very adept at taming your mother's excesses. Do you not agree?"

Elizabeth nodded, and murmured something about speaking with her aunt.
After a few more minutes of silence, Darcy suggested Elizabeth take a rest before preparing for dinner.

Once Elizabeth had retired to her rooms, Darcy went in search of Mr. Bennet. No one was permitted to upset his wife, not even her mother, without consequences, especially on this occasion.

Predictably, he found Mr. Bennet in the library, engrossed in a book. He gently cleared his throat to gain the elder man's attention.

"Ah, Darcy. I hope you do not mind, I helped myself to some of your restorative." He nodded to glass of sherry on the table beside him.

"Not at all," Darcy replied. He took a seat across from Mr. Bennet. "The ladies have all retired to their rooms for the remainder of the afternoon."

Mr. Bennet shrugged and nodded. Then realizing ladies included Elizabeth, he asked, "Is Lizzy well? It is not like her to require an afternoon rest."

Darcy bit down on the retort that was on the tip of his tongue; he was well aware of his wife's habits. "She will be fine. I am afraid this morning's... excitement... has upset her." He pointedly stared down the other man, conveying the import of his words.

Mr. Bennet only chuckled. "Lizzy is used to dealing with her mother. There is no cause for concern."

"On the contrary, Mr. Bennet. I have just spent the last twenty minutes consoling your daughter after some remarks made by your wife." Darcy slowly simmered at the man's quick dismissal of his wife's gauche behaviour. "Mr. Bennet, I do my best not interfere with another man's affairs. However, when they affect my own family, I can not idly sit by. I will ask you to control your wife's behaviour, for Elizabeth's sake."

Mr. Bennet predictably flushed in anger. "You mean for your sake, Mr. Darcy. My daughters may be the silliest in all of England, and my wife may be loquacious, but Lizzy has never been ashamed of them. I never thought you to be the type to hide behind your wife."

"Sir, these next few days are very important to Elizabeth, and admittedly myself. But I sought you out on behalf of your... my wife. Elizabeth has worked very hard over the last few months to ensure that tomorrow's dinner and the ball are successful. I will not permit those efforts to be in vain."

Mr. Bennet snorted dismissively, "Mrs. Bennet takes some getting used to, but Lizzy has learned to ignore most of what her mother says."

"Elizabeth should not have to make such efforts, sir, especially in her own home."

"What is it you are asking, Mister Darcy? Shall I pack up my family and return to Longbourn? Would that please you? What excuse shall I give my daughter?"

"I am not asking that at all. My wife's family will always be welcome both at Arryndale and Pemberley. I simply hoped you could impart the importance of the next two days on your wife, and ask her to be a bit more reserved in her manner of expression."

"Very well," Mr. Bennet sighed heavily in resignation. "I shall speak to Mrs. Bennet. Will there be anything else?"

Darcy hesitated a moment, but then brought up the subject of the two youngest Bennet girls. Mr. Bennet agreed that since they were not of an age to be out in London society, they would remain above stairs with Georgiana on both evenings.

In an attempt to smooth things over, Darcy offered Mr. Bennet one of his finest cigars, and suggested a chess game. By the time they parted to prepare for dinner, the two were at least on amicable ground once again.

It turned out that Darcy's intuit regarding Mrs. Bennet's state of awe had been correct. By the time dinner rolled around, the matron's effusions had diminished, and she had become much more interested in taking advantage of her fine accommodations than professing her opinion on them.

Elizabeth was intrigued by the change in her mother, and even more so by the occasional pointed looks exchanged between her husband and father. Wanting nothing more than a pleasant evening with her family though, Elizabeth did not question the behaviour until she was alone again with Darcy.

"I am sorry, Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth said, as they shared a nightcap in his rooms.

"What ever for, dearest?"

"For my silly display this afternoon. I should not have let my mother affect me so."

"So long as you do not go about crying for salts, I believe I can forgive you."

Elizabeth slapped at him playfully.

"You were correct; she was much more subdued at dinner tonight." She looked up at him. "Though I could not help but wonder if someone had said something to her." Her arched brow asked the question.

Darcy kissed her forehead. "I believe the saying goes, ‘Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.'"

"Fitzwilliam!" Elizabeth scolded. "You did say something!"

"How could I not, after seeing you so upset?" He attempted to distract her with a nibble on her wrist, but the curious look in her eye told him he was unsuccessful. "I spoke with your father this afternoon. I only wished him to understand the effort you put in to planning this occasion."

"Was he very angry? What did he say?"

Darcy relayed the essence of his conversation with Mr. Bennet, leaving out the emotional outbursts on both sides.

Elizabeth wanted to be angry at him for his interference, but was unable; not with evidence of success, nor with such understanding of his motives. "Thank you. I wonder if any of it was my father's doing though," she thought aloud. The next moment she smiled up at her husband. "Perhaps you are correct, and we should not question the cause."

The day of the dinner, Elizabeth was forever grateful when her Aunt Gardiner took Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Lydia shopping. The last thing she needed was her mother to begin inquiring about, or worse, changing, the dinner menu, the place settings, or the activities planned for the evening. As Mary and Jane were content to abscond themselves in the music room with Georgiana, Elizabeth did not have to concern herself with being a proper hostess. Thus, she was free to concentrate solely on that evening's dinner.

The table settings were precisely as she and Lady Matlock had planned. The silver was polished, the crystal was free of smudges, the flowers were freshly cut, and the linens crisply folded. The servant uniforms were brushed and buttons polished. The tea services were made ready for the tea water, and the wine decanted and tasted.

By the time she retired to dress for dinner, Elizabeth was a bundle of nerves. Every admonishment and word of advice Lady Matlock had imparted flashed through her head. Sit up straight, do not smile so, everything that happens was planned, never serve lemons and milk on the same tea tray. You must not hesitate; it is a sign of weakness. Mrs. Olmstead will only play whist, you must not even suggest piquet to her. Remember, everyone will be looking to you for direction.

So engrossed was she with these thoughts, she was startled when Penny pronounced her ready.

Before turning to examine her full reflection, she closed her eyes, afraid of what she might see. Would it Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, or Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley? Slowly, she opened her eyes and a gradual smile spread. If nothing else, at least she looked the part. She turned to her maid. "Thank you, Penny. You have outdone yourself."

After bobbing a curtsey, she assisted Elizabeth with her gloves. Before she could hand Elizabeth her fan, a knock on the door leading to the Master's rooms was heard.

Well acquainted with the way of things, Penny opened the door and then quickly took her leave.

"You are breathtaking, Elizabeth." Darcy murmured, as he placed a long kiss on her hand.

Elizabeth forced a smile, trying effect a calm demeanour.

"You are not nervous, are you?" Darcy teased.

Lifting her chin defiantly, Elizabeth quipped, "Of course not. My courage always rises to the occasion." Seeing Darcy's amused look, she blushed and murmured, "Perhaps a little."

Darcy kissed her forehead and drew her to him. "It will all be well, my Beth."

For a few moments, Elizabeth let all her cares about the dinner melt away. In his arms, it was easy to believe everything would indeed go as planned; that her mother would not say anything gauche, that the ladies would all be kind, and that her performance on the pianoforte would be divine.

The blissful moment was interrupted by a knock on Elizabeth's door. With a sigh of dismay, Elizabeth said, "Duty calls."

Darcy chuckled, and offered Elizabeth his arm. Exiting they greeted an anxious Georgiana, who was flanked by Lydia and Kitty. Georgiana blushed upon seeing them exit Elizabeth's room together, but it was only a moment. "Oh Elizabeth, you are absolutely stunning." She looked up at her brother. "Do you not think so too, Fitzwilliam?"

Darcy nodded deeply. "I have already told her so." Georgiana, Kitty, and Lydia all let out giggles.

"Mama is already waiting in the parlour. She sent me up here to retrieve you." Lydia said. "I still do not understand why I can not attend. I dance at all the assemblies in Meryton," she added with a pout.

"Shall we?" Elizabeth said to Darcy, ignoring her sister. There was no point in trying to reason with Lydia; it would only upset everyone.

On the arm of her husband, she entered the drawing room with as much self importance as she ever permitted herself. Tonight, all eyes would be upon her; she would give no one reason to doubt her ability to perform her duties, not even her own family.

As Lydia had mentioned, Mrs. Bennet, her father, Jane, Mary, the Gardiners, and the Phillipses were already present. Mr. Bennet stood and greeted his daughter with a hug, only to be pushed out of the way by Mrs. Bennet, who was staring openly at Elizabeth's gown and jewels. She was permitted a loud gasp, before being pulled aside by Mrs. Gardiner.

Brief greetings and compliments were exchanged between family members, and shortly thereafter, other guests began to arrive.

Oddly, the Matlocks were one of the last to arrive. They offered no apologies, as they were not late, but made a show of affectionately greeting Elizabeth. It was only then that Elizabeth recognized Lady Matlock's cunning. With some simple attention to timing, the lady had put to rest any idle gossip of Elizabeth's acceptance into the family.

When the housekeeper announced dinner was ready, Darcy escorted Mrs. Bennet and Lady Matlock to dinner, while Elizabeth was escorted by Lord Matlock. She took her place at one end of the table, and upon seeing her husband at his place, indicated to everyone to take their seats and then took her own.

She watched as the first course was served, while also doing her best to attend to the conversation going on around her. Later she would admit to not remembering much of it, as she was far too preoccupied with making sure the courses progressed at a proper tempo, the dishes were served warm, and the guests had full wine glasses.

After the pudding course, a simple nod from Darcy indicated it was time for a separation of the sexes. With all the grace of a person born in high society, Elizabeth stood and guided the ladies to the music room. As planned, tea, cakes, and biscuits were already waiting. At the far end of the room, a few tables were set up for whist, while the rest of the furniture was settled around the pianoforte.

Though she may have preferred to play a hand or two of whist, it was not to be. As hostess, it was her duty to speak to each of the guests, and see to their comforts, be that warming their tea cup, or diffusing any tension by gently guiding conversations.

When the gentlemen rejoined them, Elizabeth took her place by her husband's side.

"I thank you all for attending this small gathering this evening. Now that Arryndale once again has a mistress," he smiled down at Elizabeth, "such gatherings will not be so infrequent." He turned to Elizabeth and kissed her hand. "To the new Mrs. Darcy."

After the rest of the room echoed her husband, he presented Mr. Linnell. The artist puffed himself up and, with more pomp than necessary, unveiled Elizabeth's portrait.

While trying not to seem overly eager, several of the ladies made their way to the painting for careful inspection. A few commented on having their likeness captured by the more notable Mr. Lawrence, but that was the extent of the barbs.

The evening ended after several pianoforte performances by various ladies, including Elizabeth.

Though still beaming from the praise she received from the Matlocks, the Blakeslees, and a few others, her happiness was outweighed by her fatigue, and Elizabeth could barely keep her eyes open. Though she still joined her husband in his rooms that evening, there was no reading or games played. The last thing she heard before drifting off was Darcy saying, "You were splendid tonight..."

The day following the dinner was busier than ever. Though the ball was being hosted by the Matlocks, Elizabeth was no less busy.

The knocker on Arryndale had been put up, and so in the morning, she received several calls. Some were from ladies who had attended the dinner the previous evening. Others who came to call were acquainted with Mr. and Miss Darcy, but were more anxious to meet the new Mrs. Darcy.

The afternoon was spent at Lanelle House, where Elizabeth met with Lady Matlock and Lady Fitzwilliam, reviewing the final preparations for the ball. There was not much to inspect, but Lady Matlock seemed intent on having Elizabeth privy to every detail, from the dinner menu to the order of the dances.

After having hosted her first dinner party, Elizabeth had a new appreciation for the effort required, and happily took instruction from the great lady.

Finally, Elizabeth returned to Arryndale to ready herself. Penny, being ever efficient, had her bath, complete with rosewater, ready upon her return.

As the hour for departure neared, Darcy entered the Mistress's chamber.

"Elizabeth," Darcy said in a tone somewhere between a groan and whine. He fingered the pendant which hung just inches from the neckline of her gown. "You did this on purpose."

"I have no idea what you mean." Her eyes twinkled with the full knowledge of the effect she was having on him.

He touched his forehead to hers. "Promise me you will not dance with anyone tonight but me."

"Fitzwilliam, you know I can not do that." She chastely kissed his lips. "If, however, you promise not to brood all night, I shall promise to enjoy my dances with you the most."

"I shall try." He pulled her to him and kissed her passionately. As they did not wish to be late for the ball, the intimacy was tinged with restraint, and only lasted a minute.

As they headed below stairs, the smile slipped from Darcy's face, and a more formal façade emerged. It would be a long night. At least he had the comfort of knowing this time, nothing could come between them. She was his. Still, he briefly wondered if it was too late to ask her to wear her white cap instead of the feathers.

Elizabeth and Darcy arrived at Lanelle House with the first guests. Though the number gathered would far exceed last night's soirée, Elizabeth was not nearly so nervous. Perhaps it was because she was not the official host, or because her confidence had been bolstered by the success of her dinner party; whatever the reason, she seemingly glowed.

For the first hour or so of the evening, she stood close to Darcy's side, greeting, curtseying, and thanking guests for attending. She would never remember all the names - the guests were a dizzying array of gentry, peers, and tradesman - but tried to take note of ones the Matlocks or Darcy took particular trouble in greeting.

Things were progressing quite well, even Mrs. Bennet was more subdued than her wont, until Elizabeth heard a familiar, but unwanted, cry. "Mrs. Darcy!"

She had just enough time to locate its source before being wrapped in an embrace by none other than Caroline Bingley. "It has been an age!" Miss Bingley politely greeted Darcy, but then quickly turned her attention back to Elizabeth. "I can not wait to hear all about your wedding trip. Why, I was just telling Louisa it was a shame she and Hurst missed the wedding; everything was so lovely."

Stunned at the sudden change in Miss Bingley's demeanour towards her, Elizabeth had difficulty finding her tongue; Mrs. Bennet, however, did not. "How kind of you to say so, Miss Bingley!" The matron tittered. "I was concerned when you and your brother left early; but some people are of a delicate constitution, and are easily fatigued from travel. It was unfortunate you could not have arrived in Hertfordshire sooner so you could have had time to refresh yourself."

Elizabeth bit down a snicker as the Miss Bingley she was more acquainted with emerged; truly, Miss Bingley looked as though she had sucked on a lemon. Prepared for the emergence of the lady's acerbic tongue, Elizabeth was once again surprised when it was Mr. Bingley who spoke, and then "not wishing to further hold up the line," quickly departed with his sister.

When the dancing began, Darcy led Elizabeth onto the floor. They were followed by Lord and Lady Matlock, and other close friends and family. Elizabeth's eyes widened as she noticed her father leading her mother out to the floor. "He never dances!" she whispered to Darcy as the music began.

Darcy's eyes twinkled. "A man will do almost anything for his daughter."

Not wishing to spend the entire dance in a blush, Elizabeth changed the subject. "Mr. Bingley seems out of sorts. Have you spoken to him?"

"Not since discussing his dinner invitation." Seeing Elizabeth frown, he reiterated his position. "You may not have thought it necessary to exclude them, but I did. Bingley understood perfectly." He flashed a brief smile. "But this is hardly the place for such a discussion. Surely you can find a more entertaining topic."

"Very well. What think you of books? I have recently finished a most intriguing lady's novel."

Darcy laughed aloud. "Books---oh! no. I cannot talk of books in a ball-room, and certainly not a ladies novel."

Elizabeth laughed. For the remainder of the set, the subject was changed to less intriguing topics or alternately in companionable silence and ease, despite their being on display for the crowd.

The evening progressed much like every other ball. Darcy did his duty in dancing with Mary and Jane, as well as a few others. When he was not dancing, he spent his time watching Elizabeth dance with other men, cursing the social custom that required her to do so, or visiting with acquaintances in the card rooms.

Elizabeth did her best in answering the questions of all the matrons. The reaction of the ton was a mixed bag. There were some who did nothing to hide their displeasure or censure. Some accepted her as one of them, in fear of the consequences of doing otherwise, and then, of course, there were those whose congratulations and approbations were sincere.

All in all, the evening was considered a success. As everyone was quite fatigued, the carriage ride back to Arryndale was quiet. Even Mrs. Bennet's commentary had been kept to a few slight murmurings about the grandeur of it all.

"It is over," Elizabeth murmured, with no little relief, as she nestled her head into her pillow. She was the new Mrs. Darcy, and all of London had come out to acknowledge the fact, whether they approved of her or not.

"Aye," came the drowsy reply of her husband. "Good night, dearest Beth."

"Good night, dearest husband."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Posted on: 2008-11-20

Relishing the quiet and their privacy the morning after the ball, Elizabeth and Darcy lingered in their rooms a bit longer than prudent, considering they still had guests. However, as most everyone was tired from the previous evening's festivities, the couple still found themselves amongst the first to arrive in the breakfast room. They were only preceded by Georgiana and Kitty, who had not attended the ball; Lydia was never an early riser, so her absence went unnoticed.

Before Elizabeth and Darcy had a chance to fill their plates, there were cries for details on the evening, which Elizabeth happily supplied. The three girls discussed everything from the gowns to the dinner to the dances that were performed.

One by one, the other Bennets straggled in for the morning meal. Most of the conversations were about the ball; Elizabeth's version of events was insufficient, and thus the two younger women implored Jane, Mary, and even Mr. Bennet for tales. Lydia, still put out that she had been unable to attend, sat quietly at the corner after few failed attempts to turn the conversation in her direction.

When Mrs. Bennet arrived, the harmonious mood came to a screeching halt. She spent a few minutes effusing about the grandeur of last night, but soon launched into bemoaning the fact they were to return to Longbourn later that day.

"I do not understand what could possibly be so important at Longbourn," Mrs. Bennet railed at her husband. "Lizzy will not mind having us a few more days, for she has more than enough rooms for us."

Mr. Bennet, however, would not be swayed. "If you intrude on your daughter's hospitality much longer, Mrs. Bennet, you may find yourself without an invitation to Pemberley. Besides, I have been away from my library long enough." He exchanged an amused glance with his second daughter, before refilling his coffee.

"But Kitty and Lydia have not..." Mrs. Bennet protested, only to be interrupted by her husband.

"The trunks are already on the carriage, Mrs. Bennet. I suggest you enjoy this fine breakfast, for surely the eggs and toast at Longbourn can not compare."

Mrs. Bennet relented, but those closest to her could hear her murmuring something about her nerves and marriage of other daughters.

With the Bennets on their way to Hertfordshire, the remainder of the day was passed in relative quiet.

Lady Matlock, along with her sister, Mrs. Granville, called late in the afternoon, but did not stay much beyond tea.

Darcy had an appointment with his steward and solicitor, leaving Georgiana and Elizabeth to begin designing a new screen. Though it was not in Georgiana's nature to be silly, Elizabeth was an apt teacher and the young girl quickly shed her usual reserve. Together, they laughed and teased one another on everything from the placement of the oak tree, to the types of flora and fauna that would be represented.

"You can not mix spring flowers with summer flowers," Georgiana stated in her haughtiest tone. "It is simply not done."

"Flowers are flowers, Miss Darcy." Elizabeth rejoined, ignoring the amused, but shaking head of Mrs. Annesley. "I am Mistress now, and shall do as I please."

The two dissolved into a fit of giggles. They laughed their way through a long façade of pretension, but the screen was finally sketched. As their silliness ended, Georgiana sighed happily and leaned her head against Elizabeth's shoulder. "I am so glad you are my sister, Elizabeth."

"I am too."

That evening, Elizabeth and Darcy retired early. Too tired to read, Elizabeth simply laid against her husband, taking comfort in his nearness.

"Are you happy it is over?" Darcy asked, gently stroking his wife's forehead.

"It is a load off," she admitted. "The ball was intriguing, would you not agree?"

"How so?"

"For starters, Lord Blakeslee danced his first with Jane."

"It means nothing."

Elizabeth turned just enough to look at her husband. "How can you say that? It was the first!"

"Has Jane claimed any attachment to Wesley?"

At this, Elizabeth returned to her initial position. "No, but only because I did not have a chance to inquire."

"I have it on good authority Wesley has spoken to Jane, and she has rejected his suit."

At this, Elizabeth turned sharply to judge her husband's sincerity. "She did? When?" Stunned, but convinced her husband spoke the truth, she crumpled beside him. "Why did she not tell me?"

"I am sorry, dearest." Darcy soothed.

"It is not your fault," Elizabeth said, with a note of sadness. "It is..." She sighed. "I was too distracted and did not make time to speak with her. What a wretched sister I have been." She felt Darcy kiss the top of her head.

"I doubt Jane would agree, but if you wish, you could invite her to Arryndale for the Season."

Surprising even herself, Elizabeth replied in the negative. "It is an adjustment we both must make." Changing the subject, Elizabeth said in a lighter tone, "What do you make of Miss Bingley? Is it possible she has turned over a new leaf?" Teasing she added, "Perhaps she and Mr. Bingley have decided to exchange dispositions."

Darcy was silent for a moment. "Did Bingley dance with you?"

"No. Indeed, he did not speak to me at all, other than upon his arrival. Is something troubling him do you think?" She turned a curious expression towards her husband. "Surely he can not object to our union." It was more a question than a statement.

Darcy immediately shook his head no. Bingley had no reason to object to his marriage; of that, Darcy was certain. Elizabeth's statement about not speaking at all to Bingley, however, struck a chord, and Darcy suddenly realized he had hardly spoken to Bingley since before the wedding; and Bingley had been not been himself then either. It was unlike his friend to let so much time pass without some discourse. Something was definitely troubling his friend. A moment later, he shook himself from his reflection. "I am sure it is nothing with which to concern yourself. With the Season under way, Bingley will be about town. I shall speak to him." He kissed his wife's head. "As for Miss Bingley, I leave that for you to decide." When Elizabeth did not respond, he added, "If you do not wish to accept her calls, you have but to give the order."

"For Mr. Bingley's sake, it would be imprudent to ban her from our home. I am not afraid of her."

Darcy chuckled. "Of course you are not. Even the Queen does not intimidate you."

Elizabeth slapped at the arm that had wound its way around her waist. "Fitzwilliam!"

He nuzzled her neck. "I love you all the more for it, dearest wife."

"I love you too, my dear husband."

With the Bennets back in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth, Darcy, and to a lesser extent Georgiana lent themselves fully to the Season. Calls were made and received almost daily, and the evenings were spent at a dizzying array of dinners and balls.

Elizabeth's acceptance amongst high society went much as expected. For those seeking a Darcy connection, Elizabeth was a potential avenue to that end, and thus they were quick to befriend her.

At the other end of the spectrum were those who would never forgive Mr Darcy for marrying outside their circle, and having no need of his status, were slow to accept the interloper. Most of them greeted her with indifference, neither shunning nor seeking her out, but there were some who would hardly acknowledge her.

In the middle were those like Miss Bingley; gravely disappointed by the marriage, yet they publicly paid deference to the new Mrs. Darcy. While a connection to the Darcy name was not imperative, it was highly desirable.

As the season progressed, the Darcys could be seen about town with unusual regularity. When they were not partaking in dinner parties and balls, they could be seen at one of London's many attractions, including the Promenade, Bond Street, Covent Garden, Hyde Park, or one of London's theatres.

Though he had learnt to become more tolerant of social obligations with Elizabeth by his side, Darcy continued to spend a good amount of time pursuing more gentlemanly modes of entertaining, primarily, the fencing school and his club. There, he generally could be seen in the company of his closest friends, including Lord Blakeslee, Mr. Woodall, and to a lesser extent, Mr. Bingley.

While his friendship with Woodall and Lord Blakeslee went largely unchanged, the same could not be said for Mr. Bingley. Darcy and Bingley were polite to one another, and even shared a few laughs, but there was a distance that had not been felt since their initial introduction.

Conversation between them was often stilted, and just when Darcy felt them to be making some headway, Bingley would abruptly end the conversation. Unable to ferret out the root of Bingley's new moroseness, Darcy let him be; Bingley would come to him when he was ready.

Elizabeth watched the people as the carriage rolled along the cobblestone, returning the couple home after another evening at the theatre. Even after a month in Town, observing the variety of human behaviour did not fail to amuse her. Though she could not hear their conversations, the body language was often telling.

"Fitzwilliam," she cried, spying a small group of gentlemen with a lone woman. "Is that not Mr. Bingley?"

Darcy merely glanced at the group before voicing his certainty she was incorrect; the group was being rather obnoxious and clearly well foxed, not at all the type with whom Bingley associated. At his wife's insistence though, he leaned over her and took a closer look. His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized his friend, entertaining a lady of the night, no less! "Stop the carriage!" he barked.

The carriage had barely stopped when Darcy jumped out. "Dearest, please go home and see that a room is made up. I shall be along directly."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but seeing her husband's earnestness, simply said, "Of course."

After giving his driver instructions to return after seeing Mrs. Darcy home, he hastily made his way over to Bingley.

"Bingley!" he harkened. When he neared, he inserted himself between the lady and his friend.

"Now, you are certainly a tall fellow," she simpered, as she clutched Darcy's arm.

Offended and revolted, Darcy handed the lady -- if she could be called that -- a crown and hissed, "Be gone and forget whatever you have seen."

"Darcy ol' chap," one of Bingley's friends called. "Come to join our merry party? I thought you too staid for this kind of entertainment." They all laughed.

"His lip is not as stiff as all that." Bingley defended, leaning heavily against one of the other gentlemen.

"Perhaps he has tired of that little wife of his," another man chortled, earning a laugh from the others.

Incensed that they would dare discuss Elizabeth, Darcy resolved to put a quick end to things. Roughly, he grabbed Bingley's arm. "Come with me, Bingley. I have something of import to discuss with you."

Bingley looked at Darcy as though he had grown a second head. "You wish my advice?"

Darcy rolled his eyes, but wanting to move things to a more private location, he said, "Yes, now come with me."

With a dopey smile, Bingley agreed. As Darcy dragged him towards an approaching carriage, Bingley tipped his hat to his other friends. "Business before pleasure, chums."

Not surprisingly, Bingley babbled most of the way to Arryndale. Darcy could not make sense out of most it, but caught the words, Wortham, proper home, Caroline, angel, and wife. He was uncertain what to make of all of it.

Upon arriving home, Darcy and his valet, Franklin, all but carried the soused, and now singing, Bingley up the stairs to a guest room.

"Quiet, Bingley," Darcy hissed, "or you shall wake the house." It was bad enough Elizabeth would hear Bingley in this state; the last thing he wanted was for Georgiana to wake and start inquiring about the noise.

Thankfully, after a long winded apology, Bingley quieted.

"'tis an all too common occurrence." Franklin muttered as he assisted Darcy in preparing Bingley for bed. At his master's silent reprimand, the valet quickly added, "For Mr. Bingley, sir. Snyder says his master is often in this state, not that I am one to gossip."

Darcy nodded, silencing the servant while at the same time acknowledging Franklin's words. The issue had come up long ago, but when Darcy had tried to inquire, Bingley had immediately dismissed the accusations as grand embellishments. Engrossed in his courtship with Elizabeth, Darcy had not given much more thought to it. Now, he wished he had; Bingley was in a fine kettle of fish.

"No more whispering," Bingley slurred. "I can hardly advise you, Darcy, if I can not hear what you say." His head lolled to the side of the chair. "Rather odd décor for a study, if I do say so myself. How ‘bout a brandy?"

"Bingley, enough." Darcy grumbled. His patience was quite worn. "We shall discuss it in the morning."

It took a great deal more effort before Bingley was fully silenced and put to bed, but the chore was finally done. Afterwards, Darcy took a moment to pen a note for Franklin to take to Snyder, Bingley's valet, at dawn the next day, and then turned to his rooms.

Not surprisingly, he found Elizabeth waiting.

"Mr. Bingley is occupying one of our guest rooms," Darcy said, stating the obvious. His face was creased with lines of weariness. "I do not wish to discuss any further particulars tonight."

Elizabeth pursed her lips and raised an innocent brow. "Whatever you think is best," she clipped. An uneasy silence descended upon the room.

After taking a few minutes to change into bed clothes, Darcy returned to Elizabeth's side, feeling a little more sanguine. "Forgive me, dearest." He kissed her forehead. "I do not know what to tell you, but I shall speak to Bingley tomorrow." He hesitated for a moment. "Perhaps you and Georgiana might like to visit the shops?"

Elizabeth laughed at her husband's poorly disguised ploy. "I am certain there is something I need." She returned the peck and then climbed into bed. "Shall it be safe to return for lunch, or should we make a day of it?"

"Whatever you feel is best," he teased.

The following morning, all but Bingley were up early. Uncharacteristically, Darcy broke his fast alone in his study.

"I shall not keep you. I only wished to inform you that we were leaving." Elizabeth said.

"Does Georgiana suspect?"

"I do not think so. I told her you had urgent business to attend to this morning."

Darcy embraced his wife. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

She looked up at him. "I would not wish for her to know either." She brushed a thumb across the worry lines that marred his forehead. "Mr. Bingley is his own man, Fitzwilliam. He alone is responsible for his choices."

Darcy smiled wanly. "That is what troubles me most, I think."

"You take too much upon yourself, dear husband of mine." Elizabeth laid her head against his chest. "I worry some day you will simply fall over from the weight of it all."

Darcy chuckled and kissed her hair. "I shall take that under advisement. You should be going before Bingley wakes."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, and they shared a tender kiss goodbye.

Alone again, Darcy spent a few moments revelling in the sweetness that was his wife. How he had managed all these years without her love and gentle support, he did not know. His thoughts then once again turned to his friend, and he could only wish Bingley, too, could find someone so caring.

Surely, with such a wife, Bingley would not find himself in a predicament as he had last night. Nor would he pass his time at gentlemen's clubs and gambling tables, getting foxed. A good wife would keep Bingley focussed on the important things, like his estate. The more he thought on it, the more Darcy was convinced a good wife was precisely what Bingley needed, and he would tell his friend so.

It was not until mid-morning before the knock Darcy had been anticipating was heard. "Enter," he called.

When Bingley entered, Darcy was unable to mask his shock. Though well dressed, Bingley was but a shell of a man. His friend's eyes were red and still a bit glazed, and he looked almost ghostly pale.

Afraid Bingley might otherwise fall to the floor, Darcy quickly motioned to a chair. "I trust you are feeling better this morning?"

Bingley took his seat and nodded, looking everywhere but at Darcy. "I am," he said with forced lightness.

Not quite certain how to proceed, Darcy raked a hand through his hair. "Bingley, do you remember what you were about last night?"

Bingley closed his eyes and shook his head. "Bits and pieces, but not how I ended up here."

Images of the previous night ignited Darcy's ire. "I found you last night, deeply in cups and on the arm of a prostitute! What has gotten into you?" He cringed, hearing what Georgiana called his fatherly tone. It was not how he wanted the conversation to go, and was thankful that instead of being indignant, Bingley appeared more shocked. "I brought you back here to prevent you from harming yourself, and to spare your sister from having to deal with you. Now I demand an explanation." Dang it! There was that tone again.

"Spare me your self-righteousness, Darcy! I am my own man. I do not answer to you."

Hearing the words Elizabeth had uttered just a few hours ago, nearly made Darcy laugh. It was just what he needed to redirect the conversation. In a less authoritative tone, he said, "You are correct, Bingley. You do not owe me an explanation, though I would like to have one just the same. Your presence did not go unnoticed by my wife."

Bingley blushed deeply. "Wha... What have you told her?"

"Nothing, yet. She was the one who spotted you on the street last night, however." He watched curiously as the man before him seemed to shrink to a mere boy.

"Does she know about the..." Bingley even sounded like one.

"I do not know. She is a smart woman though; I would not be surprised if she figured it out." Bingley shook his head as Darcy continued. "Charles, this is not like you. Tell me what is going on. If you are having problems, let me help you."

"You can not fix everything, Darcy, and we can not all be like you. You have a perfect home, perfect servants, the perfect connections and the perfect estate. Not to mention a wife that adores you and a sister that idolizes you." Darcy could not but be amused at Bingley's outburst, but kept to his purpose of finding out what troubled his friend.

"Bingley, you have not been yourself these last months. Surely, you understand I am only speaking to you out of concern and friendship. I would like to help you if I can."

"Now you want to help me? You are the reason she hates me!"

"What!? Who hates you?"

"Miss Bennet!" Bingley cried. "You are the one who advised me against her! You are the one who said I had to consider my duty to my family first!"

Thoroughly confused, Darcy merely stared at his friend. Was Bingley imagining things? "I do not recall doing such a thing." He said slowly. "Why would I advise you against Miss Bennet when I am married to her sister?"

"Is that not ironic?" Bingley let out a grimaced laugh. "First you advise me against her, and within a fortnight announce your engagement to her sister."

"When did I supposedly offer such advice?"

Bingley stood abruptly, arms flailing. "Last November! When we left Hertfordshire! I sat in this very room telling you I was going to give up Netherfield and Miss Bennet because she was unsuitable." He turned to look outside, but then recoiled from the brightness of the sun.

Finally making some sense of Bingley's behaviour over the past months, Darcy said gravely, "You have been in the cups far too long, my friend. I remember the conversation you allude to, but recall it quite differently. First, we were at Boodle's, but that is neither here nor there. Second, I recommended you think longer before giving up Netherfield. In fact, I specifically recall telling you to revisit it in the spring. Third, I never advised you against Miss Bennet. You were the one who told me Miss Bennet was unsuitable, citing something about family duty. I merely agreed it was an important consideration."

"So you admit that you said family duty came first!"

Darcy rubbed his hands over his face. This was going to be more trying than he imagined. "Bingley, you completely misunderstood me. I said family duty was an important consideration. I did not say it should be the only consideration. You said you were giving up Miss Bennet, and I thought it was because your affections had waned. I would never have advised you against her; I was engaged to her sister at the time for Christ's sake!"

"What?"

"I left Hertfordshire to meet with my solicitor regarding the marriage contract."

"Why did you not say anything?"

Darcy sat back and massaged his temples, hoping to keep a headache at bay. The terms of his engagement were really none of Bingley's business, but deciding it was the only way to get to the bottom of things, he carefully couched a response. "Elizabeth and I decided to keep it between us until the papers were signed. Very few people knew; I had not even told Georgiana yet."

"Then how... then who..." Bingley stammered. He slumped back in the chair, his brow wrinkled in confusion. After a few moments, he dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

"I take it you still have feelings for Miss Bennet," Darcy said softly. He was uncertain if the groan was caused by an aching head or regret.

"I love her," Bingley said hoarsely. He looked to be near tears.

"Then why are you in London?" Darcy replied, trying to sound a little more upbeat.

"Because it is too late!"

"Why?" Darcy asked, once again confused.

"What do I have to offer to her? I am nothing more than the son of a tradesman? How can I compare to someone with twice my income and a title?"

"If you believe Miss Bennet is only interested in titles and wealth, then you are correct; you have nothing to offer."

"Miss Bennet is not a fortune hunter! How dare you accuse her of such! You are her brother!" In an attempt to keep a burst of laughter at bay, Darcy merely arched a brow. His friend was obviously in deep to have fallen for such a simple ploy.

"It is too late for me," Bingley said, once again sounding resigned to a fate worse than death. "I saw them together. She is happy with Lord Blakeslee, and I saw the way he admires her. If they have not reached an understanding yet, they will soon."

Darcy rolled his eyes. First my wife, now Bingley. I will have to have a talk with Wesley; he is dangerously close to damaging Miss Bennet's reputation. First things first though. "I have it on very good authority that Blakeslee's relationship with Miss Bennet is only friendship."

"Even if that is true, it does not matter. She will not speak with me. I asked to speak with her at your wedding, but she refused me."

Surprised, Darcy asked, "Did she give you any reason?" Based on Elizabeth's distress when Bingley failed to return to Hertfordshire, he was certain Miss Bennet had formed some sort of attachment for his friend. And aside from the attention his cousin had paid Miss Bennet, there had been no other suitors.

A pained expression came over Bingley as he seemingly quoted, "Your acquaintance has brought me only grief and humiliation." He swallowed. "I have been an interminable ass."

Silence fell on the room as Darcy considered the situation. Perhaps Miss Bennet was not as attached to his friend as he thought. Then again, she may have been trying to keep herself from being hurt again. She had rejected Lord Blakeslee's suit, and though his cousin had shown an interest in her, he was on the continent, and they had not come to any understanding that he was aware of. It was entirely possible Jane, too, was nursing old wounds.

There was only one way to find out. If things worked out well, the two could start over. It all depended on giving Bingley a little push.

"Is she worth it?" Darcy asked.

Bingley's head snapped upwards. With a tone of desperation, he said, "I would do anything to win her back, but how is it to be done when she will not even speak with me?" He visibly deflated again.

Silence descended. That was an issue. He and Elizabeth could not leave town yet, but it was imperative to get Bingley away to avoid another night like last night. Suddenly, he was struck with an epiphany. At first he recoiled from the idea, but not seeing any other option, he inhaled deeply and muttered, "Heaven help me when Elizabeth finds out." In a louder voice, he said, "Bingley, perhaps you asked the wrong person permission to speak with Miss Bennet."

"The wrong person? Whom should I have asked?"

Darcy stalled for a moment. He could not believe himself. He was going to purposefully foist Mrs. Bennet on his friend. In the end, he chalked it up to Bingley's penance for being ‘an interminable ass.' "Mrs. Bennet. I highly doubt she would deny your request for a private audience with her daughter."

A sly grin slowly emerged on Bingley's face. "Darcy! You are a genius!" He jumped out of his chair and again began pacing wildly. "I can leave for Hertfordshire tomorrow. I will stay at the inn. I can..."

"Bingley!" Darcy barked, stopping Bingley mid-stride. Now was the time to make his friend see reason. "Perhaps you should take some time to get your head together. I can not allow you to court my sister as you are."

Thankfully, Bingley did not lash out at him again; instead he looked properly chastised. "I understand, Darcy. I swear I will become the man Miss Bennet deserves. No more liquor, no more gambling, no more taverns."

Darcy raised his brows. There was more to Bingley's exploits than he had heard. "And perhaps you should take some time to consider why Miss Bennet refused you last time, and how you intend to plead for her forgiveness? I would suggest you practice grovelling."

Bingley nodded slowly. Solemnly, he said, "You are correct. I need to think on this." He began pacing again, mumbling to himself. He was oblivious to the fact that he was in Darcy's study and his friend was still in the room.

Darcy cleared his throat lightly, and after gaining no reaction from his friend, cleared his throat again more loudly. "Bingley, might I also suggest accommodations other than the Meryton Inn? It is fine for a night or two, but hardly sufficient while courting a gentleman's daughter."

Bingley walked over to Darcy and shook his hand vigorously. "Darcy, you are a saviour!"

"One last thing." At Bingley's waiting prompt, he said, "Be sure of yourself before you return to Hertfordshire. If you trifle with Miss Bennet again, as her brother, I will be obliged to call you out." With a smirk he added, "That is, if you survive my wife's wrath."

Bingley nodded once at the warning. "If I am fortunate enough to gain Miss Bennet's forgiveness and affection, I will never let her go!"

Darcy watched his friend leave with some sense of relief. All this was over a woman! He thought to scoff at the notion, but then had to wonder what he would have been like if Elizabeth had broken their engagement. Would he have tried to find solace in a bottle too?

Thankful he would never have to find out. He turned back to the papers in front of him. He glanced up at the clock, counting the hours before Elizabeth would be home again. He could not wait to tell her the good news.