The Chase

By Juliette

Part 1

Posted on Thursday, 14 September 2006

Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as she strolled about the beautifully manicured gardens of Pemberley, allowed her thoughts to wander with greater frequency and insensity to their owner. It was with no little amount of trepidation that she had agreed to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner's desires to visit the estate. After all, she had hardly parted with Mr. Darcy on agreeable terms - she was seriously displeased with both his manner of addressing her, and her own response. She had fancied herself justified in her anger, impetuous and prejudiced though it was, and now everything that she thought she understood about the gentleman was called into question.

She relaxed into the comforting fact of his being in the South on business, of her having fortuitously missed his arrival with a "large party of friends", as the housekeeper had stated. How humiliating a spectacle that would have been! The "friends", she surmised, were none other than the Bingleys and Hursts - admittedly friends of fashion and (in Mr. Hurst's case) of drink, but no friends of hers. Mr. Bingley she would have delighted to see again, were it not for the awkwardness of Jane's disappointment and his continuing ignorance of it. What coversation could she safely have made with him? He would have enquired after her family, and she would have answered him archly and with residual bitterness, which he did not deserve. No, it was better to avoid the situation entirely. Her aunt and uncle Gardiner were strolling the grounds somewhere, blissfully ignorant of the secrets she harbored, seeing only delightful woods and refreshing lakes. And so it would remain. She would join them directly.

As she took in the lush view around her and let the warmth of the sun flush her face (for she did not care at all for the silly fashion of going about pale as a ghost in the height of summer!) Elizabeth sighed wistfully and absentmindedly wound a blade of gras between her fingers. Pemberley was beautiful and grand, no doubt - on its merits there could be no disagreement - but it was something more. It was cultivated without being stuffy or imposing, and elegant without ostentation. It had dignity, with no improper pride. She smiled, fancying herself merely pleased with the place and its fine prospects, while wondering at the life she could have had here - marveling at the thought of knowing these gardens intimately, walking them whenever she wished!

Elizabeth reached a clearing, and paused. She had lost sight of her aunt and uncle, and felt she must turn back to the house to enquire after them. Yet she longed to remain outdoors, to continue her stroll and her reverie. But in a flash, it was decided for her. A tall figure stepped out from behind the line of trees and walked her way. Elizabeth had barely taken in the bedraggled wet shirt and disheveled hair before realizing, with no little shock, who it was.

"Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed, stepping back, forcibly surprised. She fought with her perceptions - it could not be, he was not expected today, the housekeeper had said so. But who else could it be? Who else would be wandering the grounds in such an informal, intimate way? And in the next moment, she perceived the familiar features of Mr. Darcy's countenance, including his shocked expression, and knew she was not mistaken. Her face flushed full red and her heart fluttered rapidly. Oh Lord, what shall I do? He cannot find me here, tramping about his grounds in this imposing way. What must he think of me?

And before she could think better of it, she fled.

Part 2

Posted on Thursday, 14 September 2006

It was a day that promised no happiness or pleasure for Fitzwilliam Darcy, only drudgery and remembrance of disappointment. In vain he had struggled to hurn his mind towards matters of business, but his thoughts always managed to stray back towards his recent failure to win Miss Bennet, and it tormented him. It was with a heavy heart that he rode into his estate, therefore, and surveyed his grounds and gardens with a cursory glance. All was well without him, as it should be. The place itself did not reflect its owner's despair.

If only she could be here, he started in, then irritably discarded the thought, for what good would it do to wish the impossible? He must be sensible. He dearly wished, for a moment, that he was the careless, heartless cad she had accused him of being - for then it would not signify what she thought of him. She would be merely a failed conquest, a small blow to his supposedly monstrous pride.

But if she could just hear him out! So many things he longed to say to her, though he knew not how to begin. He swept his hand through his tousled hair, dripping wet and tangled from his short swim in the lily pond. Even the frigid water had failed to shock Miss Bennet and her fiery fine eyes out of his system.

As he trudged past the trees and towards the house, waving away the stable boy who came out to see about his horse, his system received a further shock - the presence of a very startled lady directly before him. He squinted, staring, trying to determine whether his madness for Miss Bennet had driven the sense out of him at last. Now his mind appeared to be conjuring her up before his very eyes - "a fine cruel joke," he muttered, slinging his outer garments over his arm, half expecting them to transform into odd apparitions as well.

But the vision remained before him, and as he took another stride forward, the lady turned. "Mr. Darcy!" She shrank back from him, in clear embarrassment, and before he could force sounds resembling speech to escape his lips, she had turned and was running away.

"Miss Bennet!" he called after the departing figure, who whirled around briefly as he cried out her name, but quickly resumed her flight towards the woods.

Mr. Darcy started forward, meaning to catch her, but suddenly remembered his wet condition - surely he would slip and fall in the pursuit, and in any case, was not fit to be seen by any lady in his present untidy dress, especially by Miss Elizabeth Bennet. How desperately he longed to speak to her, but it must wait - and his chance seemed to be dissipating fast.

"Randalls!" he bellowed, and the stable boy came running. "Fetch me my horse - I'll not be a moment!" and he strode towards teh house for a quick change of clothes, and a few words with the housekeeper to determine just how Miss Elizabeth Bennet had come to appear at Pemberley at all.

Part 3

Posted on Thursday, 14 September 2006

Miss Bennet gasped for breath as she hurtled forward, oblivious of anything or anyone in her path. She had just now nearly collided with the undergardener, and had sprawled out once or twice on a stray root or branch as she tore through Pemberley's extensive and fine woods. It was of no consequence how many rips her gown received, for it would only be one further humiliation to add to a growing list. He was here! He had seen her! He had even spoken her name, though she was at a loss to determine what he had meant to say to her. In any case, she was certain she was not equal to any polite conversation in her presently wild and confused state of mind.

"Oh, this is too cruel!" she exclaimed, pounding her fist against a tree in frustration. "That he should have happened upon me here, of all places! Ten minutes only, and I would have been safely away! Why did I insist upon walking the gardens so thoroughly? My Aunt Gardiner would have returned to the carriage gladly fully half an hour before - and this is my penance for pressing on too long!"

She continued to run, wanting to put as much physical distance between herself and the house as possible. That she had fled at all vexed her - his ill opinion must have only magnified at the indignity of being ignored - but now she had committed to the action, and was forced to see it through. "I shall wait until a suitable time," she thought aloud, "when he is unlikely to be out of doors, and then I shall go to our carriage where Aunt and Uncle must be awaiting me. Unless," and here she drew a sharp, uneasy breath, "unless they have noticed my overlong absence and grown concerned, and choose to apply to the master of the house for assistance in locating me! Yes, I am certain they would, solicitous and kind as they are - it is too much! Is there to be no end to my predicament?" And she threw herself down by a particularly stately old tree to sob in despair.

If walking had permitted Miss Bennet to perceive her own thoughts, running had drawn them into sharp clarity. It was certain that Mr. Darcy would withdraw his high opinion of her - which, she told herself wretchedly, she had done nothing to deserve - and that any further encounters between them would only increase her shame and disappointment. For she was disappointed, though the truth of the matter astonished her. She had not sought his love, nor accepted it when it was offered, but now she felt quite defeated at the thought that she might have lost it forever.

"I was so foolish! So blinded by prejudice, so taken in," she berated herself. "It is done now. I have loved too late. I have rejected the only man on Earth that I could ever marry!"

Behind her there was a sharp crackling noise - a twig breaking. Someone was here! She looked about in panic - "I am not equal to conversation and have no ready excuses to make, I must not be discovered here!" - and then her eyes came to rest upon the old tree which had been shading her. Miss Bennet had been a great tree climber in her early youth, though she had been forced at a suitable age by propriety to abandon the art to her young cousins. But technique she had not forgotten, and she quickly hoisted herself up, hoping that the intruder upon her solitude would soon move on.

Part 4

Posted on Wednesday, 20 September 2006

Mr. Darcy swore silently as he regarded the old tree - how often had he sat underneath its welcoming shade in happier days! - and the disturbed leaves at its base, which suggested there had been a recent visitor. "Where are you, Miss Bennet?" he wondered aloud. "Why do you run from me? Am I still so repugnant to you?"

He sighed and shrugged his broad shoulders, now underneath a suitably dry and presentable coat. "My letter has done nothing, it would seem," he declared to the empty woods. "She continues to despise me. She runs from the very sight of me!"

A branch above him made a crackling noise, and a lone leaf floated down, just brushing his head. Mr. Darcy smiled grimly. "You have left all your senses, Fitzwilliam Darcy, if you are now content to share your misfortunes with squirrels and birds," he chastised himself. "Now come, she is still missing, probably lost. She must be found and returned to her aunt and uncle - who I am sure would never forgive me if I failed yet again. I cannot be allowed to love her now, but at least I can do this much!"

Another rustling noise emanated from the old tree. "Yes, it is most desperate and hopeless," Mr. Darcy said. "It is clear now that she will never love me - that her good opinion, once lost, is lost forever!"

A stifled cry, and then a sharp crack from above, shook Mr. Darcy from his reverie. He looked up, just in time to perceive Miss Elizabeth Bennet huddled up in the tree - and then the branch beneath her feet broke, sending her flying down!

Elizabeth screamed, her arms flailing as she fruitlessly grasped at branches and ended up only with a fistful of leaves. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for a quick and merciful end, and then shrieked again upon landing in the arms of the very man she had been fleeing!

Mr. Darcy felt riveted to the spot, his heart pounding in fear for Miss Bennet's life. He had positioned himself perfectly as the lady fell, and scooped her up into his arms before she could hit the ground. It was only after he caught her, felt her weight full against him and her labored breathing only inches from his own face, that he recalled what he had been saying one moment before. And she had heard it all. His mortification, though he attempted to suppress it, was extreme.

Elizabeth panted, gasping more from the shock and relief of her fall and Mr. Darcy's quick actions than from being actually finded. "Oh, Mr. Darcy!" she cried, impulsively throwing her arms around his neck and then, just as suddenly, wishing she hadn't. "I - I - " She blushed, not capable of forming an intelligent thought in light of the remarkable words she had just heard spoken beneath her. "I've fallen from your tree!" she finally concluded, feeling how ridiculous her situation was.

Her companion, pale and anxious, stammered as he replied. "Are you hurt, Miss Bennet?"

"Not at all, I thank you," she said, then repeated, "I thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am well." She paused here, assuming he would set her down, but he did not. He woould not look at her face, though he held her close against him - she observed the discomfort in his eyes, and wondered at his hesitation in releasing her. "I might - I might try to walk a bit, Mr. Darcy," she said, "if you would assist me."

He nodded, eyes still downcast, and lowered her gently to her feet, though his arms trembled slightly as he did so. She bent down to brush off her skirts, then took a tentative step forward. He leaned in and wrapped a strong hand around her elbow, as if to support her. "Indeed, there is no injury," Elizabeth declared, with false lightness.

"I am glad to hear it," murmured Mr. Darcy, making no move to release her. She shifted uncomfortably, overwhelmed with many conflicting feelings, and he suddenly remembered her admonition to him long ago at Kent - "had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner." Keeping this in mind, he cleared his throat and spoke to her, guiding her back along the path through the woods. "You have suffered a high fall, I'm afraid. Let us return to the house. Here, my horse is waiting; you can ride back."

"Oh, no, I - " Elizabeth began to protest, but the grip on her arm tightened.

"Miss Bennet, it is no trouble. I would not have you walk any further, for you have - you have exerted yourself perhaps too much today." He colored as he finished, recalling the frightened look she had given him as she ran away.

"No, indeed," Elizabeth said, pausing to face him. "The exertion was precisely what I required. I had to run certain things over in my mind, you see." And as she allowed him to lift her up to a sitting position on the waiting horse, her face relaxed into a smile.

He nodded again, regarding her frankly and with some bemusement as he led the horse on across the field. "Certain things, Miss Bennet? Dare one inquire as to what sorts of things a lady 'runs over' in her mind while up in the tallest tree in my woods?" And his face relaxed into a smile as well. Elizabeth felt a jolt of excitement in her heart, as he looked so handsome when he smiled!

"I had not the slightest idea I had chosen the tallest of your trees, sir," she exclaimed, more lightheartedly. "Though I daresay the view of your estate was quite glorious from that great height. If I had been in a state to regard it, I should have been quite impressed."

"Then you approve of Pemberley?" he asked eagerly.

"Very much," she answered, and would have gone on, except she became vexed at the associations that he might draw from her approval. At length she merely said, "there are few who would not approve."

"But your good opinion is rarely bestowed and, therefore, more worth the earning," he pressed on.

The lady blushed. "Thank you."

Randalls came rushing from the stable once more, and Mr. Darcy carefully assisted Elizabeth down. "Take the horse back," he directed Randalls, and then turned to his guest. "And you must come back to the house," he continued. "Your aunt and uncle will be quite pleased to see you."

"Oh dear," murmured Elizabeth, "I should like to see them as well, were I not so dreadfully embarrassed."

Her companion smiled knowingly. "Well expressed, Miss Bennet, for I have been harboring a most similar feeling."

"Embarrassed, Mr. Darcy?' she exclaimed. "Whatever for? If one of us is to be embarrassed, I must claim the burden for myself - indeed, my pride has suffered such mortification that I imagine it is gone completely."

He began to speak, but she quickly continued. "The first blow was, of course, your letter to me after - that evening, which saw enough of my abomitable manners - which acquainted me with my own folly and prejudice and made me ashamed of myself most heartily. And then - "

"Miss Bennet, I cannot allow you to go on," cried Mr. Darcy, with great warmth, "you must not abuse yourself in this way!"

"No, pray, I must continue, for it is only these three months I have been sensible of my own faulty judgment, and I have yet to apologize for it," Elizabeth said.

"You do yourself too little credit," Mr. Darcy interrupted her. "The fault was mine, in my arrogant presumptions and haughty address. What did you say that I did not deserve?"

"A great deal, I am sorry to say," Elizabeth retorted. "And then to intrude upon your privacy this way - "

"Intrude? No, Miss Bennet, there was no intrusion felt. You are most welcome here, as are your Aunt and Uncle Gardiner," Mr. Darcy said. "I had wished it, to own the truth, that somehow you would come. I hardly believed my eyes when I saw it was you!"

Elizabeth flushed, then realized she was still held at her elbow. "Mr. Darcy, I am quite able to walk," she said, suddenly embarrassed again. "I do not need your support, though I thank you."

"Miss Bennet," he replied mildly, "I am quite aware that, if you are able to walk, you are in all likelihood able to run as well."

She caught his meaning, and after a moment's vexation at her own silliness, she was able to laugh at herself. "Indeed," she cried, "I am not only an excellent walker, but an excellent runner as well! And, I daresay, a fair climber, though perhaps my skill requires improvement, considering my performance today."

"My woods are at your disposal, whenever you wish to practice," said Mr. Darcy.

"But I shall have to trespass quite heavily upon your hospitality, Mr. Darcy," she replied archly, "for if I should fall, I would require you to catch me."

"That could prove difficult," he admitted, "for once I had you in my arms, I should not be able to let you go again."

At this they both stopped, too overwhelmed by feelings to walk further. The lady's eyes filled with tears, the gentleman's nearly so. After a moment, he tenderly took her hand and said, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are as they were last April, please tell me so at once. My sentiments and wishes are unchanged. But one word from you will silence me on this subject forever."

Elizabeth grasped his hand, though still too overwhelmed to speak. Finally she lifted her eyes to his and said, "Mr. Darcy, I am quite at a loss. My feelings are indeed so different - I would say quite the opposite."

"Then may I have the honor of asking for your hand?"

"If I may have the honor of accepting yours."

After standing together for another happy moment, Elizabeth's face lit up with a mischievous smile. "And now, my dear Darcy, I issue you a challenge - we will race back to the house to find my aunt and uncle, and whoever wins shall be the first to share the news!"

He laughed and said, "I warn you, Elizabeth, that I too am an excellent runner, and I do not take kindly to losing. Therefore, if I should perceive that you are ahead of me, I may be forced to resort to ungentlemanlike measures to avoid losing to you, and who knows what you would think of me then?"

"Mr. Darcy," she cried, "you are a true gentleman, though I was not astute enough to perceive it before. I cannot imagine that you would really mind so much if your dear Elizabeth trounced you in a mere footrace!" And with that, she took off through the field, with a laughing Mr. Darcy in close pursuit.

After a few moments, Elizabeth turned her face to the side and noticed he had caught up with her - and suddenly she was sprawled on the grass, with her new fiance next to her, triumphantly clasping her waist and chuckling heartily.

"It is settled," she gasped, giddy with laughter. "It is a draw!"

"A draw, my dear? I think you have been caught," he murmured, boldly taking her face in his hands and leaning in to kiss her.

"As have you," she retorted playfully, reaching up to him and drawing him closer.

"This is highly improper, we shall be seen here," he whispered, though he made no move to release her or to get up.

"Why? Are you expecting any other visitors today?" she giggled, sitting up. "We shall have to challenge them to a race!"

"It is unnecessary, my love, for you are all the challenge I need," he replied, and leaned in to kiss her once more before taking her arm and leading her back towards the house.

Part 5

Posted on Saturday, 23 September 2006

Mr. Gardiner paced back and forth across the length of the drawing room, occasionally glancing absently at a piece of fine statuary or a well-rendered portrait, but mostly fixing his worried gaze upon the windows that faced towards the lake. This was where he had last observed his niece Elizabeth, who had been contentedly wandering the grounds of Pemberley as though they were her very own, while he and his wife had returned to the house, as Mrs. Gardiner was quick to tire and disinclined towards lengthy walks. As was he - could he not admire the stunning prospect just as well from the comfort and elegance of this lovely room? And considering the odd turn of events, with Elizabeth now missing, he had begun to wish for a very slight alteration in his niece's lively character, which would incline her towards a similar point of view.

"Can you see nothing, Edward?" asked Mrs. Gardiner, perched stiffly on her seat, with Mrs. Reynolds nervously hovering behind her. "Is there still no sign of her?"

"None yet, I'm afraid," sighed Mr. Gardiner. "But have no fear. Our Lizzy is a sensible girl. I am certain she won't have gotten herself into any real mischief."

"Sensible, indeed," fretted Mrs. Gardiner, "but headstrong. What could she propose by disappearing in all this state, if not to flee some terrible secret situation? Why must she insist on facing these things all on her own? Oh Lizzy, why could you not confide in us? Probably out of some silly fear of ruining our trip - and indeed, now that I think upon it, I did detect a note of hesitation upon the suggestion of visiting Pemberley today. I do wish I had attended to it!"

"Pardon me, ma'am," interjected Mrs. Reynolds, stepping forward. Both Gardiners turned to regard the housekeeper, whose presence had been forgotten amongst the clamor surrounding their niece. She had been listening and watching all along, with no small degree of insight, as she perceived the strange and contradictory feelings shared between her master and his unexpected guest. That the lady's companions were in ignorance of the matter was of little surprise, as the lady herself seemed barely conscious of her own feelings - how her cheeks had flushed upon viewing the master's fine portrait, yet how quick she had been to disclaim her association with him, saying merely that she knew him "a little". Yet this was no trifling acquaintance, and from the near-panicked state Mr. Darcy had been in upon his arrival, and the tenor of his rapid questioning, Mrs. Reynolds could deduce that the characterization of a "terrible secret situation" was quite far off the mark, unless being in love could be thought of as terrible. Indeed! She could not help but chuckle to herself at the misperception.

"Yes, what is it?" prompted Mrs. Gardiner, a bit impatiently. Her teacup shook in her hand, and she quickly set it down. She was not given to fits and tantrums like her sister in law, and therefore would never mention the hardship that the situation had registered upon her poor nerves.

"Well ma'am - sir - I don't mean to presume," said Mrs. Reynolds, "but I have known Mr. Darcy a good long while, since he was but a small boy, and I daresay that he will do everything possible to recover the young lady safely. You need not worry."

"I have no doubt of that," said Mr. Gardiner. "Although I have only met your master briefly, and under quite difficult circumstances, I must say he was quite attentive and solicitous to us in our distress."

"He does have a quality about him, of a man steady to his purpose," said Mrs. Gardiner. "He assured us that he would proceed after Elizabeth personally. Imagine that!"

"Indeed," replied Mrs. Reynolds, allowing herself a wry smile, "he does seem to have taken quite a personal interest in the whole affair."

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged a significant glance, with Mr. Gardiner raising an eyebrow and Mrs. Gardiner's eyes widening in laughing surprise.

Reflecting upon it, the startled young man who had burst into the parlour and hastily stammered an introduction HAD seemed more emotional and preoccupied than one would expect from a "slight acquaintance". Elizabeth was definitely more to him than simply a wayward guest. "My apologies," he had practically shouted as he dashed in, still buttoning his jacket and trailing no less than three servants bearing forgotten items of clothing. One of them stepped forward and offered a hat, which the man snatched up and turned round and round as he spoke. "I must ride out at this moment, I have not a second to lose, but I presume you are acquainted with Miss Elizabeth Bennet? And that you have traveled here with her today?"

Mr. Gardiner had nodded, explaining their relationship, and the gentleman continued. "Be not alarmed, sir, but I am afraid Miss Bennet has - has disappeared."

Mrs. Gardiner shrieked, and Mrs. Reynolds and several of the maids rushed to her, offering smelling salts and tea and wine with such zeal that Mrs. Gardiner had to quite forcefully declare herself not in need of assistance. Her husband exclaimed, "What? Sir, how could this happen?"

"I-I know not," the young man said, but cast his eyes down at the floor and bit his lip and generally colored in such a way that left no doubt that he knew quite well. "But rest assured, I am setting off at this very instant to recover her. Please, do stay and partake of some refreshments while I am gone. Eliz-- Miss Bennet and I will join you in a little while. Randalls!" he interrupted himself, leaning out into the doorway. "Is the horse ready? I must ride out at once! Quick, man!"

"You are kind, sir," Mr. Gardiner said, having by now guessed correctly from the gentleman's assertive manner and resemblance to several fine portraits in the home that this was the master of the estate, "and we will gladly await you here, I thank you. Unless I can be of some assistance in the search?"

"No indeed, sir, I will set off alone," replied Mr. Darcy resolutely, bowing to Mrs. Gardiner and then racing through the doorway, muttering as he did so, "The fault is mine, and so must the remedy be..."

It had been perhaps forty five minutes since Mr. Darcy's abrupt entrance and departure, and Mrs. Gardiner in particular was particularly anxious for news. It certainly was not in Lizzy's nature to flee from trouble - but perhaps, Mrs. Gardiner began to think, the "trouble" was of a peculiar kind. Here they had been worrying about poor Jane, who had uncomplainingly endured an eight month separation from her beloved Mr. Bingley without so much as a single correspondence from him (and several very discouraging and pointed correspondences from his haughty sister) when it now seemed that dear Lizzy, too, had been "crossed in love".

"My dear," said Mrs. Gardiner after a short pause in the conversation, "it would seem that Elizabeth has much to tell us of when she returns. I have so many questions, I should not be able to remember them all. Should I apply to Mrs. Reynolds for some writing paper so that we might make a list?"

Mr. Gardiner chuckled. "We may have to send into town for more ink," he said, then noticed movement through the window. "It is them!" he cried joyfully. "They have returned! Look, my dear, he has helped her down off the horse and they are walking across the field."

"And is she hurt?" Mrs. Gardiner asked, jumping up and rushing to the window as well. "She looks a bit pale, but otherwise well. And look at how he attends her - what a fine gentleman! We were greatly deceived by the reports of his disagreeable character."

"Perhaps Lizzy was as well," Mr. Garinder speculated, "though she is not one to allow folly and prejudice to blind her to all virtue."

"Certainly not when that virtue is accompanied by such fine woods," added Mrs. Gardiner, and they both laughed. "Really, though, the way she stares at the ground! I have never seen Lizzy shy around anyone. If I didn't know better -- "

"We should come away from the window," Mr. Gardiner suggested, not wishing to be seen peering out. Mrs. Gardiner nodded, and took his arm. For the next several minutes, they had to content themselves with their tea and the drawing room's stately decor until Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet entered the room, though both Gardiners were sorely tempted when they heard a playful shriek and loud laughter just outside.

"Aunt! Uncle!" Elizabeth cried, rushing into the room to embrace her family. As they welcomed her, their eyes were drawn back to Mr. Darcy, who relaxed in the doorway, a radiant smile lighting up his handsome features.

"Lizzy! My dear, where have you been off to? We have been so concerned about you!" exclaimed Mrs. Gardiner. "Why... look at you! You look as if you have been climbing and rolling about in the grass!"

At this Elizabeth looked a little embarrassed, but laughed anyway. Mr. Darcy stepped forward, and as he did so, the dirt and grass stains on his own clothing became visible. He looked at his new fiancee, then at himself, and did something that he had not done in many years - he began to laugh as well. His laugh was deep, hearty, and infectious, and it was not long before the Gardiners, and even Mrs. Reynolds, joined in.

Part 6

Posted on Wednesday, 27 September 2006

Author's Note: There is a part 6 I have not posted - I am writing slightly out of order, sorry! In part 6, Darcy's "party of friends" arrives at Pemberley, but without Mr. Bingley, who has unexpectedly been kept in town by business. Darcy and Elizabeth share their news with Bingley's sisters, Mr. Hurst, and a very happy Georgiana.

Part 7

"Hill! Hill!" Mrs. Bennet shrieked, collapsing back into her chair and waving her handkerchief impotently in the air. "You are needed at once! Oh Jane, where is Hill?"

"I'm sure she is coming directly, Mama," Jane Bennet soothed her mother, bringing a cup of tea to the table and gently setting it down. Her mother agitatedly knocked it over.

"She is not coming! She cares nothing for my poor nerves, ignoring me every moment she gets! What a lazy, good for nothing excuse for a -- oh, THERE you are, Hill! You must come see about my muslin gown! I have had another rip, and I cannot find any rose colored thread..."

Jane scrambled to right the teacup and mop up the spill, breathing heavily but trying to appear calm. Her mother had been given to many fits of pique since young Lydia's departure for Brighton. With her favorite daughter's silly liveliness absent from Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet had little to entertain herself, and fancied herself afflicted with nerves and vexations to fill up the time.

"Miss Bennet," whispered Hill, "never you mind that. I'll get it."

Jane's hand shook as she set the cup down. She did not understand the cause of her distress - surely her mother was no more irritable than usual, and she had that morning a letter from her sister Elizabeth, who was traveling with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and described the scenery of Derbyshire with a lightness of spirit that had comforted Jane for a time. Her father was tolerably happy locked in his library, Mary left alone to practice the pianoforte and read her sermons, and Kitty was even taking short walks to Lucas Lodge to call on Maria, a much more pleasant and suitable role model for her than Lydia had been. And Lydia! How her letters nearly burst with happiness from beginning to end, detailing her friends and outings and adventures in Brighton. There were ample inducements, in short, for happiness in Jane Bennet. Yet why, in spite of these, should she sink so low? And was it really so apparent that even the servants had begun to notice?

"Thank you, Hill," she whispered, and began to quit the room when Mrs. Bennet called out to her.

"Jane! You must go into Meryton and fetch some thread from the dressmaker's. At once, for I cannot wear this muslin until it is mended, and I shall not be fit to be seen at the ball at Lucas Lodge tomorrow. Go, and quickly, child!"

Jane nodded numbly, in no state to regard a walk into Meryton with any pleasure, but felt it her duty to oblige her mother, who would be so pleased to wear her elegant muslin to the ball tomorrow night. (Poor Lydia, fretted Jane, how she would hate to miss a ball!) She flashed Hill a sympathetic look, and left the room to locate her cloak.

Part 8

As Jane walked, she allowed herself to gradually become lost in thoughts and recollections, which should have offered her pleasure but mysteriously failed to do so. Lizzy had been right - she was not happy. She was not herself. She felt silly to have allowed herself to fall into such a state, especially since she suspected that her disappointment over a certain gentleman was the cause of it. It was strange indeed that she should feel such despair over such a diffident, agreeable, modest man! That he had meant no harm by her she was certain, despite her mother's frequent rants about how Mr. Bingley had used her daughter so very ill. It vexed Jane to hear him spoken about in so harsh a tone. She must have been mistaken about his regard for her, was all. Indeed, his manners were so friendly and inviting that she could have simply read too much into them. She had wanted to believe him in love with her, so she had interpreted his charming addresses to her in an overly significant light.

Jane swung her little bag back and forth in rhythm with her steps, which gradually quickened as the force of memory grew stronger and occupied more and more of her attention. She pictured Mr. Bingley's handsome, beaming countenance as he bowed to her on first introduction, their easy conversation as they danced together at the assembly at Meryton, the soft touch of his hand against her glove as he led her through the steps. His smile. His laughter. His glowing commendation of herself, her sisters (particularly Miss Elizabeth), and the countryside, which he claimed to enjoy above all other places he had been in his life. Jane had always known Mr. Bingley to be an honest, straightforward man. If he truly valued his time at Hertfordshire and considered it such an enjoyable place, then why did he not return?

Suddenly Jane skidded to a halt, abruptly noticing where she was. "Why, I have completely missed the turnoff towards Meryton," she exclaimed, glancing around at the fields and farms to either side of the road, which bore absolutely no resemblance to the shops and cobblestones of the village where she had intended to walk. "Silly me! I have utterly forgotten my errand. Mama will be most disappointed at the delay - I will turn back at once." Jane resolved to put all intrusive thoughts of sweet young gentlemen quite out of her mind, and focus instead on the task which had been laid before her.

"For it is unbecoming, especially in an eldest sister," she reflected, "to be pining for a gentleman in this manner, when there is no hope of a match to be had. What sort of example shall I set for my younger sisters? They will feel at liberty to think of nothing but rich unavailable gentlemen all day long, if I do not counteract Mama's exuberant speeches with some good conduct of my own. For my family's sake, I must endeavor to reconcile myself to this. It is determined. I shall forget him."

Yet no sooner did Jane declare her intentions than another memory sprang to mind - this time of her first afternoon in the drawing room of Netherfield after recovering from her brief illness. Mr. Bingley had been most attentive, hovering over her with cups of tea and continually offering to close or open the windows and doors to provide her with fresh air, yet avoid drafts that could exaggerate her condition. His hospitality to her, in insisting that she remain at Netherfield to recover, and then providing her with her sister's companionship during her convalescence, was strikingly gentleman-like. It had been the very opposite of her late chilly reception in London - he had not acknowledged her at all, and his sister Caroline only slightly and condescendingly. "How cold and out of spirits Caroline was when she came to call at Gracechurch Street! I was quite deceived in her friendship," Jane frowned to herself, "if indeed there was not some dreadful misunderstanding. She was utterly altered, to the point where it would have been impossible to observe any symptoms of her former regard for me. I suppose my family's low connections are beneath her. Perhaps she felt she did me great honor by simply coming at all. Yes, in her way of thinking, she meant to demonstrate her regard, however misguided the result."

But this conclusion was not to Jane's satisfaction, for it both censured her former friend too harshly and credited her for good intentions and sentiments that she did not possess. Jane paused in her steps, mulling it over, then shook her head sadly and continued to walk. It was her sister Elizabeth who walked frequently outdoors, but Jane found that the exercise was doing her good. She could consider topics while enjoying the fresh air and verdant scenery that would have seemed oppressive and dour from within the confines of her small home. "I will never be as athletic as Lizzy," she said to herself, "but now I can see the attraction of the outdoors. So many fine prospects! I cannot help but feel more cheerful already. But here -- where have I gotten myself to now? I have wandered too far. I am utterly distracted today. Gracious! That estate up ahead -- " And Jane stiffened and became dreadfully pale as she recognized the house.

"I must leave at once!" she cried, and speedily turned to go when a pleasant, familiar voice behind her said, "So soon? But you've only just arrived!"

She stopped, heart pounding madly in her chest, cheeks rapidly reddening into an embarrassed flush. "I -- forgive me, Sir, I seem to have temporarily lost my way," she stammered, and then turned and fled.

Part 9

"Miss Bennet!" The gentleman quickly overtook her and moved to block her path. Jane cried out, startled, and looked about frantically for an escape route. "Please, Miss Bennet," he exclaimed, extending his hand to her, "allow me to escort you to the house. You seem quite flushed, perhaps overheated. Come, we shall walk together."

"No, I thank you, Sir, but I must leave," Jane declared, averting her gaze and darting around him, though her trembling caused her to nearly slip on a gravelly patch in the road. The gentleman caught her by the arm and stepped in front of her again, holding her gently but firmly.

"I must be allowed to insist," he said. "I can see that you are not well. I will not hear of you walking back alone in your condition. It would be most unwise. Let us go to the house, and I will fetch you some water. Please, Miss Bennet, you must allow me to accompany you."

Jane pulled back, but he did not release her. Her eyes began to fill with tears. This was all wrong, not at all the way she had imagined a reunion. "Mr. Bingley," she said, "I beg of you, do not detain me. I am sorry to have intruded upon you this way, and I will not inopportune you any further. Good day, Sir!" And she wrenched her arm from his grasp, and, breathing heavily, began to walk back down the road. This was beyond embarrassment, beyond humiliation! She would never see him again, but suffer this last recollection of him her whole life. He had been prepared to be civil to her - of all things, when she had barged onto the grounds of his estate completely uninvited! She could not forgive herself this unintentional breach of propriety, though he had magnanimously been prepared to do so. She must go home immediately, though it would have been far better if she had never left home at all!

"Miss Bennet," he shouted after her, and despite her ardent wish to flee in humiliation, she turned to him. For the first time Jane allowed herself to look upon his face, and only then did she perceive the dejected expression, the slump of his shoulders. This was most unexpected. He looked almost sick. "Miss Bennet," he said again, drawing near to her. "Jane." She shivered as he spoke her name. "Why do you run from the sight of me?" She shook her head wordlessly, knowing not how to explain, and he blurted out, "You are angry with me, you who rarely anger or find fault with anyone. I can see plainly how egregious my error has been."

"Error?" Jane asked, feeling frozen to the spot where she stood. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Mr. Bingley, what error was that?"

"No, this will not do! You would be generous with me in spite of your own self. At the time, I was assured by - certain friends - that it was no error at all, but a prudent course of action. I was to leave Netherfield for London for days only, but as time grew on, I was dissuaded from returning to Hertfordshire, and - my dear Jane, I will tell you all, and take liberties I should not, for I have not the smallest hope and therefore no reason to take care. It was wrong of me, I know, to have neglected our acquaintance for these eight months - it has felt like eight eternities to me - but I was assured of your indifference to me, and so found that I had better not impose myself where I was not wanted, particularly when the exclamations of others dear to you made it clear that their hopes had been falsely kindled."

Jane, overwhelmed with many conflicting emotions, breathed hard and heavily. "Oh, Mr. Bingley - "

"Pray allow me to finish, for I may never have another opportunity to say this. Jane, I had hoped now, foolishly, that you would be generous enough to overlook the fault. I came to Hertfordshire alone, away from the influence of any well-meaning friends, to seek you out and renew our acquaintance. I had even entertained the thought that -- but now I see how it is. I will not detain you here, nor subject you to any statements or assurances that would discomfit or pain you, and yet I do believe that you have exerted yourself overmuch, and therefore I must still insist on accompanying you to the house, where my servants can attend you if you find my presence unwelcome. But Jane, you are crying! Oh, what have I done?" He drew closer to her, but refrained from touching her again, with the result that he stood by stiffly and awkwardly while the lady shed her tears.

At length Jane found her voice again. "Mr. Bingley," she said quietly, "I have indeed exerted myself too much today. I intended only to walk as far as Meryton, to run an errand for my poor mother, who awaits me even now. It was not my conscious intention to walk towards Netherfield, but - Sir, I must be equally plain, and admit that Netherfield, and its master, have dwelled prominently in my thoughts these eight months. I was startled, and embarrassed, but your presence is not unwelcome to me. Quite the opposite. I had despaired of ever seeing you again. I - I would be honored if you would escort me to the house."

Mr. Bingley looked relieved, though he remained serious and tense. He stepped alongside her and offering his arm. She took it, smiling as she did so, and they commenced their walk, silently and awkwardly, each much engaged in reflections of disappointments and hopes.

At length the gentleman acquired the courage to begin. "It has been many months since my home has been graced with your company," he said.

"Your home, you say? And so Netherfield is home to you?"

"Almost," he replied. "There is one thing missing." He stopped walking, then turned to face her and took her hand. Jane blushed deeply and looked at her feet (now muddy from her walk) but wrapped her fingers around his, willing herself not to cry out or faint. "Jane," he began, "do you remember, when you stayed here for a brief time? To me it seems so fresh, so recent. Though you were regrettably ill, I still felt the most profound satisfaction, knowing of your presence under my roof. How empty it seemed after you and your sister left! I resolved almost at once to offer you my hand, though I knew not how to convince you to accept me."

"Mr. Bingley!" Jane cried. "Whatever can you mean? Convince me?"

The gentleman paused before responding. "Would you do me the honor of calling me Charles?"

"Of course, I -- Charles, I am quite at a loss," Jane confessed. "From where did you get the idea that I would require convincing?"

He laughed bitterly. "Those certain friends I mentioned - none other than my own sisters, and Mr. Darcy, who relieved me of my pleasant delusions of your regard for me. To them you were a sweet, well-mannered girl, too polite to refuse my advances, perhaps making up for a lack of propriety among certain others of your family, but all quite convinced that you had no particular regard for me."

Jane gasped. "I -- how -- oh, Charles, what a dreadful misunderstanding! How could they have been so deceived? This is most distressing!"

He squeezed her hand. "My dear, I am afraid that the misunderstanding was mine. I thought my sisters and Darcy only concerned for my well-being, discerning in them no other motives and taking them at their word. I am not nearly the judge of character that Darcy is - he is perceptive, rooting out the unpleasant and base in everyone, while I only find charms and merriment in them. I could quite easily believe that I was mistaken, and that the general expectation in town regarding our marriage was a result rather of your mother's wishes, rather than your own."

"Charles," Jane said, "I am afraid I have some unpleasantness of my own to relate to you. When I was in London last winter - "

Mr. Bingley's eyes went wide with shock, and it was several moments before he could speak. Jane bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed. "London!" he finally burst out. "You, in London!"

"Yes, Charles... did you not know?" Jane asked hesitantly. "I was sure that you knew. Caroline -- "

"Caroline!" he shouted, gripping Jane's hands so tightly that she winced. "Caroline told me nothing! And Louisa, did she not know as well? Of course she did. My sisters! My own sisters, interfering, meddling, insufferable women! And these are the authorities to whom I deferred! Did Darcy know as well? He must have. Pompous, vain, hateful man!"

"Charles," Jane interrupted him, "pray do not go on in this manner. I am sure that they meant well. If they truly believed me indifferent to you, they must have been trying to spare you the pain of seeing me."

"No, Jane," he murmured, low and urgent, "do not defend them. Angel that you are! You do not wish to think ill of any person." Mr. Bingley chuckled. "You are too good, my dear Jane. You may even have managed to preserve some regard for me, despite my neglect of you all this time."

"Please, Charles, do not distress yourself," Jane cried. "I am sure you did not set out to cause any unhappiness. You yourself were convinced of my indifference."

"But I am not any longer," he said, "and now I have this rare chance to right the wrongs that have been done. I intended to make you an offer of marriage, and so I shall - and I will dare not ask whether it is love or pity or duty to your mother that will compel you to accept me!" He colored as he said this last, and struggled to maintain his gaze upon her rather than nervously fixate upon the road.

Jane reached out and took her beloved's face in her hands, compelling him to look at her. "It is not pity, nor duty to my mother that compels me," she said. "It is love, and love alone. Perhaps I have not always shown my regard in the most - forward of ways. And for a time, I thought that I was deceived in your regard for me, that your long silence indicated that you no longer cared for me. But it is all clear now. I would be honored to accept you, Charles."

"Then it is settled," he cried, his face relaxing into a handsome smile, "I shall ride home with you to Longbourn immediately, to inform your family and seek your father's blessing."

"Perhaps we ought to first stop in Meryton," Jane said, "and fetch my mother's thread. I would not want her to be displeased at my forgetfulness."

"Displeased? I very much doubt she will be displeased," crowed Mr. Bingley. "She will be almost as happy as I am!"

"Then let us ride to Longbourn directly, to hasten her happiness," cried Jane, "and then I must write to my sisters, so that they may share in our happy news as well!"

"And I shall write to mine," he replied, "though I daresay they will not share in the happiness quite as much. As for Darcy, I shall see what he has to say for himself. I am so abominably happy, I would forgive him for anything and everything right now!"

© 2006 Copyright held by the author.

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