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Chapter One

Posted on 2013-08-09

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood on the sea wall and closed his eyes for a moment. There was something invigorating in the air at Ramsgate, something he had not expected.

Only a month ago had his mourning for his father ended. For a year, he had been too overwhelmed with all the responsibilities thrust upon him to find time to enjoy himself. A chance comment by his cousin Lord Mallory had reminded him that his sister had lost her parents too, and she was in need of diversion as much as he.

After two days in Ramsgate, they had already seen a lifting of spirits. Georgiana had smiled more in that time than in the year previous. She would probably never be considered lively, but Darcy had at times despaired of her ever being cheerful again. Mallory had proved correct. This was exactly what they needed. This morning over breakfast, they had made a list of the things they wanted to see. Darcy had smiled to himself, suspecting that six weeks would be insufficient to give half their list justice.

Up the coast, he could see the harbor. It was still under construction, but ships were coming in with the tide anyway. Georgiana pointed excitedly at the colorful banners and flags, begging that he would take her closer. He had not yet learned how to tell her no, but he did admonish her not to stray far from him. They were too accustomed to the wilds of Derbyshire, where one could walk for hours and not see another living soul. Georgiana, having never traveled beyond Kympton, had never seen so many people in her life.

They walked by the rows of neat houses towards the harbor beyond, passing many in their perambulation. Eagerly watching everything around them, Georgiana soon dropped his hand, but kept near him. Darcy envied her a little. She did not have to think of the crowd of strangers around them and what to do and say when introduced to anyone. He had not yet deciphered the intricacies of society, though his aunt Matlock would say it was because he would not bother to try.

At the edge of the harbor, Darcy stopped, Georgiana still at his side. She had been right to ask to come closer. The ships were quite a sight, rocking in their moorings while men loaded and unloaded cargo. Beyond, white sails carried more of them to and fro, and Darcy wondered for a moment if one of these ships would have been bringing him back now. He'd planned a long journey on the continent after Cambridge, but his father's sudden death had prevented it. There was no use in repining, but he could not help wondering what it would have been like to see the places he had only read about.

While he stood watching the ships, Georgiana walked on ahead of him. It was a moment before he realized it, and by then she was more than halfway across the street and out of his reach. Just yards away, a pair of horses harnessed to a curricle reared and lunged, straight towards his sister.

"Georgiana!" he cried, but it only caused her to look up and see the danger. Instead of running out of the way, she stood petrified.

Darcy rushed into the street, knowing he could not reach her in time. But a blur of white and blue appeared behind Georgiana and pulled her to the other side. When the horses had passed, Darcy saw his sister, pushing herself up from the cobblestones, a young lady likewise on the ground with her.

He had eyes only for his sister. "Georgiana," he said again, this time with his heart in his throat. He helped her stand, and once it was clear she had no injuries beyond some scrapes, he picked her up. While he stepped out of the street again, she began to sob into his cravat.

Assured of his sister's safety, he looked down at the person who had saved her. Her own companions were gathering round. "Goodness, Lizzy!" said the woman with her. She carried a child of about two, while another one only a little older clung to her skirts. "Are you all right?"

"I am well, Aunt," said the younger lady, really not much more than a girl, her voice shaking a little. The man helped her stand, while she cast a rueful smile at her own scraped wrist, where her sleeve had been pushed up. While the man pulled out a handkerchief to bind the girl's wrist, she looked straight at Darcy, frowning in deep concern. "Forgive my impertinence, sir, but is the young lady hurt?"

"She is more shocked than anything else, I think," Darcy said, not caring that they had not been introduced. Nor did he think anything of the dust now all over the white dress and blue spencer this stranger was wearing. "I cannot thank you enough. I owe you my sister's life."

Her cheeks colored, and she looked away. "It was very brave of you, Lizzy," said the man with her.

"Someone had to," she replied quietly.

They stood awkwardly for a moment while Georgiana's crying ebbed. She was too heavy now for him to carry around very much, so he set her on her feet and knelt in front of her. "I'm sorry, Fitzwilliam," she whispered. "You said to stay close to you."

"I did," he replied, kissing her forehead. "But I think you have learned your lesson."

She nodded, fighting back more tears.

"Sir," the man said, having gathered up the older of the two children, "I am glad your young charge has escaped serious injury. We will not detain you; I am sure you wish to see her home."

"Wait!" he blurted out, rising again. "I must know to whom I am indebted."

"Edward Gardiner, at your service," the man said with a nod. "My wife you see here with our daughters, Maggie and Hannah. And this," he said, gesturing to the young lady, "is my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of Longbourn in Hertfordshire."

"Fitzwilliam Darcy," he replied, bowing. "This is my sister, Georgiana. Miss Bennet, let me thank you again for this extraordinary service."

She opened her mouth as though she would object, but remained silent when he held out his hand. She placed her hand in his, and he bowed to place a gentle kiss on her gloved fingers. When he met her eyes again, she was blushing once more, biting her lip as though to hold back a smile. Her brown eyes were shining, and Darcy was struck by how beguilingly pretty she was.

The Gardiners invited the Darcys to join them in Norris Street for tea. Under any other circumstances Darcy would have refused. He barely knew these people, but a few minutes in their company had cemented his gratitude and pushed him to exert himself far more than he would otherwise be inclined. He was a little relieved when they led him to a respectable street and a well-looking house.

Mrs. Gardiner immediately set out to see to the wounds of her niece and her guest while the little girls went with their nurse, leaving Darcy with Mr. Gardiner. "Have you been in Ramsgate long, sir?" Mr. Gardiner asked.

"But two days. My sister and I arrived late on Monday, so today was our first outing."

"Hopefully the rest of your visit will be uneventful in comparison."

Mr. Gardiner was perhaps ten years older than Darcy. Darcy soon learned that the man was in trade in London, but he and his wife were fashionable people and their niece a gentleman's daughter. The men quickly fell into a discussion of the impact the war was having on trade, though something the lady spoke of soon caught his attention.

"I lived in Derbyshire when I was your age," she was saying to Georgiana. "In a little village called Lambton."

"Lambton is but five miles from my home!" Georgiana said, a broad smile on her round face.

Mrs. Gardiner looked up at Darcy. "Indeed? I thought your name was familiar."

Darcy glanced at Miss Bennet without meaning to; he saw no recognition in her expression. Her aunt provided an explanation in a quiet voice. "Pemberley, the principle estate in that part of Derbyshire, is the ancestral home of the Darcys."

"Oh. I have heard you speak of it, Aunt. I do not believe I knew the family name."

"It might have enough woods and groves to satisfy even you, Lizzy," Mr. Gardiner said with a laugh. "My niece is forever exploring the country in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy, though it drive her mother to distraction."

"Uncle!" Miss Bennet cried playfully. "Please do not discredit me in front of our new acquaintances! Let them form an ill opinion of me on their own observation."

"I am not sure that is possible, Miss Bennet," Darcy said. "I believe I am too much in your debt to think ill of you. Besides, how can I cast judgment when my mother was fond of a walk in the woods herself?"

Miss Bennet smiled archly. "Were there woods and groves enough to satisfy her, sir?"

"At Pemberley? More than she could explore in her lifetime." Beyond that he dared not speak. It had been a long time since he had willingly spoken to anyone about his mother. She had only been gone three years now.

Mrs. Gardiner sensed his uneasiness. "I was sorry to hear of the passing of your parents, Mr. Darcy. They were excellent people, very kind to the poor."

He nodded his thanks, eyes downcast; but his sister surprised him. "Fitzwilliam is just as good to the poor as Mamma and Papa were," she told Mrs. Gardiner. "And I could not ask for a better brother."

"Georgiana," he said, but found himself unable to say more. She bounded up from her seat to throw her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. The memory of the horses bearing down on her flooded him again, and he pulled her onto his lap without the slightest care for propriety, or how old his sister actually was.

From the chair opposite him, Miss Bennet was regarding the scene with a soft smile. For once, Darcy could not help but smile back.

The Darcys stayed through supper; so late that Georgiana was too tired to walk home and a servant had to be sent for their carriage. Even after it had arrived, the guests lingered at the door. Mr. Darcy bowed over Mrs. Gardiner's hand and then Lizzy's, and when their eyes met Lizzy felt a little shock. He was as handsome a man as one could expect to see anywhere, and the real gratitude in his dark blue eyes made her tremble slightly as she made her curtsey.

"An amiable young man," Uncle Gardiner said, when their guests had left. "I like him very well."

"He is perhaps a little serious, but that is hardly surprising when you consider the responsibilities on his shoulders," her aunt replied.

"He shows an affection for his sister which is very pleasing," said Lizzy, who had perhaps not begun to feel anything greater than the love for her own dearest sister.

"Indeed he does, and with the service you rendered him today, I imagine you will never fall out of grace with him," Uncle teased. Lizzy spluttered a protest while she blushed, but her uncle merely pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Perhaps you may teach him to laugh at himself, and then he will be the perfect specimen of a gentleman."

Pride - and a little mortification - straightened her spine, and she announced that she was going to bed.

A pause here will be sufficient to explain the reasons the Gardiners had for coming to Ramsgate. Little Maggie had suffered through the spring and early summer with a persistent cough; the physician in London had recommended sea air as a remedy. Jane Bennet had at first been engaged to spend some weeks in town with them, but when they made plans for the sea, she offered to let Elizabeth go in her place.

Youngest sister Lydia was put out that Lizzy was going to the sea without her, but fortunately her mother protested that she would not be separated from her baby, and she certainly could not leave Longbourn while a party of young gentlemen was due at Purvis Lodge. It was clear from every letter that she expected this to seal Jane's fate before she turned nineteen and began to lose her bloom.

Lizzy herself cared little for the company of young men yet, beyond their agreeability as dance partners. Ramsgate was far more to her liking just now. In a month she would be seventeen, and a very pretty seventeen at that. She had not Jane's fair complexion and gentle manners, but lively spirits and a pair of fine eyes had already caught the attention of a young gentleman of Derbyshire. She was not unaware of her charms, but she was perhaps a little young to understand their full powers.

The next day saw them call on the Darcys. Lizzy and Georgiana compared their battle scars with a good amount of giggling, but the younger girl sobered suddenly when she noticed Mr. Darcy's scrutiny. "Brother, did I do something wrong?" she asked in alarm.

Coming to stand behind her, Mr. Darcy bowed to kiss the top of his sister's head. "You really must learn that I do not always watch you to find cause for disapproval, sister," he said. "In fact, I rarely do."

"Then you must learn to smile more, sir," Lizzy put in, though after a moment she marveled at her audacity.

Mr. Darcy did not seem offended, only puzzled. "Do I look so fearsome?"

"I confess, I had wondered what I had done to earn your disapprobation."

"Lizzy," her aunt gently admonished.

The young man shook his head, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Perhaps I have learned too well to conceal my pleasure."

The day passed with great enjoyment for everyone from there. They walked together to the large open market and thence to some of the shops, where Lizzy was obliged to replace the bonnet deemed ruined by yesterday's excitement. While she tried on one after another, she noticed that Mr. Darcy was indulging his young sister in a similar pursuit. Afterward, Mr. Gardiner teasingly insisted on a stop at the bookseller's as a reward for his patience at the milliner's.

Elizabeth browsed on her own for a time, eagerly exploring titles her father was not interested in. Meryton's circulating library gave her quite enough novels to enjoy, but her collection of other works was growing, due to the fond respect of the village's bookseller for a young lady who wished to read.

Mr. Darcy approached her, but he stood nearby in silence for a few moments. Lizzy hazarded a glance at him and offered a small smile. He looked at the shelf where her hand rested. "Poetry, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes. I fear I did not bring enough to read when we came here."

He gave her a curious smile. "My father always thought young ladies were not prone to read enough."

"I read more than my mother would like and less than my father would prefer," she said rather pertly.

He looked at the books again and plucked one from an upper shelf. "Have you read Coleridge or Wordsworth, Miss Bennet?"

She shook her head. "I cannot say that I have."

"Then let me recommend this wholeheartedly," he replied, handing the book to her.

They spoke a while longer, walking slowly towards the front of the store. The poets had lived in the Lake District, not too far from the Darcys' home in Derbyshire. From there it was easy to interrogate him about his home county, and he spoke freely of the wildness and beauty to be found in the north.

"You make me jealous, sir," Lizzy said, laughing a little at herself. "I long to see more of the country."

"Perhaps you shall," he replied. "Now, your book, madam. I believe we are ready to make our purchases and go."

He held out his hand, but she stared at him in wonder. "Sir, I-"

"Miss Bennet, I insist," he said. "I have spoken with your uncle, and he agreed that under the circumstances, he will allow me to make this gift to you. I must do something to repay you."

She wanted to protest his highhandedness - her family might be insignificant compared to his, but she could afford a book - but there was warmth in his expression, and that stilled her tongue. He was not doing this to impose on her, but to thank her. Wordlessly, she passed him the book.

When he returned it to her that evening, she found it slightly altered. In a strong, even hand, he had written a note on the endpaper.

For EB, with my undying gratitude.

FD

Though both families had other acquaintance in Ramsgate, the two parties found themselves passing more than half their time with one another over the next three weeks. Days were almost never spent within doors unless it rained. Even then, Darcy could usually find his way to Norris Street, leaving his sister behind in the capable hands of her governess to practice the pianoforte.

One memorable evening was spent at his lodgings, with Miss Bennet seated with Georgiana at the instrument, the pair of them playing unpracticed duets. Miss Bennet's playing was by no means extraordinary, but her way of laughing at herself for her mistakes made her performance one of the most delightful things Darcy had ever witnessed. Once, she looked up, smiling, and caught his gaze quite by accident. The joyful abandon in her eyes took him off-guard like the sudden thrust of a foil. Even as he smiled back at her faintly, he began to feel the danger he was in.

He liked her very much, but she was too poor, too far below his station, and above all, she was too young. They both were. Though the master of Pemberley could certainly afford a wife, there was no reason to rush such things. The next year he would go to London for the Season, joining his cousins Mallory and Fitzwilliam on what Mallory called the auction block. The pair of them, earl's sons, had managed to avoid being trapped in miserable marriages thus far. Darcy would have to stay close and learn how to avoid the schemes of young women whose only occupation was to find a husband.

The thought wearied him. He had only spent one full Season in London as an adult, and then he had not yet come into his inheritance. The fawning ladies had been suffocating when he was the heir; how much worse would they be for the master? At school he had had a reputation for being stuffy and proud, but the press of strangers unnerved him and he retreated to formality like a shield. He shuddered to think what a few Seasons would do to him.

Yet from a pretty country girl with fine eyes, he could not keep his thoughts. Nor could he explain his fascination, even to himself.

Before long Georgiana was sent to bed, having stayed up later than usual on account of Miss Bennet. Darcy took her place on the bench to turn pages as Miss Bennet continued to play alone. "It will not be long before your sister has surpassed my talent at this instrument," she remarked.

"Your playing is lovely, Miss Bennet."

"Let us not mince words, sir; my playing is adequate," she contradicted. "One master told me my greatest talent was in improvising through the difficult passages."

On the other side of the room, Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat. "Might I be bold enough to ask what you are talking of, Lizzy?"

Darcy knew the question was more aimed at him, though addressed to her. "I am wondering at your niece, Mr. Gardiner," he answered. "Did you know that she is incapable of accepting a compliment?"

"Mr. Darcy!" she cried, fingers stopping on the keys while her cheeks turned a lovely pink.

It was fortunate for Darcy that the Gardiners both laughed. "I tried to tell her tonight how pretty she looks," Mrs. Gardiner said, "but she would only demur and remind me that her sister Jane is first in beauty."

Darcy caught himself before he could say aloud that he greatly desired to see this Jane Bennet, for he strongly doubted Elizabeth's claim.

He was in some considerable danger, he admitted to himself while the lady at his side resumed playing. But he could not seem to pull himself away.

Their third week of acquaintance closed with an assembly. It must be stated that Miss Bennet was far more excited about the prospect of dancing than Mr. Darcy, who abhorred the activity. In fact, since the event would take him away from his sister, he might not have attended at all had it not been for the lady in question. For her sake, he would come, he would dance, and he might even enjoy himself.

Lizzy's apprehensions were of a different kind. While the maid and her aunt helped her dress, she could not but wonder if Mr. Darcy would ask her to dance. She knew better than to lift her hopes to such a man. He had been very attentive these few weeks, but that he might think of her! It was too much to presume.

A few days after he gave her the book, he asked if she had had the opportunity to start it. She had not had the courage to confess that she had read it through twice already, but they had a very comfortable conversation about the work. Indeed, he had smiled when she disagreed with him on some points and eagerly chased her logic, looking for a fault. It was somewhere in that conversation that she realized how very different this young man was than any other she had met before; and she began to fear that his forthright, clever mind would spoil her for her marriage prospects in the years to come.

There was one episode to mar her opinion of him, however, and it was all that kept her from a deeper attachment than was wise. Her uncle had letters of business one day which could not be put off and Darcy had business of his own, so Mrs. Gardiner had accompanied the girls to a menagerie. There they were met with an old acquaintance of the Darcy family, Mr. George Wickham. Georgiana was thrilled to see him, and he was delighted to make the acquaintance of her new friends. He charmed Mrs. Gardiner with many fond mentions of Lambton, and Lizzy found him altogether agreeable. Mr. Darcy would no doubt be happy to meet with such an old friend here in Ramsgate.

But that was not the case. Wickham accompanied them out of the menagerie, and a few streets away they were overtaken by Darcy himself. After very cold greetings for them, he told Georgiana to stay with Mrs. Gardiner while he had a word with his old friend.

They stood well out of earshot; Lizzy could not help but watch the two men. She had not yet seen Mr. Darcy angry, but there was no denying that he was. And for what cause? Mr. Wickham's accounting of his history with the family was all genial, and to Georgiana he had shown nothing but affection, affection obviously reciprocated. It puzzled Lizzy exceedingly, and when Darcy rejoined them alone, his refusal to answer even the most basic inquiries angered her. For the rest of the day she would not speak to him.

On the day following, he was warmer towards her, provoking her to better civility, but she could not reconcile the event to herself. He was by turns hot and cold, and she wondered which was the real Fitzwilliam Darcy; especially if the one she had grown so fond of was only a mask he wore.

Her head counseled caution to her heart, and it was a struggle to remember when she saw Mr. Darcy that evening, coming towards her and Uncle Gardiner. "Mr. Gardiner, Miss Bennet!" he greeted. The men bowed, Lizzy curtsied, and Darcy continued, "Is Mrs. Gardiner here? I hope she is not unwell."

"My wife decided to stay with our children tonight, sir," Mr. Gardiner replied. "I come to escort Lizzy."

Polite inquiries dispensed with, Darcy turned to Elizabeth and asked for the honor of the first set. He looked disappointed when she declined him, but at her side her uncle chuckled at them. "Oh, Lizzy, dance with the gentleman. You may have promised me the first set but I will not hold you to your word. It is a younger man's task to open the assembly with the prettiest girl in the room."

There was hardly time to blush, for the musicians were striking up their instruments and the dancers were gathering on the floor. There was only time to take the hand Mr. Darcy offered and follow him into the dance.

Through their set, she was too flustered to think of anything to say. Mr. Darcy was a quiet man by nature but tonight he was absolutely silent, though his eyes might have told her much if she had had the courage to look. While she cursed her luck at turning into a simpleton now of all times, he was more agreeably employed, thinking that the blush she seemed unable to conquer made her more alluring than ever.

He took her hand and led her back to her uncle when their set was completed. They had walked through half of Ramsgate side by side for weeks, but now Lizzy felt too conscious of the honor to enjoy it. The gentleman escorting her was no longer just the friend she had made on the seashore. He was the handsomest man in the room, master of his fate, and far beyond her reach.

Her uncle was not to dance with her at all that evening. He was pleased to see her favored with so many requests from the young men in the room, but it was Mr. Darcy who concerned him. That gentleman danced with none other the entire evening. To Mr. Gardiner's keen observation, Darcy was drawn to Lizzy in a way that seemed to catch even himself off-guard. Though they were to leave Ramsgate before long, Gardiner felt he must ask the young man what his intentions were, and soon. He did not want to see Lizzy's heart broken.

He was not privy to all of Lizzy's interactions in the assembly hall that evening. She danced once with Mr. Wickham, which Darcy half-heartedly tried to prevent. Lizzy was confused by the interaction she witnessed, and with a disappointed look at her friend, let the other man lead her to one of the refreshment tables.

Later Gardiner would regret with all his might that he allowed himself to be distracted by the arrival of an old schoolfellow. Some minutes passed before he looked for his niece again, and a few minutes more before the panic set in at not finding her. Darcy was at his side before long. "Sir, have you seen Miss Bennet or Wickham?"

"Who is Wickham?"

"A - an acquaintance of mine. I fear he is not to be trusted."

The words hit Gardiner like cold water. "I have not seen her in some minutes."

He turned to the corridors, Darcy in the other direction. It would not be long before some thought they heard a woman scream, and others saw the illustrious Mr. Darcy emerging from the secluded gardens with a sobbing young lady in his arms, whom he did not return to her relations. The rumors would be known to all at the assembly long before the evening was over.

Chapter Two

Posted on 2013-08-11

The truth was in some ways simpler and in others more complex than the rumors besmirching both their names that night. Miss Bennet, though delighting in such an assembly, had wanted a moment to herself after her dance with Mr. Wickham. She was vexed indeed with Mr. Darcy's treatment of her partner, and after she had had some punch, she stepped outside and into the gardens to clear her head. By the time she saw Wickham following her, it was too late.

His intentions towards her were clear, and not at all honorable. When she cried out for help, he struck her across the mouth. But Lizzy was quick and surefooted, and had it not been for a loose cobble in her path, she would have made good her escape and gone home without a whisper about her. Her ankle twisted, however, and she fell. A pair of hands tried to help her up and she fought against them, until a voice spoke her name and she looked up into the face of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Wickham came upon them a moment later, but at the sight of Darcy he fled. For a moment Lizzy wondered if her savior would abandon her there on the cobblestones. He stayed, though, and gently helped her from the ground. "Are you well, Miss Bennet?" he asked.

"No," she whispered. "I believe I shall be, but not now."

For a few moments they stood in silence, Darcy too angry and too unhappy to speak, while Lizzy struggled with tears. When they attempted to leave that place, she discovered her ankle was too tender to bear her weight, and soon she found herself in Darcy's arms, being borne across the gardens to the carriages outside the gates. With the pain of standing relieved, Lizzy could no longer keep from crying.

Her uncle joined them after a quarter of an hour, looking grave. The three rode in Darcy's carriage back to Norris Street, where Gardiner flatly refused to let Darcy repeat the service he had provided in the gardens. Once Lizzy was situated on a sofa in the parlor and Mrs. Gardiner was attending her, he said to the younger man, "I will speak to you in the study. Now."

Darcy was in no mood to be ordered about, but Gardiner's tone did not allow a refusal. He followed the other man and braced himself for what was to come. "Every tongue in that assembly is clucking about you chasing my niece into the gardens and carrying her off in tears!" the man all but shouted. "What sort of scoundrel are you?"

Darcy fought for calm. "I found her with Wickham hard upon her heels, sir," he replied. "I believe he was trying to force himself upon Miss Bennet. It would not be the first time he has done so."

To Gardiner's inquiry, Darcy was forced to relate his history with the young man, how his father's favor for the boy had spoiled him and made him feel entitled to all that Darcy had. His exploits at Cambridge Darcy did not have the stomach to repeat, but he gave the other man to understand the danger his niece had been in.

"I must send for her father," Gardiner said wearily. "Her good name is compromised, and Bennet will never forgive me." In a stronger voice, and more towards Darcy, he added, "You realize that it was your name, not Wickham's, which everyone was bandying about before we left?"

Feeling a little weak, Darcy sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

Thomas Bennet came to Ramsgate as swiftly as may be imagined. His brother's express had sparked all manner of terrors in his imagination, and he would not rest until he had seen his Lizzy safe and the scoundrel who had imposed on her punished. The first wish was easily granted, for the girl was waiting for him in the parlor when he arrived late, two nights after the fateful assembly. She was pale, but she was whole; the rest he could pray for later.

The second wish seemed within his grasp as well, for the rake who had compromised his child was sitting in the study of his brother's lodgings. Fitzwilliam Darcy was undoubtedly a fine man by society's standards, but Thomas' anger against him would not be easily assuaged.

The young man acquitted himself tolerably well, though Thomas was irritated with Gardiner for saying so much in Darcy's favor. The boy explained that he had sent men to find Wickham but had not traced him beyond London. He told how fear for Lizzy's safety had propelled him to search for her, and lastly he apologized for the rumors his deeds had incited.

"But the fact remains," Thomas said, "that my daughter, my dearest, cleverest child, has been compromised."

"I know, sir," Darcy replied. His hands were clasped behind his back and his chin was high, but his voice betrayed his anxiety. "I have thought of little else these two days. I am prepared to do what I must."

Thomas' heart sank, even though he knew this must be the outcome. This was all happening too suddenly.

"Brother, he is a good man, and a true friend to Lizzy," Gardiner put in. "I believe his intentions were all that is good that night, despite the outcome."

On most matters he was willing to trust his wife's brother, but on this he needed more. He turned to the young man and said, "I cannot bear the thought of her in an indifferent marriage. Please, tell me you have some respect for her."

The boy's color rose as he answered. "She is one of the most interesting people I have ever had the pleasure to meet," he replied haltingly. "I am... fond of her, very fond. Were we both a few years older, I - I might have offered for her on pleasanter terms than these."

"And you can provide for her?"

"I will have my solicitor draw up the settlement papers as soon as I am in London again, but I would not have you worry about that. My estate is a prosperous one. She will want for nothing."

Thomas wondered if that was really true, but he supposed the matter was moot. His permission he could not in good conscience withhold.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth waited in the next room.

There was something very unfair in not being allowed to be part of the conversation that would decide her fate. Even Mr. Darcy was involved, and she had only known him three weeks! She trusted him, of course, and he had been the one to save her from Mr. Wickham, but it did not seem right to have so little voice when it was her reputation and her life.

The door across the corridor opened, and Elizabeth closed her eyes. The moment had come. She heard the steps of the men and their hushed conversation. The voices stopped, and she looked up to see that only Mr. Darcy had entered the drawing room. Her father and uncle waited outside, in the darkness of the corridor.

She did not rise to greet him; he said nothing about it. "Miss Bennet, where is Mrs. Gardiner?" he asked instead.

"One of my cousins required her attention," Elizabeth explained. "She will be back down shortly."

Darcy nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to pace slowly. She wondered if he was waiting for proper chaperonage to speak to her, but with her male relations at the door, that could hardly be the issue. She decided she would start the conversation herself. "Mr. Darcy, what has become of Mr. Wickham?"

His jaw tightened at the sound of that name. "My men were unable to trace him past London," he replied. "No doubt he is hiding there. But I must say, Miss Bennet, that even if we could find him, I could not in good conscience allow any young lady to be forced into a marriage with that scoundrel."

"Then what am I to do? My reputation is all I have! Am I simply to hope that this story cannot find its way to Hertfordshire?"

"No," he said, very gently. "Besides, it is not his name linked with yours."

He stopped before her and took her hands as they rested on the table, near some forgotten embroidery, and then he was kneeling down. Lizzy shook her head. She knew not how Mr. Darcy had been caught up in the rumors instead of Mr. Wickham, but she could not support this. "Sir, you did nothing wrong," she protested. "I cannot ask this of you."

His gaze was so intense that she could not look away. "Madam, you are not asking this of me."

His hands were warm, she thought with some distraction. Wickham's had been cold.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy said, then corrected himself. "Elizabeth, will you marry me? Please, will you be my wife?"

She bit her lip, fighting the strongest urge to weep that she had ever felt. Perhaps Darcy did not even realize it, but by kneeling and asking, he had given her, if nothing else, the illusion that she had a choice. She could not say no, but it meant the world to be allowed to say yes.

She nodded and whispered her acceptance, and shed a few tears when he bowed his head to kiss her hands, still in her lap. It was almost unbearably intimate, especially with her uncle and father looking on.

That evening Aunt Gardiner came into her room and sat upon the bed with her. "I know this is not ideal, Lizzy," she said kindly as she helped plait her hair. "I know this is not what young girls dream of. But I believe you will be able to respect each other. We have not known him long, but we have been with him almost daily, in a far more familiar manner than you might meet a suitor at a dance or a card party."

"I know." Lizzy could not find the words to say the rest of what she felt. She did not doubt that he liked her, but if her honor had not been at stake, she worried that he would never have thought her suitable as a wife. Now his life was changing as much as hers, and not at his choosing. "This is all my fault," she murmured. "If only I had not stepped outside! If only I had not danced with Mr. Wickham!"

"Lizzy," Aunt said, more forcefully. She took Lizzy by the shoulders and turned her around. "This was not your fault. That villain tried to take advantage of you. Nothing you did could possibly provoke him into such an action. Let us merely be thankful Mr. Darcy found you when he did."

At the name of the man to whom she was now engaged, Lizzy burst into tears. For two days she had known nothing but tension and strain over the issue; now that the scandal had its resolution, she cried herself to sleep.

She was not one to pine a loss, however, and when Mr. Darcy arrived the next morning, there was little evidence of an unhappy night. Elizabeth gave him a small, almost shy smile when he and Georgiana were admitted. The two were in their traveling clothes, and refused to sit when asked. "We cannot stay long," Darcy told Mrs. Gardiner. "I must to London. I am sorry not to keep our engagement with you for dinner this evening, but - but you are too good to resent me."

"Of course, Mr. Darcy," Aunt Gardiner replied. "I trust we will meet again very soon in any case."

"Indeed. Send word when you return to town. Georgiana and I will be happy to have you dine with us there."

Mrs. Gardiner bowed her head in thanks. Lizzy had said nothing since the Darcys entered, but her aunt sensed that the two young people would want a moment of privacy. Fortunately she had the perfect excuse. "Miss Darcy, would you accompany me a moment? I believe you left a book of songs here a few days ago."

With nothing more complicated than that, Elizabeth found herself alone with her betrothed. "You look well this morning, sir," she said to him, though she did not add how agitated he looked as he fidgeted with his hat.

He managed a wry smile. "We must come up with something else for you to call me. 'Sir' sounds rather dreadful now."

"And now who cannot take a compliment?" she asked pertly.

At that he actually laughed. Lizzy remembered how oddly proud she felt the first time she provoked that from him.

"Elizabeth, I - I trust you know why we are leaving."

She nodded. "We will be leaving ourselves in a few days. We never intended to stay above a month." She bit her lip for a moment. "Have you told Georgiana yet?"

"No. I will tell her today. She will be overjoyed at the news, and I thought it best to shield you from a little girl's first enthusiasm."

Lizzy thought of her mother and what her reaction would be. At least Georgiana had the excuse of youth.

The silence stretched out for a moment, until Darcy stepped closer and set his hat aside. "Last night," he said, frowning, "last night, Lizzy, you cried when you said you would marry me. I would know if those were tears of regret."

She shook her head. "I hardly know how to explain what I felt then, but I worry that you will regret me."

It was a bold statement to make, and she trembled at his silence. He surprised her, however, taking her hand and drawing it up to his lips. He had kissed her hand the day they met, but she had worn gloves and the touch had been fleeting. This posture, where their eyes were locked and she could feel the warmth of his mouth while he lingered, felt far more like a lover's gesture than before.

He held her hand between both of his while they simply watched each other. Nothing was spoken aloud. Elizabeth knew not what might have transpired had they been left to themselves much longer, but her relations decided to make an appearance in the morning room then. "Ah, Mr. Darcy," said her uncle. "I gather you are come to say goodbye."

"Georgiana and I leave at any moment, sir," Darcy replied, drawing away from Elizabeth. She, for her part, did not miss the dark look her father was sending in their direction. "But we could not depart without calling here, not after all the hospitality you have shown us."

Mr. Gardiner let out a short laugh, as though he very much doubted Darcy's assertion that hospitality had anything to do with it.

Darcy moved then to Mr. Bennet, and Elizabeth held her breath without thinking of it. They had had supper together the night before, after Darcy made his proposals, but her father had said next to nothing through the entire meal. Darcy extended his hand to him. "Sir, I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you in town soon," he said, sounding nervous again. "I would be happy to call on you at the Gardiners', but perhaps you would rather come to my home? My father left an extensive library both in London and at Pemberley, and Miss Elizabeth tells me you are a great reader."

It was exactly the thing to tempt Lizzy's father into liking the young man, and he nearly accepted the offer on the spot. When her intended pressed her hand one last time before leaving, she was able to offer him a more brilliant smile than any seen on her face since that horrible night.

It was only much later that she realized neither of them had actually said anything about what they might or might not regret.

Mr. Bennet called on Mr. Darcy the morning after the settlement papers were drawn up. It had not been lost on Darcy that Elizabeth's father had wanted to know how he felt about her before asking if he could afford to marry. Elizabeth was clearly this man's favorite child. It was fortunate for all involved that Darcy did like her, but he was not above using his considerable wealth in an attempt to curry favor.

The papers were signed with little ceremony; an announcement of the engagement would be in the papers by week's end. Bennet rose from his chair, surveyed the library, and said, "I suppose you will be wanting to see Lizzy now."

"I would like to accompany you back to the Gardiners', but I must call on my aunt," he replied. "If she finds out from the papers that I am to marry, she will never forgive me."

Bennet chuckled and sent him on his way, announcing his intention to take full advantage of the library.

The earl and countess of Matlock lived on the other side of the square, and as the day was fine, Darcy walked across to the house. He had arranged this call, so he was unsurprised to find his cousin Mallory waiting with Lady Matlock. "Darcy!" his aunt greeted when he entered her drawing room. "Your return from Ramsgate took us quite by surprise. I thought Andrew told you to stay no less than six weeks."

"I think he has confused Ramsgate for Bath," Darcy replied, with a glare at his oldest cousin. "But our return was somewhat precipitous."

"I have never known you to do anything precipitously," Aunt Matlock said, looking concerned.

"I hope you will be content with my news, Aunt, if not pleased."

"Come, Darcy," said his cousin. "You talk as though you are to be married."

"I am, Mal."

The room turned very quiet, as neither the viscount nor the countess could believe what they heard. "You are to be married?" Lady Matlock repeated.

He nodded, and began to tell them how Elizabeth had saved Georgiana's life, how he had befriended her and the Gardiners, and finally how he had helped her escape Wickham only to find himself labeled the rake. "Oh, Darcy," his aunt said, half fondly and half in exasperation. "I always thought it would be Richard caught up in something like this."

"Be thankful it was not. Miss Bennet has neither fortune nor consequence to speak of. My cousin could not afford to do the honorable thing."

"Is she at least pretty?" Mallory asked. That was, after all, the only acceptable reason for a man of consequence to marry so far beneath himself.

"Yes, quite. Aunt, I believe you will like her. She is very clever, and I know how you detest the simpering type."

"True. I imagine she is in town to buy her wedding clothes?"

"Yes, along with her elder sister. They and their father are staying with the Gardiners."

"I would like to meet her. I suspect the poor thing has no idea what she is getting into, no matter how clever she is. Would tomorrow for tea be feasible?"

"They are to have tea at my home today, if you would be able to come."

"Ask your Miss Bennet first. Normally I would have no compunction about it, but I like you, Darcy, and I want your wife to like me."

As Darcy smiled, his cousin leaned forward. "Will there be room for me as well?" Mallory asked. "I would like to meet this paragon of cleverness."

His mother swatted his knee with her fan. "I want her to like us, Andrew."

"Oh, Lizzy," Jane said, clutching Elizabeth's hand as the carriage stopped in front of Darcy's house in Cavendish Square. "Lizzy, have you ever seen anything so grand?"

"Yes, there were two or three grander on the last street," Lizzy said, hoping her laughter sounded less nervous than she felt.

Jane was right; it was one of the most impressive houses she had ever seen. Of this she was to be mistress! And a great estate in Derbyshire! The foyer of the house was larger than the dining room at Longbourn. It was absurd.

They were soon admitted to one of probably several sitting rooms, where Darcy and his sister were waiting with a man about his age and a lady old enough to be their mother. Both the strangers were dressed in the finest clothes Elizabeth had ever seen. Darcy bowed to his guests and introduced them all to the countess of Matlock and her son, Viscount Mallory.

Bows and curtsies were made all around and the tea service was brought in. Elizabeth found herself seated between Darcy and Lady Matlock. When Darcy had asked her if she would be willing to meet his aunt, she had not expected this woman. She had expected someone more severe, more rigorously fashionable. Lady Matlock had probably been called a great beauty in her youth and she was certainly a handsome woman now, but she was also rather matronly, and she looked at Elizabeth with some evident amusement.

Lord Mallory was more decidedly fashionable, but his manners were easy and his attention to Elizabeth all that was proper. He looked at Jane more, but Elizabeth would never begrudge a man that.

Lady Matlock offered to take the ladies around the house after tea, an offer swiftly accepted. Jane and Aunt Gardiner found something in the library to hold their attention, letting the countess and Elizabeth have something approaching privacy. "Darcy has told me of the circumstances of your engagement," Lady Matlock said, to Elizabeth's astonishment. "I see you are surprised. My dear Miss Elizabeth, he is a gentleman and you are a gentleman's daughter, but your engagement will pique the curiosity of many. We may all hope that the rumors will die out in Ramsgate once the happy news is made public, but I have never thought that ignorance gave anyone protection, least of all us ladies."

"But it would be best if the story did not spread much further," Elizabeth managed.

"Of course, my dear. Who among your acquaintance knows?"

"My uncle and aunt, my sister Jane, and my father, of course."

"Your mother does not know?"

"No, Papa and I - we agreed that it would be best if she only knew of the engagement, not its circumstances." Elizabeth colored as she continued. "Forgive me, for I know this will make me sound like an ungrateful and disrespectful child, but my mother is not the cleverest of women, nor the most circumspect. If she knew what happened to me, I am not certain she would keep it to herself. No, it is best she knows I am to marry, and nothing of why."

During this short, frank speech, which caused its speaker much embarrassment, Lady Matlock could not help feeling a swell of sympathy for the young lady. To be in such a position in the first place was terrible. She had been lucky that Darcy's name and not that worthless Wickham's had been connected with hers. To be without a mother sensible enough to protect her from the viciousness of society after such an attack was too much to expect her to bear.

Lady Matlock had liked this young lady during tea; the girl showed respect without being the least bit servile. Darcy was right about her. Her manners were not as refined as one would expect in town, but her independence was rather charming, and her clever mind meant that Darcy would never be bored with her. For Darcy's sake, Lady Matlock would have offered her assistance with any number of things, but now she wanted to help Elizabeth for her own sake.

She suspected an embrace would be unwelcome now, but she patted the young lady's arm affectionately. "Your aunt and sister," she said. "Are you close to them? Can you confide in them if you need to?"

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth replied, smiling for a moment. "Aunt Gardiner is very dear to me, and Jane is the best of friends."

"I am glad to hear it. I hope someday you may count me as a confidante as well. But in the meantime, I want you to call me Aunt Matlock as soon as you are comfortable."

The tour recommenced, and afterward Lady Matlock brought the girls and their aunt back to the sitting room, where the men joined them once more. The countess issued an invitation for them and Mr. Gardiner to dine with them the next day; plans for shopping had already been made for the day after. It was a clear sign to Darcy that Elizabeth had gained his aunt's approval. That would make at least one aspect of this easier.

His aunt and cousin soon departed, and the Bennets stayed not long after. In the bustle of retrieving bonnets and such, Darcy managed a moment alone in the foyer with Elizabeth. "There is something I would give you," he began hurriedly, knowing their privacy would not last.

"More poetry, Mr. Darcy?" she asked in obvious amusement.

"No, but you must know that you are welcome to everything my library has to offer, and I will never resent your adding anything to it." He shook his head, realizing she had diverted him from his task. "No, I wish to give you this."

He pulled the small box from his pocket and handed it to her. "This was my mother's. I want you to have it, if you like it." He'd retrieved it from the bank vault that morning, after leaving his aunt's. Many of the Darcy jewels would need to be retrieved, as Mrs. Darcy would find use for them.

She gasped at the sight of two pearls in an offset band, with sapphires trailing around the ring. When he considered what to give his bride, he immediately settled on this piece. The white and blue reminded him of his first glimpse of her by the sea, but there was more to it than that. "Do you like it?" he asked, feeling suddenly nervous.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "Are - are you sure you want me to have it?"

"You will have this and much more, Elizabeth," he replied with a small smile. "But I would like you to wear this." He took the ring from its box and slid it onto her finger. Her hands were so small compared to his. "I assume that you, like all young ladies, are accomplished in the art of interpreting jewelry."

He said it lightly, but he hoped she understood what he conveyed with the jewels. Sapphires for faithfulness. Pearls for innocence.

When he was brave enough to lift his gaze, he saw tears forming in her eyes. It might be the only time he was ever glad to see her start to cry, for he knew then that she understood.

Others were coming, so he pressed his handkerchief into her hand and stepped back. It was not until much later that he realized she had taken his handkerchief as well as the ring, and what might have once seemed an insupportable presumption now only made him laugh.

At dinner the next day, Elizabeth was seated next to Darcy's uncle. The earl of Matlock could not claim to be as amiable as his wife or his son, but he did show her much courtesy over the course of the meal. They began by talking of her education, and while he was a little taken aback by its informality, he could find no fault with her mind. His wife had told him to expect a clever girl, but he had not anticipated such a ready wit.

He was still worried that this girl had somehow inveigled his nephew into a compromising situation. It was simply unlike Darcy to be so careless. Though a gentleman's daughter, Elizabeth Bennet was essentially penniless, without a connection to her name. Neither beauty nor accomplishment marked her; only her uncommon intelligence set her apart. Darcy probably would choose cleverness before connection if given an ultimatum, but if not for Ramsgate, he could have found a lady who had both.

He noticed with some consternation that his elder son gave most of his attention to the elder sister. Jane Bennet was undeniably beautiful, and Andrew liked pretty girls. The attention probably was not serious, but Lord Matlock disliked the impression his son was giving to a girl whose only claim would be her sister Mrs. Darcy.

Darcy lingered after the guests had left, and Lord Matlock poured them both something stronger than port. "She may be quicker than you, Darcy," he said to his nephew.

To his surprise, Darcy laughed, something Lord Matlock hadn't heard since his brother Darcy's passing. The boy had never been sociable, but he'd always been happy before his father died. Anne's death three years ago had been a blow, but he'd had his studies and his sister to keep his mind occupied. After he inherited Pemberley and found himself responsible for Georgiana, he had become distant, even with the family. If society had seen him this last year, he would have been labeled cold.

There was warmth in his laughter now. Matlock had observed playfulness in his nephew's manner towards Miss Elizabeth at times during the evening, and he began to wonder what exactly had transpired between them before Wickham's unfortunate incursion on their lives. It seemed impossible that Darcy should have formed an attachment in so short a time, but absent that possibility, the earl was left puzzled.

Darcy went home a little while later, taking Andrew with him, and Matlock searched out his wife. He found Alice in her sitting room, writing a letter, but she looked up when he entered. "James?"

"You were right about Miss Elizabeth," he said, coming to sit beside her desk. "She is remarkably clever."

"Yes, equal to Darcy in that," Alice replied. "In other respects she is his opposite, but that will help him, I think."

"Do you think we have a full understanding of what passed between them at Ramsgate?" James asked. "He is so at ease with her, so eager to please her. I would not have thought their acquaintance so brief based on what I observed tonight."

"From what he and Georgiana have told me, it sounds as though he was drawn to her from the very beginning of their acquaintance. The service she rendered in rescuing my niece would gain his gratitude, of course, but she is so unusual a young lady that I do not think he could help being intrigued." She watched her husband closely. "You do not think her a fortune hunter, do you?"

"No, I will trust your judgment on her character; you have spoken with her more intimately than I. But others will think so."

She could not deny that, but it was hardly an unusual accusation in town. "People thought I was a fortune hunter, my dear."

"As I recall, you were," he teased, and was treated to a look of mock outrage. "Protest all you like, madam, but you were singularly fixed upon my friend Blakeley until you quite literally fell into my arms at Lady Franklin's ball. Nearly ruined my friendship with his Grace in the process."

"Well," said she, feigning thoughtfulness, "given how rapidly his hair retreated and his girth expanded, I believe I made the better choice."

"It did not hurt to learn how much I was actually worth, did it?"

"Of course not. You were far wealthier than his Grace."

She held a serious expression only for a moment; then she burst into laughter. James joined her, before silencing her with a kiss. "You are truly not worried about Darcy, my love?"

"Indeed I am not," Alice replied, touching his face. "I think they will find happiness with each other soon enough; as I have with you."

Such a tender statement could not be met with any but the most passionate response, and Lady Matlock's letter was quite forgot.

The next day, Alice went shopping with the Miss Bennets and their aunt, so James went across the square to see his nephew. He was becoming reconciled to the match as something more than what had necessitated it, but they still had business to do. "I could, if you like, look over the marriage settlement," he offered, when they sat down together in Darcy's study. "I have some recent experience, what with Rachel's marriage last winter."

"I thank you, but the papers are signed," Darcy replied. "Besides, I should think that your experience with Cousin Rachel's marriage would have made you more useful to Mr. Bennet than myself."

Quite suddenly it occurred to Matlock that he was not seeing Miss Elizabeth's influence on his nephew, but his sister Anne's. Anne, as a young lady, had loved a good debate and had always been quick to point out the absurdities around her. Age and marriage had softened her a little; Fitzwilliam could not remember his mother that way, though he did know her as a lively conversationalist and an excellent wit. Anne had always been proud of her boy, and spent many hours giving him riddles and such to expand his mind beyond what his lessons provided. When he debated at Cambridge, it was Anne and not George who was excessively pleased. Matlock had forgot that. Darcy was in temper so much like his father that it was easy to miss those whispers of Anne.

Darcy had not found a copy of his mother, but perhaps he had found echoes of her.

Thoughts of one sister naturally led Matlock to the other. "Have you thought much of what you will tell your other aunt?"

Darcy gave him a pointed look. "You normally handle unpleasant communications with Lady Catherine."

"Darcy."

The younger man sighed. "No, I do not know. I know I ought to tell her before the announcement is in the papers; it would be rude not to. But I cannot say I am eager to tell her when I am only half a day away from her wrath."

Matlock felt a twinge of guilt at the way the boy worded his concern. Catherine would indeed be furious, but he wanted to soften Darcy's feeling. "She will eventually accept that you were not going to submit your will to hers, simply out of love for your mother."

"Cousin Anne and I would never suit," Darcy replied, with the air of a man who had given the matter some thought. "I would have sooner married Rachel, and that was equally impossible." He seemed to remember to whom he was speaking, and his color rose. "Forgive me, Uncle, I meant nothing against Rachel. You know I love her dearly."

"Indeed, as much and in like manner as her brothers," Matlock agreed. "I should not have permitted it if you asked. No, Rachel is better off with John."

"And I am glad to have Beckett as my cousin as well as my old friend." Darcy turned curious. "How is Rachel? I should like to call on her, perhaps introduce Elizabeth to her, before we leave town."

"John sent me a note this morning to say she is improving. I would inquire before calling on them, but I am sure Rachel will be glad for a visit." Matlock said nothing more, not knowing if Beckett had shared the truth with his friend. Rachel carried a child now, and for a month she had been far too ill in the mornings to think about the long journey back to Derbyshire. John was hoping that in another week they would be able to leave London, for he was due back with his regiment in the north before the end of the month, and did not like to leave his wife in town. They would be separated enough without him abandoning her during this illness.

"I will," Darcy replied, "though I suppose that does not help us with Aunt Catherine."

"No, but she will live, no matter what we do."

Chapter Three

Posted on 2013-08-15

On the morning of the Bennets' departure from London, Darcy went to Gracechurch Street alone to see them off. When they were gone, the Gardiners invited him in for breakfast with the family, and he agreed, feeling strange that he would not have Elizabeth's company.

He and his relations would follow the Bennets into Hertfordshire in a week's time, for Darcy still had business to conclude before bringing Elizabeth to her new home. They would come to London for a few days, and then travel north, to Pemberley. Darcy was giving some thought to a proper wedding trip, but after all that had happened, he did not think Lizzy would appreciate Weymouth or Brighton or Bath.

The little ones were up and at the table when Darcy came inside with their parents. They had grown accustomed to his presence in the last month, and after smiling at him, they both turned back to their breakfast as though there was nothing unusual in having him there too. Mrs. Gardiner gave him a small smile. "I hope you do not mind our informality."

"Not at all," he replied. "My sister is more than ten years my junior. I was very often her playmate when I was home from school."

"That must explain why Hannah likes you so well," Mr. Gardiner said. "Even Lizzy has difficulty getting more than three words out of her, but five minutes with you and she was letting you hold her favorite doll for her."

Darcy smiled with his friends, remembering Georgiana at that age, and thinking of the future. It might not be long before he had children of his own. The thought was daunting, even though he had always wished for a larger family himself.

Mr. Gardiner had to see to business before long, and after his departure, Mrs. Gardiner entrusted the girls to the care of their nurse for a little while. "Mr. Darcy, is there anything you would like to talk about?" she asked him, just as he was thinking he ought to leave.

There were many questions he had wanted to ask, but he was not sure he ought to. "That is kind of you, madam, but..."

She gave him a small smile. "Come and sit with me, Mr. Darcy. We will be family soon, and I know you must have questions."

He went with her into the next room and sat across from her, in front of the empty fire grate. After several minutes of awkward silence, he blurted out the most elemental question on his mind. "How does she fare, truly?"

"It is not in Lizzy's nature to despair," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "But in truth, this has affected her far more deeply than I think she would admit. She will recover soon enough, but you must be patient with her. Despite my sister Bennet's hopes of having her daughters married as soon as possible, I do not think Lizzy was thinking of matrimony as a near thing."

Darcy had not been thinking of marriage as imminent either, so there he could sympathize. "I wish I had done something different that night, Mrs. Gardiner," he said, through the tightness of his throat. "That she had not been put through this."

The lady smiled, not unkindly. "You will make a pretty pair, sir. She wanted to blame herself for your predicament."

He shook his head. "She did nothing wrong."

"I know, and she does too. But you understand what I mean, do you not? She smiles and laughs, but she feels acutely that she was wronged, and that you were caught up in all this when you deserved it no more than she."

Darcy nodded slowly, beginning to understand. "That night, when everything was settled," he said, choosing his words with some care, "she did not know that the rumors were about me."

"That, I fear, you must blame on Mr. Gardiner and myself," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "Lizzy never asked; she assumed that the rumors reflected the truth. My husband and I each assumed that the other had told her what was happening. We have both bitterly regretted that she was left in such misery for two days, thinking she would have no choice but to marry the villain who imposed on her."

A horrifying thought arose at her choice of words, and Darcy lifted his head to look at her. "Ma'am, should I know anything..."

Mrs. Gardiner looked conflicted. "I am not certain I am at liberty, sir."

"I will be her husband," he replied. "I will marry her regardless, but I think I need to know."

After a moment, she nodded. "Bear in mind, she did not tell me much detail. She was walking alone in the garden; Wickham caught sight of her there. She tried to return to the assembly before he caught up to her, but she did not move quickly enough. He restrained her by the shoulders, tried to touch her and kiss her, but she was able to escape him before any lasting harm could be done."

Darcy let out the breath he had been holding. "It was very good of you, sir, to agree to this marriage when you did not know this for certain," Mrs. Gardiner said. "Would you have asked her what Wickham had done?"

"I hardly know," he admitted. "To own the truth, I had not believed that he - that he violated her. But I had nothing but a few words from her and my own observation to base that upon. I - I am glad to know she escaped before he could... Forgive me. I hardly know what I speak. I am relieved to know her - her virtue, her innocence, were not taken from her."

With a piercing look, Mrs. Gardiner asked, "For her sake or yours?"

Darcy rose, walking over to look out the window. "For hers, because no woman deserves to be taken against her will," he said, but in honesty added, "and mine, because I would not know how to approach her as my wife, after that. I hardly know, even now."

Mrs. Gardiner offered him no empty assurances, no platitudes that he would know what to do. "Remember what she was before that night, sir," she said. "I do not think she has been altered forever by the experience. Give her time. She was your friend before; she will be your friend again."

"Time," he repeated, clasping his hands behind his back. "Two months ago my cousin was telling me to take Georgiana to Ramsgate, that it would do us both good. Now in two weeks, I shall be married."

Mrs. Gardiner came across the room then to look out at the busy street below. "Patience, then," she amended. "The one thing I envy my Quaker neighbors."

At that Darcy had to laugh, and felt for the first time that he truly understood the worth of this woman. She had relieved doubts he had not even come to articulate, and done so with grace. It was no wonder that Elizabeth loved this house so, and he felt certain that, with time, he would come to love it as well.

In London, Lizzy had too much occupation to spend all her time thinking about what she had got herself into. Though she had been in town to settle matters for her wedding and her married life, there she could try to forget what had happened and what was to come. Home would afford her no such luxury.

Darcy was to stay in town for another week after the Bennets returned to Longbourn. He and Lord Matlock had made remarks about needing to plan something about a dragon, but when Lizzy asked about it, Darcy told her it was nothing. She was fairly certain that Darcy bore no resemblance to St. George and that there were no dragons in Kent, but neither did it sound like something of no consequence.

She was, if she was honest, a little grateful that the Darcys would not come for a few more days. Mrs. Bennet's reaction to Lizzy was exactly what she would have expected, and she had known about the engagement for more than a week at that point. For an entire morning Lizzy heard nothing but "Mrs. Darcy!" and "What jewels, what carriages!" and "My dear, clever Lizzy!" Lizzy had never been dear in her mother's eyes, not like Lydia and Jane, and something in her resented the attention rather than appreciating it.

Mary, who had recently discovered a copy of Fordyce in their father's library, offered rather somber congratulations to her sister. Kitty wanted to hear everything, to know if being engaged was as romantic as she hoped. There Lizzy could at least show her the ring and tell her how it had been Darcy's mother's. Lydia, who was after all only twelve and still inclined to think of boys as the nasty creatures who pulled her hair in church, cared only that she would have a new dress to wear to Lizzy's wedding.

Jane, on the other hand, was conflicted. In London, their aunt had advised her to give her sister a little time to come to terms with events before questioning her. She had heard a very brief summary of events, but she was more than a little concerned about Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. Lizzy had written long letters from Ramsgate but rarely mentioned Mr. Darcy except in passing. Jane had been surprised when she joined the Gardiners in London and learned from them how much time they had spent with the Darcys. She very strongly suspected that Lizzy had developed tender feelings for the young man before the assembly, and perhaps was struggling with how to act, now that they were in an engagement of necessity.

The night before Darcy was to arrive at Longbourn, Jane came to Lizzy's bedchamber before getting ready for bed herself. She found her sister sitting on her bed, already in her nightclothes, holding a handsomely bound book. Lizzy had worried Jane in London. She had tried to appear cheerful about the enormous change coming to her life, but Jane knew her too well to miss the forced quality to her laughter, and how she looked forlorn when she thought no one was watching.

Lizzy looked up and offered a tired smile when Jane opened the door. "Does Mamma need me?"

"No, Lizzy, I wanted to speak to you." She sat beside her sister and indicated the book, which she had seen in Lizzy's hands in London. "Did you purchase that in Ramsgate?"

"Yes, but-" Lizzy stopped short, blushing. "I did not purchase it."

She opened the front cover and handed it to Jane. There Jane saw the inscription. "He gave it to me the day after we met," Lizzy explained. "My uncle gave him permission, as it was to thank me after what happened with Georgiana. I have never read a book and not told Papa about it, but what if he wishes to read it? I cannot have him know that I accepted a gift from a gentleman, especially after so little acquaintance."

It was not entirely proper, Jane knew, but Mr. Darcy had obtained permission. Lizzy could not be blamed for accepting the gift. But more unsettling was her apparent fear of their father finding out. "Lizzy, surely you do not think our father blames you for this."

"Of course he must, Jane," Lizzy replied, her eyes full of tears. "He has not spoken ten words together to me since we came home."

"Do you not think he may simply be sad to be losing you so soon?" Jane asked. "And perhaps he wishes to avoid Mamma's talk of wedding plans."

Lizzy laughed a little and leaned against Jane. "Perhaps. But Jane, I feel so awkward talking to him now. He never used to look so severe before."

Jane could not think of words to comfort, so she set her arm around her sister's shoulders instead. Lizzy dried her tears with a handkerchief that looked suspiciously masculine. Jane asked no questions.

Lizzy was calmer when Jane left; it was Jane who was, uncharacteristically, agitated. Instead of retiring as she had planned, she went back down the stairs to her father's library, where he was still perusing a text. He looked up from it in some surprise. "Jane," he said, "to what do I owe the honor?"

"I was just with Lizzy," she explained, clasping her hands to keep from fidgeting. She did not think this would be an easy conversation for either of them. "She thinks you blame her, Papa."

Mr. Bennet slowly closed his book, took off his glasses, and turned to face Jane fully. "She thinks I blame her?"

"You have hardly spoken to her since we came home, sir."

There was a long and terrible silence. "Perhaps she deserves some of the blame," her father said at length. "I have humored her in her solitary rambles here, but to step outside, unaccompanied, near so large a crowd of strangers - I did not think her so silly as that."

Jane was not made for this kind of confrontation, least of all with her father, but for her beloved sister she would attempt anything, risk any mortification. "Forgive me, Papa, but that is not kind," she said. "You might as well blame Mr. Darcy for not revealing his suspicions of Mr. Wickham's proclivities, or Uncle Gardiner for taking her to the assembly at all, or even me, for asking Lizzy to go to Ramsgate in my place."

"And where do you place the blame, daughter?" Mr. Bennet asked tersely.

"With the man who would have done her harm. Who else could deserve it?"

Her father's expression turned dark. "I am not convinced Mr. Darcy did not play some part in it."

Jane shook her head. "A man of his consequence could have earned Lizzy's affection and your approval. He had no reason to behave so dishonorably."

"I am not sure how often reason plays into such an event, Jane, but your point is well taken. Besides, if he did mean to gain her by some wicked plot, perhaps he would not have been so generous in the settlement papers. Your mother will have little to worry about once I am gone."

Jane did not know what to say to that, and after a few awkward moments, she moved towards the door. Her father stopped her. "Do you not have more remarks to make about my relations with my children?"

Lizzy would have heard the reproof for what it was, but Jane, artless Jane, only heard sincerity because she would never be less than sincere in a conversation like this. "Lydia is just as clever as Lizzy, Papa, but she lacks discipline."

At her father's startled look, Jane realized her mistake. "Oh, Papa! I did not-"

"Run along, Jane," her father said, taking up his book again. "I will consider what you have had to say."

Had her cause for interference been anything else, Jane would have escaped her father's library in shame. For Lizzy she would bear much more, but she did hope such a task would not be necessary for at least another ten years.

Over breakfast the next morning, Mr. Bennet exerted himself to speak with Lizzy. The latter was startled by this development; she might have suspected Jane if she were capable of suspecting Jane of anything. She was deeply grateful, however, and Jane was as well.

The rest of her morning did not pass as pleasantly. Mrs. Bennet was approaching hysterics over the arrival of their guests and the wedding only a week away. She blamed Lizzy for staying so long in London, for not insisting on a longer engagement, for having no compassion for her mother's nerves. Lizzy had to escape, and for the first time since Ramsgate, she went outside alone.

She stayed near the house, among the roses. It was there that Mr. Darcy found her an hour or two later, reading the book he had given her. For a moment he was struck all over again by the sight of her. Inside the house had been all chaos, too much for a man who spent so much of his time alone. He had been grateful to Jane when she offered to show him out to the garden, where Lizzy had retreated.

Her bonnet lay forgot at her feet, and the gentle breeze wafted her curls about her face as she read. She was frowning slightly, concentrating hard on the text before her. Darcy was loath to interrupt her, but her posture shifted with some awareness, and she looked up. She smiled to see him watching her, and she rose to greet him when he approached.

"Forgive me," she said. "I should have been in the house to welcome you."

"Do not be uneasy," he replied. "It is good to see you again."

"I am glad to see you arrived safely." She sat down again when he gestured to the bench, and he joined her. "Is Georgiana not with you?"

"She and your sister Catherine appear to have made instant friends. I am glad of it. She does not know enough girls her age." Elizabeth said nothing else, and Darcy found himself in the unusual position of having to forward a conversation with her. Her spirits were subdued, and he was anxious to know the cause. Eventually he thought to ask her about Hertfordshire, and there she opened up again, becoming more like the Elizabeth he remembered from Ramsgate.

Jane was not far away, providing them privacy and propriety at once, but when Darcy expressed an interest in a little wilderness not far from the formal garden, she did not follow them. He and Elizabeth had not often been alone like this. In Ramsgate, her aunt and uncle allowed them some latitude but were rarely out of earshot; in London, her father had hovered. It was as it ought to be, but he was glad to have this little freedom now. The rest of the week would surely be too busy, and he would not be alone with her again until they were married.

Perhaps that explained the silence they had lapsed into. Darcy would never regret doing his duty, as he firmly believed this marriage was, but he worried about his friend. She was barely seventeen; women twice her age had faltered with all the responsibility she was about to take on. He had come into his inheritance only a year ago, at such an early age that he had felt himself quite inadequate to the task.

He was worried about more than that, of course. For the last year Aunt Catherine had been making increasingly blunt remarks about his cousin Anne. Darcy liked his cousin, remembering pleasant visits to Rosings before the death of Sir Lewis and the decline in Anne's health, but he knew he could not feel for her what a man ought to feel for his wife.

But could he feel that for Elizabeth? She was pretty and lively and clever, and he liked her exceedingly well. His parents' marriage, however, had taught him the value of love between a husband and wife, and his independence meant he need not choose between his head and his heart. Or it had before Ramsgate. He had told himself once to put her out of his mind, but it had proved impossible. He could not name the feeling in his heart, but he knew, at least, that it was not easily conquered.

Sunlight filtered through thick foliage as they walked among the trees, and as Elizabeth stood with the sun on her face, Darcy imagined her at Pemberley, walking in the groves and shaded paths which his mother had taught him to love. Elizabeth would need no such tutelage. "Are you quite certain, Mr. Darcy, that Pemberley must be so far away?" she asked, though the hint of sadness in her smile belied her teasing.

"When you see it, I believe you will understand why Pemberley could never be anywhere else," he replied, trying for her sake to keep his tone light. "You may well love Derbyshire and its wildness as much as you have ever loved this county."

Her smile turned curious. "I have some difficulty imagining you of all people at home among the wilds."

"The house itself is not so run down as I believe you are imagining."

"Then it is a little run down?"

Darcy laughed. "Never let the housekeeper know you have said such a thing, even in jest!"

She laughed with him, and finally they were both at ease. He remembered the book she had left behind in the garden, and something suddenly occurred to him. "Elizabeth, would you like to visit the Lakes?"

She blinked several times. "Now?"

She was incorrigible. "When we are married."

"Oh." She blushed at his last word. "Yes, I - I would like that very much."

With a pleased smile, he took her hand and kissed it. Afterward he ought to have stepped away, or even suggested that they return to the house, but in the glow of the sunlight he could not resist her. She watched him with wide eyes as he touched her cheek, and when he leaned towards her, she nodded and closed her eyes.

Her lips were soft against his, soft and yielding. For the first time he experienced something like timidity from her, and the thought made him smile even as he lingered. It was likely to be the only time he would have to coax her into anything, and even that did not take long. Soon her hands were holding fast to the lapels of his coat while he gathered her into his embrace. She was everything he wanted, and it was only with the greatest of efforts that he tore himself away.

When their eyes met, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, possibly never to stop. He exerted himself once more to do the proper thing, to offer his arm and escort her back to the house. They spoke not along the way. It was just as well, for Darcy felt his heart would not allow him to speak eloquently all that was in him to say.

Lizzy, for her part, was too shy, too overwhelmed by his tenderness to speak. But whatever enjoyment she took from the kiss was quickly forgot. First her mother scolded her for having stayed outside so long; then Mrs. Bennet simpered and sighed at Darcy, who seemed to close in on himself with every attempt at conversation. Even Georgiana seemed to shrink from him. The cold Mr. Darcy had returned, and it pained Elizabeth more than she could express.

"And that will throw her sisters into the paths of other rich men!" Mrs. Bennet finished with great energy, after a speech of some minutes. It seemed to be the last straw, for he rose from his seat and stalked over to the window without a word.

"Mamma," Elizabeth said, in desperate embarrassment, "Mamma, I think you are making Mr. Darcy uncomfortable."

"Why should he be uncomfortable, Lizzy?" Mrs. Bennet asked. "Why should a young man of fortune be uncomfortable about his family's prospects?"

"Mamma, please, we do not have to speak of this so openly," she pleaded. "I am hardly marrying Mr. Darcy for his money."

Whatever else Mrs. Bennet had to say on the subject was thankfully lost. Jane came in, shortly followed by the housekeeper announcing Lady Lucas and Charlotte. Jane seemed to understand Lizzy's distress and helped her keep the conversation entirely focused on the wedding.

After the callers were gone, it was time for the Darcys to depart as well. Mrs. Bennet would have liked nothing better than to host them and their noble relations at Longbourn, but even she had to admit that there was not room. Fortunately an old schoolfellow of Lord Mallory's had leased Weston Manor, some five or six miles from Meryton. Mallory's friend had spent less than a month there that summer, and he was happy to let the Fitzwilliams and Darcys occupy it for the time.

Mrs. Bennet tried and tried to get Mr. Darcy to stay for dinner, each refusal seeming to make her all the more obstinate. They truly could not stay; they had arranged to meet their aunt and uncle and cousin at Weston. Mrs. Bennet was rather offended when they finally left. "He may be rich, but there was no reason to be so rude! I dare say my table would satisfy him, even if he does have French cooks."

Mortified, Elizabeth kept her head down, pretending to concentrate on the embroidery in her hand. "Mamma," Jane said gently, "you would not have him insult his relations by breaking an engagement. Or worse, surely you would not have them think something had happened to him and dear Georgiana on the road?"

That mollified their mother, but it did not soothe Lizzy's hurt. How could her mother act so in front of the man who had saved her reputation? But Mamma did not know how indebted they were to him. She only saw his wealth and his standing.

Lizzy was beginning to see the wisdom in Lady Matlock's offering herself as a confidante. She was not certain she could avail herself of that yet, but neither could she forever burden Jane with all her frustrations.

Besides, she could always hope that her mother was over her elation and would behave in a somewhat rational manner on the morrow, although she would not hold her breath.

Darcy, on the other hand, had gone from a kind of quiet exhilaration after kissing Elizabeth to a stark fear of what he was getting into. Mrs. Bennet would never be called a wit, and there was something decidedly vulgar about her. How Elizabeth and Jane were her daughters, he could not understand. If the eldest daughters had taken their aunt Gardiner as a model, they had chosen very well.

Pemberley was a long way from Meryton, however. Having lost his parents, Darcy could not in good conscience ask Elizabeth to shun hers, but he did hope that her inclination would not often steer them into Hertfordshire after they were married.

At Weston Manor, he and Georgiana were met by Lord and Lady Matlock and Lord Mallory. Mallory was to stand up with Darcy in the wedding. Darcy would have preferred Richard, but the major was currently on the Peninsula with no notion of returning to England in the near future. It was entirely likely that he had not even yet received the letter Darcy had written to inform him of the engagement.

They had a comfortable, quiet dinner together, and afterward Darcy sat in conversation with his aunt for a long time. Elizabeth had evidently spoken of her mother when she and the countess toured the house in town. Lady Matlock argued that from what she gathered, Mrs. Bennet was not much worse than many of the mothers who descended on London during the Season. "The poor woman has five daughters and an entailed estate," she said. "Your coming must have been a great relief to her."

"But such a want of propriety, Aunt."

"She sounds no worse than Lady Sutherlyn. I will admit that the comments on that lady's beauty are beginning to sound more like pity than praise, but such characters are not unheard of among our set, Darcy." Lady Matlock studied him closely. "Do you fear that you will find your bride suddenly becoming her mother? Elizabeth wants only better society and she will be quite perfect. You told me yourself how clever she is. I do not think you have to worry about her."

Memories of the kiss in the grove surfaced unexpectedly. Mrs. Bennet might have made him entirely uncomfortable, but he had crossed the bounds of propriety in a very different manner.

Part of him still dreaded the next morning, when he would introduce his noble mother's family to Mrs. Bennet. He could imagine the things she would say, trying to impress them or ingratiate herself to them. But as it happened, all his worry was for naught. When they turned onto the drive at Longbourn, another coach was standing in the sweep.

Lord Matlock was the first to recognize the livery. "Catherine," he said through clenched teeth.

They had talked of going into Kent to tell Lady Catherine in person, but ultimately the men had decided against it. She did not read the papers with any regularity, so they had to inform her themselves. In the end, Lord Matlock took it upon himself to write, but did not send the letter until they were leaving town.

Darcy was out of the carriage almost before it had stopped. He knew not what his aunt was hoping to accomplish in Hertfordshire, but he had to find Elizabeth before irrevocable damage could be done.

It was all he could do to keep from breaking down doors. He heard female voices raised in the morning room as the housekeeper escorted him and his family there, although mostly he heard Lady Catherine. They were announced, and in the chaos of their entrance, Elizabeth fled the scene.

Lady Catherine did not seem to care. She redirected her all her anger at Darcy, but he was more than happy to escape as well when his uncle and cousin stepped in. There was no chance Aunt Catherine would see reason whether he was there or not, but he did need to know what she had said to Elizabeth if he was to make this right.

Luckily Jane followed, taking Georgiana above stairs to sit with the younger girls. Darcy saw his sister safely maneuvered out of their aunt's way and caught sight of Elizabeth hurrying out the door into the gardens where he found her the previous day. She was halfway up the ridge behind the house by the time he got outside. "Elizabeth!" he called, but she would not answer.

Darcy stomped through puddles from the previous night's rain. Elizabeth's gown was three inches deep in mud before he caught up to her. He grabbed her arm, but she shook him off violently. "You do not have the right to restrain me, sir, not yet," she said bitterly. "And perhaps not ever." Her face was ashen; he had never seen her look so ill.

"Elizabeth, what do you mean?" he asked. He felt as though he had to shout over the wind. "What did my aunt say to you?"

"You are engaged to your cousin!" she cried. "How could you act the way you have, how could you say you would preserve my honor, while you are engaged to another?"

"If I were engaged to Anne, do you not think Lord and Lady Matlock would have said something by now?" he pressed. "This engagement is entirely of Lady Catherine's invention. Did she tell you it was my mother's dearest wish?" Elizabeth nodded reluctantly. "I was with my mother to the end three years ago. Do you not think she would have mentioned her dearest wish to me then? For I swear to you, she never said a word to me about marrying Anne. If she ever thought of it, it was an idle daydream, nothing more."

Elizabeth whirled around, preferring to stare at a particularly knotted tree. In the silence, something else occurred to Darcy, something which pricked his temper. "You thought I had offered you empty promises," he said. "How could you think so meanly of me? Have I not shown myself to be a man of honor?"

"It would have explained your behavior here yesterday," she whispered.

"My behavior? What are you talking of?" He spun her around by the shoulders, and heartily regretted it in an instant. She stumbled back from him, tears in her eyes, and he remembered what Mrs. Gardiner had told him. George Wickham had grabbed her like that. "Lizzy, I am sorry," he said, trying to keep his voice gentle. "But I do not have the pleasure of understanding you."

She took several deep breaths before speaking. "Mr. Darcy, you - you kissed me yesterday, and then when we came inside..." She wiped her cheeks with her fingers; belatedly Darcy thought to give her his handkerchief, but she refused it. "My mother means well. She is not refined like Lady Matlock or even my aunt Gardiner, but she means no harm. Which is more than I can say for one of your relations."

The last was added in a scathing tone, which set Darcy's temper flaring again. "And what would you have me do? Agree to fund your sisters in town until they can all find husbands as rich as me?"

"I would have you be civil!" she shouted. "She is my mother, and you showed her far less consideration than I have seen you afford beggars in the street!"

An indignant response was on the tip of his tongue, but she began to cry in earnest before he could speak. He reined in his temper, offered his handkerchief again, and counted it as progress when she took it. "So this is your opinion of me," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "I do not know what to make of you, Mr. Darcy. In Ramsgate you seemed to be all friendship, yet you never once introduced us to your friends, nor sought introductions to ours. In London you and your relations welcomed us with open arms, but at Longbourn, you close in on yourself as though you are better than all of us."

She looked miserable. He wanted to comfort her, but he did not want to be shoved away for a third time, and he could not think of anything to say which might mitigate her distress. She swallowed hard and looked at him directly. "Your aunt did say some things that were true."

Darcy resisted the urge to curse. "I rather doubt that."

"An upstart, pretentious nobody, she called me. You gain nothing by marrying me."

"And again, my aunt is incorrect."

"Mr. Darcy-"

"I gain you," he said quietly. He dared not say more. Her expression said more than enough, for she had clearly not considered that she could be of value to him.

Silently he offered his arm, and they walked back to the house. She saw the state of her dress and escaped up the stairs rather than let her mother see her covered in mud. Darcy followed her example and went in search of something with which to clean his boots, hoping the housekeeper would forgive him for tracking mud in.

That night, when they had returned to Weston, Darcy sent Georgiana to bed and joined the others in the drawing room. "I know Aunt Catherine tried to convince Elizabeth of that nonsense about my being engaged to Anne," Darcy said. "What did she say to you?"

"No doubt you can imagine most of it," Mallory said. "More important is what she did not say."

"You must speak plainer than that."

Lady Matlock smiled. "She said nothing of Ramsgate, Darcy. You know if a scandal had reached her ears, she would not have scrupled to use it against Miss Elizabeth."

"We have good reason to believe you are both safe, my boy," the earl added.

Mallory poured a glass for Darcy, and he drank it without being much aware of what it was. They were safe, perhaps, but he thought about Elizabeth's accusations and wondered just how much work lay ahead of him to right his own wrongs.

Darcy arrived ahead of the others the next morning, flowers in hand. Elizabeth smiled when she saw them, but he told her flatly they were not for her. He smiled at her pique, and plucked from the bouquet the solitary red rose among the white. "I believe I can spare this one."

She was still glaring at him, even as she smelled the beautiful flower. There was a greater surprise awaiting her in the sitting room. With a bow, Darcy presented the roses to Mrs. Bennet. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday's events, ma'am," he said, to that lady's astonishment.

He was instantly forgiven. "Oh, you are very good to us, Mr. Darcy!  Lizzy, is he not?"

"You shall never find me in argument there, ma'am," Elizabeth replied. Indeed, she felt the flowers were for her indirectly; she had accused him of treating her mother ill, and this was his response.

Her mother hummed rather doubtfully. "That must be the first time you have said you will never argue.  Not that she is prone to arguing, Mr. Darcy. She is generally a most tractable girl. I am sure you will find her so when you are married."

Elizabeth feared to meet his eyes just then, preferring to stare at her sister Kitty's latest drawing. Mr. Darcy's answer astonished her. "And I am sure, Mrs. Bennet, that if I find her most tractable when we are married, I will have married the wrong lady."

Mrs. Bennet had nothing at all she could say to that; Elizabeth, trying to suppress her laughter, suggested a turn in the garden.

Kitty joined them, and gave Darcy a very thorough interview. To her he described Pemberley: its parks, its river, its herds, its manor. Lizzy could imagine it all very well, though in the back of her mind was the fear that had first struck her in London, that she was not at all ready for this, nor would she ever be. Darcy spoke of Pemberley's housekeeper and how she would sneak treats to him when he was a boy, and Lizzy hoped she would find her as kindly disposed towards herself. She rather suspected that a good housekeeper could bring acclaim or disgrace to the mistress of the estate.

They turned back towards the house when they spied a carriage approaching in the distance; it was likely Georgiana and the Matlocks. Both parties arrived at the front door around the same time, so Darcy stepped forward to help his aunt and his sister from the carriage. Kitty took that moment to take her sister's arm. "Lizzy?" she said. "I like him."

Elizabeth was certainly surprised. "I am glad, Kitty, for he will soon be your brother."

"I wish you were not going so far away."

"I wish so as well, but I will comfort myself in the thought of very frequent visits from you all," she replied.

"This is not what I imagined for a wedding at Longbourn."

"What do you mean?"

"I did always think Mamma would have Jane married first." Both girls laughed at that. "But I do not think you are so very much in love, not the way heroines are."

"You should not be reading so many novels, Kitty. But I must confess, this has not been what I expected either." She dared not tell Kitty of the real circumstances of her engagement, but she could at least help her sister's romanticism find some reality. "He is not without faults, but he is a good man, I believe. Dashing and handsome and charming are well enough for a partner at a ball, but I am not at all convinced they would do for a partner in life."

Just then, Darcy looked over at them, smiling at something his uncle had said. Lizzy returned the smile almost without thought. "Lizzy?" Kitty said again. "Lizzy, I believe he likes you. The way a hero ought to."

"Kitty," Elizabeth chided, though her heart was not much in it. It was hard to deny, not with the memory of the kiss two days ago, but it was equally hard to reconcile with the way he had acted at whiles. Was he only exerting himself to please her?

Their guests approached; Lady Matlock seemed quite happy to greet Elizabeth out of doors. Georgiana immediately attached herself to Kitty, which made the countess smile. "I am pleased to see my niece with female companionship," she said. "You will do her good, of course; she came back from Ramsgate talking of nothing but you. But your younger sisters will be a great help to her."

"Mr. Darcy and I have not talked of it yet, but I hope to invite Kitty to visit us before too long," Elizabeth replied, "though the visit may be more to Georgiana than to me."

"He will not deny you that," Lady Matlock told her. "He understands what it means to lose family." They all turned to enter the house, and Elizabeth found herself arm in arm with the lady as they did so. "I was in quite the same predicament as you, my dear. I was from Sussex, and Matlock was a long way from home. Our separation was not final when I married James, but it was a little like losing them. I no longer had my mother or my sister at hand to ask questions or tell stories to."

"Is the neighborhood around Pemberley very active?" Elizabeth asked. "Mr. Darcy has given quite a thorough description of the estate itself, but says little of his neighbors."

"Of course not!" Lady Matlock said, laughing. "Darcy is reserved; one would almost say shy. He is well-liked in the neighborhood, but I think you will supply him what is wanting. He needs your liveliness. The neighbors are too apt to think of him as George Darcy's son rather than the master in his own right, and he will not trouble himself to correct them."

Elizabeth nodded, but said nothing. Darcy's aunt guessed why she remained silent. "A bride will not be expected to entertain on a grand scale right away, Elizabeth," she said. "The other families will host you over the next few months, and then of course I imagine you will come to town, where you will begin the process again. When the time comes to give the sort of dinners and parties Lady Anne used to, I would be happy to help in any way you desire. Including holding my tongue."

Lizzy smiled. "Thank you, Aunt."

This day held none of the dreadful awkwardness of the day before. Lady Catherine was forgot; only pleasant things remained. The morning passed with the family telling stories about Elizabeth. In the afternoon, Darcy submitted himself to similar treatment at the hands of his relations. Lady Matlock watched this with pleasure. Her nephew was too prone to be serious all the time, yet while he cast several woeful glances in Elizabeth's direction, largely when Mallory was telling particularly exaggerated versions of events, he never attempted to put a stop to it. Elizabeth was clearly enjoying herself, and he would not suspend her pleasure.

Lady Matlock also watched him actually exert himself to acquaint himself with the other Bennets. She was not sure she could ever remember him talking so much to people he had not known for some years. Most of the family he had only known for days, yet there he was, actually attending to what Mrs. Bennet was saying.

Her own son was talking with Elizabeth and Jane. Watching the two sisters laugh and talk together reminded Lady Matlock of her sister, and it gave her an idea. Later she would go to Darcy and ask about their plans for the weeks immediately following the wedding.

"We are for the Lakes," he said. "Does this conflict with something at Matlock? I must say, I am reluctant to cut the time short."

"Of course not. I would not interfere with your wedding trip," Lady Matlock replied. "We are bringing Georgiana to Pemberley after you return there, and I thought I might invite Miss Bennet to join us in Matlock and bring her on to visit her sister once you are settled."

Darcy's pleasure at the idea was instant. "Elizabeth will be very pleased, I am sure. But do you think we could keep this a surprise for her?"

"I cannot imagine why we should not. But tell me, nephew, are you atoning for some sins already?"

She watched in amusement as her nephew grew embarrassed. "What makes you ask?"

"You are eager to please her, Darcy."

"She will be my wife," he said seriously. "I hope I am able to please her."

Privately Lady Matlock thought him sure of success, but did not articulate this; of some things he was better off in doubt.

Chapter Four

Posted on 2013-08-19

Though Mr. Darcy and his family called every day remaining of their visit, Elizabeth did not see much of them, being too busy with wedding preparations. On the day before the wedding, Mr. Bennet, no doubt sick of the commotion in his home, banished all talk of gowns and flowers and especially lace for at least two hours. Jane suggested that they walk out, and soon all the young people were out of doors together. The younger girls stayed near the house with Georgiana's governess; Jane took Lord Mallory's arm when he offered it. They soon lagged behind, giving Elizabeth and Darcy some privacy.

There were many things on Elizabeth's mind as they rambled along, though the conversation was not among them. The nearness of the wedding was not raising doubts so much as resolutions. She knew she was not ready to have her own household, but she would regardless; what use was there in fear? She doubted any young lady was ever ready for marriage and everything it entailed, no matter the circumstances. She had it in her to be happy, however, and always had. In Ramsgate she had enjoyed Darcy's company. Why should she not when they were married? It was true that she did not know him as well as she would like, but that would only come with time.

Their conversation lapsed, and Elizabeth found herself looking over Longbourn with a bittersweet pleasure. She loved her home, and she did not know when she would walk its grounds again. This day had always been waiting for her, she reflected. Marriage would have separated her from her home eventually; that was the way of things. Even if she never married, her father eventually would pass away, and the estate would go to a cousin.

That thought gave her something to say, though the subject was not an easy one. "Mr. Darcy," she said, feeling awkward about the question she was to ask. "Mr. Darcy, you know my family's fortunes."

He frowned. "If you mean the entail, then yes."

"I do," she replied. "Forgive me the presumption, but when my father passes, you will see my mother taken care of, will you not?"

"Of course," he said, bewildered and, if she was not mistaken, a little piqued. "Has your father not shown you the settlement papers?"

"No, sir."

For a few minutes they continued in silence. When Mr. Darcy spoke again, he did so at length. "If none of your sisters have the good fortune to marry men of means, I will assume responsibility for Mrs. Bennet and any unmarried sisters. Otherwise, I will share that responsibility with my brothers-in-law. If my death should precede your father's, there will be money set aside for this purpose. And if your death should precede your mother's, I will still honor this promise."

Elizabeth felt much relief at knowing this. She did not understand his anger on the subject, but she appreciated his generosity. "I thank you, sir."

"It is my responsibility to my wife, Miss Bennet," he said. There was a pause before he offered, "I will tell you the rest, if you like."

"The rest?"

He guided her to a nearby log which obliged them with a place to sit. Jane and Lord Mallory gave them a wide berth, though they remained in sight. He explained the income from Pemberley and his other holdings, how his father had taught him to invest his wealth rather than squander it on idle worldliness. From there he explained the scheme for sons' inheritance, daughters' dowries, for Elizabeth's personal funds, for her care after his death.

From the Gardiners and from his house in town, she had understood that the man she would marry was of great consequence, but until then she had not fully comprehended just how great he was. He had influence over so much, and at such a young age. On the morrow, she would be counted among those who depended on his goodness for their livelihood.

When his explanation was concluded, they sat in silence for some time. Distractedly, Elizabeth watched her elder sister laugh at something Darcy's cousin said. She was clasping her hands together tightly in her lap, and she jumped slightly when Darcy covered them. "I have upset you," he said.

"No," she replied, with a shake of her head. "I am not upset. Overwhelmed, perhaps, by your generosity, but not upset."

"I would not have your gratitude, Miss Bennet. I have had the good fortune of being born into my family, which comes with much responsibility. I am only doing my duty."

Though he spoke of financial matters, his last statement knocked the breath out of her as surely as a physical blow. He was only doing his duty.

This did upset her, but Darcy marked no change in her countenance, no reason for inquiry when she had declared herself well. She expressed a desire to continue walking, but refused his arm when he offered it. Darcy thought back to the question that had prompted their discussion. How had her father not spoken to her about this? How had he left her in suspense of what kind of support she would have, what her family would have? She was only marrying to preserve her reputation. The least Mr. Bennet could have done for his daughter was to assure her that fulfilling her obligation would alleviate a great worry about the rest of the family.

Darcy knew his temper was unyielding, and he knew it was a fault, but from the moment Elizabeth told him that her father had told her nothing, he found himself furious with the man. Mr. Bennet admitted to being lax with his family, but this was beyond anything Darcy could have expected. If this was how Thomas Bennet treated his favorite child, he shuddered to think what neglect the others would find themselves in.

By then they were walking behind Jane and Mallory. Elizabeth turned the subject away from the object of Darcy's anger. "I have rarely seen Jane so pleased with a gentleman's company," she said lowly.

"Indeed? I have been surprised by his attention to her." At Elizabeth's startled look, he quickly, and not very coherently, added, "Lord Mallory's wealth and title have long made him the target of fortune hunters. He does not generally react to young ladies as he has to your sister."

Elizabeth stopped, and Darcy stopped a step ahead and turned to her. "I do not understand, sir."

"Your sister has shown no extraordinary preference," Darcy replied. "I do not see anything in her behavior towards him that is materially different from her behavior to any gentleman of the neighborhood."

"You do not know her well enough to make that judgment, Mr. Darcy," she snapped, her face flushed with anger as he had never seen before, even after Lady Catherine's abominable treatment of her. "Jane would never make such a preference known to the world, and if she did, that would surely earn your scorn."

She was right, but his temper was rising again. "I have not seen any impropriety from your sister, but you must admit she is not-"

Realizing he was wading into treacherous waters, he stopped short. Elizabeth was too clever to miss where he might be going. "Jane is not what?" she demanded. "Not refined enough? Not pretty enough? Or is it her lack of dowry?"

"I did not say any of that, and I would thank you to refrain from speaking for me," he said tersely. "She has not encouraged his attention."

"They do not know each other well at all."

"Neither do we."

"Which should perhaps be a lesson for us all, for I imagine most happy couples do not spend this much time in dispute on the eve of the wedding."

Darcy stared, and then he smiled when he realized the truth of it. "Why do you smile, sir?" Elizabeth asked, her indignation plain.

He shook his head, hardly knowing how to explain himself. "I have no reason to dislike your sister," he said, taking her hand. "Indeed, she reminds me greatly of Mrs. Gardiner, whom I like very well."

She did not respond to the compliment as he would have liked. Instead, she frowned deeply. "We talked once about regret," she said, "but we would not have chosen each other, would we?"

"I cannot say," he admitted. "There were greater expectations for me in marriage. Those expectations still exist for Mal and his brother. That is not to say that I would have felt bound to oblige my family with my choice of wife, but it would have been a weighty consideration."

She gave him a brave smile. "I suppose it is best that Mamma has been too busy with our wedding to notice how much time Jane is spending with Lord Mallory," she said. "Should I warn her ere we go tomorrow that she should not expect her daughter to become a viscountess?"

It took him a moment to realize she was teasing, and he gave a heavy sigh. "Heaven defend me from my wife's wit!" he cried, happy to see her laugh in reply. She squeezed his hand; he lifted hers for a kiss. Somehow he knew that they would clash like this again, and perhaps soon, but he was relieved to have this dispute more or less resolved before they were married. He remembered his aunt's remark about his eagerness to please. It was more or less true.

Despite his request of Lady Matlock, he suddenly felt compelled to share his secret about Jane. "Aunt Matlock asked me a few days ago if she could bring Jane to us along with Georgiana, when we return from the Lakes," he said. "I meant to keep it a secret, but perhaps it is best if you can look forward to it."

She looked delighted. "You would give me Jane's company as a surprise?"

"On second thought, it was not the most plausible idea. She will be at Matlock a few weeks; all your letters would have to be redirected."

Elizabeth burst into laughter again. It was almost the most unladylike Darcy had ever seen her, and he adored the sight. She laid her head on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle the sound. Relieved, he held her while her shoulders shook.

A few moments later, Jane came running up to them, Lord Mallory in tow. "Lizzy!" she cried. "Lizzy, what is the matter?"

Elizabeth looked at her; she did indeed have tears streaming down her face, but at the sight of Jane's concern, she began to giggle once more.

Lizzy would have liked to spend the rest of the day in quiet contemplation, but she was not foolish enough to expect the opportunity. No, the rest of her last day as Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn was spent with her mother, her aunt Gardiner, Lady Matlock, and her sisters. There was too much work for reflection, and until Darcy's family were gone, she did not consider the one conversation her mother had not yet insisted upon having.

She had every intention of retiring early that night, but her mother came in to give her all the instruction she could manage on how to be a good wife. Much of it was mortifying to poor Elizabeth, but Aunt Gardiner took pity on her and interrupted. With Mrs. Bennet out of the way, Mrs. Gardiner either softened or contradicted much of the other lady's advice. Even that was often rather more embarrassing than not, and it was not until the eve of Jane's wedding that she spoke of that night to anyone.

In the morning, she woke early, desperately wishing she could go for a walk, but knowing her mother would be in hysterics if she were not in the house. She would have to wait, perhaps until she was at Pemberley. On this morning, there was something exhilarating in the thought, when before it had disquieted her. Perhaps she had accepted her fate at last. She would have to learn to be mistress of a great estate; she might as well take what joy she could find in it.

Jane was up early too, and together the sisters dressed for the day. Mrs. Bennet came with the maid, but fortunately by that point the girls were mostly ready. Lizzy let her mother fuss with her hair; it was too late for further alteration to her dress. "Well, Lizzy," her mother said at last, "you may never be as beautiful as Jane, but you are very pretty today."

"Mamma!" Jane exclaimed.

But Mrs. Bennet did not hear. She was in raptures over having a daughter married, or very near it. She and the maid soon departed, and Jane turned to her sister in embarrassment. "Lizzy, I am sure Mr. Darcy will find you as lovely today as ever."

Elizabeth blushed at the thought. "Jane, you know..."

"Oh, Lizzy, I know why you are marrying him, but he is a good man."

It was not long before the whole family were ready and it was time to depart. Mrs. Bennet, trailed by her three youngest daughters, sailed forth into the church with a handkerchief at the ready, but Mr. Bennet tarried at the door with the two eldest. "Papa?" Elizabeth asked, concerned by his hesitation.

"I will be ready in a moment, Elizabeth," he said.

She frowned. "Papa, I would not have you worry about me."

"I fear I cannot help it."

"Father," Jane said quietly, "we will be late."

"Yes, yes," he said, regaining some of his usual air. "Lizzy?"

"I am ready, Papa."

"Then I shall try to be ready as well."

Inside the church, Darcy waited impatiently with Mallory at his side. "You should try to look less severe, Darcy," his cousin muttered. "Otherwise the good people of Meryton might believe you are being forced into this."

Darcy shrugged his shoulders and tried to relax. From the front pew, Georgiana gave him an uncertain smile. In the last week he had not spent much time with her, and it would be fully a month before he saw her again. The Bennets were not there yet, so he stepped away from Mallory to half-kneel before his sister. "Are you all right, Georgiana?"

"Of course!" Her smile brightened a little. "Are you?"

Affectionately, he kissed her forehead. "I am."

"I am glad we will have Lizzy with us, Fitzwilliam."

"As am I."

There was a commotion towards the back of the church, and Darcy stood up just before Mrs. Bennet and the girls came inside. He brushed off his knee as subtly as he could. Then the bride entered with her father and her bridesmaid, and Darcy had to smile. Her dress was finer than any he had seen her wear before, but it was white, trimmed in deep blue, like the first glimpse of her he ever had.

"Much better, Darcy," Mallory whispered, but this time Darcy barely heard, and he certainly did not attend.

His bride looked nervous, but when their eyes met, she gave him a shy smile. For a moment he imagined that this had not been a matter of honor, that they both came to this marriage by choice. He realized then, as Mr. Bennet gave him Elizabeth's hand, that he could not imagine marrying any other lady. Even while he argued with her, he loved her.

It was a shocking realization to have in the middle of one's wedding; his relations thought he looked positively distracted during the ceremony. Elizabeth did not notice, conscious though she was about the way he looked at her. But when he repeated the familiar words, the vow struck him to the core. This, he realized, would be his life's work, to love, comfort, honor, and keep her, whatever lay before them.

And so in the span of a few minutes and a few words, they were joined before man and God. Elizabeth Bennet became Elizabeth Darcy; Fitzwilliam Darcy bestowed on her all his possessions, including himself. Mrs. Bennet cried, Jane cried, Georgiana cried, and from there Darcy lost count.

At the wedding breakfast, his bride was all smiles and laughter. His own spirits were as high as he could remember, and he was more relaxed among the guests than he had ever been. He had done his duty, and he had every reason for happiness.

Elizabeth did blush when he suggested it was time to leave, but she and Jane were quick to prepare her. The trunks were only just loaded when they descended the stairs arm in arm. She had an embrace for all their family, even Mallory and Lord Matlock, and tearful goodbyes with many. With Jane she lingered longest, and then it was time to go.

Darcy would have handed her into the carriage himself, but Mr. Bennet stepped in. Despite all his recent anger at his new father-in-law, Darcy would not deny him the right to place her in the carriage this last time. She bore Darcy's name and thenceforth it would be Darcy's responsibility, but he would honor her father now and give way.

Long before sunset, they arrived in London. The housekeeper, who had met Elizabeth in her previous stay in Gracechurch Street, curtsied and smiled for the new Mrs. Darcy and hoped everything was to her satisfaction. Elizabeth was quick to give assurances, and Darcy thought her rather determined to be pleased.

They each changed from their traveling clothes; Darcy waited to escort her down to the dining room. They were each in a quiet mood by then, conscious of how quick the servants were to leave them alone. In the drawing room, she set about embroidering her new initials on handkerchiefs, while he read to her from Blake.

Eventually Elizabeth told him in halting tones that she was ready to retire. Darcy led her back up the stairs, leaving her at her door and going to his own. His valet took an eternity, yet he knew he could not barge into the mistress's chambers. He waited a full quarter hour after dismissing his valet to knock softly, and another eternity passed before he heard her quiet, "Come in."

She rose from her dressing table as he entered and shut the door behind him. Her color was high, and she seemed imbued with some restless energy. She could not still her hands, and Darcy could well sympathize.

He was her husband, and perfectly entitled to be alone with her in her dressing room. Yet it felt awkward and improper to see her clad in her nightclothes and dressing gown, with her hair loosely plaited. Still, he reached up to caress her cheek, pleased when she did not shrink from his touch. "Elizabeth," he asked, "may I kiss you?"

She nodded, and he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. Some vestige of his habitual reserve kept his hands from wandering, but he marveled at the difference between that day in Longbourn's wilderness and now. Had it only been a matter of days since he first felt this desire for her? And now they were alone, not to be interrupted, not to be prevented from anything.

Elizabeth broke off the kiss, trembling, but she stayed near. When he pulled her into his arms, she rested her head on his shoulder and whispered, "Courage."

Darcy was quite sure he was not meant to hear that. It startled him a little, and it made him think that perhaps his wife had not been truly as receptive to him just now as she had seemed. "Lizzy, are you sure you are ready for this?"

It took her a long time to answer. "No," she said in a small voice. "But I am your wife now, and perhaps as ready as I will ever be."

"Lizzy," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Lizzy, I will never force you to do anything you are not comfortable with. Yes, you are my wife, but if you are not ready, I cannot demand this of you."

"I understand the vows we made today."

With my body, I thee worship, he remembered. How she blushed as he uttered those words.

He thought back to that awful night in Ramsgate. Mrs. Gardiner had told him that physically, Elizabeth was unharmed; she came to him as innocent as she had come into the world. But her aunt was more correct than Darcy had yet realized. The attack on her had left no physical scars, but that did not mean she was not hurt.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, and stepped back. "Lizzy, come to me when you are ready. Let us take a little time to know each other better."

For fully a minute, she stared at him, disbelieving. "But what if I am never ready?"

"You stepped in front of runaway horses once to save a stranger," he reminded her. "I have no doubt you will find your courage."

It would be a long night for him, knowing she was in the next room, and that he had every right to go to her, but he would keep his promise to her. He would wait, as long as it took.

Lizzy woke in a strange bed, in a strange house, in strange clothes, and in a strange situation. She was married now, the wife of Mr. Darcy, yet he had not acted upon his rights as her husband. It reminded her of that evening in Ramsgate when he asked her to marry him, even though it was already arranged. He wanted her comfort, and it was humbling.

It was also terribly confusing. Darcy was clear in his motives. Everything about him spoke of duty. Elizabeth knew very well that the marriage bed was part of her duty now, so why would he hold back? She was not unappreciative, but it reminded her of how little they actually knew each other.

She rang for her maid - another curiosity, having a maid of her own - and dressed. The maid, Susan, was quiet as she attended her new mistress, which Elizabeth was grateful for. She could not have borne curiosity this morning, when nothing had happened the night before.

Below, she found Mr. Darcy at the breakfast table, reading the paper. He rose immediately upon her entrance, holding his hand out to her. Unsure of what he wanted, she placed her hand in his, only to find herself drawn closer. He kissed her cheek and smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. Darcy," he said, and she blushed at her new name. "Did you sleep well?"

"I thank you, yes," she said in some distraction. "Yesterday was exhausting, though; I imagine I could have slept well in a carriage on that awful road out of Ramsgate."

He laughed and invited her to join him for breakfast. Elizabeth did so gladly, aware that she had not extended him the courtesy of asking after his comfort, but she could not bring herself to ask about anything that followed his departure from her rooms the previous night.

Unsure of what she would do with her time, she asked him about his plans for the day. He had letters of business to write, especially to his steward in Derbyshire, for he did not want to spend much time during their tour of the Lakes dealing with mundane matters. Elizabeth seized on this line of conversation, and it was not long before Darcy had taken her to his study, where he showed her ledgers and the journal he kept as a record of the estate. They were thus engaged until the housekeeper knocked and reminded Mrs. Darcy that they were to meet about the workings of the house.

Thus passed two full days. Elizabeth had written a note to Longbourn when they arrived in London, but she had promised a longer letter to Jane. It was difficult to know how much to share, and she wrote the letter in fits and starts. The afternoon of their second day in town, Elizabeth went to her letter and found her pen in need of mending. She could not find her penknife anywhere, so she went to her husband's study in search of one.

Darcy was not inside his study, so Elizabeth slipped in, intent on being quick. She was distracted, however, by the book evidently set aside in haste by her husband. It was a small volume of religious poetry. Surprised by his choice, she picked it up to investigate.

The poem marked was unusual enough that she leafed through a few more pages. The book fell open as to a well-loved passage, and she began to read it as well. The imagery of it startled her, but no more than when Mr. Darcy suddenly returned. "Elizabeth?" he said. "Is something wrong?"

She was blushing furiously as she snapped the book closed. "I needed to mend a pen," she managed. "I could not find my penknife, so I came here. Then I was... curious."

He came up to the desk and took both book and pen from her. "I think I know which sonnet you found," he said idly, mending the pen himself.

"Forgive me, sir, I did not mean-"

"There is nothing to forgive, Elizabeth," he replied with a hint of a smile. "I told you once my library is yours. I did mean it, although it occurs to me that once Georgiana is with us again, I should probably keep volumes like this one away from her."

Feeling far too embarrassed to continue the conversation, Elizabeth turned away from him slightly, facing the desk. He finished with the pen and set it aside, opening the book instead and handing it to her. He had indeed guessed which sonnet she had found. "Mr. Darcy," she protested, but he stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, and began to read, his voice low in her ear.

"Batter my heart, three-person'd God; for you
As yet but knock; breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like a usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me."

Elizabeth bit her lip when he finished. "Do you find this shocking?" Darcy asked in the same low tone.

"Yes," she whispered.

He stepped to her side and turned, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I thought it shocking the first several times I read it. But why do you think it so?"

"To speak of God in such terms..."

"'Signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his church,'" Darcy quoted, words that had been spoken before them only days before. "If the church is the bride and Christ the bridegroom, this metaphor seems almost unavoidable."

Elizabeth still frowned, though his reasoning was firm. "The book fell open to that," she pointed out. "Why have you returned to it so often?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. With some distraction she thought it was the most unguarded she had ever seen him. "What do you make of the last lines?"

She blushed again as she read them. "I hardly know."

It was his turn to frown, as though he expected a better answer from her. "I like order in my life. I do not handle commotion well, which I am sure you have observed." Elizabeth could not help a small smile, to which he let out a sigh. "Yes, you will no doubt tease me for that."

She was starting to understand, however. "Does this poem remind you that you should not try to control everything?"

"In a way. It reminds me that I will never be my own man unless I am first God's servant. Husband and wife give themselves up to each other; in like manner, Christ gave himself up for the church in death. We give ourselves back to him in life." Darcy gently closed the book and pressed her to keep it. "Read this. I think you will appreciate it."

Elizabeth nodded. "Shall I keep the marker where you left it, or do you need more practice at giving up your will to another?"

"Impertinent wife!" he said, laughing. "Do as you please."

"Thank you, I shall." She kissed him lightly before she left, only realizing later that it was the first time she had done so. Always before he had been the one to kiss her.

She read through the book in an evening, as it was not long. Darcy asked her opinions in several points, though they avoided the sonnet they had first discussed. That night, Elizabeth lay awake thinking about what that book said about him. They had talked about many subjects in Ramsgate and in London and in Hertfordshire, but rarely had they discussed such a weighty matter.

She was relieved to know that her husband, a man she had known for so short a time, was a man of conviction, who put much thought into matters spiritual as well as physical. In the last few days, she had spent much of her time at his side learning about the Darcy family and all the things that came with her new name. It was easy to see only the things, if she was honest. Money was no object to him; that was plain from how he spoke of spending it on her. He had been exceedingly generous to her, and it would have been a simple matter to accept his gifts without seeing the heart that gave them.

She remembered Kitty's remark one day before the wedding, how she thought Darcy liked Elizabeth the way a hero ought. Elizabeth had dismissed it as the imaginings of a young girl, but a little more understanding of him had suggested to her that perhaps her sister had seen something after all. He was so tender with her, yet not at all in the same way he treated Georgiana. There was a kind of tension in every address, every look, every touch.

Two nights after he gave her the book, she knocked on the door separating their rooms.

He opened it looking concerned. "May I come in?" she asked him.

For a moment he looked too stunned to act, but then he turned and dismissed his valet. "Is everything well, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, I - I am well."

For a long time they merely stood in the doorway, watching each other. Then Darcy stepped aside and allowed her in. She had not been in the master's rooms before. The furnishings were newer than the ones in her rooms; they were also much more masculine, with every comfort his wealth afforded him. It reminded her of him, every fine thing without ostentation or pretense. Everything about him was genuine, including the vows he had made to her before God.

When he asked again if she was well, the look of concern on his face overwhelmed her capacity to speak. It overwhelmed everything but a spark of desire, burning bright within her.

She pressed herself to him before she could lose her nerve, balancing herself with her hands on his shoulders as she kissed him. For a horrible moment he did not react, and she pulled away from him, embarrassed by her own forwardness. But he was staring at her in a kind of amazement, and not with disapprobation. With the intensity of his gaze to give her the encouragement she needed, she reached for him again. This time, he wrapped his arms around her so tightly she had no way of escape.

Not that she wanted it. On their wedding night he had restrained his desires for her sake; she understood that now. It was humbling, or it would have been had she been at leisure to consider it. His hands were warm against her back, fingers digging in as though he feared she would vanish. He had kissed her often enough, but now something inside him had snapped. This kiss was everything demanding, and it was well that Elizabeth had no desire to resist him. Indeed, she wanted this, and everything he was willing to give.

By mutual yet unspoken consent they began to undress him; he had only removed his boots and waistcoat before dismissing his valet. She laid her hand against his chest when it was bared to her, surprised at the quick, steady beating of his heart. He mistook her pause for hesitance. "Elizabeth," he murmured.

She knew not from where her confidence sprang, but she took his hand and brought it to the belt of her dressing gown. His fingers shook slightly as he untied it and pushed the gown from her shoulders. With the firelight behind her, the nightgown underneath left little to his imagination. "Dearest," he breathed, sending a wave of heady desire through her.

"I am your wife, Fitzwilliam," she said, the first time she had used his Christian name since the wedding.

He lifted her up as he had once before, but Elizabeth did not think of that night now, not as he carried her into the next room and the warmth of his bed.

Note: In this chapter there are several quotes from and allusions to the wedding ceremony from the Anglican Book of Common Prayer. The poem quoted in its entirety is Holy Sonnet XIV by John Donne, one of the most well-known of the metaphysical poets of the seventeenth century.