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Prologue - Letters from Hunsford

Posted on 2015-04-20

Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery, I quit such odious subjects as soon as I can, impatient to restore everybody not greatly in fault themselves to tolerable comfort, and have done with all the rest.
Jane Austen

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent
March 5, 1812

Dearest Jane,

We have arrived and, I assure you, been most affectionately welcomed by Charlotte and our cousin who has not altered in manners in any particulars that I can discern. I admit the pleasure on Charlotte's countenance renders me more and more satisfied with coming to see her.

I was prepared to see our cousin in all his glory and was not disappointed; I cannot help but fancy that in displaying his house, the good proportion of its rooms, its aspects and its furniture, he was addressing himself particularly to me, as if hoping to make me feel what I had lost in refusing him. If so, I was not able to gratify him at all and, in truth, I can only wonder at Charlotte's having so cheerful an air with such a companion. Whenever our cousin uttered one of his more inane statements - a not infrequent event, I could not help but glance at Charlotte; at worst I saw a faint blush of mortification but usually she appeared to have not heard what was said. I admire her immensely and consider her hearing problem fortuitous.

The house is rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything is fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency which is a credit to Charlotte, I am sure. The garden is large and well laid out and our cousin is much engaged in its cultivation and to work in it appears to be one of his great pleasures. Charlotte owns that she encourages it as much as possible - I could not but admire her management of her husband which is surely necessary in such a marriage. There is really a great air of comfort throughout the house - if one could forget our cousin's presence - and by Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, I can only suppose he is often forgotten.

From the garden there are many pleasant views but none could compare, our cousin avers, with the prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that border the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground; however, I saw nothing to amaze me.

I have been told that Lady Catherine is still in the country and that we will have the honour of seeing her next Sunday at church. I expect to be quite delighted with her. Our cousin assures me of her affability and condescension and when I consider Mr. Wickham's account of her, I expect to be hugely amused. We apparently can anticipate frequent sources of such amusement since we are to be honoured twice a week by being allowed into her presence.

I have little more to write. Please assure my little cousins that I miss them already; that I could wish for your company here hardly needs saying but I think the company of our aunt and uncle to be much more to your benefit. Till my next letter, I remain,

Your most affectionate sister,
Elizabeth

---

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent
March 12, 1812

Dearest Jane,

I will not bore you with further evidence of our cousin's foolishness; my letter after I first arrived has, I hope, satisfied any cravings as you might unwisely suffer in that regard. You will be pleased to know that our cousin has not changed in any particular. He is as he ever was; a unique mixture of pride and humility, obsequiousness and self-importance. As our father was wont to say, a little of Mr. Collins' company can suffice for several days, if not longer. I have already a surfeit and have been here but a week - by the time I leave, I suspect to have enough for a year or more; but no more of our cousin. Last night we were privileged to dine with his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

After being assured by him that the lady would not think less of me if I was simply dressed, since she likes the distinction of rank preserved, I resisted the temptation to wear my oldest gown, and satisfied myself with that light yellow one that I bought before Christmas. It hasn't been seen by the company here and must count as new, I suppose. Dressing was quite an experience. I rather thought our Mama was present as our cousin must have urged me several times to hurry my dressing since Lady Catherine does not like to be kept waiting. Poor Maria was quite discomposed which, given her lack of sense, did not portend well for the evening.

Our cousin waxed rapturously as we walked the half mile to Rosings about the plenitude of windows and the cost of glazing so as to quite upset Sir William and overset Maria altogether. For myself, I had heard nothing of Lady Catherine to inspire awe from any extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money and rank I believed myself capable of witnessing without trepidation. Once we had arrived, our introduction was performed by Charlotte, which I doubt not shortened the time required by our cousin as those apologies and thanks were omitted which he believes so necessary.

Rosings is, I imagine, quite grand although I believe it gaudy and uselessly fine, meant to impress by a display of wealth with little true comfort or elegance. Sir William was so overwhelmed, however, that his bow was so low as to cause me concern that he might be unable to rise or indeed might fall forward, while Maria was rendered virtually senseless - perhaps an improvement, although I suspect you would tell me I am being too unkind - poor Maria - truthful, but unkind. Lady Catherine is a tall, large woman, with strongly marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air is not conciliating, nor is her manner of receiving us such as to make us forget our inferior rank. She is not rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she says is spoken in so authoritative a tone as to mark her self-importance. She does, in countenance and deportment, bear some resemblance to Mr. Darcy although she could well benefit from his habit of silence. Lady Catherine's daughter bears no similarity in face or figure to her mother, being thin, small and speaking little except to her companion, a Mrs. Jenkinson of whom there is little that is remarkable.

The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants, and all the articles of plate which our cousin had promised; and, when he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by her ladyship's desire, he looked as if he felt that life could furnish nothing greater. My dear Jane, he carved, and ate, and praised with delighted alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him, and then by Sir William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever our cousin said. I wondered that Lady Catherine could bear it but she seemed most gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave most gracious smiles. Her ladyship was not disposed to allow any share of the conversation to belong to anyone else, a state which continued when we retired to the drawing room. I longed for my father. How he would have enjoyed the opportunity to gently expose the follies of our company. I can almost hear his strictures now; of course, Lady Catherine would hardly allow such a trespass on her dignity. To be banished from her company would, however, be no punishment and, if I were not a guest of my dear Charlotte and concerned for her well-being, I would gladly forsake the pleasure of Lady Catherine's company. However, such cannot be; fortunately we are called but once or twice a week. Suffice it to say that the evening surpassed all of my expectations of impertinence, misguided condescension and foolish arrogance. I can want for nothing more I assure you.

Oh Jane! I am so glad our father supported me in refusing our cousin's offer of marriage. I could not have borne Lady Catherine's interference in my household concerns. I can only marvel at Charlotte's ability to do so. Her ladyship enquired into Charlotte's domestic concerns familiarly and minutely, and gave her a great deal of advice as to the management of them all; told her how everything ought to be regulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her even as to the care of her cows and her poultry. When not instructing Charlotte, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and to myself particularly, of whose connections she knew the least. I am, I learned, a very genteel, pretty kind of girl. Mama will be so pleased! Her ladyship asked me, at different times, how many sisters I had, whether they were older or younger than myself, whether any of them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they had been educated, what carriage out father kept, and what had been our mother's maiden name?

It took, I assure you, all my composure to answer these questions without becoming impertinent in turn. Unfortunately, my forbearance seemed only to encourage her ladyship who then began to inquire minutely into my accomplishments. She was most distressed that none of us draw, had not been taken to London to be taught by masters and that we had no governess - I admit to agreeing with her on this matter, a situation which is noteworthy only for its rarity. However, when she heard that all of my sisters were 'out', she could hardly believe it and was not at all amused by my touch of impertinence when I said that I thought it would be very hard upon my younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and amusement because you and I may not have the means or inclination to marry early. The last born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth, as the first, said I. And to be kept back on such a motive! I told her I thought it would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind. While I defended our family in this, I must admit that when I consider Kitty and Lydia's behaviour, I feel some agreement with her ladyship. To agree twice in one evening with her ladyship! - do not tell our father, please. I should be teased for a half year altogether.

I will not bore you with the rest of the evening. We played casino until such time as Lady Catherine had played as long as she wished and then we were sent home - in her ladyship's carriage no less. Our journey back to the Parsonage was brief but our cousin was most desirous of hearing my praises of Rosings and Lady Catherine; unfortunately, they appeared to be insufficient and he most readily assumed the burden of providing them for me.

You may be assured that I have spared your sensibilities by forbearing to relate much of the foolishness that I have endured. I truly envy you to be staying with our aunt and uncle. I suspect there is more sense spoken at Gracechurch Street in five minutes than would be heard in Rosings in a month.

Sir William returned home today; and I wonder whether I will be exposed to more of my cousin's company than has been the case hitherto. Sir William and he have spent much of their mornings driving around in our cousin's gig, which left the rest of us free to pursue our particular interests. I can only hope that our cousin has sufficient employment to occupy his time without reference to me.

I will not bore you further. Give my hugs and best wishes to those four imps that reside with you and another to my aunt and uncle. I am enjoying myself here but envy you their company and that of my small cousins. There are a number of wonderful paths to walk here at Hunsford near and in Rosings Park. I can just imagine their exuberance and shouts of glee as they would run about unfettered. It would make my own walks that much more enjoyable to be in their company here and yours as well. I know our young cousins too well and I am sure that you are being persuaded to spoil them badly - a privilege afforded to an older cousin I am sure - be it by reading stories to them past their bedtimes, playing games with them when they are supposed to be studying, taking them for walks ... Well, you understand my meaning I am sure!

The small dinner party you attended with our aunt and uncle sounds, from your praise, to have been pleasant; you have no idea how much I miss intelligent and interesting conversation. If it were not for Charlotte, I would, in the words of our father, 'not hear two words of sense in the course of a day' and poor Charlotte has too many demands on her time to give more than a small portion to me. I am not complaining at all, just very, very envious.

You mention that you will be attending an art exhibit; I confess I have much less interest in, and knowledge of, art than you - I know what I like and what I don't like, and that is the best one can say of my accomplishment in that area. I hope you will enjoy it hugely. I will spare you any further effusions. I will plague you again with another letter in a week. Until then I remain

Your most loving and envious sister,
Elizabeth

---

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent
March 19, 1812

Dearest Jane,

I have been here a fortnight now and we seem to have settled into a routine of sorts. You may remember my concern that, with the departure of Sir William, we might enjoy more of my cousin's company; fortunately, that is not the case. He spends the chief of his time between breakfast and dinner either at work in the garden, or in reading and writing, and looking out of window in his own book room, which fronts the road. The room in which we pass most of our time faces the back of the house and I rather wondered why it should be so since the dining parlour is a better sized room, and has a pleasanter aspect; but I quickly realized that Charlotte has an excellent reason for what she did, for our cousin would undoubtedly be much less in his own apartment, if we were to sit in one that afforded him both a view and lively company. I must give Charlotte credit for the arrangement. Mr. Collins is assiduous in his duty to keep us informed of what carriages come along; and especially how often Miss De Bourgh drives by in her phaeton. She not infrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and had a few minutes' conversation with Charlotte, but can scarcely ever be prevailed upon to get out.

Very few days passed in which our cousin does not walk to Rosings and not many in which Charlotte does not accompany him. I wondered at this until I realized that there might be other family livings to be disposed of. Now and then, we are honoured with a call from her ladyship, and nothing escapes her observation of what was passing in the room during these visits. She examines into their employments, looks at their work, and advises them to do it differently; finds fault with the arrangement of the furniture, or detects the housemaid in negligence; and, if she accepts any refreshment, seems to do it only for the sake of finding out that Charlotte's joints of meat are too large for her family.

The entertainment of dining at Rosings is repeated about twice a week - although we now have but one card table which allows me to escape the activity quite often; every such entertainment is the counterpart of the first and the pleasure has diminished in direct measure to the number of visits. I can state with no uncertainty that Lady Catherine's company does not improve upon further acquaintance. Our other engagements are few; as the style of living of the neighbourhood in general is beyond the reach of our cousin and Charlotte. This, however, is no evil to me, and, upon the whole, I spend my time comfortably enough; there are half hours of pleasant conversation with Charlotte, and the weather is so fine that I have great enjoyment out of doors.

We are soon to expect an addition to the family at Rosings; Mr. Darcy is expected to arrive tomorrow. While I cannot view his company with any great pleasure, his coming should provide a new face for the parties at Rosings. Lady Catherine is, I assure you, most displeased that Maria and I have already made his acquaintance, and that she will be denied the pleasure of introducing him to us.

Your account of the theatre play was most entertaining; although I had not known you to have any liking for tragedies. Macbeth surely must have strained your appreciation for evil. How much I could wish to hear you explain the goodness in Lady Macbeth. I am sure you would be able to find some great goodness in her - love for her husband perhaps? - And that the whole business was a most unfortunate misunderstanding and that Lady Macbeth never meant to kill anyone. I should not tease you so, I know, but your goodness is so steady that I am sure you will forgive me - eventually.

Have you visited the bookstores recently? I hope to do so when I return to London as there are several books of poetry that I wish to find and I had heard of a new novel by a lady author that I thought to buy. It was first published just last year and is, I have been told, written very sensibly - not a haunted castle to be found anywhere and the chief characters are young ladies such as ourselves.

Give my young cousins my usual measure of hugs and best wishes and tell my aunt and uncle that I can hardly bear the period before rejoining you all in London. I remain,

Your most affectionate, and not too bored, sister,
Elizabeth

---

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent
March 26, 1812

Dearest Jane

Another epistle from Hunsford. The only excitement this week was the arrival of visitors to Rosings; yes, visitors for we were blessed with not one but two of Lady Catherine's nephews. Mr. Darcy we had long expected but he had the courtesy to bring his cousin with him, a Colonel Fitzwilliam, and thus spare us the tedium of his company.

The Colonel is the younger son of his uncle, Lord Matlock; is about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. He and Mr. Darcy called on the Parsonage the morning following their arrival. Mr. Darcy looked just as he used to look in Hertfordshire, paid his compliments to us all, with his usual reserve, and said little else for the duration of the visit apart from a slight observation on the house and garden to Charlotte; Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, entered into conversation with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly. They stayed for only about a quarter hour.

Colonel Fitzwilliam has called at the Parsonage again more than once since his arrival, but Mr. Darcy did not accompany him - which neither surprises me nor vexes me at all. With the extra company at Rosings, Lady Catherine appears most willing to forego the pleasure of ours; and apart from the Colonel, I find I can bear the deprivation quite well.

I find I have little new to tell you; our days here have a uniformity of activity that is quite unvarying. I have my walks and my talks with Charlotte; we visit the village quite frequently although it has little more to recommend it than Meryton. I am not unhappy or dissatisfied - do not believe that to be the case. I dare say I would be in equal spirits if I were at home; although here I am spared Mama's nerves, at least.

Your letter had one beneficial effect - it raised my spirits; I am happy to read that you were invited to dine with friends of our uncle. They sounded most delightful - can I hope that their other guest, Mr. Chaulker, was handsome and amiable? I am sure that he was most delighted to be sitting beside you during the meal. You are sly though - not mentioning his attentions to you. My aunt was more forthcoming in her letter - did he indeed call upon you the next day? You must not be reserved with me, dear sister for you know I shall winkle it all out of you eventually.

I must heartedly thank you for sending me that present. You can imagine my surprise to open it and find a copy of 'Sense and Sensibility'. I had not thought you would do anything of the sort; indeed, I had not been aware that I had revealed so much as to allow you to know my preference. I must be even more discrete I fear. Allow me to tell you that I am enjoying it a great deal and I am sure that you will as well. I find that the main character, Elinor, reminds me very much of my dear elder sister. Such a command of her sensibilities, and her manner to all she meets, cannot be recommended too highly. I will spare your blushes and disclaimers. Let it be known that you are the dearest and best of sisters, and protest no more.

My thoughts are with you all at Gracechurch Street and every week that passes brings me closer to you. I remain, as ever,

Your most devoted sister,
Elizabeth

---

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent
April 2, 1812

Dearest Jane

I am afraid our cousin has been in some distress for the last week; it appears our company is by no means so acceptable as when Lady Catherine can get nobody else. We were not invited to dine at all this past week with her nephews to provide her with subjects to talk at and we were merely asked on leaving church today to come there in the evening and we could not, of course, decline such an invitation.

Her ladyship received us civilly, but she was, in fact, almost completely engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, much more than to any other person in the room.

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see us; his manners are admirable and I seemed to be of particular interest. He seated himself by me quite quickly, and we talked agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying at home, of new books and music, that I have never been half so well entertained in that room before. Unfortunately, it seems that we conversed with so much spirit, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine as well as that of Mr. Darcy. Her ladyship could hardly bear to have a conversation of which she did not have the major part and did not scruple to interrupt. It certainly was effective and we were unable to resume any comfortable conversation.

Her ladyship's kindness knows few bounds; I have been informed that I am in want of practice on the pianoforte and, if I should wish to remedy this deficiency, I may use the pianoforte in Miss de Bourgh's companion's room since I will be 'in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house'. Even Mr. Darcy had the grace to be embarrassed at his aunt's incivility. I have learned one thing of interest last evening. Lady Catherine informed us that, if she had ever bothered to learn to play the pianoforte, she would have been a great proficient. I must remember to inform her that should I have ever learned to speak Italian, I should also be a great proficient.

I was prevailed upon later to demonstrate my lack of accomplishment - Miss Bingley would have been so pleased - at the pianoforte; but since it spared me her ladyship's further attentions, I cannot repine to so exhibit. It could not have been too poorly done, since I drew the attention of both her ladyship's nephews. Yes! Even Mr. Darcy deigned to afford me his attention. We wound up arguing, although not impolitely I assure you, and I was able to tease him about his behaviour at the Meryton assembly where we first made his acquaintance. His excuse was that he had not been introduced to any lady apart from his party and claimed to be ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers. I dismissed his excuse and asked him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers? The good Colonel answered for his cousin, and accurately I believe, saying that Mr. Darcy would not give himself the trouble.

Her ladyship could not, once more, endure the prospect of there being a conversation in which she had no part, and interrupted to provide a critique of my playing, I apparently have a good notion of fingering but my taste is deficient, I need to practice more and should avail myself of a London master.

Her Ladyship was never at a loss for an opportunity to praise her daughter for accomplishments she did not possess by virtue of being unable to acquire them due to her poor health. Lady Catherine's purpose is clear - to forward an arrangement between her daughter and Mr. Darcy; however, I cannot believe it likely. I cannot discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss de Bourgh, I can as readily believe him to marry Miss Bingley as his cousin - which is to say, neither of them.

It grows late and I believe I will finish this letter in the morning.

In resuming, I am reminded of the past evening. It was one of the more memorable evenings at Rosings and I suspect that it will not be repeated too soon. I believe that Lady Catherine and I are of a like mind and desire on this prospect at least.

Dearest Jane, in the course of a visit that provided a number of different happenings, this morning has perhaps provided the oddest. I am resuming this letter once more after being interrupted by a visit from Mr. Darcy. I cannot account for his visiting alone - without Colonel Fitzwilliam - it has not happened before. He apparently was expecting Charlotte and Maria as well as myself, but they both had business in the village. He found me alone and stayed.

It was most uncomfortable; I hardly knew what to say and ventured several topics. It distresses me to relate them to you but we have already reached similar conclusions and Mr. Darcy but verified those. It appears that Mr. Bingley may spend very little of his time at Netherfield in future. According to Mr. Darcy, he has many friends, and is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing.

I suggested that, in this event, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. Mr. Darcy thought that to be quite likely.

I could find nothing further to say and left it to him to begin a conversation, which he did by commending the house and showing some good sense by praising Charlotte, saying our cousin was fortunate in his choice of a wife. I did not hide my opinion that she has an excellent understanding - though I admitted to being uncertain that her marrying Mr. Collins was the wisest thing she ever did. However I could not deny her happiness and conceded that, in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her.

We talked on some inconsequential matters for a few more minutes until Charlotte and Maria returned. Mr Darcy took his leave shortly thereafter.

Charlotte made an immediate leap of fancy, claiming he would not have called on the Parsonage in such a familiar way if he were not in love with me; but, when I told them of his silence, she agreed that it seemed unlikely. After various conjectures, we could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of year.

I can say no more, if I am to get this letter to the post on time. As ever I am,

Your most loving sister,
Elizabeth

Chapter 1 - A Walk In The Park

More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the Park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought; and, to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not merely a few formal enquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking or of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third encounter that he was asking some odd, unconnected questions - about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings, and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, if he meant anything, he must mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage.

She was engaged one day, as she walked, in reading once more Jane's last letter, and dwelling on some passages which proved that Jane had not written in spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw on looking up, that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting away the letter immediately and forcing a smile, she said, "I did not know before that you ever walked this way."

"Well, Darcy had mentioned in passing that he had encountered you here. I found myself free of duties this morning and thought to join you should that prove possible."

"I wonder at Mr. Darcy pursuing such activities. It is not apparent that he finds much pleasure in them."

"I am sure he finds the company quite pleasant. Who would not?" The Colonel's gallant speech drew a small smile from Elizabeth, "I can assure you, sir, Mr. Darcy has learned to mask his pleasure quite well."

"His manner, I admit, is not one to readily display such pleasure as he may experience. But are you soon to return to the Parsonage?"

"Yes, I should have turned in a moment." And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage together.

"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?" said she.

"Yes - if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases."

"And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy."

"He likes to have his own way very well," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. "But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence."

"In my opinion, the younger son of an Earl can know very little of either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"

"These are serious questions - and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like."

"Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do."

"Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money."

"Is this," thought Elizabeth, "meant for me?" and she coloured at the idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, "And pray, what is the usual price of an Earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds."

He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To interrupt a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed, she soon afterwards said, "I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps his sister does as well for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her."

"No," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "that is an advantage which he must share with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy."

"Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage and, if she has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have her own way."

As she spoke, she observed him looking at her earnestly, and the manner in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other got pretty near the truth. She directly replied, "You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them."

"I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant gentleman-like man - he is a great friend of Darcy."

"Oh! Yes," said Elizabeth drily, "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him."

"Care of him! - Yes, I really believe Darcy does take care of him in those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture."

"What is it you mean?"

"It is a circumstance which Darcy, of course, would not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an unpleasant thing."

"You may depend upon my not mentioning it."

"And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be Bingley. What he told me was merely this; that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer."

"Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?"

"I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady."

"And what arts did he use to separate them?"

"He did not talk to me of his own arts," said Fitzwilliam, smiling. "He only told me what I have now told you."

Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was so thoughtful.

"I am thinking of what you have been telling me," said she. "Your cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?"

"You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?"

"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy. But," she continued, recollecting herself, "as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case."

"That is not an unnatural surmise," said Fitzwilliam, "but it is lessening the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly."

This was spoken jestingly, but it appeared to her so just a picture of Mr. Darcy that she would not trust herself with an answer; and, therefore, abruptly changing the conversation, talked on indifferent matters till they reached the Parsonage. There, shut into her own room as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There could not exist in the world two men over whom Mr. Darcy could have such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures taken to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane, she had never doubted; but she had always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and arrangement of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, he was the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause, of all that Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.

"There were some very strong objections against the lady," were Colonel Fitzwilliam's words, and these strong objections probably were, her having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in business in London.

"To Jane herself," she exclaimed, "there could be no possibility of objection. All loveliness and goodness as she is! Her understanding excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither could anything be urged against my father, who, though with some peculiarities, has abilities which Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain, and respectability which he will probably never reach."

When she thought of her mother, indeed, her confidence gave way a little, but she would not allow that any objections there had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want of importance in his friend's connections, than from their want of sense; and she was quite decided at last, that he had been partly governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Mr. Bingley for his sister.

The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned brought on a headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening that her cousin's conversation could not but make it much worse. Excusing herself, she removed to her room where she hoped the application of cool cloths to her forehead would relieve her distress. After some time her discomfort lessened and Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that cheerfulness which had been used to characterize her style, and which, proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself, and kindly disposed towards every one, had been scarcely ever clouded.

Elizabeth noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness with an attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy's shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict gave her a keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation to think that his visit to Rosings was to end in several days, and a still greater that in less than a fortnight she should herself be with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of her spirits by all that affection could do.

She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent without remembering that his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear that he had no intentions at all and, agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him.

Finding her headache to be so diminished as to allow her to rejoin company; she was preparing to do so when she heard a soft knock on her door and, expecting it to be Charlotte, called for her to enter. Indeed it was Charlotte come to check on her friend and, concerned as to the cause of her headache, asked, "Did Colonel Fitzwilliam distress you, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth was loath to reveal the particulars of Colonel Fitzwilliam's revelation but, since Charlotte was already well informed as to Jane's situation, the information could not be altogether surprising. Hence she replied, "The Colonel simply revealed that Mr. Darcy had spoken of his recent efforts to separate his friend, Mr. Bingley, from a young lady against whom there was strong objections."

Charlotte quickly surmised that the young lady was Jane and wondered how to respond. Truthfully, she was surprised that such news would distress Elizabeth and said as much, "I am surprised, Lizzy, that this distresses you. Surely you knew that Mr. Darcy must have been involved and possibly played a major role since Mr. Bingley relies so heavily on his advice."

"I suspected that, of course, but did not accord the majority of the blame on him. The Colonel's comment suggests that Mr. Darcy accepted most, if not all, the credit for severing the attachment. That I find intolerable!"

"I see." Charlotte regarded her friend closely, "Elizabeth, from your comments in the past, you have never thought well of Mr. Darcy. It seems to me that your dislike of him is colouring your perception of his actions. If I may be forthright, it seems to me that you never speak of him but to criticize or censure."

"As he does when he glares at me!"

"I have never heard Mr. Darcy censure or disparage you. Rather the reverse actually - although you will not credit it."

"Charlotte, I have heard you say so before but I cannot give credit to your opinion on this."

"Yet two men whom we know to be honourable and fair - Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam - consider him an honourable and kind man. You know yourself that you can tell much about a man by the company he keeps. Do not those two gentlemen stand as a testament for Mr. Darcy's probity?"

As Elizabeth was about to respond, Charlotte looked at her watch and hurried to rise and leave the room saying, "I did not realize the time. I must arrange for supper." She stopped in the doorway, "Perhaps we can talk later tonight?"

Elizabeth was not eager to continue this discussion but could not think of any way to discourage her friend's desire to be of assistance and hence simply nodded her head, hoping that the matter would be forgotten. However, she was not to be so fortunate and later that evening, as she was preparing for bed, her friend once more knocked on her door. Elizabeth's soft 'come in' saw Charlotte step into the room and quietly close the door behind her. Elizabeth fluffed two pillows against the headboard and made herself comfortable for what she suspected might be a prolonged talk. Charlotte drew a chair close to the bed so that their conversation could be carried on as quietly as possible. Elizabeth was not inclined to be the first to speak and waited for her friend to do so.

Charlotte was quiet for several minutes, clearly contemplating those matters she wished to discuss, and then said, "I have been considering Mr. Darcy's behaviour and, while I at one time thought him attracted to you, I can no longer discern such. He puzzles me greatly and yet I cannot think ill of him. If he does not admire you, Lizzy, I am sure he does not dislike you. He has not displayed anything but the utmost civility to me and to you while you have been here."

"I cannot like the man, Charlotte. I simply cannot! Even if he were not a means of separating Jane from Mr. Bingley, his character has been most admirably sketched by Mr. Wickham."

"Ah, Mr. Wickham! I wondered when you would introduce his name." She grinned at Elizabeth, "A great favourite of yours, is he not? Although he appears to have shifted his attentions to another, I gather."

Elizabeth grimaced, "Miss Mary King has a fortune of ten thousand pounds. A gentleman of limited means must be prudent in his attachments."

"When does prudence become mercenary, Lizzy? If he shows no true affection for the lady, I have to think his motives mercenary."

"I like him too well to think him mercenary, although I admit others might attribute such motives to him." Elizabeth could not forget her aunt's rather similar reservations on this subject.

"I know little of Mr. Wickham. He has been remarkably quiet about his background apart from his dealings with Mr. Darcy. I do wonder about one thing however."

Elizabeth waited for a few seconds for Charlotte to continue before prompting, "One thing?"

"Hmm? Oh yes. Well, we know Mr. Wickham is about six or seven and twenty and that he was educated at Cambridge along with Mr. Darcy who finished about five or six years ago. I would think Mr. Wickham did as well. We know what Mr. Darcy has been doing for five years - running a large estate and raising a younger sister. What has Mr. Wickham done in that time? He has a gentleman's education and yet is only recently joining the militia. It seems like he should be more settled by now. What professions did he follow? Since he has not a gentleman's income, he must work surely."

"He would be settled if he had received the living he was due!" Elizabeth's response was vehement and angry.

"Perhaps, but with the education he received surely he would have and should have found alternate employment. If he had an inclination for the church, surely he could have found another living. What was he doing all those years? It is strange indeed, and I wonder that he has not spoken of it."

Elizabeth was silent. She could not dismiss Charlotte's musings outright and indeed, the more she considered the matter, the less satisfied she became with it. She knew a gentleman must have some means of support. What was Mr. Wickham doing for those years? It was puzzling indeed.

Charlotte could see that her words had caused Elizabeth to consider Mr. Wickham more carefully and decided that she had pressed the matter as fully as she dared at this point. Rising, she made a quiet departure with a simple 'good-night' leaving Elizabeth in contemplation on the bed. There she remained for several hours with her thoughts attempting to solve the puzzles provided by men from Derbyshire. Finally, her desire for sleep led to the extinguishing of the only candle still burning; however, it was some time before her desire became a reality and her sleep remained restless throughout the night.

Chapter 2 - Colonel Fitzwilliam Explains

Posted on 2015-04-24

Rising at her usual time, Elizabeth broke her fast with the others. Charlotte had to walk to Hunsford to make a few calls and welcomed Elizabeth's company. Returning around noon, they enjoyed a light lunch and then Elizabeth's desire for exercise led her to suggest a walk; however Charlotte could not spare the time and Maria disclaimed any interest, and so Elizabeth ventured out alone. She was proceeding directly to her favourite route, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, she turned up the lane which led her farther from the turnpike road. The park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one of the gates into the ground.

After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the early verdure of the trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk, when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which edged the park; he was moving that way; and fearful of its being Mr. Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced her name. She had turned away, but on hearing herself called, though in a voice which proved it to be Colonel Fitzwilliam, she moved again towards the gate.

"I have been making the tour of the Park," he said, "as I generally do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?"

"I thought to stroll in the park for some little way."

"I would join you, if I may."

"I would certainly not object to your company, sir."

They walked with little conversation until the Colonel, glancing at her countenance, asked, "I could wish that your headache no longer bothers you, although it appears that it may do so still."

Elizabeth looked at him in some confusion, "My headache is quite gone, I assure you."

"Ah. I am glad. I thought perhaps it had deprived you of sleep."

"I admit to sleeping poorly, Colonel but you are being most ungallant indeed to remark on the effects on my countenance," she teased.

The Colonel was not to be diverted. He had a suspicion that his words of the previous day had contributed to Miss Bennet's discomfort and sought to make amends. He had recollected afterwards that Darcy had met Miss Bennet when he was visiting Bingley and wondered if Miss Bennet was the lady in question. He could not ask directly but thought he might probe further, albeit with as much delicacy as possible.

"My cousin is not one to disclose much of his activities even to his closest acquaintances. I recollect he met you in Hertfordshire. Were you much in his company there?"

"Not a great deal - although, I stayed at Netherfield Hall, where he was visiting, for several days while nursing my sister. We met on a few other occasions as well."

"He is not an easy gentleman to get to know. He has difficulty recommending himself to strangers."

"That I can well believe, Colonel. I hear such varying reports of him as to confuse me greatly. And, as you have stated, he does not converse readily with others."

"Yes, he has certainly behaved similarly here," he laughed. They walked in silence for several minutes until Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Elizabeth and asked, "Something you have said puzzles me greatly. You spoke of varying reports of my cousin. I would guess that Bingley would speak favourably of him since he and Darcy are great friends. I was not aware that he was known to others while in Hertfordshire. May I inquire as to the source of the other reports?"

Elizabeth was reluctant to reveal that Mr. Wickham had confided in her but then remembered that the gentleman had spoken to others of his grievances against Mr. Darcy and that the tale of his misfortune was widely known around Meryton. Finally she replied, "A gentleman intimate with the Darcy family joined the ____ Militia and spoke of his dealings with them."

Colonel Fitzwilliam made little effort to conceal his surprise and responded, "I find it hard to believe that any gentleman with a close acquaintance with the Darcy family could speak ill of them. May I enquire into the gentleman's name?"

Elizabeth could not explain her hesitancy and trepidation in revealing Mr. Wickham's identity. It was not that she doubted Mr. Wickham's account. Its verity was revealed in his countenance and assurance when he spoke of his dealings with Mr. Darcy. Nonetheless, she hesitated before saying, "Mr. Wickham."

"George Wickham!"

Elizabeth suddenly found herself walking unaccompanied and looked around for Colonel Fitzwilliam only to find that he had stopped several paces back. The glare directed at her startled her and when the Colonel, in two quick steps, towered over her almost threatening in his intensity, she drew back involuntarily.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, aware that he had seriously disconcerted her, took a deep breath and, stepping back, assumed a less threatening mien. "I apologize, Miss Bennet, for disturbing you so. I can only plead my surprise at your mentioning Mr. Wickham. But I must know! What has that scoundrel done now?"

Elizabeth could not help but feel angry that Mr. Darcy had prejudiced all his relatives and friends against Mr. Wickham. With cold civility, she responded, "Scoundrel? I would not call him such." Seeing a look of incredulity on the Colonel's face, she snapped, "It is the character of Mr. Darcy that was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham." The Colonel's mien encouraged her to continue, "Mr. Darcy reduced him to his present state of poverty, comparative poverty, by withholding the advantages, which he knew to have been designed for him. Mr. Wickham has been deprived, during the best years of his life, of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. Mr. Darcy did all this! And yet when I spoke to him of it, his contempt and disparagement was plain in his voice and countenance."

Colonel Fitzwilliam's countenance changed from incredulity to contempt to anger as he listened to her defence of Mr. Wickham. "And this," he cried, "is your opinion of my cousin! This is the estimation in which you hold him! I thank you for explaining it so fully. His faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed - if the calculation were true!"

Elizabeth coloured as she heard the contempt in Colonel Fitzwilliam's voice and manner. She thought well enough of him as to be aware that he would not have reacted in such a manner without cause. Her response was firm but contained less anger than before, "You deny that it is true?"

"I do indeed, Madam! And in every particular!"

Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, and with little further ado, began, "I know not all that George Wickham has said to you and I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with the Darcys. Of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity and documents which attest to the truthfulness of my words." He paused as though wishing her to acknowledge this fact, which she reluctantly did by nodding, and then he continued, "Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates; and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined Darcy's father to be of service to him; and on George Wickham, who was his god-son, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. Darcy's father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge; most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman's education. Darcy's father was not only fond of George's society, since his manners were always engaging, but had also the highest opinion of him and, hoping the church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it."

Elizabeth could not but help cry out, "This I had from Mr. Wickham himself. He did not try to hide his connection with the Darcy family."

"All good lies contain some truth, Miss Bennet, else they would be easier to discern." Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head, only a little of the anger having leached from his voice, "As for Darcy and myself, it is many, many years since we first began to think of him in a very different manner. The vicious propensities - the want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of Mr. Darcy, could not escape the observation of young men of nearly the same age as himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. Darcy could not have. Here again I shall give you pain - to what degree you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding his real character. It but adds even another motive. Mr. Darcy died..."

Elizabeth felt compelled to interrupt, "I have no particular affection for Mr. Wickham beyond friendship!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked relieved as he resumed his explanation, "For that I am thankful indeed. But as I was about to say, Mr Darcy died about five years ago; and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that in his will he particularly recommended to promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow, and, if he took orders, desired that a valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. As one of the executors of the will, I am quite familiar with these details. Mr. Wickham's own father did not long survive Mr. Darcy, and within half a year from these events, Mr. Wickham wrote to inform Darcy that, having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped Darcy should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment by which he could not be benefited."

Elizabeth sensed rather than heard a soft snort from the Colonel as he said, "He had some intention, he added, of studying the law, and that Darcy must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be a very insufficient support to do so. Darcy and I rather wished than believed him to be sincere; but, at any rate, Darcy was perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. He knew very well - as did I - that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. The business was therefore soon settled. Wickham resigned all claim to assistance in the church and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection between Darcy and Wickham was now dissolved."

Elizabeth could not help but exclaim, "Four thousand pounds! So much!"

"Indeed! A sum which a prudent man could use to support himself for ten years or more. I gather Mr. Wickham omitted that little portion of the story." The Colonel snorted more loudly this time, "Four thousand pounds was certainly enough to allow Wickham to study law should he have chosen to do so. Anyway, Darcy thought too ill of him to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town, I believe, Mr. Wickham chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years we heard little of him; but, on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to Darcy again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured us, and Darcy and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if Darcy would present him to the living in question - of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was well assured that there was no other person to provide for, and that Darcy could not have forgotten his revered father's intentions. You will hardly blame Darcy for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition of it. Wickham's resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances - and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of Darcy to others, as in his reproaches to Darcy himself. Your previous reaction attests to this, I believe."

Colonel Fitzwilliam's face had gradually lost much of its anger and had settled into a cold, hard cast which Elizabeth found more frightening than his anger. She knew the gentleman was an experienced soldier but for the first time she thought she saw that part of him which he hid from gentle society. She could not doubt his words.

"Enough! Colonel Fitzwilliam enough! I believe you!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head in denial, "No Miss Bennet, there is more you must hear. What I have said so far is in defence of my cousin's honour and reputation. What I must impart now is for your benefit alone lest George Wickham impose himself on you." His pause was obviously to organize his thoughts but his voice took on a more savage note as he spoke and Elizabeth could not help but believe that the subject touched him very closely.

"After this period, every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How George Wickham lived I know not. But last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice. I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold. A young woman of my family was, about a year ago, taken from school, and an establishment formed for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and a certain Mrs. Younge, in whose character the young woman's...family were most unhappily deceived; and by her connivance and aid he so far recommended himself to...the young lady, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse; but, after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add that we owe the knowledge of it to herself. Her brother joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement; and then she acknowledged the whole to him. You may imagine what he felt and how he acted. Regard for her credit and feelings prevented any public exposure, but Wickham left the place immediately and Mrs. Younge was, of course, removed from her charge. Wickham's chief object was unquestionably the young woman's large fortune; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on my family and Darcy for our role in depriving him of the living was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed."

He paused once more for a few seconds before continuing, "Lest you think that George Wickham's vicious behaviour towards young women is limited to those with a substantial dowry, you should know that he has most successfully importuned several young women in Lambton and Pemberley, some of whom were left with child. None had any dowry other than their attractiveness. No young lady is safe with George Wickham, Miss Bennet. None!"

"This, Miss Bennet, is a faithful narrative of every event in which Darcy and Wickham have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit Darcy henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood, he has imposed on you; but his success is not, perhaps, to be wondered at. Ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either gentleman, detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination."

Colonel Fitzwilliam had, during his recitation and without any conscious thought, been directing his footsteps towards a bench situated under a large elm tree. He finally looked at Elizabeth once more and was immediately concerned; her cheeks glistened with tears and her face was had lost all trace of colour. His concern overrode all proprieties and he quickly assisted her last few steps, sat her upon the bench and pressed a handkerchief into her hands.

He was surprised when she spoke, since he thought her too distracted for coherent speech but her words were clear and her voice surprisingly strong, "I am well Colonel. I need only time to think of what you have revealed to me." Wiping her eyes, she gave him a watery, weak smile and said, "I thank you for revealing the despicable behaviour of Mr. Wickham. I know it cannot have been easy. It certainly was hard for me to hear. I do not mean to be ungracious but I must ask of you to allow me solitude to consider all that you have revealed. The truth of what you have told me, I cannot doubt but I am having great difficulty in reconciling your words with those imparted to me by Mr. Wickham and understanding how I could have been so badly misled."

"I would not wish to leave you while you are in such distress, Miss Bennet."

"Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it." She replied, 'Do not worry Colonel. I will be well."

With considerable reluctance, Colonel Fitzwilliam resumed his tour of the park and was soon lost from her sight.

When she considered, with somewhat clearer attention, the relation of events, which, if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of Mr. Wickham's worth, and which bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself, her feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition. Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She wished to discredit Colonel Fitzwilliam's story entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, "This must be false! It cannot be! It must be the grossest falsehood!"

In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, she rose and walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute, collecting herself as well as she could, she again began the mortifying consideration of all that related to Wickham, and commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of all that Colonel Fitzwilliam had revealed.

The account of his connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what Mr. Wickham had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy - though she had not before known its extent - agreed equally well with his own words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to the will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the living was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did not err. But when she remembered the particulars immediately following of Wickham's resigning all pretensions to the living, of his receiving, in lieu, so considerable a sum as three thousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality - deliberated on the probability of each statement - but with little success. On both sides it was only assertion but Colonel Fitzwilliam's testimony proved that the affair, which she had believed impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.

The extravagance and general profligacy laid to Mr. Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his entrance into the ----shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the persuasion of the young man, who, on meeting him accidentally in town, had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life, nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As to his real character, had information been in her power, she had never felt a wish of enquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Colonel Fitzwilliam; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors, under which she would endeavour to class what he had described as the idleness and vice of many years continuance. But no such recollection befriended her. She could see Mr. Wickham instantly before her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After pausing on this point for a considerable while, she once more continued her walk. But, alas! The story of his designs on Colonel Fitzwilliam's acquaintance, which she thought might actually be Miss Darcy, given what had passed between Colonel Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before, could not be gainsaid. At last she was forced to accept the truth of every particular related by Colonel Fitzwilliam who, as she had previously learned, was closely concerned in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she had no reason to question and who had offered proof of his assertions.

She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation between Wickham and herself in their first evening at Mr. Philips's. Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was now struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and wondered that it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy - that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that he should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball the very next week. She remembered also, that till the Netherfield family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but herself; but that, after their removal, it had been everywhere discussed; that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would always prevent his exposing the son.

How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned! His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything. His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter and fainter; and in farther justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not but allow that Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago asserted his blamelessness in the affair; that, proud and repulsive as were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance - an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways - seen anything that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust - anything that spoke him of irreligious or immoral habits. That among his own connections he was esteemed and valued - that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling. That had his actions been what Wickham represented them, so gross a violation of everything right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and that friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable man as Mr. Bingley, was incomprehensible. She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think, without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, and absurd.

"How despicably have I acted!" she cried. "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! - I, who have valued myself on my abilities! Who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity, in useless or blameable distrust - how humiliating is this discovery! - Yet, how just a humiliation! - Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly! Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either was concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself."

By this time the day was well advanced and her presence - or rather the lack of it - would surely be missed at the Parsonage to which she now directed her steps. Upon entering she was given to understand that Lady Catherine had invited them to tea. Her feelings were distressed and she knew her composure was hardly certain to be maintained should her hostess question her to the same extent as she had done previously. Nevertheless she could think of no reason to make her excuses and it was not in her nature to pretend ill-health. "Besides," she told herself, "I have claimed that my courage rises with any attempt to intimidate me. I cannot foreswear myself now." So, under the not so gentle urging of Mr. Collins, who could not bear to discomfit her ladyship by appearing less than five minutes early, she removed to her room to make her hasty preparations. The face she saw in the mirror showed no signs of the tumultuous walk that she had experienced. How she could face either the Colonel or Mr. Darcy she knew not, but face them she must.

Chapter 3 - A Meeting is Arranged

As she followed behind her cousin and Charlotte as they walked to Rosings, she concentrated her thoughts on how best to deal with those two gentlemen. How much of what had transpired with Colonel Fitzwilliam would be vouchsafed to Mr. Darcy? She suspected that the latter gentleman would be in full knowledge of her dealings with Mr. Wickham and that the Colonel had revealed to her Mr. Darcy's dealings with him. How would Mr. Darcy respond to her having such knowledge of his private affairs? If his response at the Netherfield Ball was an indication, he would be most seriously displeased. If he was not prepared to respond to her then, how much less pleased would he be to now have the full particulars revealed to her. At least, in that regard, he would hopefully direct his anger at the Colonel and not herself. Should she acknowledge her error to him? As she thought further, she could find no reason to do so unless he initiated the subject. After all, her charges against him had been made at the ball and he had declined then to respond. That subject must now be dead between them and she would not try to breathe life into it; however, if he chose to do so, she could not, as painful and humiliating as it might be, do other than apologize and seek his forgiveness. That he would grant her absolution, she could not say.

Of more moment however, was the issue of her sister and Mr. Bingley. Could she ignore his involvement in their separation? She felt strongly disinclined to do so and yet, courtesy as Lady Catherine's guest, required her to act with the utmost civility. She could feel her ire rising as she considered the anguish her sister was suffering and, if Mr. Bingley was equally affected, then Mr. Darcy's interference was most grievous indeed. Breathing deeply she allowed her anger to dissipate as she entered the parlour to face Lady Catherine and her visitors. It would, she thought, be a most uncomfortable and trying visit.

The gentlemen rose as Mr. Collins led them into the parlour and their bows were as precise as ever; however, she could not fail to notice that the gaze of both was fixed on her countenance and she thought she detected a slight expression of concern from them both. Her curtsey was equally precise and she felt herself unable to greet either with anything more than the coolest civility; that her manner to Mr. Darcy was unchanged she recognized, but she had generally greeted the Colonel with warmer civility. She could discern nothing from their countenances nor was she inclined to hazard a guess as to their thoughts.

She chose to sit as far from either as possible, hoping that they would respect her desire to avoid their company. Alas, it was not to be, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was soon sitting in the chair beside her and fixing his attentions on her, "I trust, Miss Bennet, that you are feeling better?"

The Colonel had pitched his voice as not to be heard by others and indeed, Lady Catherine had once more claimed Mr. Darcy's attention, although Elizabeth could see him glancing at her occasionally. Turning his attention to the Colonel, she replied, "I am well, sir. Quite well. I also must thank you for imparting the particulars of Mr. Wickham's character to me." As she spoke, she considered that gentleman's character and an errant thought struck her with some force; it was not one she could ignore. "Colonel, I would ask...I wonder...is it likely that Mr. Wickham will impose himself on the people of Meryton?"

The Colonel's response was immediate, "I am positive he would. He left many debts behind when he departed from Cambridge and again from Lambton - a village close to my cousin's estate. I dare say he will do so in Meryton."

Elizabeth felt an immediate concern, "Sir, the shopkeepers of Meryton are not wealthy. They can little afford to have monies owed them and they have daughters also. Can we warn them? Should I warn them?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam surprise at her questions was quickly overtaken by an understanding of her concerns. His response was not long in coming, "Most assuredly they must be warned. Perhaps your father?"

Elizabeth required little time before responding, "My father will wish to learn - no, he will insist on learning - how I came to such knowledge. May I give him your name as an assurance?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam considered all that he had revealed to Elizabeth and nodded in reply, "Indeed you may. I do believe Mr. Wickham has made a grievous error. He joined the Militia. It will not be as easy to escape his debts now. Perhaps I could write to or visit the Colonel of Mr. Wickham's regiment as well. Do you know his name?"

"It is Colonel Forster of the _____shire Militia and I thank you, Colonel. You have behaved in a most gentlemanly manner."

The Colonel nodded once more and considered his next words. He had not been able to discover Miss Bennet's involvement with Bingley - having been distracted by the discussion of Wickham - now perhaps he could explore that problem and began by saying, "Earlier today I made mention of Mr. Bingley. Are you well acquainted with that gentleman?"

"Indeed I am sir; Mr. Bingley is leasing an estate not three miles from Longbourn where I live."

However, to the Colonel's dismay but Elizabeth's satisfaction - she was reluctant to talk of Mr. Bingley and her sister at this time - Lady Catherine finally noticed them in conversation and did not scruple to call out, "What is it that you are saying Fitzwilliam? What is it that you and Miss Bennet are talking of? Come, let me hear what it is."

"We are talking of music once again, madam," said he when forced to acknowledge the interruption. Shortly thereafter he begged Elizabeth to play for them, "I beseech you to humour me on this. I have much enjoyment in your playing."

Although Elizabeth had little desire to do so, the consideration that she might be required to discuss Mr. Bingley and her sister induced her to agree to the request. No sooner had she seated herself at the pianoforte and begun to search the music available, then Mr. Darcy approached and offered to turn the sheets for her. There being no way that she could see to deny the request, she acquiesced and began to play. The presence of Mr. Darcy did not soothe her nerves and she found it hard to concentrate on the music before her. "There were some very strong objections against the lady," she remembered and her fingers struck a very discordant note. Aware that Mr. Darcy had noticed her discomfit, she remonstrated with herself to focus on the music. Finishing the piece with a barely audible sigh of relief and her composure somewhat threadbare, she began a search for another with which to pass the time.

Mr. Darcy aided her in the search, suggesting several that he thought she might know but with no success. As she continued her search, he murmured, "Miss Bennet, I would speak with you on a matter of some importance. Would you meet me on your usual walk in the morning, so that we might converse?"

Elizabeth could not credit that he would have anything to say that she could wish to hear. "There were some very strong objections against the lady," and accordingly responded, "I do not believe, sir, that there are any two people who have less to say to each other."

"I disagree, Miss Bennet! I disagree most vehemently."

Before Elizabeth could respond, Lady Catherine once more interjected a question as to their conversation and after Elizabeth satisfied her that they were but discussing which music she would play, was content to return her attention to the instructions she was imparting to Mrs. Collins about the household budget at the Parsonage. Colonel Fitzwilliam had taken the opportunity to escape his aunt's attention and joined them at the pianoforte thus depriving Elizabeth the opportunity to respond to Mr. Darcy's request.

Her first inclination had been to reject it outright. After all, what could he say to refute his involvement but, as her fingers danced over the instrument keys, she remembered that she had - not a day earlier - thought it impossible that Mr. Darcy could be found blameless in the business with Mr. Wickham. How wrong she had been there. Could she be wrong again? She did not think so since this time the words were those of Mr. Darcy himself. "There were some very strong objections against the lady," Nevertheless, since she had been so grievously wrong on the matter of Mr. Wickham, did it not behoove her to afford Mr. Darcy the opportunity to explain his actions there? She could not see how it was possible for him to do so, but surely he was owed the opportunity. Her sense of justice would not allow her to do less. How then, was she to apprise him of her decision? Both gentlemen were according her their attention at the pianoforte but that would soon cease as the Parsonage party would shortly depart.

As it turned out, no opportunity was afforded her to communicate her intentions to Mr. Darcy until it was time to depart and, as Mr. Darcy assisted her to enter Lady Catherine's carriage, she murmured very softly, "I will be walking in the morning." That he grasped her meaning was apparent from the slight nod of his head. She was uncertain as to what he expected to accomplish or what he might say and she only hoped that her temper would not betray her as it had done on occasion in her past dealings with the gentleman.

After supper Elizabeth excused herself to her room claiming fatigue from the day's exertions and the residue of the previous day's headache. Once there she first resolved to read Jane's letters once more but, after thinking on the matter further, she considered that nothing would be gained by doing so. Of the despondency felt by her sister she was fully aware. Nothing would be gained by the exercise other than to rekindle her ire against Mr. Darcy and that, she realized, would have little value other than to render it more difficult for her to listen to him on the morrow. And listen to him she would. She owed him that after her egregious error in regard of Mr. Wickham. How badly had she sketched his character in this regard! As she was considering the morrow's meeting, she heard a soft knock on her door and Charlotte entered after Elizabeth's answer.

"I would ask if you are well, Eliza? You seemed to have been distracted and even a little despondent today."

"I am well, Charlotte. I have received today a sad, but much deserved, blow to my pride."

Charlotte considered her friend carefully. She knew her well enough to know that should Elizabeth not wish to discuss a subject, she would refuse to do so albeit her refusal would be expressed most pleasantly. She could not discern whether Elizabeth was so inclined on this occasion and asked lightly, "Ah, a most rare event then. Perhaps you can share it with those of us who suffer such with some regularity."

Elizabeth gave a rueful chuckle, "I fear my judgement of Mr. Wickham has been sadly and completely overturned by Colonel Fitzwilliam today."

At Charlotte's questioning look, she briefly outlined the particulars of the situation involving Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy. "As you may see, there is but such a quantity of merit between them - just enough to make one sort of a good man - and of late it has been shifting about pretty much. For myself, I am now inclined to believe it all Mr. Darcy's." She grinned at Charlotte, "But you may choose as you wish."

Charlotte could not have been more surprised. "I do not know when I have been more shocked." said she, "but is it certain?"

"Oh yes, I fear it is. Colonel Fitzwilliam was quite prepared to provide witnesses and documents to support his claims."

"This does appear to place Mr. Darcy in a more favourable light, does it not Lizzy?"

"Perhaps a little, Charlotte, although it does not materially affect my opinion of the gentleman. That he is an honourable man, I will concede but his pride and disagreeable nature, his disdain and contempt for me, my family and my neighbours do not recommend him to me. That he is not as bad as I thought I will admit, but no more."

"Lizzy, I will not try to change your opinion. I think you are wrong but I have learned from experience that you are stubborn in defending your opinions and reluctant to reconsider those opinions even when there is reason to believe you are wrong. I will limit myself to several observations and ask that you not dismiss them as is your usual wont. Will you grant me this - to seriously consider what I say and that I might be right? Will you?"

Elizabeth looked at her friend with some surprise. She had rarely seen Charlotte so determined and reluctantly assented to her request, "Very well. I will attempt to consider your words carefully."

Charlotte sighed with some relief. She had enough trust in her friend's integrity to believe that Elizabeth would indeed give careful thought to what she was about to be told. "First of all, I know I have said this before but I am not convinced that Mr. Darcy views you with disdain or contempt. Apart from his very first comment it seems to me that he has found your company to be of interest. No! Hear me out!" Charlotte spoke sharply as she could see Elizabeth about to interject a comment.

"Please, let me finish. As I said I thought I could see some signs of interest. He did ask you to dance at the gathering at our home and you were the only lady, apart from those in his own party, with whom he danced during his stay at Netherfield. The only one, Lizzy!" she paused for a moment before saying, "I know his behaviour here has been odd but it certainly is not consistent with a man who disdains you. In fact, if incivility is a sign of a man in love, he may be besotted!"

Charlotte laughed at the expression on her friend's face, "Although I am not claiming such in this case. I would also ask that you answer the following; first, how old is Mr. Darcy?"

"Seven or eight and twenty, I believe."

"How long has he been master of his estate?"

"Five years I think - since his father died. To what do these questions tend?"

"Patience, Lizzy. He has the guardianship of a younger sister I believe, does he not?"

"Yes"

"How old is she now?"

"I believe Miss Bingley said she was about fifteen or sixteen - Lydia's age, in fact."

Charlotte nodded, "So we have a young man of two and twenty years, taking over the management of a large estate and the guardianship of a much younger sister. A serious responsibility was it not? Most young men of his age are playing the fool in town."

Elizabeth could only nod and Charlotte took some satisfaction from the pensive look on her friends face. "Excellent, perhaps she is beginning to think clearly for once."

"Finally, I will repeat something I mentioned before. If two such amiable men as Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam like and esteem Mr. Darcy, is it not possible that your perception of that man may be in error?" Charlotte rose from her seat, "Now, I will plague you no more. I believe you have much to think on and will leave you to that effort."

Alone again with her thoughts Elizabeth knew not what to think. She was not insensible to all that Charlotte had imparted. She recognized that her dislike of Mr. Darcy was founded to a certain extent on a mistaken belief in the goodness of Mr. Wickham and, with a humiliating awareness, she saw that it had been that dislike which allowed her to give credit to Mr. Wickham's tale. It was the cause of her dislike which troubled her. That the man held in her low esteem he had shown by his very first words - she was not handsome enough to tempt him - and the glares he directed her way certainly confirmed his dislike and disdain. No, she thought, she found it difficult to credit Charlotte's words that he was attracted to her. However, she was prepared to concede that he was frequently civil to her particularly when she resided at Netherfield nursing Jane. That he had danced with her, and her only, she could not understand particularly since he had paid her no other attention that evening and had separated from her after the dance in some anger. That, she admitted to herself, was caused mainly by her harsh words with him during the dance. Nevertheless, he had wasted little time in departing Netherfield after the dance - never to return. And his behaviour here in Hunsford was puzzling in the extreme. She could not understand his calling at the Parsonage or his meetings with her on her walks and his discomfort and reluctance to converse. Was she to interpret this as an interest? When she thought about the time they spent a full thirty minutes in company together in the Netherfield library with nary a word exchanged, that seemed more the action of a gentleman with no interest; and of ensuring that a lady perceived his lack of interest.

When she remembered his behaviour at the Assembly and again at the ball, she could detect nothing other than a disdain and contempt for those with whom he was forced to associate. He had made no effort to engage them in conversation and, when such was forced upon him, his words were barely civil and frequently designed to indicate his contempt for the company - 'every savage could dance' he had said -- which told much about his view of her friends and neighbours. No, she found little to admire or like in Mr. Darcy.

And yet, when she considered that both Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam, both truly amiable men, considered him to be an honourable man and a good friend, she was confused. That Mr. Bingley avowed him to be amiable among close friends and relations, she was prepared to concede, and he had been civil during her sojourn at Netherfield - certainly much more so than either of Mr. Bingley's sisters. But how, she thought, could one expand one's circle of acquaintances, if one disclaimed any interest in being introduced to and conversing with new acquaintances?

And what, she wondered, did this portend for the morrow? Mr. Darcy's interference in the matter of Mr. Bingley and her sister did not admit of any doubt. He averred his actions and appeared to feel them justified and reasonable. "There were some very strong objections against the lady," Those words could not be denied and she was certain that those objections encompassed an uncle who was a country solicitor and another in trade in London.

Her reflections gave her little respite until at last she resolved to think on them no more and await the morrow with more patience. She would allow Mr. Darcy his chance to explain his actions and, once he had done so, think of him no more. Their paths were not likely to cross in the future and she would attempt to ensure, should she visit Charlotte in the future, that Mr. Darcy was not expected to be of the company at Rosings. Nevertheless, sleep did not find her for some time and her thoughts could not be as ordered as her wishes.

Chapter 4 - Painful Truths

Posted on 2015-04-28

Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the surprise of what the previous day had revealed; it was impossible to think of anything else, and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise. That she had agreed to meet with Mr. Darcy she remembered only as she set out on the path and, if she had not committed to doing so, she knew she would have chosen a different path.

She had gone but a short distance when she saw a gentleman standing on the path just ahead of her. Recognizing Mr. Darcy, she was about to greet him when he turned and stepped rapidly towards her. She acknowledged his quick bow and greeting and continued her walk. As she expected, he fell into step with her and for several minutes they walked together in silence. She was determined to require him to open the conversation since they were meeting at his request. She was beginning to wonder if that gentleman had not lost the power of speech when he at last cleared his throat and began, "Miss Bennet, I had reason to speak...or rather my cousin had reason to speak to me yesterday. I understand you and he had a rather prolonged discussion and he imparted matters of a private nature pertaining to me."

His manner was as haughty as she had come to expect and his distaste for the subject matter evident. Whether that distaste encompassed her, she could not discern and her response was cool, "Indeed, sir, your understanding is complete."

"Miss Bennet, I believe my cousin revealed to you all of my dealings with Mr. Wickham. I can add nothing to that account except in one regard. I wish for this to be kept in the strictest confidence but I trust in your discretion. I would have you understand that the young woman my cousin spoke of was, in fact, my sister - Georgiana. This, more than any other circumstance, will I am sure explain to you my anger towards, and disgust with, George Wickham."

Elizabeth, seeing him regard her closely, simply nodded, not insensible to such an expression of confidence and trust in her.

"I know not if Mr. Wickham has gained your affections, but I would hope this information would be sufficient for you to protect yourself against him."

It seemed to Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy spoke with controlled anger which she could not understand, but her quiet, "I am in no danger from Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy." seemed to relieve him as his countenance showed less anger. She wondered at Miss Darcy's well-being and asked, "Your sister, Mr. Darcy. She is well I hope? She has recovered?"

"Yes, her spirits are improving although I fear it will take some time yet for her to feel comfortable again with people." They walked on in silence for a few more minutes before Mr. Darcy once more spoke.

"My cousin also revealed that he had spoken with you about my having recently separated my friend Mr. Bingley from a young woman and he suspected that you or someone known to you was the lady concerned. I was able to satisfy him that the young woman was your sister. I will not say that he was relieved. Indeed, appalled would be a more apt description of his feelings and he sends his apologies for having spoken of it to you and for having caused you such distress as he observed. That he was outraged I should have committed such an act, he also expressed most forcibly."

"You may tell Colonel Fitzwilliam that his apologies are accepted." Her tone was so cold as to leave Darcy in no doubt of her feelings on the subject.

He began, "Miss Bennet, I..." when he was interrupted by her exclaiming, "You, sir, have been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister."

As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she continued. "I have little reason in the world to think well of you and your actions in this matter do nothing to improve that opinion. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny, your own words assure me that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind."

She paused and saw, with no slight indignation, that he was listening with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.

"Can you deny that you have done it?" she repeated striving to remember her vow of maintaining her civility. With assumed tranquillity he then replied, "I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoiced in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself."

His last words puzzled her but she would not that let distract her, saying, "I resolved when I left this morning to allow you to explain your actions, little though I wish to hear any such explanation. I will honour my vow although I also admit my reluctance to credit any explanation you may provide. It is only my egregious error with respect to Mr. Wickham that has induced me to do so."

His look of haughty composure had not deserted him - although that small smile had disappeared - and his manner was, if anything, even colder than before when he began to speak, "I shall hope to be in future secured from your censure, when the following account of my actions and their motives has been heard. If, in the explanation of them, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity must be obeyed and an apology would be absurd."

He paused as though to collect his thoughts, "I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley preferred your eldest sister to any other young woman in the country. But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment since I had often seen him in love before. At that ball, while I had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental information, that Bingley's attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for your sister was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also watched. Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of particular regard, and I remained convinced from the evening's scrutiny, that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment."

He paused once more to glance at Elizabeth, and her tightened lips suggested her disagreement with his observation, but he continued nevertheless, "If you are of a contrary opinion here, I must have been in an error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error, to inflict pain on her, your resentment is not unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched."

Elizabeth observed that his manner seemed less haughty as he continued, "That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is certain, but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it; I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason."

His belief of her sister's insensibility, she instantly resolved to be false, and his account of the real, the worst objections to the match, made her too angry to have any wish of doing him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done which satisfied her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and insolence. "And this sir is your objection, your sole objection to the attachment. This is your impediment, sir?"

The subsequent pause in his narrative was somewhat lengthy as clearly he was reluctant to continue in the face of her obvious anger but, as one facing a most disagreeable task, he shook his head and spoke once more, "No, Miss Bennet, my objections to the marriage were not merely the want of connections and dowry. These could not be as great an evil to my friend. There were other causes of repugnance which must be stated, though briefly. The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father."

She saw him glance at her once more and she thought his manner to be almost beseeching - all trace of haughtiness lost - as he said, "Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But, amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of you both. I will only further say that, from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. He left Netherfield for London, on the day following, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning.

He took a deep breath as if to fortify himself, "The part which I acted is now to be explained. His sisters' uneasiness had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered; and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in London. We accordingly went and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend, the certain evils of such a choice. I described, and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been seconded by the assurance, which I hesitated not in giving, of your sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal, regard. But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgment than on his own. To convince him therefore, that he had deceived himself, was no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much."

Elizabeth struggled to control her anger. That he believed Jane to be indifferent to Mr. Bingley she could not credit and his arrogance to presume to guide his friend in this matter and it was not until she remembered Charlotte's observation that Jane's reserve was such as to make it difficult for one not familiar with her to discern her true feelings. Nevertheless, was it his role to guide his friend so and was not his advice tinged by his disdain for Jane's connections and the improprieties of her family? She could not restrain herself from saying as much to him, "I wonder at your advice Mr. Darcy, if my sister's connections and family were not so disgusting to you. Would you have then been so ready to question her affections? I am sure Mr. Bingley's sisters would not have scrupled to have done so."

"I am not one to let my wishes determine my observations, madam. As I said, I believed that her affections were not engaged because I could see no sign that they were."

"And so you took it upon yourself to assure your friend that my sister's heart was not engaged! If you had limited yourself to admitting that you could not discern any particular affection, I might have little to object to; but to assert, to give your assurances, was an act of such arrogance as I can hardly credit. From your observation - from some distance you admit and based on one evening of observation - you were prepared to give assurances that you could read my sister's heart! I can barely comprehend such arrogance."

Darcy remained silent, Elizabeth hoped from consideration of her words. His mien was unreadable - he seemed unable or unwilling to answer her charge and so she continued, "And was it your affair to recommend that your friend should relinquish this attachment? Should not that be a matter, a decision that he resolves himself?"

This bestirred him to respond, "Let me ask you a pertinent question, Miss Bennet. If my friend were penniless and your sister in possession of a fine fortune, would you not wish to determine the extent of his affections and how would you do so? And if you believed him to be deficient in those affections, would you not advise your sister accordingly?"

His comment struck home and Elizabeth was forced to acknowledge the truth of this assertion, as unwilling as she was to do so. She knew herself well enough to believe that, if Jane - or another of her sisters - was to receive a proposal from one she believed mercenary, she would not hesitate to advise accordingly. As she considered this, her feelings on the manner in which he spoke of her family in terms of such mortifying yet merited reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded, as having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers.

The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which had been thus self-attracted by the rest of her family; and as she considered that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before. In disquietude she walked for several minutes with little attention to her surroundings or her companion and, if she had been asked, would have been grateful if he were to leave her to enjoy her suffering in solitude.

But Mr. Darcy, taking her silence as assent to continue, felt obliged to finish his disquisition, "There is, Miss Bennet, but one part of my conduct in the whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from Bingley your sister's being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without ill consequence is, perhaps, probable; but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me. It is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learned to condemn them."

Elizabeth had, without realizing that she was doing so, turned and had begun her return to the Parsonage. Her thoughts were in too much turmoil to allow for sensible discourse. Making little effort to mask her distaste for the gentleman walking beside her - that his words merited her consideration and revaluation she acknowledged - but the man himself she could not view with favour and did not try to do so.

With a cold civility so much in contradiction to her normal manner that Mr. Darcy could not but be aware of her dislike and anger, she finally responded, "You have given me much to think on, sir. You have assured me of your ignorance of my sister's affections and I concede that you may have inadvertently misunderstood her nature; however, that your opinions were guided to some degree by your disdain for me, my family and my neighbours I am reluctant to disbelieve. From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form a groundwork of disapprobation, of dislike that I find it almost impossible to afford your words the merit they deserve. For this I apologize and provide my assurances that I will be able to reflect on them more easily as time passes."

As she was about to take her leave of him, she saw that Mr. Darcy, with his eyes fixed on her face, appeared to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips, till he believed himself to have attained it. The pause was, to Elizabeth's feelings, dreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said, "And this is your opinion of me?" that he wished to say more was obvious but his composure was intact as he continued, "You believe me to dislike you? To hold you in disdain? Is this truly your belief?"

"Yes Mr. Darcy it is. You made your opinion of me quite clear the very first occasion of our being in company together. I was not handsome enough to tempt you - those I believe were your very words and that it would be a punishment to dance with me. Why would I not believe you to hold me in disdain? Your subsequent disapproval was evident in the stares you directed my way. I could not help but believe they signified your contempt and belief in my inferiority. Your disapproval was obvious to me and others. My family and neighbours were also embraced by that disdain which you did not scruple to display." Elizabeth felt uneasy relating these particulars to Mr. Darcy but since they were unlikely to be in company again, she could see no reason to be less than truthful.

Darcy looked at her with amazement and puzzlement compounding incredulity. He found himself laughing in disbelief but her shocked expression quickly caused him to stifle his mirth. His voice was rueful as he replied, "I must ask your forgiveness for that appalling lack of manners. That you believe me to dislike you, I find incredible." He cast a mortified look at the sky before facing her and saying, "The truth, madam, is quite the reverse. Very much the reverse but I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness."

With these words he hastily turned and walked away to return to Rosings; and Elizabeth watched him until he was hidden from sight on the path he had chosen.

The tumult of her mind was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half an hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by every review of it. After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought; reconsidering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence made her at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such reflections as must make her unfit for conversation.

She was immediately told that Colonel Fitzwilliam had called during her absence and had been sitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her till she could be found. Elizabeth could but just affect concern in missing him; she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no longer an object. She could think only of Mr. Darcy's words - 'The truth madam is quite the reverse. Very much the reverse' Was Charlotte correct after all? Did Mr. Darcy hold her in some affection in spite of all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case, was almost incredible! It would be gratifying to have unconsciously inspired so strong an affection, if she indeed had done so but this she found hard to believe. But his pride, his abominable pride and the inferiority of her connections compared to his own and the impropriety of her family would surely ensure that such an interest would be of a short duration.

In the middle of the afternoon, while the ladies of the Parsonage were sitting in the parlour, the ring of the doorbell signalled a visitor. To Elizabeth's surprise, Mr. Darcy entered the room and, after a quick glance at Elizabeth, immediately approached Mrs. Collins to express his compliments and to take his leave of her and Mr. Collins. After a short conversation with her, he moved to speak to Elizabeth who, upon seeing him approach, resolved to speak of her intentions with respect to Mr. Wickham. Rising she moved to the window and turned to face him as he came to stand beside her. Speaking quietly she addressed him thus, "Mr. Darcy, I do not know if Colonel Fitzwilliam has spoken to you on the matter but he has given me leave to speak to my father about the possibility of Mr. Wickham being in debt to the shopkeepers of Meryton who can ill-afford losses if they exist. I will also impart to my father the colonel's opinion with respect to Mr. Wickham's ....ah, behaviour to young women - even those with no dowry." Her voice dropped even lower, "You may rest assured that your sister's name shall not be mentioned."

Darcy's surprise at her words was obvious and, if a brief flicker of displeasure crossed his features, it was replaced quickly by a look akin to satisfaction, "That would be well done, Miss Bennet."

"I would also impart to him such information as would refute the charges against you that Mr. Wickham has made common knowledge in Meryton, unless you prefer otherwise. I will be ruled by you on that matter."

Elizabeth watched coolly as Darcy considered her words and their implications. Finally, after a lengthy pause he replied with a slight upturn of his lips, "I think I might I appreciate that, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth did not understand what he could find to amuse him in her proposal but nodded and was about to return to her seat when he spoke once more, "Miss Bennet, I believe you are to return to London on Saturday next are you not? And will stay a few days with your relatives there?"

"Yes?"

"To your relatives who live on Gracechurch Street?"

"Indeed" Elizabeth was puzzled at these questions and the next only added to her confusion.

"And the name of your relatives is?"

Elizabeth's confusion was now quite obvious to Darcy and his small smile irritated her greatly but she responded civilly nonetheless, "Gardiner, sir. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner."

Darcy, she could see, was not going to explain his interest or reasons for these questions and the only reasons she could think to explain them made little sense. Before she could form a question on the matter, he bowed to her and, with a final word to Mrs. Collins, took his leave of them all.

Mrs. Collins spoke to her sister, sending her on an errand to the kitchen with the intent, Elizabeth could see clearly, to have a private conversation with her friend. Her first words were much to the point, "Mr. Darcy was not so silent today, Lizzy. Of what did you speak?"

Elizabeth was not prepared to disclose Mr. Darcy's questions relating to her relatives in London; she would have to think more on those. However, she was not reluctant to discuss her plans to inform her father of Mr. Wickham's dealings and Charlotte, upon learning of those plans, spoke warmly in their favour. On one point, however, she was less certain, "Are you sure that revealing Mr. Wickham's lies about Mr. Darcy is necessary? Or wise? What do you hope to gain by it?"

Elizabeth's manner suggested an equal mixture of embarrassment and ire, "Mr. Wickham used me to spread his lies and I was a most willing accomplice. I feel a fool and do not like that feeling at all!"

"I see. I would be cautious - perhaps you should wait until Mr. Wickham's character has been revealed, that his debts are made known before speaking."

Elizabeth considered that suggestion thoughtfully and finally nodded in agreement. Further conversation on the topic was prevented by the return of Maria who appeared oblivious to the nature of the talks between her sister and Elizabeth.

Chapter 5 - Time to Reflect

The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning; and Mr. Collins having been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was able to bring home the pleasing intelligence of their appearing in very good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then hastened to console Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his return brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her ladyship, importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of having them all to dine with her.

Elizabeth felt no regrets at the departure of Mr. Darcy and his cousin and viewed her own with increasing pleasure. One task, however, she felt impelled to undertake immediately; she must write her father and impart to him all the particulars that had been revealed by Colonel Fitzwilliam. Knowing her father's habits of indolence, she was far from sure that he would act upon such information; and, to this end she thought that information as to Colonel Fitzwilliam's possible intervention might provide her father with an excuse to avoid taking any action and hence might best be omitted from her letter. To this end, she assigned her concerns for the well-being of the merchants and their daughters to the Colonel, with her role simply to convey such concerns to her father. However, she did not scruple to suggest to her father that Mr. Wickham's attentions to Miss Mary King might be injurious to that young woman and her guardians might be warned of the man's background. While she might wait until she returned to Longbourn to inform her father, a delay of almost a fortnight might only increase the number of debts incurred or fail to ensure Miss King's protection. She could see no reason to delay and valid reasons to avoid doing so and thus, within an hour, the letter had been written and sent on its way to Longbourn.

Later that day, as she entered the drawing room at Rosings Park, Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting that she had once considered Mr. Darcy to be much like his aunt; now she recognized that her perception was much at fault. There was some commonality in terms of pride but Mr. Darcy's understanding and civility was much superior to that of his aunt. Such thoughts, however, were not long in being banished from her mind by Lady Catherine's conversation.

Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party. "I assure you, I feel it exceedingly," said Lady Catherine; "I believe nobody feels the loss of friends as much as I do. But I am particularly attached to these young men; and know them to be so much attached to me! They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy seemed to feel it most acutely, more I think than last year. His attachment to Rosings certainly increases."

Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter.

Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that Miss Bennet seemed out of spirits; and immediately accounting for it herself, by supposing that she did not like to go home again so soon, she added, "But if that is the case, you must write to your mother to beg that you may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your company, I am sure."

"I am much obliged to your ladyship for your kind invitation," replied Elizabeth, "but it is not in my power to accept it. I must be in town next Saturday."

"Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came. There can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly spare you for another fortnight."

"But my father cannot. He wrote last week to hurry my return."

"Oh! Your father of course may spare you, if your mother can. Daughters are never of so much consequence to a father. And if you will stay another month complete, it will be in my power to take one of you as far as London, for I am going there early in June, for a week; and as Dawson does not object to the Barouche box, there will be very good room for one of you and indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large."

"You are all kindness, Madam; but I believe we must abide by our original plan."

Lady Catherine seemed resigned. "Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant with them. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea of two young women travelling post by themselves. It is highly improper. You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her having two men servants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those things. You must send John with the young ladies, Mrs. Collins. I am glad it occurred to me to mention it; for it would really be discreditable to you to let them go alone."

"My uncle is to send a servant for us."

"Oh! Your uncle! He keeps a man-servant, does he? I am very glad you have somebody who thinks of those things. Where shall you change horses? Oh! Bromley, of course. If you mention my name at the Bell, you will be attended to."

Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting their journey, and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary, which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her - with a mind so occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be reserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to it as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant recollections.

Mr. Darcy's explanation, she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. She remembered every word he spoke: and her feelings towards him were at times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address, she was still full of indignation; but when she considered how unjustly she had condemned and upbraided him in her past perceptions of him, her anger was turned against herself. His general character merited respect; but she could not approve him; nor could she for a moment repent her words of censure, or feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again.

In her own past behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret; and in the unhappy defects of her family a subject of yet heavier chagrin. They were hopeless of remedy. Her father, content with laughing at them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Elizabeth had frequently united with Jane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Catherine and Lydia; but while they were supported by their mother's indulgence, what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited, irritable, and completely under Lydia's guidance, had been always affronted by their advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, and vain. While there was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him; and while Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, they would be going there forever.

Anxiety on Jane's behalf was another prevailing concern, and Mr. Darcy's explanation, by restoring Bingley to all her former good opinion, heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His affection was proved to have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, unless any could attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his friend. How grievous then was the thought that, of a situation so desirable in every respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for happiness, Jane had been deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own family!

When to these recollections was added the development of Wickham's character, it may be easily believed that the happy spirits which had seldom been depressed before, were now so much affected as to make it almost impossible for her to appear tolerably cheerful. Her greatest confusion arose when she considered his words when he took his leave of her after their walk. His manner contained all the pride she could have expected from him but clearly tempered by surprise when he learned of her dislike. Clearly he had thought otherwise and when she remembered his words "The truth, madam, is quite the reverse. Very much the reverse..." Did this mean he held her in affection? Was Charlotte correct after all? But how could she have known? Even Charlotte had finally conceded that she could detect few signs of regard, no dislike perhaps but not affection. And yet now, when she looked back on his actions, it was possible to see them as attempts to show his regard for her. Fumbling, confused attempts surely but, if his words were to have a meaning, he must have held her in some regard. That it was to be of short duration seemed likely if she was to give weight to his expression as he had left her, "but I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been."

But then when she thought about his behaviour when he came to take his leave of Charlotte, her confusion mounted. His manner was quite different once more - almost amiable - and she thought he appeared almost amused at her confusion at his questions about her return to London. What could he mean by such questions? What purpose would be served by such knowledge? Surely he did not mean to call on the Gardiners? She could not imagine that he would so - not after decrying such connections. It was altogether too puzzling and finally she resolved to think on it no more.

Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last week of her stay as they had been at first. The very last evening was spent there; and her Ladyship again enquired minutely into the particulars of their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing, and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right way, that Maria thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh.

When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished them a good journey, and invited them to come to Hunsford again next year; and Miss De Bourgh exerted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out her hand to both.

On Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr. Collins met for breakfast a few minutes before the others appeared; and he took the opportunity of paying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary. "I know not, Miss Elizabeth," said he, "whether Mrs. Collins has yet expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us, but I am very certain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks for it. The favour of your company has been much felt, I assure you. We know how little there is to tempt any one to our humble abode. Our plain manner of living, our small rooms, and few domestics, and the little we see of the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like yourself; but I hope you will believe us grateful for the condescension, and that we have done everything in our power to prevent your spending your time unpleasantly."

Elizabeth was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. She had spent six weeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with Charlotte, and the kind attentions she had received, must make her feel obliged.

Mr. Collins was gratified; and with a more smiling solemnity replied, "It gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that you have passed your time not disagreeably. We have certainly done our best; and most fortunately having it in our power to introduce you to very superior society, and, from our connection with Rosings, the frequent means of varying the humble home scene, I think we may flatter ourselves that your Hunsford visit cannot have been entirely irksome. Our situation with regard to Lady Catherine's family is indeed the sort of extraordinary advantage and blessing of which few can boast. You see on what a footing we are. You see how continually we are engaged there. In truth I must acknowledge that, with all the disadvantages of this humble Parsonage, I should not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion while they are sharers of our intimacy at Rosings."

Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings; and he was obliged to walk about the room, while Elizabeth tried to unite civility and truth in a few short sentences. "You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself, at least, that you will be able to do so. Lady Catherine's great attentions to Mrs. Collins you have been a daily witness of; and altogether I trust it does not appear that your friend has drawn an unfortunate... but on this point it will be as well to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that I can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity in marriage. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each other."

Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was the case, and with equal sincerity could add that she firmly believed and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, to have the recital of them interrupted by the entrance of the lady from whom they sprung. Poor Charlotte!--it was melancholy to leave her to such society!--But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion. Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all their dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.

At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were fastened on, the parcels placed within, and it was pronounced to be ready. After an affectionate parting between the friends, Elizabeth was attended to the carriage by Mr. Collins, and as they walked down the garden, he was commissioning her with his best respects to all her family, not forgetting his thanks for the kindness he had received at Longbourn in the winter, and his compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown. He then handed her in, Maria followed, and the door was on the point of being closed, when he suddenly reminded them, with some consternation, that they had hitherto forgotten to leave any message for the ladies at Rosings.

"But," he added, "You will of course wish to have your humble respects delivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their kindness to you while you have been here."

Elizabeth made no objection;--the door was then allowed to be shut, and the carriage drove off.

"Good gracious!" cried Maria, after a few minutes silence, "it seems but a day or two since we first came! And yet how many things have happened!"

"A great many indeed," said her companion with a sigh.

"We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice!--How much I shall have to tell!"

Elizabeth privately added, "And how much I may have to conceal, for I doubt I can reveal all to Jane and none of it can safely be told to my mother."

Their journey was performed without much conversation, or any alarm; and within four hours of their leaving Hunsford, they reached Mr. Gardiner's house, where Elizabeth was to remain a few days while Maria continued the trip to her home. Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had little opportunity of studying her spirits, amidst the various engagements which the kindness of her aunt had reserved for them. But Jane was to go home with her, and at Longbourn there would be leisure enough for observation.

It was not without an effort, meanwhile, that she could wait even for Longbourn, before she told her sister of the particulars of what had been revealed by Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy. To know that she had the power of revealing what would so exceedingly astonish Jane - the possibility of Mr. Darcy having formed an attraction for Elizabeth - no matter how weak or short-lived - added impetus at the same time, both to the state of indecision in which she remained as to the extent of what she should communicate; as well as her fear, if she once entered on the subject, of being hurried into repeating something of Bingley which might only grieve her sister further.