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Part 1

Posted on 2008-06-28

Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination, for it was plain that he was that moment arrived, that moment alighted from his horse or his carriage. ~ Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 43

Darcy and Elizabeth missed each other that day. Seven years later, Darcy sees a familiar face at a ball, and renews an acquaintance. But will it do him any good?

Mr. Darcy-de Bourgh, a thirty-five year-old widower, had never much enjoyed dancing. Unfortunately, this had never kept his friends from inviting him to balls, and since he did not have a ready excuse for all of them, he had to attend them sometimes. He hardly ever danced, and usually spent most of his time walking about the room and avoiding conversation. Try as he might, he had never managed to feel at ease in a ballroom. There were too many people he didn't know, and the frivolous mood required in these situations eluded him. People knew his story, and most of them knew to leave him alone. He was content to remain on the side, only dancing with ladies he knew well and making polite small talk with whoever came his way. Over the years he had learnt patience in such occasions, but not enjoyment.

Currently, he was looking from the balcony of Lord Pembroke's London house at about half-a-dozen couples moving about. There was one woman, especially, who was taking his attention. She looked in her late twenties, beautiful and elegant, and Darcy could not shake the impression he had met her before. It was grating him that he could not place her. He had seen many women with the same classical beauty, tall and fair, and yet, there was something familiar about the serene countenance of this one. To add to his confusion, she reminded him of someone short and dark. He didn't know who that was, either.

He had been staring at her for quite a while when he was startled by someone talking to him. It was Sir Arthur Linger.

"Well, Darcy, enjoying yourself?"

"Who is that woman in green who is dancing with Weston?" Darcy asked.

"Ah, the beautiful Mrs. Johnson! Wife of the industrialist! I see you have good taste, Darcy," answered Sir Arthur.

Darcy did not know any industrialists. Exciting as the recent changes in Great Britain were, he did not move in those circles. Besides, he was certain the lady had been single when he had met her.

"What was her maiden name?" he persisted.

"I don't know," said Sir Arthur. "She is from Hertfordshire, I believe. Her father was a gentleman – bit of a scandal in the family, if I remember well. A sister ran away, and she was considered quite unmarriageable until Mr. Johnson came along."

"Hertfordshire?" repeated Darcy. Suddenly it all came back to him. "A Miss Bennet, maybe?" he asked.

"Maybe, maybe not. I can't tell you that."

The woman was Jane Bennet, of course, the same one Darcy had taken so many pains to keep away from Bingley, seven years ago, and whose sister Darcy had so hopelessly fallen in love with. She had refused his hand, however, and while this memory was still painful, he had learnt to consider it one of the greatest blessings in his life. She had shown him how his pride had led him astray, and how wrong he was to mistrust anyone who was not a close friend or relative. She had shown him how his manners, impatient and abrasive, had given people a good opportunity to hurt his reputation. He would forever be grateful to her for that.

After his failed proposal, he had never heard from her again. He had often wondered what had become of her. Had she had gotten married? Did she had children? Here was an opportunity too good to pass. He had to ask Mrs. Johnson about her sister.

"Can you secure me an introduction?" he asked.

"To whom? Mr. or Mrs. Johnson?"

Darcy took a second to consider.

"Mr. Johnson."

He did not wish to risk being snubbed by the lady.

"Very well," answered Sir Arthur. "I would be careful, though, he does not like men to show too close attention to his wife," he added with a smirk.

"I assure you, I have no such intention."

They made their way to the tables where the men were playing cards. Sir Arthur introduced him to a florid man in his forties who was sitting across Lord Pembroke.

"Ah, Darcy, come to pay tribute to the man who is bringing steamships to Britain?" said Pembroke.

Mr. Johnson looked pleased, both by the introduction and the compliment. He had an intelligent, shrewd look, and, although he was not a man of fashion, he was well-bred enough to mingle well with Lord Pembroke's friends.

"I have heard much about the SS Savannah, sir. When will it come to Liverpool?" asked Darcy.

"Soon, I hope," answered Mr. Johnson. "I was just telling his Lordship about the good news I received from New York this week. I dare say she will arrive in Liverpool before the end of June."

"I am very pleased to hear that. I do hope it will allow us to establish a lasting peace with America."

"And so do I, sir. There is nothing worse for business than war," answered Mr. Johnson.

"I understand that you have prints of the ship," said Darcy.

"Certainly. The Times showed a reproduction of them, as I am sure you remember."

Darcy waited for a few moments, but no invitation to see them came. He had to be more direct.

"The lady in green dancing with Mr. Weston is your wife, I understand?" he asked.

"Aye, sir, she is."

"Was she not a Miss Bennet?"

"You are correct."

"I believe I met her, many years ago, when I was in Hertfordshire. Her father's estate is called Longbourn, is it not? Near Meryton?"

"Indeed, sir, it is."

Mr Johnson gave him a calculating look, but gave no sign of alarm. He called his wife, whose partner was just leading her back to her husband.

"My dear, I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Darcy-de Bourgh," said Mr. Johnson.

"Yes," answered Mrs. Johnson, "we met more than seven years ago."

She curtsied and smiled pleasantly as if nothing in the world had ever happened between her sister and Darcy. But there was a look between the husband and wife, and Darcy fancied that he saw Mr. Johnson relax a little.

"I remember very well that Mrs. Johnson was taken ill one day at Netherfield Park, where I was staying," he said for the sake of conversation. "Her sister came to nurse her for a few days. I will never forget how she walked three miles through the muddy countryside to see her sister."

"I need not ask you which sister you are talking about," said Mr. Johnson. "Elizabeth would never pass up a chance to nurse anybody."

"Good Lord!" said Lord Pembroke. "Her mother had no objection?"

"I will always be very grateful for my sister's attentions to me at Netherfield," said Mrs. Johnson.

It was said with great mildness, but Darcy felt the underlying defense of her sister. He didn't want her to think he'd set out to insult her family, and he didn't like the idea of Lord Pembroke, of all people, looking down on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

"Indeed," he said in order to add to Mrs. Johnson's words, "I can assure you that Miss Elizabeth Bennet's behaviour was always very proper, and I am certain that, had she had any alternative, she would not have come on foot."

But his words were lost on Lord Pembroke, whose attention had already gone back to the game.

He wanted to hear more about Elizabeth Bennet. Should he ask Mrs. Johnson to dance? He hesitated a little, but his curiosity overcame his reluctance, and, to the raised eyebrows of some of the guests, he led her to the dance set.

"How is Longbourn doing, madam?" he asked as the music started.

"Longbourn has not changed much since you were in Hertfordshire."

"Are your parents still there?"

"My father is. My mother died five years ago."

"I am sorry to hear it."

Not wanting to appear indelicate, Darcy changed the subject. They talked very pleasantly about the ball and about steam engines, but they never got near the subject of her sister again

Posted on 2008-07-09

The next few days, Darcy took the opportunity to gather some information about the Johnsons. Mr. Johnson had started as a banker before financing the projects of Mr. Watt, thus assisting that gentleman in inventing and improving many contraptions using steam engines, the latest of which was the steamship. It had proven to be a very good investment, and now he was courted by many people who wanted his money or his advice – and in Lord Pembroke's case, both.

Lord Pembroke was well known for his enthusiasm for everything new, and he was forever trying out the latest inventions on his estates, much to the exasperation of his tenants. Some of the projects he'd carried out were successful, and had been copied by many a landowner (including Darcy himself). Others had proven disastrous, and had cost him a lot of money. Nothing could discourage him, though, and he was always looking for money to support a new project.

Darcy had long known about Pembroke's passion for Progress, and he clearly saw Mr. Johnson as an ally. Mrs. Johnson, he learnt, was the gentleman's second wife. The first one had died in childbirth and left him two daughters and two sons. He had seen in Miss Bennet a woman who could be at once a good mother and a fashionable woman, for Mr. Johnson was not without pretensions of gentility. Darcy delved in his memories of Hertfordshire, and he had to allow the industrialist had excellent flair – much more so than Darcy had had. Where Darcy, who had always prided himself on his discernment, had seen nothing but a pretty but unaccomplished girl sent by her mother to conquer the wealthiest man she could catch, Mr. Johnson had clearly been able to notice her better qualities. Darcy could not but be humbled, yet again, by such a proof of his own short-sightedness.

After a proper delay, Darcy decided to call on the Johnsons. The address was almost fashionable, and the house very good. Darcy felt all Mrs. Johnson's good luck in finding her husband. It almost reconciled him with what he had done with regards to Bingley.

Mr. Johnson, he found, was away for business, but Mrs. Johnson received him – it was exactly as he had wished. She was sitting with one of her sisters, a Mary Wilson, who was married to one of Mr. Johnson's high-ranking clerks. Darcy could only pretend to remember her. He was also introduced to her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner.

He soon found common ground with that lady, who had spent some time in Lambton, five miles from Pemberley, many years ago. She had many inquiries to make, most of which he could not answer. He asked her if she had ever seen Pemberley.

"Yes," she answered. "We visited it six years ago when we were touring Derbyshire with my husband and my niece Elizabeth. You are acquainted with her, I believe."

"Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting her in Hertfordshire, and later in Kent," he answered.

But he had been unprepared for the mention of her, and his voice had sounded strange. He hoped nobody had noticed.

"We sometimes hear of your brother and sister, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, from our cousin, Mr. Collins," said Mrs. Johnson.

"Mr. Collins?" For a second, he had no idea who she was talking about. "Oh, yes, Mr. Collins, the rector of Hunsford, of course! He is a great help to Bingley, I believe."

"I trust Mr. and Mrs. Bingley are well," said Mrs. Johnson evenly.

"Very well, thank you. They could not come to London, this year, because of the renovation of Rosings Park and because of the baby."

There was a pause.

"We were very sorry to hear about Mrs. Darcy-de Bourgh," said Mrs. Wilson. "The story of her life is an apt illustration of the imprudence of excess."

Darcy had heard many things about the life and death of his wife, but this was certainly the oddest of them all. He had forgotten how strange the Bennets could be.

Once more, there was a silence. Darcy decided to ask about Miss Elizabeth. After all, if Mrs. Johnson could talk about Bingley, he certainly could talk about her sister. She did not seem to be a taboo subject. He took the plunge.

"Pray, Mrs. Johnson, how is your eldest sister doing?"

"She is well, thank you," was her only answer.

"Oh! That reminds me…" interrupted Mrs. Gardiner. "Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, but I forgot to tell Jane and Mary about the letter I received from Longbourn this morning." She turned to her nieces. "Lizzy writes that your father has recovered from his cold."

This news brought much satisfaction among the ladies. The letter was taken out, read and discussed. Darcy listened, and could hardly believe it: it seemed that she was still at Longbourn, and still single. The rest of the visit went by in a daze. He could hardly attend to what any ladies said, and he went away still in shock over the news.

Over the next few days, the only thing Darcy could think about was that he wanted to see Miss Bennet again. He devised many schemes and scenarios that would put her in his presence, but they were all improper, implausible or extremely awkward. Miss Bennet could not be further from him at Longbourn than if she was at the North Pole. The only thing to do was to get better acquainted with the Johnsons and hope for an opportunity.

This was not a disagreeable task. They were very pleasant, sensible and well-bred, and happy to have his acquaintance. He was soon invited to dinner, and from there got acquainted with Mr. Gardiner (a very sensible, well-informed man who, to Darcy's utter amazement, turned out to be Mrs. Bennet's brother), Mr. Wilson and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. Mr. Holmes was another clerk of Mr. Johnson's, and his wife another sister of Mrs. Johnson. She was introduced to him as "Catherine, my youngest sister," but it seemed strange to him. He was sure that the youngest Miss Bennet's name had been something different, and had started with an L. Maybe she was the runaway sister.

The Johnsons and Gardiners, on their side, were puzzled as to why one of the wealthiest private gentlemen in the country, with such a reputation for pride, would seek their company. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner decided to wait and see, but Mr. Johnson made inquiries. He soon knew as much about Mr. Darcy as Mr. Darcy knew about him – that he owned two great estates, Pemberley in Derbyshire and Rosings in Kent, which brought him an income of nearly twenty thousand pounds a year. That he had inherited one of them and got the other from his wife. That he took care himself of Pemberley, and that Rosings was kept for him by his brother-in-law. That he had no need for money, only a passing interest in steam engines and was not involved in politics. Mr. Johnson could not account for Mr. Darcy's interest in him, and fervently hoped it was not his wife.

But it was Mrs. Johnson who was the most perplexed by it. She knew what had happened between Mr. Darcy and her sister, seven years before, at Hunsford. She knew that they had not parted as friends, and how improbable it was that Mr. Darcy should renew an acquaintance with anybody of her family. Her delicacy forbade her to broach the subject, and she avoided mentioning Elizabeth as much as possible.

Mrs. Johnson had never paid too much attention to Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire, but now she perceived how much her sister had been mistaken in him. That he was reserved was obvious, and it could be easily mistaken for pride in someone of such a tall stature. But when there were not too many people around, she found that he could be very agreeable, and she could never detect any pride in him. He looked like an unhappy man with no talent for merriment, and she pitied him. She wished her sister had been able to like him better, and that his wife had not had such a tragic fate.

Darcy had no wish to show himself too interested in Miss Bennet. What had happened had happened a long time ago, and he had no idea if she had even believed the content of the letter he had written to her. He had no wish to raise any suspicion in anyone, so he feigned interest in steam engines instead. This meant that he could not ask about her further than the usual inquiries.

The Johnsons were not very forthcoming. As a result, for many weeks, he had no more information than what came in letters from Hertfordshire, when they were discussed in front of him – and they were more often about Mr. Bennet's health than about his daughter.
Darcy longed to know how she had lived since they had parted, what had happened to her, and if she had changed. He remembered her wit, her vivacity, the sharpness of her opinions, and he wished he could hear more of them than what was conveyed in her letters to her family. Most of all, he wanted to know what she thought of him, and if she hated him as much as she had the last time they had spoken. He was most anxious to know if she had believed what he had written to her.

At last, however, he got lucky, and was provided with some information about her. He was at the bookstore when he happened upon Mr. Gardiner, who told him that he was buying a few books that his brother-in-law had recommended to him.

"I understand that Miss Bennet takes care of her father," said Darcy.

Mr. Gardiner answered by the affirmative.

"That must be a very dull life for her," Darcy continued. "I remember her being a very lively young woman."

"My niece has a very happy disposition. She makes the best of every situation. Besides, she is Mr. Bennet's favourite daughter, and she has always been very grateful for that."

"Has she never thought of marrying?"

"I dare say she has, and found it wanting – I know she had refused several very good offers."

"Has she indeed!" Darcy exclaimed, thinking for a second that Mr. Gardiner knew everything.

"Oh, yes," continued Mr. Gardiner, oblivious to his companion's emotion. "This remains between us, of course, but she refused Mr. Collins – who will inherit Longbourn, you know – when her mother was still alive, and both Mr. Wilson and Mr. Holmes, before they offered for her sisters. Mr. Johnson was very unhappy about it, but Mr. Bennet put his foot down every time. He's the father, after all."

"But he gave his consent for Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Holmes?"

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Holmes are very different creatures than their elder sisters, you know. Besides, they both accepted – Mr. Bennet could hardly object without offending Mr. Johnson. Personally, I think the arrangement is for the best. They are both respectable men, but Miss Bennet would have been miserable with either of them, and Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Holmes seem quite happy."

He paused and added affectionately, "My niece has an excellent judgement."

Footnote: In the first part, people asked why Darcy is now called "Darcy-de Bourgh." It's because he inherited Rosings and therefore took the family name that went with it. He didn't drop the Darcy part because he still owns Pemberley. This kind of thing often happened in Austen's time, mostly with adoptions

Posted on 2008-07-17

This conversation gave Darcy much to ponder. After seeing his wife destroy herself, he had no desire to see another Mrs. Darcy unhappy. But this was hardly the same, was it not, whispered a treacherous voice. You never gave her time to know you. You never took the opportunity to court her properly. Then again, how was he to court her now, when she was in Hertfordshire, where he had no foothold anymore? Besides, even if he had the chance to see her again, she would certainly end up refusing him again. But wasn't it worth a try?

His wish to see her did not abate, however. The more he thought about Miss Bennet, still single in Hertfordshire, the more urgent it became. He couldn't get his conversation with Mr. Gardiner out of his head either. The thought – impossible, insane as it was – that it was because of him that she had not married, was too sweet, too intoxicating not to occur to his imagination. It made his hands tremble, and banishing it from his mind was more painful than he could ever have imagined.

He kept on the lookout, however, for an excuse to go to Longbourn. His patience was rewarded sooner than he expected, and it came in the form of a steamship. By the end of May, Mr. Johnson received a letter saying that the arrival of the SS Savannah in Liverpool was imminent – and of course he had to be there. Darcy called one morning only to find the house in uproar, and Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Gardiner frantically ordering the servants around and planning the journey. He was about to leave when he caught the subject of their argument. There were some books that had been bought for Mr. Bennet, and Mrs. Johnson had meant to bring them to Longbourn on her way to Liverpool. Mr. Johnson, however, had decided it would be waste of time, and now the question of how they were to be sent was raised. Mrs. Gardiner said it might not be until the fall, but her niece didn't want her father to wait that long. It gave Darcy an idea.

"I will be travelling to Derbyshire next Monday," he said. "Longbourn will not be far off my way, and, if you give me leave, I will call on your father and bring him all your parcels and letters."

Mrs. Johnson was far too busy to do anything but gratefully accept, and whatever feelings her husband had on the subject, Darcy soon found himself in his carriage with books, music, fabrics and letters from the entire family.

Despite the season, it was a dreary day, and by the time he arrived, it was drizzling. He had felt restless during the entire journey, incapable of fixing his attention on anything for long. Now that he was there his heart was oddly thumping, and a myriad of anxious questions was going through his brain. Would she have changed? Would she recognize him? Would she even be at home?

He gave the butler his card and waited. The house gave the same feeling that Pemberley did – too empty. He could hear muffled voices through the steps of the servant, a woman's voice, he thought, reading aloud. He was announced, and he heard the answer, from a male, older voice – "let him come in."

He was shown into a room that seemed part library, part drawing-room. There was a sofa and comfortable chairs near the fireplace, a desk in front of one of the windows, and a pianoforte in the corner. Mr. Bennet sat by the fireside, and his daughter stood next to him. Darcy was surprised by how old he looked. He had not paid a lot of attention to him when he had been at Netherfield, but he was certain that Mr. Bennet had not looked half so frail and tired.

He still looked alert, however, and he eyed Darcy with amusement and curiosity. His daughter seemed stunned to see Darcy.

She recollected herself enough to curtsy, but not enough to speak. It was up to the old gentleman to receive him. He apologized for not standing up and Darcy waved it aside. They exchanged civilities and Darcy stated his business. Mr. Bennet offered him some refreshments, which Darcy accepted. Miss Bennet almost ran out of the room to take care of it.

When she came back, her father had started unpacking his books, examining them and making comments. He had many inquiries about their relations in town, and soon was exchanging opinions about steam engines and their various applications with Mr. Darcy. Miss Bennet sat down for a moment, silent and fidgety. Then she stood up again, and started walking about the room and looking out of the window.

"Mr. Darcy – your carriage," she said. "The rain has become heavier, everything will get wet."

Darcy looked up. She was right – everything would get wet.

"Would you not rather wait till it has stopped raining, sir?" asked Mr. Bennet from his chair. "It does not seem likely to stop soon, and the road will be bad."

"I meant to stop for the night at Leicester, but it does not matter. I can stop at Rugby, or Northampton," answered Darcy.

"I think it is unwise for you to make plans at this point. I am much mistaken if it will not get worse. You had better remain at Longbourn for the moment, and at worst, you can always stay the night here."

"I would not wish to force myself upon you," said Darcy, with a glance to Miss Bennet.

"Nonsense," said her father. "We're always happy to have company, are we not, my dear?"

"Yes, indeed," she said in a trembling voice.

Darcy looked at her. She had not lost any of her beauty. It had matured over the years, making her more irresistible than ever. This time, he would be wise. He would yield to the temptation, fully, no matter what the consequences were. He had trusted her with his fate once, and she had done the right thing. He would trust her again.

"So you see, Mr. Darcy, we will not take no for an answer," Mr. Bennet was saying. "You came with books and letters, and plenty of good things, we do not want you to leave so soon. We only hope you will make allowances for the simple style of living of an old man and his daughter."

"Thank you, sir."

Miss Bennet excused herself to go arrange his stay with the housekeeper, and Mr. Bennet started opening his letters.

"Jane tells me that Lady Pembroke has taken to calling on her," he said. "I wonder how much her husband owes my son-in-law. Don't you, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy was unsure how to react. He felt he had no business commenting on other people's letters, especially in such a sarcastic manner. But maybe Mr. Bennet was used to discussing his letters so much with his daughter that he simply had to talk about them. In the end, he settled on vague answers that said as little as possible.

Miss Bennet took a long time to come back. She set about to fuss about her father, bringing him a blanket, poking the fire.

"My dear, we have a letter from Mary," said Mr. Bennet. "Would you read it to me? You know I can never make out her handwriting."

She looked at her father from the fireplace. Darcy strode over to her and took the poker out of her hand.

"Allow me," he said.

"Thank you," she answered in a hardly audible voice.

She sat down and started Mary's letter. It brought her father much amusement. It seemed to Darcy that, though Mrs. Wilson might be an oddity, Mr. Bennet ought not to laugh at her in front of a stranger. He kept poking, throwing more logs on the pile and fanning it, until the fire was strong enough to warm the whole room. When he was done, the other two had finished reading. Mr. Bennet praised his work. The rest of the morning was spent in conversation, mainly between the two gentlemen. Miss Bennet had taken up needlework and only occasionally said something.

When two o'clock struck, Mr. Bennet excused himself.

"I always lie down for a couple of hours in the afternoon," he said. "Please help yourself to any book, and feel free to ring the bell for anything. I trust I leave you in good company."

Miss Bennet stood up, too.

"If you will excuse me, I must give my father his draughts. I will be back shortly."

Mr. Bennet was hardly out of the room when he whispered to his daughter.

"First he woos the Johnsons, then the Gardiners, and now he comes to see us. What do you think he is about, Lizzy?"

"I am sure I have no idea."

"I think he is looking for the secrets of the steam engine, do you not think?"

"If he is looking for them at Longbourn, he must be desperate."

"Come on, Lizzy, you must be as curious as I am as to why he is seeking out our family so much."

"No, sir. The poor man has lost his wife in a tragic manner, and now he is seeking consolation with steam engines. He is only here to do a favour to Mr. Johnson. I am sure it is nothing more."

"Well, well, if you say so. But I will try to get it out of him at dinner."

Elizabeth humoured her father as well as possible, but she was as mystified as he was by Mr. Darcy's behaviour. Since Jane had never mentioned him in her letters, and Mrs. Gardiner only mentioned him occasionally, she fancied he was a better acquaintance of Mr. Johnson than the rest of them. How could it be otherwise, when he had been so open in his disgust of her relations? She was certain he could not care anymore about her – or else he would never have come. He seemed to have improved in civility, but that could be anything – people changed so much in seven years. Before going back to the library, she resolved to appear as composed and indifferent as possible. She doubted very much that he would be as chatty with her as with her father

Posted on 2008-07-23

She was wrong. Darcy had had enough time to compile a list of topics, and was determined to make the conversation take off. Gone were the days when he was tongue-tied in her presence.

When she came back, he was standing by the window.

"I hope it is not raining as badly in Derbyshire, or my peaches will be ruined," he said.

She said nothing.

"I think I understood from Mrs. Gardiner that you had visited Pemberley," he persisted.

She blushed.

"I hope you liked it."

"Yes, I did," she finally said. "It is beautiful place."

"I'm glad to hear it."

But she had taken up her needlework again, and did not even look up.

For a moment, Darcy was at a loss to say something without boasting about his estate.

"I hope Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner will come to visit me for a few weeks in the summer," he finally said.

She looked up in surprise.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner! At Pemberley?"

"Yes. Mrs. Gardiner has some acquaintances in the neighbourhood and Mr. Gardiner can fish in the park. If he can take time away from his business, it will be delightful."

"I was not aware you had more than a passing acquaintance with my uncle and aunt," she said.

Darcy knew where her confusion came from. He had amends to make, and he had better make them as soon as possible. He set out to praise the Gardiners as warmly as he could, confident that it was no less than they deserved. The more he said, the more she blushed. But she looked pleased, and he was soon persuaded by her manner that she was not unwilling to forgive his old insults.

From that point, conversation became easier. They canvassed many subjects, from the housekeeper at Pemberley to the difference between Mr. Bingley and Lady Catherine de Bourgh as managers of Rosings Park, and Mrs. Johnson's success in the ton. Darcy had never felt so happy to be considered more entertaining than needlework.

He had just started telling her about Mr. Bingley's younger sister's nonsensical elopement with a Mr. Rushworth, and how Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst had chased them from London to Scotland and back to Northamptonshire, where they had found the couple married and living on their estate, and the new Mrs. Rushworth in a dispute with her mother-in-law, when a carriage was heard. Miss Bennet recognized it as belonging to the Gouldings.

"They are having a large party for dinner, tomorrow," she said by way of explanation.

A Miss Anna Goulding was introduced. She looked no older than eighteen and was carrying what appeared to be half the contents of her wardrobe.

"Oh, Miss Bennet!" she said, rushing towards her, "I begged Papa to lend me the carriage, you must advise me! I don't know what to wear for tomorrow, and you know that…"

She saw Darcy and gave him an apprehensive glance. She then whispered something in Miss Bennet's ear.

"Well," she answered, "in that case we must have you look as smart as possible. Anna, this is Mr. Darcy-de Bourgh, a family friend. Mr. Darcy, this is Miss Anna Goulding."

The two ladies were soon deep in discussion about muslin and gloves. Darcy, not wishing to intrude on such feminine conversation, hid behind the newspaper, savouring his title of family friend while feigning interest in the horse-races.

Miss Goulding did not leave until four and without a promise from Miss Bennet that she would do something or other to the gown that had been decided on for the next day. She had many squeals of gratitude and adoration to make before she left.

When she was gone, it was time to get ready for dinner. Miss Bennet showed Darcy to his room. She was oddly blushing when she opened the door for him.

It was comfortable, not big, but with a good bed and a fire which seemed all the warmer for sound of the rain clattering against the windows. It was obviously a young woman's room. There was an old bonnet on top of the closet, and a few framed embroideries on the wall. One of them gave the game away – the name "Jane" in cross-stitch point pronounced it to be Mrs. Johnson's old room.

The Bennets had always been a very feminine family, he remembered as he contemplated the relics of Mrs. Johnson's previous life. There were five daughters, and the name of the youngest came back to him – Lydia. She had been very young, he recalled, and prone to chasing officers. So she was the scandal, wasn't she? He hoped for her sake that she was in a farm-house somewhere, and not come upon the town. Those young women always looked so pitiable, and made him wish that human nature was different.

Dinner was served in the breakfast parlour. Mr. Bennet apologized for this.

"Lizzy and I eat all our meals here, since it's just the two of us. When my other daughters left the house, it seemed absurd to leave all those rooms open for nothing."

Miss Bennet mentioned Anna Goulding's visit to her father.

"And so she needed help with her dress because Mr. Lefroy dines at Haye-Park tomorrow?" he asked.

He then turned to Darcy.

"You should be here the week before a ball, Mr. Darcy. We get invaded by all the young ladies in the country. They all wish my daughter's advice on what to wear."

"Papa, you are exaggerating…"

"I dare say Miss Goulding's efforts were unnecessary," remarked Darcy. "If Mr. Lefroy really likes her, it won't matter what she is wearing."
"But Mr. Darcy, you have a sister," replied Miss Bennet with a smile, "Surely you must know that half the pleasure in Mr. Lefroy's visit is in deciding what to wear!"

Darcy had to confess that, whatever Georgiana's sartorial preoccupations were, she had never shared them with him.

Mr. Bennet's mind soon went back to steam engines. His nap had clearly restored him, and he had many questions to ask Darcy – many more than Darcy could answer. This seemed to surprise his host, who had taken him for an authority on the matter. Miss Bennet remarked that it was not to be imagined that all Mr. Johnson's friends should be as fascinated as he was with steam engines. After all, Mr. Johnson had many other pursuits.

Mr. Johnson's interest in politics and in banking were now canvassed, his friendships with several members of the House of Lords and the House of Commons, and his trade with the West Indies. Darcy had the distinct impression that he was being questioned about his acquaintance with him, and possibly made fun of. But he could hardly reveal that what interested him most about Mr. Johnson was his sister-in-law, and so he feigned an interest in politics beyond what he had ever felt, gave a hint about considering a run for Parliament, and remained silent on some of the topics on which he most disagreed with his hosts' relation.

Formalities were observed as well as they could, and after dinner Miss Bennet retired to the library.

"Let us not make her wait too long," said Mr. Bennet as he helped Darcy to brandy.

"It must be a great comfort for you to have your daughter live with you," observed Darcy.

"You mean to say it is very selfish of me, and I dare say you are partly right – no, no, don't deny it, I have had too many a remonstrance from Mr. Johnson not to know my faults. But I flatter myself that I know Elizabeth's disposition as well as anybody else, and that she is happier single than badly married. Besides, she will have a few thousand pounds upon my death (whatever I am able to save), and she has some true friends who will be happy to assist her in anything. Of course I would have been happier if the right man had asked for her hand, but that never happened, and it is unlikely to happen now. She is not getting any younger, after all."

Darcy said nothing. It had often given him goose bumps to think against what kind of future she had refused his hand, and how much honesty, even towards a man she thought the most worthless of villains, was worth to her. He was glad to find her situation improved. He had often wished a handsome, sensible and agreeable baronet to come her way, only to become jealous of such an imaginary character, and to berate himself for his own selfishness.

Staring at the dreary countryside, he dwelt on the expression Mr. Bennet had used, badly married. Who better than himself had proved to be a bad husband, who had proposed to one woman in such a disgraceful manner, and helped another to her ruin by marrying her? How could anybody suppose that Miss Bennet would accept him now, or that her father would give his consent to the match?

He was shaken from his reverie by his host, who proposed that they should take their drinks to the library, where Miss Bennet was undoubtedly waiting for them.

The evening passed quietly away. Darcy offered to read to Mr. Bennet, observing that Miss Bennet was needed with Miss Goulding's gown, with which he would be no help at all. This earned him a smile, and he pressed his luck.

"I hope you will reward me with some music later," he said. "I remember listening to you with much pleasure at Lucas Lodge and Rosings Park."
She turned absolutely scarlet and buried herself in her work.

She recovered enough, however, and her performance was just as he remembered it to be – playful, unaffected and charming. Her technique had improved over the years, and Darcy could well imagine that in her hours of boredom, in the afternoon, practicing the instrument was a welcome distraction. He requested more, praised her performance (much to her embarrassment and the satisfaction of her father), and engaged her in conversation about the latest music from London. He was not surprised to find her more partial to Mozart than Beethoven or Schubert.

It ended too soon. Supper was served early, and after a few games of backgammon with Mr. Bennet and his daughter working on the gown nearby, they retired to bed. There was good hope that the weather would improve by the morning, and an early breakfast was ordered to allow Mr. Darcy to reach Pemberley by nightfall.

Darcy could not help noticing that Miss Bennet had frequently glanced at him during the evening. He wished he could read anything in it other than curiosity. She had not met him with composure, but after what had passed between them, even after so many years, it was not a great surprise. If he had been in her place, he would not have dropped his resentment so soon. She had not looked at him with the veiled contempt she had been used to, and that, to his detriment, he had failed to notice until it was too late. The situation, therefore, was not hopeless, and another look of hers was all the encouragement he needed.

It seemed almost unreal that after so many years of estrangement, he was suddenly sleeping under the same roof as her. He felt rather restless at the thought, and sleep was elusive. He wondered if she was thinking about this. Had his proposal, and his subsequent letter, ever had the same significance for her as it had for him? Or had she just dismissed it as an unpleasant incident caused by a badly-behaved suitor? She had not forgotten it, of that he was sure. But he longed to know if her embarrassment came just from the memory of what had happened in Kent, or from a memory – even unfriendly – of him.

The next day, the sky had cleared up and it promised to be a beautiful day. Miss Bennet joined Darcy at breakfast.

"My father will probably not come down before you leave," she said. "He sleeps very badly, and I let him sleep as much as possible."

He assured her that he did not mind in the least.

"Do you have any plans to be in town next winter?" he asked.

"No, none at all. I never leave Longbourn unless Mrs. Johnson can come to take my place and Mr. Johnson can never spare her in the winter. She can usually come in October, though. I will probably go to stay with my uncle and aunt for a month, then."

"In October! I may cross town on my way from Pemberley to Rosings, then. Maybe…" he hesitated. "I will travel from Pemberley to town in July. Would you allow me – or maybe I ask too much – to call on Longbourn then?"

Miss Bennet looked surprised at the request.

"Of course! I am sure I – we – my father will be happy with your company."

"Thank you."

And on this happy note, he drove off to Pemberley

Posted on 2008-08-08

Once he arrived home, he started a letter to thank Mr. Bennet for his hospitality. His thanks did not fill the page, though, and so he wrote something about what he had read in the newspaper about the SS Savannah and how the orchard was doing at Pemberley.

A few days later, he received an answer.

Dear Sir, it read,

I am happy to hear about your safe arrival. I hope that you will have a good fruit-picking.

Yesterday, we received a call from Sir William Lucas, who you will remember from your visit in Hertfordshire. He is very well, and sends you his compliments. You will recall that he is the father of Mrs. Collins, Elizabeth's childhood friend and the wife of Mr. Collins, the rector of Hunsford. He brought a letter from her. Mr. and Mrs. Collins are very well. She told about a picnic at Rosings Park, which had been a great success. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were in good health, as well as their children. Mrs. Collins wrote that sh had admired Mrs. Bingley's new bonnet. The strawberries of Rosings were almost ripe, and she is looking forward to picking them. Sir William and Lady Lucas intend to travel to Kent in the summer.

The weather around Meryton continues very well. The ground is not muddy anymore. Fortunately, the apple blossom was not too damaged by the rain. The strawberry fields, however, were flooded.

Elizabeth tells me that Miss Goulding was very happy with her gown. By all accounts, the dinner was very agreeable.

Yours, etc.

H. Bennet

It was an odd letter. The handwriting was much too feminine to be Mr. Bennet's, and Darcy was very much mistaken if he had not dictated the first few lines to his daughter and let her fill the page as she saw fit.

He replied, and soon he was the established correspondent of Mr. Bennet. He never betrayed his suspicion that it was the daughter he was writing to more than the father, and he was certain that Miss Bennet tried to keep her writing as masculine as possible. But the gossip was just a little bit too feminine, and there was the occasional mention of occupations that could not be Mr. Bennet's, unless he secretly trimmed bonnets at night.

Darcy wondered what he thought about it. Was he aware of what was going on? Did he turn a blind eye? Darcy was unsure of the propriety of it, but he reasoned that Miss Bennet would never write anything in her father's name without his consent. Besides, the idea of news from her, of pages in her handwriting, was too tempting to let it go. He had lived too long without her to be able to do without it.

It was good that he had this correspondence to sustain him, because there was not much more to keep him in a good mood. He was unable to leave Pemberley all summer. There was a drought in Derbyshire, followed by some heavy thunderstorms that caused considerable damage. He was much needed during June and July to supervise the repairs and to ensure that everybody on his grounds was provided with all they needed. The situation caused several disputes among his tenants that proved difficult to settle. Moreover, he found out that several of his servants had been stealing from him and needed replacement. And as if that were not enough, he received a letter from Wickham begging for money. He got one of those about once every few years, and they always put him in an extremely black mood. He crumpled it and threw it in the fire, wondering, as always, if the man were not doing it for the pleasure of making him feel worse. In all, it was one of the worst months of July he had had in years.

But it ended, and in August, the Gardiners came to visit him with their children. Because of the drought, he could not provide Mr. Gardiner with the fishing he had lured him with, but the gentleman did not seem to mind in the least. He and his wife spent a lot of time touring the park and calling on Mrs. Gardiner's acquaintances in Lambton. Their daughters, two young girls of fifteen and thirteen, practised on Georgiana's old pianoforte and used her old drawing supplies – to great effect. Their two sons spent the entire month in the park and only appeared for meals. It was all their mother could do to persuade them to sleep in the house. The Gardiners apologized over and over again for their children's wild behaviour, but Darcy secretly enjoyed it. It felt good to have children at Pemberley. He wished it happened more often.

They had spent a night at Longbourn, too, before coming to Derbyshire, and they told him that everything was as usual. Darcy told them about his own stay. Persuaded as he now was that Miss Bennet had never told anyone about his proposal (except maybe Mrs. Johnson), he allowed himself to praise her appearance, her affectionate behaviour to her father and her neighbours, her performance on the pianoforte and her singing. Restraint in this was difficult, however. If Darcy did not raise any suspicion, it was a stronger proof of the Gardiners' partiality to their niece than of his discretion.

He mentioned that he had taken up a correspondence with Mr. Bennet. Mr. Gardiner was surprised.

"Lizzy must be getting better at coaxing him into writing, then," said his wife.

"I cannot believe that," said Mr. Gardiner. "My brother has not written a single letter himself in years. Pray, sir, are his letters very short?"

"Edward!"

Darcy assured Mr. Gardiner that Mr. Bennet's letters were perfectly good.

"Well, then, he must have taken a great liking to you, because the ones I get are mostly written by Lizzy" was his answer.
Darcy thought it best to change the subject. He asked if Miss Bennet would be in town in October. She would. He privately rejoiced.

August turned into September. The Gardiners left and the Bingleys came, together with the Rushworths and the Hursts. The gentlemen hunted, the ladies fussed over Georgiana's children and played music, and Darcy was impatient for October to arrive. Not only would their party in Kent, without the Rushworths and Hursts, be much more rational, but he would stop by London for ten days. He claimed it was for business, but in fact he had nothing else to do there but call on the Gardiners.
He knew almost to the day when Miss Bennet left Hertfordshire. The last letter he received from Mr. Bennet was in a very different handwriting than he was used to, and was only two sentences long. Evidently, Mrs. Johnson didn't presume to fill up her father's letters like her sister did.

A week before his departure, he received a letter from his cousin. General Fitzwilliam would be in London with his sister Alicia around the same time to attend to some business. The Fitzwilliam house was being refurbished, however, and they hoped that Darcy had room for them in his house.

Darcy had not forgotten how well the General had liked Miss Bennet, and how jealousy of his cousin had spurred him to propose to her. It was not without apprehension, therefore, that he invited his cousins. He decided not to mention Miss Bennet to Fitzwilliam if he could.

They had hardly arrived, however, and he had hardly paid his first visit to Gracechurch Street, before Fitzwilliam came home with the following apostrophe:

"Darcy, you dog, you have been hiding things from me!"

With a sinking heart, he asked what he meant.

"Guess who I met in Bond Street today? Miss Bennet! The same Miss Bennet we met in Kent a few years ago! And I heard from her that you had been calling on her at her uncle and aunt's!"

"I did not know you were interested in renewing the acquaintance."

"Interested? I will always be interested in Miss Bennet's acquaintance. I cannot believe she never got married!"

The general went on to extol her charms, much in the same way he had done on their trip from Kent that year. It was less painful now, but Darcy was still not happy to hear that she had admired his cousin's promotion, or that he had promised to accompany Darcy the next time he called on the Gardiners, which he had decided to do the next day

Posted on 2008-08-18

Mrs. Gardiner was sitting with Mrs. Holmes and Miss Bennet. There were introductions to be made, but Fitzwilliam lost no time in making inquiries to Miss Bennet and generally making up for all those lost years. He was soon entirely engrossing her attention, leaving his cousin to be civil to the other two ladies. After a while, a child wandered into the room. He was about six years old and seemed very intimidated by the two gentlemen. He went to Miss Bennet for protection.

"Hello," said Fitzwilliam pleasantly. "What's your name?"

"John," he answered with Miss Bennet's encouragement.

Darcy looked at the boy. He was not one of the little Gardiners – he was not as well dressed as them – but he was also too well-dressed to belong to the servants. There was something familiar about him, but Darcy couldn't place what. It was slightly unnerving.

"Who is your father?" asked Fitzwilliam.

"I don't know," answered John.

The ladies laughed, but there was something strained about their merriment. They quickly shooed him out of the room into the care of a maid. No explanation was given to the gentlemen as to who he was.

But Fitzwilliam's excessive friendliness with Miss Bennet drove John out of Darcy's mind. It made him miffed enough to give his cousin a word of caution on the way back, saying that if he didn't check his behaviour, an offer of marriage would soon be expected from him.

"I don't think Miss Bennet has any expectations of the kind," answered Fitzwilliam. "When we were in Kent, I gave her a hint about it, and I dare say she understands that my situation has not changed much."

"That you wish her not to have any expectations, I have no doubt," answered Darcy. "But you assume too much of her memory and her knowledge of you."

"Very well, then, I shall give her another hint," replied Fitzwilliam casually.

"It is not merely of her expectations I am talking," insisted Darcy. "Her aunt was looking at you – I saw it. For Heaven's sake, stop being so particular with her or her entire family will expect your engagement."

"Darcy, aren't you being overly cautious? It was one visit, after seven years of discontinued acquaintance. If her family expects me to propose after that, then they must think you are secretly married to her already."

Darcy protested, said that his case was different, that he was a friend of the Gardiners and of Mr. Bennet, but his tone had betrayed him. He got laughed at all the way to Mayfair.

Darcy did his best to follow his own advice, but he still called more often on Mrs. Gardiner than he did on Mr. Johnson – the reverse of what his behaviour had been in the spring. Darcy did not notice it, but Mr. Johnson did, and far from attributing it to the presence of one sister, he attributed it to the absence of the other.

There was one advantage to having Lady Alicia as a guest that Darcy was determined to use. He wanted to invite Mr. Johnson and their relatives for dinner, just like they had invited him all spring. He had General Fitzwilliam convince his sister to act as hostess. Lady Alicia had never been able to refuse her younger brother anything, and soon a very civil invitation was sent to Mr. Johnson, the Gardiners with Miss Bennet, the Holmeses and the Wilsons. Darcy was anxious to honour his guests – especially one of them – as well as possible. Everybody was impressed, except Lady Alicia, who was very unhappy to find Mr. Johnson a banker, Mr. Gardiner a tradesman, and the other gentlemen mere clerks. Mr. Johnson, for his part, suspected his host of extreme duplicity – clearly, the evening was a smokescreen to conceal Darcy's intentions towards Mrs. Johnson.

It was a strange evening. Lady Alicia was as ungracious as possible. Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Holmes spent most of their time glaring at Mrs. Holmes, who was fascinated by General Fitzwilliam, who was in turn determined to poke fun at Darcy with Miss Bennet, who seemed to be suspecting something. She was kept busy, however, by trying to contain her sister's enthusiasm for regimentals with the help of Mrs. Gardiner. The latter's husband did his best to keep the conversation going with Darcy and Mr. Johnson and to save Mr. Wilson from oblivion. They were all glad when coffee was served and Miss Bennet sat down at the instrument. After that, the only thing Darcy had left to deal with was Fitzwilliam's insistence to have Darcy join him in his superlative praise of her performance.

When the guests were gone and Lady Alicia had retired for the evening, Darcy asked his cousin what on earth he had meant by his behaviour.

"Darcy, you have to understand that Miss Bennet is not the kind of woman who will be won over by your money," Fitzwilliam answered. "You will have to make an effort if you wish to get her hand."

"What makes you think I have any such intention?" Darcy asked.

He would have liked to seem cool and unperturbed, but Fitzwilliam had taken him so much by surprise that his voice sounded squeaky and his face felt flushed. The general was not fooled.

"I have seen you look at her," he said. "You cannot deny it, Darcy. Come, tell me, how long have you been in love with her?"

"Fitzwilliam, whatever my feelings are for Miss Bennet – and I will not deny that she is charming – it does not necessarily follow that I intend to propose to her."

"Why not? Why should you not marry again? You are still young and healthy – and your first marriage was exalted enough, you can choose whomever you like, now."

"Fitzwilliam, you have seen how marriage agrees with me!"

"Yes, I have. I am not going to say that marrying Anne was the best decision in your life…"

"Then don't try to talk me into another marriage!" Darcy interrupted.

"Pray, cousin, hear me out," said the general in a patient, yet firm tone. "Marriage with Anne was almost forced upon you by Lady Catherine. It was foolish of her to unite two people who were not made for each other like you and Anne. It was equally foolish of you - and of Anne - to yield to her wishes."

"Do you really think I need to be told that?"

"No, Darcy, I don't. What I am trying to tell you is that it was foolish of you to marry Anne. She was the wrong woman for you, just like you were the wrong man for her. But I also think that you did the best you could in the situation, and that what happened to Anne was not your fault."
"How can you say that? How can you, in one breath, accuse me of being the wrong man for Anne, and then tell me that her death was not my fault?"

"Because many people marry the wrong person, and they don't die from it. Look around you, Darcy. Do you really think that there are not many couples who marry foolishly? Do you truly believe that Mr. and Mrs. Rushworth are happy together, or that Mrs. Johnson never pines for a younger and more handsome husband? But they do not run mad, Darcy, they do not get ill, and they do not die. They live on, albeit less happily than they would if they had been wiser."

Fitzwilliam paused, but Darcy said nothing.

"For Heaven's sake," the general resumed, "you know as well as I do that Anne had been smothered by her mother all her life. After Lady Catherine's death, it was inevitable that she would make up for all those lost years, married or not married. By marrying her, at least you managed to preserve her respectability, even if you could not keep her from running from ball to ball. Her illness was caused by the years spent in complete idleness at Rosings much more than by her six months of excesses."

Darcy was leaning on the table, looking at his shoes. He wished he could agree with his cousin.

"Darcy, stop blaming yourself for everything. It is high time you were a bit happy, and I think Miss Bennet would do perfectly well. She is no Anne, Darcy. She is a practical, intelligent, reliable woman, and I think you could make her just as happy as she could make you. If there is one woman in my acquaintance who is not going to run wild, it is her."

"She is also a woman who has refused every offer of marriage she ever got, including mine."

For a few second, General Fitzwilliam was stunned by this information. After a speechless moment, he asked Darcy to repeat what he had said.

"I had no idea about that," he said when he had taken it in. "When did that happen?"

"Seven years ago, in Kent."

Darcy sighed.

"To use her words, I was the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry."
"Good God, these are strong words. I had no idea women said such things when they refuse an offer of marriage," said the general.

"She was angry. Let us just say that I said some things about her family that I should not have said. It was a badly judged offer, and I would not see reason. I lost my temper, and she delivered me a well-deserved reproof. I have no proof that she ever forgave me."

Fitzwilliam saw how this affected his cousin and gave him a sympathetic look.

"She truly broke your heart then, didn't she?" he said. "I can remember now, you seemed very unhappy that year when we left. I was rather worried about you."

Darcy said nothing. For a few minutes, the two men stood in silence, deep in thought.

"You were never able to forget her, were you?" asked Fitzwilliam.

"No, I was not," said Darcy. "And I confess that when I saw her sister again, I could not resist the idea of seeing her. It was the only reason I befriended her family."

"Well, we have all been wondering about that," answered General Fitzwilliam. "You have rather raised my father's hopes of seeing you run for Parliament. I have to say, I am rather glad to find otherwise. Politics would not agree with you."

Darcy smiled ruefully.

"But, to return to Miss Bennet," resumed the general. "Do you have no hope that she might one day be prevailed on to change her mind? She does not, at present, seem to dislike you."

"I have no idea. Maybe, maybe not. It has been a long time, but I have said such things to her that she would be well justified in hating me forever."
"Well, do not despair. You have enough good qualities to attach a woman, if you take the trouble. I have no doubt you are as able as any other man to make yourself agreeable to a woman."

"Courting her is not going to be easy, Fitzwilliam. She spends most of her time with her aging father, in Hertfordshire, where you know I never have anything to do."

"But you still managed to stay there a night last summer, and you managed to see her now in London. You have befriended her entire family. No, Darcy, I am far from believing your situation is desperate."

"You forget that I am by no means the only man whose hand she refused. Holmes and Wilson, who you met tonight, only offered for her sisters after she had refused them. She also refused Mr. Collins, the rector at Hunsford. Both her uncle and her father agreed that they would be very careful in letting her choose her husband."

"Yes, Holmes, Wilson and Collins. Three men exactly calculated to sweep Elizabeth Bennet off her feet. Compared to them, anybody else is dull and fades into insignificance. No, I can completely understand your anxiety on that account! Why, tonight, I only nearly forgot they were there."

"But do you think she would agree to leave Longbourn?" Darcy asked.

"I cannot answer that. But I think the question is worth asking, and that you ought to ask it. Come on, Darcy, think about it. If she accepts, I swear I will sing her praises to everybody in the family in such a way that even Alicia will want to give her precedence."

Darcy smiled. If he could convince Miss Bennet to accept him, it would indeed be wonderful. He remembered the first time the idea had struck him in earnest, in his room at Rosings, after an evening in her company. He had tried to fight his desires, but it had been too irresistible and in the end there was nothing left for him to do but surrender. Now that he had a second chance with her, the same fantasies as then made his hands tremble, but he knew that he couldn't let them overwhelm him. If he did, he would be in danger of becoming just as oblivious to Miss Bennet's thoughts and feelings as he had seven years ago