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Chapter Fifteen

Posted on 2009-11-19

The Darcys arrived at Pemberley two days after leaving Longbourn. There was much to be done in preparation for the baby who would arrive in four months. Everyone, from the master to the scullery maids, looked forward to the day when the sound of a child would once again fill the halls of the estate.

In the first week of August, the Gardiners made their long-awaited appearance. Elizabeth was overjoyed to see her aunt and uncle again, all the more so since they had brought Mary with them. Derbyshire was lovely, but she missed her family. The letters between Pemberley, Longbourn, and Netherfield managed to placate only temporarily her desire to be with those whom she loved and who openly loved her in return.

Elizabeth had also come to both understand and appreciate her husband's pride in his estate and heritage. His was an old family, long respected in Derbyshire. Even the house was a testament to the centuries of influence and vast wealth of the Darcys. She knew that Darcy was still uncomfortable with her relatives, and that the greatest obstacle he had overcome in asking for her hand was the impropriety and unseemly behaviour of some of her family members. That was another reason she was so happy to host her uncle and aunt; they were, at least, relations Elizabeth had never been ashamed to call her own.

Mrs. Gardiner was the first to greet Elizabeth.

"Oh my stars, Elizabeth. It is so good to see you again!"

"Welcome to Pemberley, Aunt." The other travellers came to join them. "Mary, Uncle, welcome to Pemberley."

Mary stared at the building before her and whispered, "Lizzy, this place is enormous!"

"It is only a house, Mary. Come, Mr. Darcy is meeting with his steward about a pressing estate matter but is eager to welcome you when they finish. I have refreshments readied for us, unless you would rather rest from your journey first. In that case, I will take you directly to your rooms."

"I would like to wash away the dust of the road," Mrs. Gardiner admitted.

"As would I," said Mary.

Mr. Gardiner laughed. "I think that is your cue to show us to our rooms."

"You were always so astute, Uncle. Right this way. The servants will bring your belongings."

Elizabeth led them up the great staircase and to the family quarters. They came to Mary's room first. Her sister was astonished when she entered.

"Lizzy, this is the grandest room in which I have ever stayed."

"Quite different from our bedrooms in Longbourn, I agree. Does it meet with your satisfaction? If not, I can have you placed in another room."

Mary saw that she was being teased. "I suppose I can endure it, although it is not at all what I am accustomed to," she said with a perfectly straight face, then burst out laughing.

Elizabeth smiled at this less serious Mary. "When you are ready, ring for the servant to bring you to me. It is not difficult to become disoriented in this house.

Next, Elizabeth escorted the Gardiners to their rooms.

"These are for your use. I hope they meet with your approval."

Mrs. Gardiner walked around a moment, then linked her arm with Elizabeth. "What a lovely room! Thank you, my dear."

"You truly like it?"

"There are few who would not."

Elizabeth smiled. "Your good opinion is important to me."

"I am still struggling with the realisation that my little Elizabeth is mistress of all this and will soon give birth to the heir of Pemberley."

Elizabeth kissed her aunt on the cheek. "I have missed you. Refresh yourself, then come downstairs. My husband and I will await you there."

Darcy had joined Elizabeth in one of the sitting rooms by the time their guests returned downstairs.

"Mr. Gardiner, perhaps tomorrow you will join me in a quest for trout?"

"I would be delighted, sir."

Elizabeth thanked her husband with a radiant smile. The ladies made plans for a tour of the park.

After the tour of the park the next day, Mary wished to explore the shelves of the library. The men were still out fishing, giving Elizabeth some much- appreciated time alone with her aunt. The ladies chose to walk through one of the gardens near the house.

"Elizabeth, I do not believe I have ever seen you so happy, or so beautiful."

"I am happy. Though how you can say I am beautiful with this," she put her hand on her swollen belly, "to carry, I do not know."

Mrs. Gardiner stopped and took Elizabeth's hands in her own.

"My dear, there is nothing more glorious than a woman growing heavy with child and a look of contentment in her eyes. You are stunning."

"I feel huge!"

Mrs. Gardiner laughed, "I will not attempt to deny that you are increased in size. I will only say that you are lovely, no matter what you may think. I have birthed four children, and I am very aware of the feelings you possess."

"Thank you, Aunt."

Mrs. Gardiner squeezed Elizabeth's hands, then let them go; they resumed their leisurely ramble.

"When I was a girl growing up in Lambton, never did I think I would know anyone who lived in this grand house. And now my niece is wife to the master of Pemberley! How are you adjusting to being mistress all of this?" She swept her hand. "Do you feel comfortable in your position?"

"I confess that it has been, at times, overwhelming. When Fitzwilliam asked me to marry him, we talked about many things. We both understood that although I am a gentleman's daughter, Longbourn is not Pemberley. He was more confident in my aptitude than I. Pemberley is far grander than I imagined, and I had little appreciation of the intricacies of life among the haute monde. Thus, I have spent the seven months since my marriage doing everything in my power not to disappoint his belief in me."

"From all that I have seen, he must be pleased."

"Yes, so far."

"You do not sound like the confident Lizzy I know."

Elizabeth took her time replying. "I am not certain I am that woman any more. Sometimes when I am alone, I ponder all the changes that have taken place in my life since last November. My life was much simpler then – in many ways, I was just a carefree girl." Again Elizabeth paused, but her aunt sensed she was not finished and held her tongue. "Now, too many people are dependent on me to live such a selfish life. Pemberley deserves a responsible mistress. The people are accustomed to it. Did you know that most of the servants have spent their entire lives in service to the Darcys? Many of their parents served at Pemberley before them, and in some cases, their grandparents."

"It shows a remarkable loyalty to the family and that they have been treated fairly."

"Exactly my point! I have developed an enormous respect for the burdens and responsibilities that my husband shoulders. I manage only the household. He was given the entire estate at roughly the same age."

"I suspect he felt as overwhelmed then as you do now," Mrs. Gardiner suggested.

"I suppose so."

"Have you and he spoken of this?"

"We have, at times. He tries to reassure me, and I do believe that he is pleased. Yet for him it was different; he was born to this life. He was raised to be the master of Pemberley. I was raised to be the wife of a man with, at best, a small estate, of a rank equal to that of my father's, assuming I were fortunate enough to secure such a match. Now look at me. A gentleman's daughter and a gentleman's wife I may be, but there is a greater distance between the two situations than I ever thought possible. How have I come to such a place?"

"Elizabeth, listen to me. Yes, you made a splendid match, greater than any of us could have imagined. You have had so many challenges put before you since you married. Of course you feel a stranger to the woman you were before you married. That, my dear niece, is as it should be."

"I do not understand."

"Child, do you honestly think I am the same girl who married your uncle? When you become someone's wife, you leave your old life behind. You create a new family and you learn that your new family is unique to the two of you – no matter how you came into the union. You have changed because you are now truly a woman. And Elizabeth, your husband will have changed too, even if you cannot yet recognise it. It is the natural way of things and if he had not, I doubt you would be so in love with him."

Elizabeth blushed. "He has become very dear to me."

"There is nothing wrong with loving your spouse, especially when he loves you in return."

They continued to walk along, Elizabeth pondering her aunt's observations and hoping that she had seen too little, rather than that her aunt had fancied too much.

Late in the afternoon, they all sat talking together in a drawing room when an express arrived for Darcy.

"It is from Bingley," he told the others and hastened to open it. Inside was another letter, addressed to Elizabeth, which he handed to her as he deciphered the contents of his own missive. The look of concentration on his face intensified and quickly turned to something more ominous. Elizabeth held her unopened letter, captivated by her husband. He broke his reverie and looked at his wife.

"I think you should read your letter."

Elizabeth hurriedly broke the seal; she was shocked by what she read.

"Bingley's news is the same?"

"Yes."

"What has happened? Are the children safe?" Mrs. Gardiner asked anxiously.

"Yours are, Mrs. Gardiner," came Darcy's cryptic reply. He handed his letter to Mr. Gardiner. "Perhaps you should read it aloud. It concerns us all." Elizabeth wished that her husband would come to her and take her hand. He did not.

Darcy,

I write to you with the most extraordinary and disturbing news. Two nights ago, an express arrived at Longbourn. The news it contained was shocking. It was from Colonel Forster, commanding officer of the regiment that recently decamped from Meryton to Brighton, who had invited our sister Lydia to join him as his wife's particular friend. What no one knew was that Lydia had formed an affection for one of the officers of the regiment, and on Saturday night, she eloped with the man. She left a note for Mrs. Forster telling her that she and the officer, Mr. Wickham, were bound for Gretna Green.

Colonel Foster immediately set out to follow them. However, he found no trace of them on the other side of Town. We must conclude that the couple is in hiding somewhere in London. I must ask you now to do that which will bring you no pleasure. Please come to London and help Mr. Bennet and me search for Lydia and Wickham. Mr. Gardiner's presence would also be greatly appreciated. I wish to God there was some other way. Come quickly.

Your brother,

C Bingley

They sat mute, too shaken to feel anything but Lydia's shame.

Darcy spoke first, and in a clipped manner: "I will leave at first light for London. Will you join me Mr. Gardiner?"

That gentleman looked at his wife before he answered.

"Thank you for the offer ... "

"Uncle," Elizabeth interrupted, "Jane has written as well, and requested that you and Aunt come first to Hertfordshire. She and Kitty have the added responsibility of the children, and Mama cannot be left alone."

"I doubt that your mother is much help with the children." Mr. Gardiner turned to his wife. "We should return to Hertfordshire for Jane and Kitty's sake."

"I agree."

"Mr. Darcy, thank you for your generous offer, but I must decline. I will take my wife and niece" – he glanced apologetically towards Mary – "back to Longbourn and then join you in Town as soon as I can."

"Cannot Mary remain with Elizabeth?" Mrs. Gardiner asked.

"Jane will need her more than I will, Aunt."

"But the child?"

"I am not friendless here. Uncle is right. Mary must return to Hertfordshire with you."

Darcy spoke again. "Please excuse me. I must give instructions for the servants to prepare for an early departure. Mrs. Darcy, may I have a private word?"

She followed him to a far corner of the room.

"I do not want to leave you alone, but you cannot travel in your condition. I am concerned for your health and the safety of the child."

"I know," she said, resigned to be the one left behind to wait.

"Please see to our guests. I shall return shortly."

Everyone retired early in preparation for the journey the next day. Darcy prepared for bed and came into Elizabeth's room. Silently, he slipped under the covers and embraced Elizabeth. Neither spoke for several minutes. Darcy knew she was awake, but he could not, for the life of him, think of anything to say.

"What will you do?" he at last heard her say.

"I will do everything in my power to prevent a scandal."

"They must marry."

Darcy did not reply.

"If Lydia does not return to Hertfordshire a married woman, she will be ruined and her shame complete."

"I know. I have a vested interest in this, too."

"I did not mean to imply that we are not involved, only a simpleton could fail to understand this. I ... I fear for Mary and Kitty."

"Shhh, rest. We both need our sleep for the days ahead."

"Promise me that you will be careful."

"I have no intention of being lured into a situation where my honour or my safety is jeopardised."

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment as tears filled her eyes. When she again spoke, her voice was full of emotion.

"I am mortified at what has happened. I am deeply embarrassed by the reckless actions of my youngest sister. The thought of bringing shame to your name and your house is almost too much to bear. You were right in all your concerns about my family. I cannot apologise or ask for your forgiveness enough for what you must now do. I know you will do everything in your power to protect us from scandal. And Fitzwilliam, I know you do not like for me to say this to you, but I must before you leave. I love you and I will miss you terribly while we are apart."

By dawn the next morning, Darcy had readied himself for his journey. Before departing, he re-entered Elizabeth's room, softly kissed her, and placed his hand gently against her swollen belly. At the doorway, he turned and took one long last look at his still slumbering wife.

The two days' journey to London gave Darcy a great deal of time to analyse the situation as his coach sped ever onward. He was certain that Wickham never intended to go to Scotland; he believed the man's motivation was entirely mercenary and that the family would soon hear from him, undoubtedly demanding a large payment in exchange for marriage to Lydia. Otherwise, Wickham had no reason to take the girl to London or to disappear so completely among the mass of humanity living in the capital.

Darcy also comprehended that his boyhood playmate's envy and resentment – that an accident of birth had denied him a life of wealth and status – knew no bounds. Being denied the living at Kympton was the least of it. Wickham wanted revenge and recompense – for all the things he believed himself entitled, as if he were a true son of Pemberley. Wickham's acts of contrition in Hertfordshire were nothing but a ruse, as false as the man himself.

Darcy knew that he must be prepared, and he needed help if scandal were to be averted. With that in mind, when they arrived on the outskirts of the city around dinnertime of the second day, he instructed his driver to travel to his cousin's lodgings.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was as startled by Darcy's grave demeanour as he was by his cousin's unexpected arrival. "Darcy! I thought you were at Pemberley. What brings you to London?"

"I need your help."

"What has happened?"

"It is a complicated story, and it involves George Wickham."

The Colonel grew angrier with each passing minute as Darcy told him the news; he was more than willing to help execute the plan Darcy had formulated.

"I know the perfect man for the job. I will send a note to him immediately."

It was not long before Colonel Walter Hall arrived. A half-hour later, the three men shook hands, and Darcy left to call on Michael Arnold.

"Darcy, what the devil are you doing here and at this time of night?"

"Forgive me for disturbing you so late in the evening. I have a grave problem."

"Is it Elizabeth, or the child?"

"No, but her youngest sister has done something very foolish."

Darcy spent the next two hours briefing his cousin on Lydia's situation and his plans to resolve the crisis.

"Will you help me find the man?"

"I will do what I can. You are correct; it affects us all. Mother will not be pleased if we do not succeed."

"Many people will be displeased if I fail."

"Stay the night here, Fitzwilliam. Wickham may have your house watched in anticipation of your arrival. Even one day might make a difference."

"Thank you, Michael. I am sorry to bring this upon you."

"We are family. Say nothing more about it."

Darcy called on his brother-in-law the next morning.

"Darcy, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you," Bingley said.

"I came as quickly as I could. Is Mr. Bennet here?"

"Yes, he should join us shortly. Frankly, I am concerned about him. This has been a mighty blow, and he seems to have aged since this nightmare began."

"Perhaps we should try to convince him to return to Longbourn and leave Lydia to us?"

"Lydia, no matter how foolish, is still my daughter, Darcy," Mr. Bennet said as he came into the room.

"Sir, I am not questioning your authority or responsibility for Lydia. I meant only to indicate my willingness to represent you in this affair."

"We need to find the pair first," Bingley said, trying to turn the conversation to a less confrontational path.

"I know Wickham, Mr. Bennet; he grew up on my estate – as you might recall from our discussion last November at the ball at Netherfield." Darcy then reviewed his history with the man and gave his opinions on the bounder's motives. "You are wasting your time searching for them," Darcy said. "Wickham wants to be found and will, therefore, present himself to us before long. I suggest we would be better served preparing for that eventuality."

"I concur, Darcy," Mr. Bennet replied. "What are your thoughts on the matter?"

"Your daughter must be married," Darcy stated flatly.

"To gain such a son-in-law! From what you have told me, he will demand more than I can ever pay."

"I have no intention of George Wickham becoming my brother."

"But Darcy, you just said ..." Bingley said in confusion.

"Bingley, what I meant is that Lydia must be wed ... to some man. There is more than one way to resolve the matter."

Mr. Bennet caught his meaning instantly. "You are going to pay another man to marry her."

Darcy answered with a slight nod.

"How shall we find her, let alone convince her to come away from Wickham?" Bingley asked.

"You must trust me to accomplish it. This is another reason why I should be the one who faces Wickham. I know him; I can goad him into making a mistake, giving us the time we need to find Lydia. Once she is discovered, it will be up to you, Mr. Bennet, to bring her back to her family."

"Very well, Darcy, I give you leave to act in my stead with Wickham. I will await my part with Lydia. You may still want Bingley to go with you."

"As long as you follow my lead," Darcy said and looked into Bingley's eyes, "I welcome your company."

Bingley agreed and Darcy laid out his scheme. Mr. Bennet was surprised at the detail his son-in-law had taken in mapping out his strategy and readily agreed to the plan. Darcy then returned to his home to wait for Wickham's next move.

Returning the next day to Bingley's house, Darcy was unsurprised that a note had just arrived.

I will be at the Peacock on Gray's Inn Lane today at one o'clock. I will remain for one hour. – GW

"He did not give us much time," Bingley said, glancing at the clock. It read half-past eleven.

"He wanted to ensure his advantage. Do you still wish to come, Bingley?" Darcy asked.

"Yes. I may help divide his attention."

"We will take my carriage and footmen from both our houses. He will be expecting a show of force. Today, I am more than happy to allow the illusion that we will act rashly. George never appreciated the subtly of well executed misdirection."

The Peacock was located in a somewhat reputable part of town. Once inside, it took several moments for their eyes to adjust to the light in the room, the contrast between the bright sunlight and the shadows disorientating at first. Soon enough, Darcy saw the man they had come to see staring at them from a table in the far corner. Darcy told his men to wait by the door while he and Bingley met with Mr. Wickham.

"Darcy, Bingley! What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

"You knew full well that we would come," Darcy answered.

"Yes, and somehow I also knew that Mr. Bennet would not be with you."

"Let us dispense with the preliminaries, Wickham. Has the wedding taken place?"

"Darcy, you were never one to mince words. Therefore, I will answer you in kind. No, it has not."

"When, then?"

"That is entirely dependent upon you. As soon as I am satisfied with the wedding settlements, I shall be ready to go to the church."

"You rotten ..." Bingley started to speak, but Darcy stayed him.

"Charles, now is not the time." Darcy might have sounded harsh and slightly panicked, but inwardly he was pleased with his brother-in-law's outburst. It would help create the illusion that they were desperate.

"What do you want?"

Wickham smirked as he opened negotiations.

"Fifteen thousand pounds."

"Fifteen thousand!" Bingley cried.

"Keep your voice down," Darcy warned before turning his attention back to his adversary. "Impossible."

"Then we have nothing further to discuss at this time. I will send word to you each day where I might be found. When you are ready, we can continue. Meanwhile, Miss Lydia awaits her, uh, most attentive suitor." Wickham pushed back his chair and started to stand.

"Wait, I was not finished," Darcy hastily added. Wickham settled back into his former repose. "Mr. Bennet does not have that amount of money to settle on his daughter. Her dowry is one thousand pounds, the same as her sisters."

"Oh, I was not referring to her dowry. I spoke of the settlement that I want from the two of you. Fifteen thousand and I marry the girl and stop a scandal from blackening your names. Come now Darcy, I know you have the money. I could have asked for twice as much. Georgiana's dowry was thirty thousand, was it not? I am not so greedy as to ask for it all. I think fifteen thousand is very reasonable under the circumstances. So far, I have done my best to keep the situation hidden. Now it is up to you to see that it remains as such."

"I want to speak with Bingley in private first."

"You can do that here."

"Yes, but I refuse to negotiate in this place any longer." Darcy made a show of looking at his men. "We could continue elsewhere."

"I prefer neutral ground."

"Are you convinced that I do not have the advantage in numbers? Bingley and I outnumber you."

Wickham smiled. "You assume I came here alone."

"No, I assumed you would have men at your disposal. However, until Bingley and I have a chance to consider your demands, I have nothing more to say to you."

The three men stared at each other. Wickham broke the silence.

"Very well. I will send word tomorrow where we will meet. No tricks, or the game is over and I abandon Lydia on a street corner like a common whore."

Incensed, Darcy stood up, looming menacingly over the seated Wickham. Surprised by Darcy's sudden move, Wickham flinched, then hastily tried to cover it with a sneer. He was too late; Darcy saw.

"Remember who you are dealing with before you make such threats." Darcy shot his opponent one final contemptuous glare, then walked away, Bingley at his side.

Once back in the carriage, Bingley was the first to speak.

"Fifteen thousand pounds!"

"He is a fool to marry her for much less than ten thousand. His first offer was to be expected. He bid high." Darcy did not seem at all upset.

"Did the encounter meet with your expectations?"

"Exceeded them! His power lies in a threat of scandal. As it stands now, if we get Lydia back, and can get our hands on him away from the prying eyes of the public, he will have lost the gamble; it will be our word against his, and I have the power and the information to damage his credibility beyond all repair. If my man did his job, tomorrow will see Lydia with her family. Then we can deal with the cur."

"You assume she will leave him."

"She will have little choice."

George Wickham waited for Darcy and Bingley to leave, then finished his drink. He looked around him. No one seemed to be giving him any notice, other than the men in his employ. Nonetheless, he would be careful. He paid for another round of drinks for his men, then went outside to hire a cab to take him home.

He did not notice the boy leaning against the wall on the opposite corner, who straightened up and walked across the street, reaching the other side just before a cab turned into the lane and stopped at the tavern. A man climbed out and tossed a coin to the driver. Wickham was delighted to find a conveyance so soon. He would not have climbed into any hackney coach just waiting on the street – that was too much of a risk.

"Where to Gov'ner?"

Still cautious, Wickham replied, "In the direction of Covenant Gardens."

"Aye, sir. Walk on Berty," the driver commanded his horse.

The gentleman who had vacated Wickham's cab went inside the Peacock, sat in an unobtrusive corner, and ordered a pint. An hour later, satisfied that he would remember the faces of the men in the room, he left the building and began walking in the same direction as the boy had wandered earlier. Several streets away, he found the young lookout and slipped him a coin.

"Well done. Has the driver returned yet?"

"No, sir, but give 'em time. 'Arry knows where to find us."

"Lead the way."

Twenty minutes later, the cabbie found the two of them at another inn. "He's staying at The Black Boar."

The man placed a few more coins on the table and pushed them towards driver.

"Care for a drink?" he said, fingering another coin.

"Do'n mind if I do, but later. Did ya want me to take ya there?"

"Only past the house."

"Right, I can' na leave my rig be any longer."

The man stood and shook the hand of the boy who had remained silent through the exchange, pressing yet another coin in the lad's hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Tim. Stay out of trouble and take this to your mum."

"I will, sir, and thankee."

Around midnight, a gentleman slipped in the servant's entrance at the Darcy townhouse. He was immediately shown into the study.

"Good evening, Colonel Hall. Were you successful?"

"Yes, sir. Here is the address. I was also able to take lodgings – the last room available, mind you. I passed Wickham in the hall. He, of course, had no recollection of me. Amazing what a change of clothing can do."

"Did you see the lady?"

"Not directly, but I did see him enter his room and heard the voice of a young woman. I must assume it was she. The proprietress told me they were the only couple on that floor."

"Excellent work. If all goes well, her uncle and father will collect her tomorrow when Wickham is away meeting with me. I will send word of the time of our meeting. Until then, return to the inn. Watch to make sure they do not leave."

"I doubt they are in any position to flee. Wickham obviously had a few pints in him and, well, the walls are thin."

Darcy grew sombre at that last pronouncement.

The next day, Darcy and Bingley met Wickham at a different tavern in a different quarter of the city. Wickham made a show of ordering drinks for the three of them before he set about the task of securing his fortune. Once the server left, he could barely disguise his avarice.

"I am at your disposal, gentlemen."

"Bingley and I have discussed your ... offer. You are severely mistaken if you think we would agree to such a sum."

"Ah, I thought you might think that. I am prepared to be reasonable." Pleased to be in a position of power, he hesitated for effect. "Twelve thousand pounds."

Bingley's jaw dropped, Darcy's set. Neither bothered to respond.

Darcy was ready with his own offer. "Five thousand pounds."

"From each of you?"

Bingley snorted.

"No. Total," Darcy clarified.

"Not good enough," Wickham countered.

And so began an hour's worth of give and take. Darcy would in no way come to any agreement. His intent was to draw out the negotiations as long as possible, to promise nothing other than to wait for Wickham to contact him for the location of their next meeting.

At one point, Wickham became so annoyed at his lack of progress with Darcy that he directly addressed Bingley.

"What is your opinion, Mr. Bingley? Do you have a solution?"

"Darcy speaks for Lydia's family."

"Then why are you here?"

"For your protection," Bingley said with meaning. Wickham's face dropped as he registered the import of the man's words.

After another fruitless few minutes, Wickham decided to change tactics. He put on a cheery faηade and asked, "How about another drink?"

Darcy did not even try to hide the contempt in his voice. "Not today. Bingley, it is time to leave."

Wickham leaned back in his chair as the gentlemen started to walk away.

"Leaving so soon? I thought we were finally getting somewhere!" he goaded. "Ah well, until tomorrow then. I have a Bennet woman of my own waiting for me. Oh yes, yours are in the country. Pity, they certainly know how to please a man." Wickham knew he had hit a nerve. He tipped his head when they looked back at him, hatred in both Bingley's and Darcy's eyes. "Always a pleasure, gentlemen."

"It has been many years since I would associate that particular word to my dealings with you. Goodbye."

Wickham watched his two future brothers leave, taking their lackeys with them. He finished his drink, ordered another, and thought of how he would spend his evening. He had discovered that Lydia possessed one unexpected charm. She might have come into his bed without sophistication, but she proved to be a willing and eager student, naοve yet passionate. Yes, an unexpected windfall.

Oh, Lydia Bennet was a silly woman, but that would have its uses. It would not take much effort to hide his other activities, not that she would believe him to be anything but honourable. And if she ever did catch him out, he would seduce her again and she would forgive him. She would also gain him access into three estates and two houses in Town. With any luck, he would not have to pay for lodgings most of the year.

Before leaving the pub, Wickham walked over to a man sitting at the far end of the room.

"Same time, same place tomorrow morning," Wickham said.

The man nodded, and Wickham left to bed his future bride.

Posted on 2009-11-24

Colonel Hall received a note with his instructions a few minutes after Wickham finally left for his meeting the next day. Hall looked at his timepiece; his visitors would arrive in half an hour. While he waited, he decided to confirm the identity of the other occupant of Wickham's room.

He quickly wrote a note to "Sarah," sealed it, then stepped out into the hall and knocked on his prey's door. The young woman who opened the door matched the description he had been given of Lydia Bennet.

"What is it?"

"I have a message for you, ma'am."

"It must be from George. How romantic! I told him yesterday how much I missed him while he was gone."

"George? The note is from John Halvers. You are Sarah Halvers, are you not?"

"My name is Lydia."

"Beg pardon, ma'am. I must have been given the wrong direction. I will ask downstairs. Sorry to bother you."

She closed the door and Colonel Hall smiled. That was simple enough. Too bad my regular assignments are not this easy.

He went down to the public room to await his visitors. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner were prompt, anxious to see Lydia. Hall took them to the room and knocked on the door.

"Papa!"

Mr. Bennet and his brother walked into the room, but the Colonel did not.

"If you will excuse me, I have other duties. Good day, Miss Bennet."

"You knew who I was! Then why …?"

"To confirm your identity. Miss Bennet, please, listen carefully to your father." With that, Colonel Hall returned downstairs to await his next guests.

Mr. Gardiner closed the door and stood watch as Mr. Bennet spoke to his daughter.

"Lydia, we must leave at once. I will escort you to your uncle's house in Gracechurch Street."

Lydia folded her arms across her chest. "I will not leave George."

"Nevertheless, I am your father and you are still under my authority. I am taking you away from here. Now."

"No, I will not go. George and I are to be married. We were on our way to Gretna Green when he recalled some pressing business, and we turned to London instead. He is nearly finished, and we will depart within days. You see, I will soon be a married woman."

"Foolish girl! Do you have any idea what his business is?"

"Something about some money he is owed. George wanted it resolved so we could have a proper honeymoon."

"Your George has spent the last two days with your sisters' husbands negotiating a bribe to marry you!"

"What? I do not believe you. George loves me. He said my lack of dowry meant nothing to him."

"If George Wickham truly loved you, he would have come to me and asked permission to marry you. He would not have asked you to elope. But having done so, he most certainly would have taken you directly to Scotland."

"I told you. He first had business here in London."

"And I told you what that business is. Lydia, daughter, please. Do you not realize the seriousness of your situation? I am sorry to disillusion you, but Wickham has made it quite clear that he is prepared to abandon you and publish your disgrace unless he is paid a substantial amount of money."

"No, he would not … I do not, I … 'Tis too much … I am so confused," Lydia finished in a small voice.

Mr. Bennet put his arm around his youngest daughter and started to lead her out of the room. "There now, child. Let us go to your uncle's, where we can discuss this further. Perhaps your aunt's presence will bring you comfort."

"But George … we are to be married. He said he loves me."

"The only thing George Wickham loves is money. He is using you, my child. You are just a pawn, a means to secure his fortune. He will not marry you until and unless we meet his price." Mr. Bennet sighed. "At this moment, Lydia, you are nothing more than another of Wickham's mistresses. Yes, another, and he married none of those women. Has he told you that he has two natural children? By the look on your face, I think not. Wickham is using you for his own pleasure and to secure his material comfort, that is all."

Lydia looked around the filthy room and at last began to understand what her father was trying to tell her.

"My things …"

"I will send a servant to fetch them. We must go now before he returns."

Mr. Gardiner opened the door and the three went to the waiting coach. Lydia was in a stunned and silent trance until she was safely in her rooms at the Gardiner residence. Once there, she fell on her bed and cried, the full horror of her folly revealing itself before her.

Lydia Bennet might well have been one of the silliest girls in England, but she had enough sense to understand two things: She was no longer a girl, and she was completely and irrevocably ruined.

Bingley was quiet as the two men returned to his house. Darcy noted, but decided to wait for his friend to be ready to speak. His wait was not long.

"Darcy, are you not bothered by these negotiations?"

"How so?"

"Does it not disturb you to be promising to settle money on Wickham for a marriage that you have no intention of ever taking place?"

"Bingley, do not despair. Have you heard me promise that man anything more than to await word on the location of our next meeting?"

Bingley thought long on this before he said hesitantly, "No, but there is an implied agreement."

"Wickham assumes that we want him to marry Lydia and is acting accordingly. What we want, however, is to remove Lydia from his grasp and marry her to someone else. I have given Wickham no promise that my honour compels me to discharge. I have asked you to remain silent so you would not promise anything that your honour would compel you to keep. As of the conclusion our meeting today, no monies have been agreed upon, nor have we indicated that Mr. Bennet has given his consent to the union. I may not be entirely happy with the situation, but my conscience is appeased."

Colonel Hall spotted his three fellow soldiers as they walked into the public house. He greeted them with warm handshakes and invited them up to his room, where he changed into his uniform. They waited until Mr. Gardiner advised them that the Bennets were leaving; then it was time for the four of them to take the Bennet party's place in George Wickham's room.

Eventually Wickham, after imbibing in a few pints, arrived back at his lodgings. He rapped on the door.

"Lydia, open the door."

When the door opened, the spirits Wickham had consumed dulled his senses enough that he failed to react quickly, and he was unceremoniously pulled into the room.

"Well, well. Lieutenant Wickham," Colonel Hall began. "Your commanding officer was most concerned about you. Seems you left without permission and in the company of a young woman who was under his protection. The regular Army frowns on such behaviour."

"I was on my way to be married, and I am not in the Regulars!"

"Is that so? Where is your wife?" A slightly inebriated Wickham finally noticed the absence of Lydia. "You left Brighton long enough ago to have gone to Gretna and returned. I would like to offer my congratulations to your bride and escort you back to your regiment."

"I, er, we have yet to go to Scotland."

Wickham looked around stupidly for any sign of his intended bride – all her belongings were gone. Hall nodded and the other soldiers grabbed Wickham, pinning his arms behind his back. The Colonel slapped his captive.

"An officer in His Majesty's Army does not behave in such a dishonourable manner. However, we cannot have you making a scene when we leave." Another soldier poured a mixture of alcohol and laudanum into Wickham's mouth. He sputtered as the liquid ran down his throat, the excess flowing over his chin and onto his shirt.

"Drink up, man!" Colonel Hall took the bottle from his assistant and raised it in salute, "God save the King!" before emptying the rest into Wickham.

The earlier pints of ale mixed with something stronger soon caused Wickham to pass out. The men changed him into his uniform, which they had located while they had been waiting; then carried him down the stairs. They hailed a cab and took him to the pre-arranged location. There, Colonel Fitzwilliam and several of Darcy's men relieved them of their charge.

"He is a disgrace! What will happen to him now?" Hall asked after the other soldiers had left.

"He will serve his country in another way. That is all I can say," Colonel Fitzwilliam answered. Colonel Hall raised a sceptical eyebrow. "He will not be a discredit to the Army, and it is best we leave it at that."

"Very well. I will put this out of my mind, like so many other of my duties."

"Remind me never to volunteer for Intelligence."

"What makes you believe we would accept you?" Hall slapped his old university mate on the back. "Glad to be of service, Fitz."

"I am in your debt."

"I will remember that."

Colonel Fitzwilliam grimaced as he stepped into the coach. It was a long ride to Portsmouth. Whenever Wickham showed signs of coming out of his stupor, he was given more laudanum-laced alcohol. It was none too soon when they finally arrived in the port town. They waited in the carriage for daybreak. The Colonel then set about finding the Army garrison and the officer in charge of the attachment assigned to the HMS Faultless, another man went in search of lodgings, and the rest kept guard over their guest.

Fitzwilliam was able to locate the officer, a Lt Colonel Stines, without too much trouble and introduced himself.

"I have an officer who will be travelling aboard the Faultless en route to his new posting. Ensign Wickham just received his commission in the regular Army. He previously served in the Militia."

"Oh? Where is he then?" Stines asked.

"He is still feeling the effects of his … celebrations. I believe you sail tomorrow?"

"That is Captain Hershey's wish."

"I want you to keep an eye on Wickham. He has upset some powerful people, and for his own good is being posted to the Caribbean. I am on my way to speak to the captain of the Faultless now."

"I will accompany you. When will the ensign be coming aboard ship?"

"As close as possible to the time you set sail."

The two men went to the Faultless and met with the captain, who was not pleased to be sailing with a less-than-willing passenger, but understood the situation. Colonel Fitzwilliam handed Captain Hershey a large sealed bundle.

"The Army would not be overly upset if the ensign decided to resign his commission at his new post. When you arrive, please give this to the man." Colonel Fitzwilliam saluted the others. "It has been an honour and a privilege to meet you, gentlemen. I wish it had come under better circumstances."

The Colonel found his party and settled in for one more night guarding his charge.

The next morning, Wickham was taken, still somewhat drugged and inebriated, to the docks and carried aboard the ship. All his necessary provisions had been obtained and were sent along with him. Colonel Fitzwilliam stuffed a letter containing a twenty-pound note into Wickham's pocket.

Finally, their charge safely delivered into the hands of others, Fitzwilliam and Darcy's men headed back to London. Everyone hoped that they would never hear of George Wickham again.

Several hours later, a rather green-looking Army officer staggered onto the deck of the ship. Spotting a man in a red Army coat, he made his way over him.

"Where am I?"

"Ah, Ensign Wickham, you are aboard the HMS Faultless en route to your new post in Antigua. I hope you will have a pleasant voyage. First time at sea?"

"What? Antigua! Ensign?" Wickham finally noticed that his coat was new, different from his Militia garb, and the same as the man he was speaking to. "I am supposed to be getting married!"

"I thought as much. You had better pray that your bride is willing to wait for you. It will be some time before you are able to return to England."

"Damn him!"

"Excuse me?"

"He tricked me! He never intended that I marry Lydia."

"Wickham, let me give you some advice. You have obviously angered some very powerful people. It would be wise to keep that to yourself. Act like a soldier, and you might survive. Act like a fool, and any respect your uniform might gain you will be lost. Do you understand me, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir, but if Dar … if he thinks he has bested me, he is in for a surprise. We shall see who laughs last."

Upon Darcy's departure after his surprise visit on that man's first night in Town, Michael Arnold had immediately penned letters to several of his friends, men he knew he could trust with such a delicate matter as this. He had briefly outlined the situation of "a friend" and asked if they knew of any man in need of a wife, who might be willing to marry even if it happened that the woman was with child.

Two of the men were in town at the time, and one of them called the day he received Michael Arnold's letter. Mr. Jones owned property in Devon and knew of a farmer who had recently lost his wife. The widower had two small sons, so any child Lydia might be carrying would not be his heir. Arnold asked Mr. Jones to determine if the man was interested in pursuing the match. If so, funds would be provided for him to come to London.

Less than a week later, the farmer, a Mr. Pritchford, was in the drawing room of the Gardiner house preparing to meet Lydia. He had already met Arnold, then Darcy, and finally Mr. Bennet, and gained each man's blessing to court Lydia.

Frank Pritchford had loved his late wife and was not looking to replace her in his heart. However, he had two sons in need of a mother, and he was in need of a woman to maintain his house. If Lydia Bennet suited his needs and did not remind him of his beloved first wife, he would offer her marriage.

When Lydia first came to Gracechurch Street, she was told in very simple terms of the damage her elopement had caused and the plan to find her a respectable husband. Mr. Bennet also informed her that she would not be allowed to return to Longbourn. Any hope that the incident could simply be hushed up was gone; gossip was already rife in Meryton, sparked, Mr. Bennet had no doubt, by Mrs. Bennet's inability to control her hysterics in front of the servants. Mrs. Gardiner also gently explained to Lydia the signs that would indicate she was with child. Since then, the young girl had been unusually quiet.

Lydia had by no means suddenly matured into a demure woman, but she did understand that her recklessness had left her with few options for a respectable future. If Mr. Pritchford was a kind man and did not repulse her, she would accept an offer if he made one.

When Lydia finally met her prospective husband, she was surprised by how sombre and serious the man was. He seemed unaffected by her attempts at flirtation, intent instead on learning of her life in Hertfordshire. He desired to know what kind of upbringing and education she had. While none of the Bennet girls had had a governess, each was taught to read and write and rudimentary arithmetic. Of much wider knowledge, Lydia was both ignorant and uninterested, but her mother had insisted that all the girls understand the basics of being mistress of their own households. Mr. Pritchford was pleased; Lydia was much better educated than his first wife. He was inclined to pursue the courtship.

Their next meeting was highlighted by Lydia's winning a smile from her suitor. He had asked her to expound on her favourite pursuits, and Lydia was quite eloquent on the subject of trimming bonnets. Such enthusiasm reminded Mr. Pritchford of the actual age of the young woman before him, and he found humour in her youthful exuberance, reminded of his own sisters' laughter when discussing bonnets. He then reflected on how they had grown and matured when they married and started their own families, and he began to see in Lydia the potential woman waiting to bloom in her own time.

Lydia saw his smile, wondered at what she had said to bring it about, and fearlessly asked him.

"Miss Bennet, I was recollecting the days when my sisters were always discussing bonnets. Those are good memories."

"How many sisters do you have, sir?"

"I am blessed with three sisters. All are married now and have families of their own."

"How many nieces and nephews do you have?

"Six nephews, three nieces. My eldest sister is with child, and we are praying for a safe delivery by October."

"Your sons must love their male cousins."

"Aye, that they do. They have spent much of the past year in the households of my sisters. I cannot care for them myself without help."

"At least they do not have sisters to plague them about bonnets!"

"That would be their cousins' prerogative."

The two continued on in further conversation. Since she had come to her uncle's house, no one else had bestowed attention on her, and she was quite willing to listen to Mr. Pritchford. He was enjoying her liveliness; it had been a long time since he could laugh with a woman. She was not perfect, but then, neither was he.

The third time they met, Mr. Pritchford was ready for a serious discussion with Lydia. If they were to marry, he said, there were certain issues that must be considered. They spoke about his two sons, Thomas and Phillip, and Lydia's willingness to become the mother they never had. He was insistent that she learn to control herself in public. Lydia at first denied any impropriety, until he gently reminded her of their very first meeting and her shameless flirting, as well as the fact that they would not even be discussing marriage had she acted as she ought. They discussed Devon and its similarities to Hertfordshire – the limited society and lack of London sophistication. Finally, he broached the subject of class and money. He was farmer, not a gentleman of leisure. He lived comfortably, but there was no money to be wasted on frivolous nothings. He could provide for her comfort, but not for her vanity. When they finished talking, he left her to think on all they had discussed until they met again.

Pritchford himself needed to consider the meeting. Lydia Bennet was a pretty girl of pleasing shape, but she was very young and far from the ideal bride. She was vain and immature – much as was to be expected of a girl of sixteen. There was the real possibility she was carrying another man's child. Her dowry was two thousand five hundred pounds, although one thousand of those pounds would not to come to her until both her parents were deceased. She would be granted two hundred pounds per annum in addition to her dowry, as long as her father remained alive.

Although such a supplement to his income would be welcome, the material question was, could he entrust her with raising his two sons? He had missed Thomas and Phillip. Since their mother died, they had been living with their aunts and cousins; Pritchford could not care for them properly and also work the farm. If he wanted them back with him, he needed to find a new mother for them, and he needed to know if Lydia Bennet would be an appropriate choice. Tomorrow, he hoped to have his answer.

He had not told Lydia, but the boys would be in London the next day. He had sent for them and would use their meeting with Lydia as his final test. If she demonstrated a genuine affection for the children, he would make his offer. If, however, he detected a distaste on her part, he would walk away from the abbreviated courtship, as he had been assured was his prerogative.

The fourth meeting of the couple was occasioned by the surprise appearance of two small Pritchford boys in the Gardiners' parlour. Lydia was understandably taken aback, but bravely set about meeting her suitor's children. She found herself charmed when little Phillip climbed into her lap and stuck his thumb in his mouth. He showed a fearlessness that was familiar to Lydia, and she laughed at the similarity of their dispositions. Thomas shyly hid behind his father, content to peek out every now and then to confirm his presence to the new lady. Lydia did her best to coax the older boy to come to her, but he refused to leave the safety of his father's side.

Mrs. Gardiner soon rescued the boys and took them to the nursery to play with her children. Mr. Pritchford asked to speak privately with Lydia.

When they were alone, he began, "Miss Bennet, I apologise for not informing you of my sons' arrival in Town. Frankly, I wished to surprise you so that I could judge how well you would get on with Thomas and Phillip."

"They are delightful boys. You must be proud."

"I have barely seen them this past year. I am afraid much of the credit for their behaviour goes to my sisters. They have raised them as they have their own sons. But they are my sons, and if I am to raise them as I see fit, they need a mother. Miss Bennet, would you be willing to become their mother, to have them become your own children? Are you willing to marry me?"

"Yes, I will marry you, Mr. Pritchford."

"Then I will go and speak to your father."

Mr. Bennet was all too happy to grant his consent to the match and most desirous of a speedy wedding. It was decided that he would take Lydia to Devon, where they would purchase a licence from a local clergyman that would allow them to be married almost immediately. Neither Mrs. Bennet nor any of Lydia's sisters would travel with them. Darcy asked to attend; he wanted to witness the ceremony himself. Until Lydia was safely married, the threat of scandal still existed.

They arranged to leave the next morning. Because Mr. Pritchford's young sons were travelling with the party, the journey would take three full days. Lydia was disappointed to be leaving Town without any wedding clothes, but Mr. Bennet promised her a sum of money to have new things made in Devon. It was the best that could be made of the situation.

Elizabeth continued to increase as she waited at Pemberley. Darcy had written to inform her of his arrival in Town, and later of Lydia's recovery from Wickham and the search for a suitable husband. The last letter told of Lydia's betrothal and Darcy's and Mr. Bennet's journey to witness the nuptials. Elizabeth was relieved. Lydia would be married and the disgrace that threatened them averted once Lydia had an acceptable husband.

She missed her husband. The man who, despite his many faults, had become as dear to her as any man could ever be. There were times when the love she felt for him threatened to overwhelm her, worry for his wellbeing consumed her, the ache for his touch tortured her.

Oh, how she wished that he could love her in return! But he did not. Not even her aunt's suppositions could convince her of that. She had always sensed that a barrier existed between them. He was willing to be her friend, and he certainly relished his role as her lover. Beneath a reserved exterior lay a man of great passion, who delighted in giving as much as receiving. He had encouraged, nay demanded, that she loose her passion for him. Into that passion she had poured her most tender feelings for her husband. Yet through all this, he seemed unwilling to lose his heart the way she had lost hers.

This saddened Elizabeth, and made her feel somewhat guilty. He had given her so much of himself, and still she desired the one thing he would not, or could not, give. Why could she not be content with what she had? Why must she covet more?

The carriages carrying the Bennets, Darcy, and the Pritchfords rolled into the village of Hennock on the third evening after leaving London. Little Phillip did not even recognise his house when they pulled in front; it had been so long since he had seen it. Thomas recognised it and was excited. His father had told him he would soon have a new mother, and he could not wait to laugh and play and sing as he had with his first mama.

Mr. Bennet had great hopes that in two days' time his daughter would finally be married to the quiet farmer who had quickly earned his respect. Mr. Darcy was grateful that he would need to spend only a couple of nights in such a place as this. The inn was far below his usual exacting standards.

Mercifully for all involved, the license was secured the next day, and on the day after that, Lydia Bennet became Lydia Pritchford of Hennock, Devon.

The wedding accomplished, Darcy and Mr. Bennet began the long trip back to London.

John Jacobs had come to the same place for the past two weeks; Wickham had failed to show every day since the second meeting with Lydia Bennet's family representatives. Jacobs had his instructions. If Wickham did not appear or send word to him for a fortnight, and if there was no wedding or engagement announcement in The Times during that time, he was to post the three letters that Wickham had left in his care. This was the last day of the agreed period, and still nothing. It was time to discharge his final assignment and be done with it. He looked at the directions on the letters: Lord Fitzwilliam, Earl of Perryton; Lady Catherine de Bourgh; and a notorious London scandal sheet. Brave man or fool?

When Darcy returned to London from Devon, he found an enraged relation awaiting him.

"Uncle! To what do I owe this visit?" Darcy asked, wary of the man before him. The Earl slammed down a folded newspaper in front of his nephew.

"Read it!"

Darcy read the item circled in ink. His agitation turned to dismay.

"But how?" he asked weakly.

The Earl pushed a letter into Darcy's hands.

"It seems that your dear old friend did not fully trust you and put in place a little contingency plan. He wrote to tell me what had happened, and that he was also sending letters to Lady Catherine … and to this … this … rag.

"I warned you that your wife would bring shame to our family. By now, most of the ton has figured out that my nephew has the disgrace of a fallen woman for a sister-in-law."

"Lydia is married."

"To Wickham?"

"No, to a man in Devon."

"You bought her a husband as far away as you could, eh? You are still dishonoured. Are you happy with your choice now?"

"Do not insult my wife."

"Everyone else will. Go back to Derbyshire. Perhaps in a few years, after the scandal has faded from memory, you may return to Town. Perhaps when your child is old enough to be introduced into society, people will have forgotten. Then again …"

"Enough! You have crowed over me long enough! I will be returning to Pemberley in a few days to await the birth of my heir. I doubt we have anything else to discuss, so I beg you to excuse me." Darcy started to walk out of the room.

"Darcy."

"Yes?" he answered through clenched teeth.

"Expect to hear from your Aunt Catherine on this matter."

Darcy glared at his uncle for a moment, then stormed out of the room, not stopping until he was safely in his study. Numb with shock, he poured himself a finger of brandy, and then another, and then another, until he lost count.

Later, Michael Arnold came to ask about the wedding. Having seen the paper, he was not surprised to find his cousin well into his cups.

"Darcy, old man."

"Michael, my God, I feel terrible."

"You look terrible."

"Did you see the bloody newspaper? How did this happen? I had everything planned so well."

"No one can anticipate every move of his opponent."

"I should have." Darcy tried unsuccessfully to pour another drink. Arnold stopped his hand.

"You have had enough for one night. Let me call your man, and he can get you to bed. I will come again tomorrow afternoon, after you have had a chance recuperate."

"You are a good man, Michael Arnold," Darcy slurred.

"You can thank me later."

Darcy awoke the next morning much the worse for wear. Eventually, the powders Mrs. Thomas provided did their job, and he reasoned that, after his display the day before, he had better go see his cousin.

"You look much better today, Darcy."

"Michael, I must apologize for yesterday."

"No need. I was not surprised to see you like that. I saw the paper, too. For your information, Mother is furious."

"She and all her siblings. I hope she has not learned of your involvement."

"I told her, and she is livid with me, as well. That will pass soon enough. It is not the first time I have garnered her wrath."

"I am truly sorry."

"What will you do?"

"I will go to Pemberley to be with Elizabeth during the rest of her confinement. There is nothing else I can do here."

"What about her family?"

Darcy sat silently for a few moments. "Only Mrs. Bingley will be acknowledged."

Arnold sighed. He had expected that Darcy would disavow Elizabeth's family. Frankly, he too saw little alternative.

"Your wife will be distressed," Arnold finally declared.

"She will obey me."

"But will she forgive you?"

"I am the injured party."

"I suppose."

"What do you mean?" Darcy said sharply.

"Time will tell." Arnold stared at Darcy, unwilling to say more, knowing that his cousin would have to learn his meaning the hard way.

Elizabeth sat alone in the breakfast room stunned, a letter and section of newspaper next to her place. There was no note in her letter, only the enclosed bit of a scandal sheet. Elizabeth had no idea who had sent it, but guessed it must be someone who was jealous of her marriage to Darcy. The cutting was several days old, of course, and not from one of the papers she had faithfully read since her husband had raced away to Town with her uncle. The unease she had felt each time she perused the pages of the newspapers that were delivered each day had subsided. Surely, Darcy's letter – reporting that Wickham was gone, Lydia was married, and he would return to her soon – meant that they were safe from scandal. Surely.

Her relative calm lasted until she spied the initials FD and the word Derbyshire in the cutting that had been sent to her. Unease turned to dread, and Elizabeth felt physically ill. A dozen scenarios crossed through her mind, each worse than before, each encapsulated by a single thought:

How will I ever face him?

It was nearly evening when Darcy arrived at Pemberley. The growing darkness reflected his mood. Every moment, every thought, every action since that fateful letter arrived had deepened a dark bitterness. He was humiliated because of the family of the woman he had chosen to be his wife.

The disaster dredged up memories long repressed, memories of when he was a boy with two parents who doted on him and his beautiful baby sister. His best friend, George, filled his days with laughter and adventure. Then things changed. His body began to transform, and he struggled; no longer a boy, yet not quite a man. George changed, too. He scoffed at Darcy's adherence to the demands of duty and propriety. Jealousy soon followed. George, embittered that an accident of birth placed the two in different stations, began to act upon his basest desires and propensities. For the sake of what once had been, the esteem in which he held old Mr. Wickham, and for the love of his own father, Darcy hid his childhood companion's indiscretions from both their fathers.

It was not long after he lost his good opinion of George Wickham that Darcy lost his mother. Lady Anne Darcy was a woman of grace and beauty, who filled Pemberley with her personality. Her passing marked a new era, one punctuated by silence instead of sounds of mirth, of dancing, of life.

All the affection once given to his mother was now heaped upon his sister. Georgiana was the mirror of Lady Anne, and whenever Darcy looked upon her, he remembered their beloved parent. A precious fondness was never absent between the siblings.

When he left for university, he missed Georgiana as much as he missed his father and his home. At least he was able to avoid Wickham. That man's education, though generously provided by Darcy's father, did not place them in the same circles; differences in ages, abilities, wealth, and colleges ensured that. Still, there were occasions, all too frequent, when Wickham needed money, and he always knew who would supply him – Darcy.

Then came the terrible day when Darcy was summoned to his father's chambers. The great man had passed on sometime during the night. Darcy felt the difference in his life immediately; even the servants treated him with increased deference. He was the master now. It was a lonely position.

To Georgiana, he was still her Fitzwilliam, but that too would change. He was now her guardian and responsible for her welfare. They remained close, and they still loved each other, but he was now more father than brother.

Georgiana's death completed his isolation. All those who truly loved him were gone. There was no one left. The pain of his loss compelled Darcy to build walls around his heart. No one would hurt him again, for none would be let inside his defences.

He deliberately married a woman he did not love, to protect himself and to hurt those of his family who had failed to understand or love him. He reasoned that Elizabeth's companionship in his life and her passion in his bed would be enough to satisfy him. Her low connections would mortify his aunt and uncle; his revenge for their officious insistence on arranging his personal affairs would be complete.

Who was triumphing now? Lady Catherine's prophecies had come true. Elizabeth's thoughtless sister had nearly ruined his good reputation and brought shame to the family. He had been forced to use cunning, to use disguise and deceit to recover Lydia, to separate her from Wickham, to buy her a husband in a far-off corner of England, and to condemn his former friend to a life of exile in the West Indies. He was at least as disgusted by his own actions as he was by the reasons for them.

He now regretted the day he had met Elizabeth Bennet. And he hated himself for it. She had done nothing to earn such condemnation. She had been his lover and his dear friend. She carried within her the next generation of his ancient family, a generation he must do – would do – everything to protect.

There was only one thing he could do.

The carriage pulled up in front of the house, and Darcy saw that his wife awaited him. He set his jaw and walked to her, kissed her hand, and asked to meet with her once he had refreshed himself. He saw the concern on Elizabeth's face, and had to escape before his resolve faltered. Darcy beat a hasty retreat to his chambers. After washing, and changing his clothes, he fortified himself with a drink and went to meet with his wife.

He found Elizabeth in the library standing at a window, staring at the last remnant of the sunset, a hand laid protectively over the child inside her. She did not turn to face him when he came to her.

"It is done?" she quietly asked.

"Lydia is married and the rogue will trouble us no more."

"Thank you."

"I did what was necessary. You need not thank me for it." Darcy poured himself another drink. "Elizabeth, this is the last time I will tolerate mention of the affair. This is the last time I will tolerate mention of your sister. From this point further, I will have nothing to do with her," Darcy paused, knowing the import of what he must say next, "or her family."

The words hung in the air.

Elizabeth began to shake. Her left hand came to cover her face, her right remained guard over the unborn child in her womb.

"What of Jane?" she choked through her silent sobs.

"Mrs. Bingley will be accepted for her husband's sake."

After watching her silent grief, he slipped out of the room, a soft click announcing to Elizabeth that he had left her.

As dawn broke, Elizabeth sat on the window seat in her darkened room. Darcy had not come to her that night, and she had not slept. Absently, she twisted the wedding band on her finger.

Eight months previously, she had vowed to love, honour, and obey her husband. She never doubted her ability to honour, and she had been surprised by her capacity to love. Now she knew the sacrifice that was required of her to obey.

Must love always result in pain and despair?

She had known that her family would always be an issue between them. Darcy's pride and propriety were continually taxed by the improper behaviour of her mother and youngest sisters, and even occasionally by her father. She had hoped that time, distance, and eventual maturity in her siblings would lessen this weakness in the eyes of her husband. Lydia's disgrace made all her hopes for naught. Her family had failed her, and she had failed him.

Now they were as good as dead to her. Only Jane would be allowed to remain as a link to her past. Her life, her existence, her value in society were inextricably bound to the name she now bore, Elizabeth Darcy. All that had been Elizabeth Bennet must now be denied, erased from existence, as if consumed by fire.

Darcy had no choice. She understood his position; she understood his reasoning.

She had no choice. But she mourned all that she had lost, even as the mortification of her family's infamy rolled over and over her in cold waves of shame. The tears that had been her only companion throughout the night came again.

Many months before, she had defined her greatest fear, one she hoped would never intrude on her marriage. Now it was before Elizabeth, bowing mockingly as it confronted her, and she was defenceless against it. Its name?

Regret.