No One Can Compare

By Sofie

Section I, Next Section

Chapter 1

Posted on Thursday, 24 July 2003

Lizzie felt that she could never tire of looking out the windows of a coach. Her Aunt Gardiner was resting beside her, lulled by the rocking of the finely sprung chaise, but she was wide awake, enjoying the view of the Kentish countryside. They were returning from a visit with her aunt's sister where she had helped mind the two young children while Aunt Gardiner assisted her own sister, Mrs Lattimer, through the birth of her youngest child. It was an experience Lizzie would never forget, for though she had not been permitted to Mrs Lattimer's bedchamber during the labour and delivery, the house was small, and the servants loquacious. She had heard many things that a girl of her years is normally shielded from.

She did not dwell too much on what she had heard because most of it made little sense. One thing she knew for certain, though, was that children did not come into this world with ease. She always planned to fall in love and marry, but she had discovered that there were mystifying things connected to marriage that she never could have imagined. Things that, to her ears, were coarse and sinful. She chose not to think of matrimony in such terms and put these uncomfortable concepts in the back of her mind.

In the novels she and Jane read, the ones her Aunt Phillips provided, love between husband and wife was pure and beautiful. The pretty maiden always had an honourable and handsome gentleman who wanted nothing more than to lay bouquets of roses at her feet. She sighed and gazed through the slightly rippled glass. It added a dreamlike quality to all that she surveyed and she let her mind wander into delightful daydreams that drowned out the harsher realities of the world.

The carriage was trundling through a vast estate. To Lizzie's eyes it appeared prosperous and well kept. Her father's estate in Hertfordshire was very trim, but nothing to this. They were passing through a rolling meadow dotted with ancient oaks, when she espied a horseman. He carried himself well and his horse was magnificent, like something out of her novels. As he came closer she realised that though he was tall, he was young, probably not much older than she herself. He was wearing no hat; his rich, dark curls were swept back in the wind. He was just the sort of man she dreamed of in all her imaginings, only she could never have envisioned anyone quite so perfect.

If only she were pretty like her sister Jane, she thought, then she would have the chance of winning just such a gentleman's heart. Then she laughed at her foolishness, for though Lizzie had a romantic nature, she was also able to see the folly in the world. Her father had taught her to laugh at oddities and silliness, and she could laugh at these traits in herself as well as in others. She looked well enough, but she could not delude herself that with her lack of fortune she would be sought after by gentlemen of his stamp. She sighed and watched his horse gallop into the distance. She could still dream - what harm was there in that?

In the middle of a scene where the young gentleman was walking with her in the little wilderness at Longbourn and gazing adoringly into her eyes, she was rudely thrown to the floor, her aunt almost on top of her, just as a wheel fell off the coach. Neither she nor her aunt suffered any injury, but their carriage could not go on. The coachman hailed a labourer in the field and was given the information that a cottage was to be found just down the lane, and the village was not but three miles off.

"Come, Lizzie," said her aunt. "Let us walk to the widow's cottage down the lane and hope that she may afford us some hospitality. I do not think the carriage will be ready until the morrow. We must try and make the best of our plight." She put on a cheerful face as she took Lizzie's hand, and the girl did the same.

"We can think of it as an adventure, Aunt," she said with glowing eyes. As they neared the cottage she cried out in delight. "Isn't it the sweetest building, with the climbing roses all up one side and the mullioned windows? I dearly love it. I do hope she will let us stay."

"There is every chance of that, Lizzie," said Mrs Gardiner. "It has been my experience that peasant folk have big hearts and will do all they can for a traveler in distress."

Mrs Gardiner was not wrong. The Widow Davies was profuse in her apologies that her spare bedchamber would not be grand enough for the likes of them and that she could do no better than to serve them cold mutton with bread and cheese. They spent a convivial evening in front of the fire with the garrulous old woman who happened to be a midwife. They talked of other things, though, as neither of the older women thought that suitable conversation for Lizzie to partake in. From the widow they learned the large estate was named Rosings, the mistress of which was a tight-fisted landlady who condescended to advise her tenants about their minutest concerns.

"'Tis as if she were the magistrate, though mark my words she aint. If I were ta step foot from my house, she'd have wind of it. Believe me, at her dinner table she be discussing yer broken carriage wheel and sayin' that the smith will set the spokes wrong without her aid."

"Does she have any family?" asked Lizzie with measured unconcern.

"Aye. A daughter as sickly as ye ever saw, poor dear."

It was not the answer Lizzie had been hoping for. She had wanted to know whom the handsome young gentleman was, but she dared not mention him.

Although the cottage had such a charming aspect, Lizzie had to concede that comfort certainly should come before charm. She awoke in the morning from a night of little rest. The bed was lumpy, the blankets were thin, and there was a fierce draught seeping in through the chinking about the window. Lizzie was also certain that she had heard rats scrabbling in the thatch all night, though her aunt insisted that it was only birds nesting.

They were enjoying a breakfast of tea and porridge when a young lad burst through the front door, breathing heavily.

"Ye'd best come quick, Widder," he said as he tried to catch his breath. "Me ma is somethin' right bad. Sez t' babby's comin' an 'tis no joke."

"I'll be right there, Jack lad," she said as she jumped up from the table. "Tell her not ta fret - I'll be there fast as fast."

"She baint frettin', she be hollerin' fit ta wake t' dead."

"Mind yer tongue, lad, and get on home." She turned to Mrs, Gardiner after the boy left. "The baby didna turn. I fear we may lose them both. Pardon me fer leavin' ye this way. 'Tis been a pleasure."

Mrs Gardiner got up from her chair and fetched her pelisse. "I may be of some help," she said. "My sister went through just such a birth and I assisted the doctor."

"Bless you ma'am, but what of the young miss?"

"Lizzie, will you be all right on your own till I get back?"

Lizzie nodded the affirmative. Her aunt took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

"Do not go outside and do not open the door to anybody till we get back. I regret having to leave you, but this is a very serious matter of some urgency. Lives are at stake. Do you understand?"

"Yes aunt. I know that you must go. I am not such a child that I can't shift for myself for a few hours; why, next year I'll be old enough to be out. You have no need to worry about me. I hope that the baby can be saved."

There were tears in both their eyes as Lizzie closed the door between them and shot the bolt home.

Lizzie cleared all the dishes from the table and took them to the small, dark scullery. Once there she was completely at a loss about what to do, but she found a shelf in the pantry where she put the left over porridge and a slop bucket by the door where she tossed the plate scrapings. A kettle was on the hob, and she poured water from it into a basin and rinsed the dishes to the best of her abilities. She then dried them with the cleanest cloth that she could find and placed them on a shelf with the rest of the crockery.

She was more than happy to leave the place and thanked her stars that her mother ensured that there were ample maids in their home to do such menial tasks, although she did spare a thought of compassion for the girls. Back in the sitting room she discovered that there was no more to do than sit and look at the walls or out the windows. There were no books, and Lizzie had no needlework. The glass in the windows was grimy with dirt and full of imperfections. To have a good view of the gardens entailed opening them.

Lizzie was not accustomed to being trapped indoors with no company and nothing to do. She managed to open one of the windows and pulled a chair up close so she could sit and lean upon the sill, gazing into the forlorn garden. The roses were on the other side of the cottage. On this side were clumps of withered flowers and overgrown bushes. Beyond was a wizened orchard and farmers' fields. Clouds were scudding across the sky and accumulating overhead in a dark mass. The wind that was once gentle had become brisk and cold. There was nothing for it but to close the window unless she wanted to catch a cold.

She threw a shawl over her shoulders and set to building up the fire. When she had a cheery blaze going, she ran upstairs to fetch a book from her portmanteau. It was a romantic novel her Aunt Phillips had pressed upon her for the journey, but she was beginning to believe it was not quite the sort of book her father, or even her Aunt Gardiner would approve of. It was not elevating in the least. Part of her had no desire to read further in it, but another part of her was filled with curiosity. The heroine had allowed her suitor to kiss her on the lips - almost swooning from the sensation - and though she blushed again and again at the thought, Lizzie secretly wondered what it would feel like. Would she, like the heroine, know, in a blinding flash, the love was true?

Lizzie made herself comfortable as she could on the hard settee, bolstering herself with cushions from the armchair. The room became warm, and as the wind whistled in the chimneys and rain spattered upon the windows, she felt the oncoming of the sleep that was so elusive the night before. The last thoughts she had were of the young gentleman galloping through the trees, and if his steed took him directly to her dreams it is not to be wondered at.

Fitzwilliam Darcy gave Shadow his head, allowing him to gallop freely across the meadow as he himself attempted to escape the oppression of his aunt's house. It was not just Lady Catherine he wanted to free himself from, but it was also his cousin Anne who looked upon him with as proprietary an eye as his aunt herself. If only his mother were alive she would put a stop to this. Thoughts of his mother did nothing but bring tears to his eyes, and though his father had told him time and again that a gentleman did not cry, he let the tears flow. There was no one here to see him.

Five years was a fair amount of time. He had been a young boy of eleven when his infant sister had been placed in his arms and he had been told to take her outside and play, and give his mother the rest that she needed. The rest that was supposed to make her well. Only that was the last time she had smiled upon him. The last time she had kissed little Georgiana's brow. If he had known he would never have left her room. He would have talked to her; not let her leave them alone forever the way she had done. He would have held death at bay. But five years later he knew the truth. Even his love could not have saved her. He still felt helpless, lost and alone. His father had retreated into a shell of austerity - aloof and distant to his children when they needed his love the most.

The thing that had saved Fitzwilliam was his cherubic sister. She lavished him with love and he cared for and protected her as no one else could. She was now six, and she followed him wherever he went, relying on his word, trusting his judgment, confiding in him. But there was one place she could not follow him - Aunt Catherine had no time for children, but she had an almost obsessive fascination for the young Darcy heir. Fitzwilliam was invited every year, and it tore his heart to see the big tears well up in Georgiana's blue eyes as he left her on the front steps of Pemberley.

That brought him full circle back to the source of his torment. His aunt insisted that he was betrothed to his cousin - pale insipid Anne who had nothing to say for herself that her mother did not say first. It was supposedly his mother's fondest wish, but Fitzwilliam knew his mother would never have wished a wife like Anne upon him. His father never deigned to comment on the match either way, so Lady Catherine gave herself free rein to forward it as she wished. It did not matter how often the young Fitzwilliam said that when the time came for marriage he would choose for himself - she ignored his protestations completely.

The wind was now blowing fiercely. Fitzwilliam took it head on, feeling the need of its cleansing powers. And with the wind came rain that slashed at his face and hands and drove through the fine fabric of his riding coat. But even the rain could not bring him solace. He came to his senses to realise that though it little mattered what hardships he put himself through, he had to think of his horse, and looked about for some form of shelter. The thatch of a cottage was just visible through the tangled boughs of a neglected orchard. He turned Shadow and they wound their way between the trees, bent low to avoid the knobbled branches.

There was a crude lean-to on one side of the cottage which gave the appearance of having housed livestock at one time. It was not much, but enough to afford Shadow shelter from the torrent. When Fitzwilliam did all that he could do for the comfort of his horse, he finally bethought his own needs and knocked upon the door of the cottage. Within he was sure to find a warm hearth and very possibly a hot drink. He was beginning to feel the cold of which he had previously been oblivious.

The insistent rapping on the door woke Lizzie. Her head was still afog from sleeping in the warm room. She shook it and noticed the house was almost in total darkness except for the light cast by the fire. She reached for a candle and lit it from the flames, and then followed the noise to the front door. Her aunt must have returned. Her fingers fumbled with the bolt, and as she released it the door flew open with such force that her candle blew out. In that brief moment before the light was quenched, the figure standing in the door was illuminated. It was not her aunt, and Lizzie was now quite sure that she was still dreaming. Though she had only spied him from a distance, she knew in that instant it was the young gentleman she had seen on the horse, and he was more handsome than she had ever imagined.

Fitzwilliam had only a moment to take in the face of the young woman who answered the door before her light blew out. She was not the peasant he had expected, and though dressed simply in a light muslin gown, she looked every inch the lady, though barely more than a girl. Her hair was loose and falling about her shoulders, but what impressed him most was her startled eyes.

"May I come in out of the rain, miss?"

"Oh! I do beg your pardon," whispered Lizzie, as she held the door open and motioned him in.

Fitzwilliam entered and closed the door, then followed the young lady down the passage. The image of her eyes stayed with him in the darkness.

"There is a sitting room with a fire - please excuse the dark - my candle . . ."

"There is no need to apologise, miss. I thank you for giving me shelter. I have stabled my horse in your . . . stall, if that is acceptable."

"I am sure he must need it - certainly."

They came through a door into the small parlour. The warm glow of the fire gave it a cheery and welcoming aspect and hid to some extent the shabbiness of the compartment.

"Please, sir, come stand in right close to the fire. I fear you are frozen." Lizzie led him close up to the hearth and then turned to face him. Her heart skipped a beat. "You are wet through. As there are no servants here, please allow me to help remove your coat."

Fitzwilliam looked down at her. The fire cast an amber glow over her face. Her expressive eyes held concern now where there had once been shock. He nodded agreement and then awkwardly she reached out to assist him as his frozen fingers stumbled with his buttons. She needed to come very close to him to help pull the wet garment off from his shoulders. The sweet smell of rose petals lingered on her hair, sparking a reaction in the recesses of his soul. As he pulled his arm from his sleeve and she turned to hang the coat upon the screen, his hand inadvertently brushed against her, sending a tingling shock up his arm.

Lizzie turned with the touch, startled. Her eyes flew to his face. What she saw there behind the polite smile were the traces of loneliness and despair, and she felt an overwhelming urge to give him comfort.

"I'm sorry - I . . ."

"Don't be." She took his hand and rubbed it. "You are so very cold." She looked up at him again. She no longer thought about what was proper and what was not. His pain was crying out to her and she responded. A lock of hair had fallen forward, in front of his eyes. She reached up and brushed it back. "So wet."

He captured her hand in his, without breaking contact with her eyes. He was overcome with a longing he had never before experienced - a feeling so fierce that he could not deny it. He took her in his arms and felt all her warmth seep into him. He brought his lips to hers, naturally, involuntarily, without thinking of the consequences, without any thought at all. He sought all the comfort that he so desperately needed and she gave it willingly, with as much fervor as himself. And as that empty place in him filled, love spilled forth. He returned all that she gave him with tender and caring passion. There was no one else in the world but the two of them, and nothing mattered but that they had found one another.

Lizzie lay before the fire in his arms - fulfilled, complete. "Tell me I am not dreaming," she murmured sleepily.

"You are not dreaming, my sweet," he whispered into her hair.

"I am not dreaming?" Suddenly the reality of her position sank in. "I am not dreaming?" she cried, and the full understanding of what had just taken place between them came to her. She was filled with shame and struggled to get up. "Oh! What you must think of me!"

"I think you a wonder. A light in the darkness of my soul."

"Please, you must let me go." She was suddenly aware of the state of her gown, which was up about her waist. She attempted to pull it down with one hand while covering her face with the other.

Fitzwilliam was still lost in the euphoria of his discovery - the sense of completeness he had found in this girl's arms. The warmth that filled him when he looked upon her sweet face. What was there to be concerned about? The feeling that had swept through his body and then left him satiated was pure bliss. He turned to soothe her, help her smooth her clothing, straighten his own, and with the loss of full contact with her came the awareness of what they truly had shared. He had compromised her - fully - irrevocably. How had he come to act in such a base and thoughtless manner? All the while it had felt pure and right.

He led her to the settee and sat beside her. She turned away, sobbing. She was so lovely, so innocent. What had he done? There was nothing he could do to change what had transpired, and in his heart he really had no wish to, but he knew what he had to do. What he wanted above all things.

"You can be assured I will stand by you."

"I could never tell anyone what I have just done."

"What we have done. I was as much a part of it as you. More. You had no idea what was happening. I at least should have had the sense . . ."

"Shhh." She held her hand up to his lips. "Say no more. I cannot bear it."

He grasped her hand and held it. "We can be married."

"No - don't even say it."

"Why not? I want nothing more than to marry you."

"I cannot expect it of you. Please, go. Leave and forget me."

"I could not."

"You must. My aunt will be back soon. How can I face her if you are here?"

"But I will return tomorrow, and we will talk and plan our life together."

She did not answer but only entreated him once more to go.

He wanted to take her in his arms again and kiss her lips but he understood that he could not do so - that he must wait until their marriage before sharing any intimacy again. Now he must show her every deference of propriety - prove that his respect for her was undiminished - that he was not a rake who preyed upon innocent girls. And for this very reason he had to go when she asked him. He reclaimed his coat from the screen and shrugged it on.

He kissed her hand reverently and placed it on her lap. "Until tomorrow, my sweet."

Lizzie bowed her head in tears. He had slipped down the passage and closed the door behind him before she cast a glance in the direction he had gone. "Goodbye, my love."

Fitzwilliam was halfway across the meadow before he realised that he did not even know her name. He laughed. That would be a discovery for tomorrow. He had never felt more at peace, nor so very alive. He had never so much looked forward to the coming day.

Chapter 2

Posted on Thursday, 31 July 2003, at 10:46 a.m.

With the passing of the storm the sky lightened and daytime reigned again. Lizzie was cast into confusion. What had appeared to her as night had not been so at all. Was she no longer competent to realise the difference between night and day, sleep and wake, dream and reality? She had never been so unsettled. If it were not for the damp patches by the door and the unaccustomed ache in her body she would be led to believe she had imagined the whole.

But she had not. She could not have imagined anything so potent in her wildest dreams. The feel of his arms around her and the touch of his lips was exquisite. The look in his eyes as they met hers caused a response in her entire body. She still felt light-headed. But the sensations that had flown through her were more than physical and because of that, much more difficult to contend with. She could not drive them away with a cloth soaked in lavender water, or a hot poultice. Somehow she knew that it was love - it was not just his handsome face, but something in his eyes that called to her heart. And she could not deny that after their intimacy he was kindness itself.

But marriage was out of the question. She had seen the anguish in his face and she had given him comfort. Was he to marry her for that - perhaps ruin himself in the eyes of the world when he was so young and had so much to look forward to? She could not hold him to it. Nor could she admit to anyone what had passed between them. There was only one thing to do. She went back to the dismal scullery and poured a fresh basin of water to bathe her face. She twisted her hair into a knot and pinned it up. She brushed out her skirts to smooth away the wrinkles. And when she felt that outwardly she still appeared to be the innocent young girl she had been in the morning, she strove to bring her emotions in check and lock all the yearning and desire that filled her into a safe dark place in the recesses of her soul.

When her aunt arrived she was sitting composedly on the sofa.

"Did I not ask you to bolt the door?"

Lizzie looked startled, but answered calmly. "I opened the door once, but must have forgotten to lock it again. I'm sorry Aunt."

"But why would you open it?"

"There was a storm." Lizzie's voice shook a little. She was prepared to prevaricate, but she would not lie. She hoped her aunt would question her no more.

"My dear girl! You were all alone and hoping for my return I presume? How many times must I tell you that peering out windows and waiting by doors does not bring someone back sooner? You must learn to be more patient. In all events I have returned now. Was it so very bad being alone for so long?"

Lizzie could control herself no longer. "Yes Aunt," she cried as she threw herself into her arms. She knew she had done something terrible - wonderful to her - but terrible in the eyes of the world. Though it was deceitful, she allowed her aunt to think that she had taken fright in the storm. The alternative was impossible.

"There, there child. And all the time you were probably worrying yourself over the mother and babe. I'm sorry I was short with you. It was an ordeal, but they are both alive - though the infant is weak and the mother barely clinging to life. The widow Davies cannot leave them."

Lizzie was shocked that she had forgotten all about them. She chastised herself severely for her selfishness. "But you do expect them to recover, Aunt, do you not?"

"Yes, my love, if they are given the care that they need. Now we must make ready. I met our coachman upon the road and he said the repairs to our carriage would be completed shortly. You must be hungry - I know I am. We can procure a late luncheon in Hunsford Village and then see what headway we can make before nightfall. By tomorrow evening you will finally be able to sleep in your own bed."

Within a half an hour they were underway. Lizzie turned back to look at the cottage before ascending the steps of the coach. She would never forget it - not ever.

"My dear," said her aunt as she hurried out of the house. "Look what I found - you almost forgot your book."

"Thank you, Aunt," she said, taking it and placing it on the seat beside her. She knew she would never open it again. It had nothing to do with real life. She looked out over the blurred hedgerows to the long, sloping meadow. Good bye my love. Soon trees rose up to obscure her view, but she did not shift her gaze.

Fitzwilliam's aunt eyed him warily across the dinner table. "You are strangely cheerful tonight for someone caught in one of the worst storms we have experienced yet this fall," she said, holding him with her hard glare. "I'll not be surprised if you ruined your coat. You looked a shambles when you came in."

"My coat matters nothing to me," he answered with unusual buoyancy. "The storm was heaven sent."

Anne looked up at him, an expression of wonder on her face. Lady Catherine snorted. "You are talking complete drivel. Your father may give you a generous allowance, but that does not mean you should be wasteful. Management, my dear boy, is what I am speaking of. Always making the best of what you have. I am not averse to you ordering fine coats, in fact that is your right, but it is what you do with the coats that concerns me. You will be in charge of vast estates one day and carelessness will not make them grander or more productive."

"It is only a coat, Aunt, and it does not signify in the great scheme of things."

"It is my belief exposure to the elements has addled your brain. You are frightening dear Anne with your nonsense."

"I do apologise, Anne," he said bowing in her direction and giving her a warm smile. Nothing his aunt had to say was about to dampen his spirits.

Anne looked back down at her plate and began to pick at her food again.

"In fact," said Lady Catherine, not wanting to let the subject rest, "Bristow tells me that there were scorch marks on one of the sleeves. Can you explain that?"

Fitzwilliam had no intention of enlightening his aunt for the world, but in his present state of elation he couldn't help but feel mischievous. "Lightning?"

"I will brook no insolence!" she thundered.

"I do apologise, Aunt Catherine. I sought shelter in a cottage and my sleeve must have come too close to the fire."

"Which cottage?" she asked imperiously.

Fitzwilliam abhorred disguise of any sort, but he was not going to have his aunt discover anything before he could assure the girl the protection of his hand. "One of the many on your estate."

"You must be aware of which one it was."

"One cottage is the same as another. All I know is that I could barely see because of the rain and a cottage providentially appeared."

"And where were you at the time?"

"Riding out on the meadow."

"There are no cottages on the meadow. Why are you being evasive? I am not going to roust out the peasant who burned your coat and expect restitution. I was merely attempting to ascertain which of my tenants afforded you shelter."

"I did not think you were, ma'am."

"You have not yet answered my question," said Lady Catherine in frigid accents.

Fitzwilliam found himself cornered and silently cursed the lack of restraint that had led him into this trap. One had always to be cautious in dealing with Aunt Catherine. When would he learn better? He was indeed a young fool. He paused to collect his thoughts - he had to protect her at all costs. If it were to come out that they had been alone together, her reputation would receive such a blemish that even their marriage could not erase for years to come - and it was completely his fault.

"Mother," Anne gasped. "I feel very faint." She suddenly slumped over her plate.

Fitzwilliam pushed his chair back and rushed to support his cousin. Lady Catherine began to imperiously call for Mrs. Jenkinson.

"Oh, where is that woman, confound her?"

"You sent her for another shawl not ten minutes ago," responded her nephew.

"And is she out carding the wool?"

Just then Mrs. Jenkinson entered, a shawl draped over one arm. She stopped cold when she saw her charge lying limp in Fitzwilliam's arms. The shawl fell to the floor. "Poor, dear Anne! Whatever has happened, my lady?"

"You have the temerity to ask me that? What have you been doing? Gossiping with the servants while my daughter is in a state of collapse? Is this what you call care and attention?"

"I'm sorry, my lady, but the shawl you required for Anne had been misplaced and I had great trouble finding it."

"Does she not have others?"

"But . . ."

Fitzwilliam stood with his limp burden. "Don't you think attending to Anne should be of first importance? Mrs Jenkinson, where would you have me put her?"

"On the settee in her sitting room, thank you sir."

Fitzwilliam strode out of the room with Anne's attendant fluttering behind him mumbling distractedly about salts and hartshorn and vinaigrette.

"Remember, I have not finished with you yet, Fitzwilliam," came his aunt's strident tones as she followed them.

After he saw his cousin comfortably placed, he excused himself and retired to his rooms for the evening. If it were at all believable he could have sworn that Anne's swoon was not real, but that made no sense at all. What reason would his cousin have for pretending illness? She could have no idea that he had a secret he did not want discovered, and if she did, what would lead her to aid him by deception? What would lead her to aid him at all?

Fitzwilliam pulled off his boots and sat on his bed, leaning up against the pillows. He let that question fade along with all his aunt's recriminations. His mind travelled back to the morning and he relived that wondrous experience without applying any of the worries and concerns to it that he would have to deal with in the days to come. He just floated in the memory of her eyes and the soft contours of her body. He had never imagined love could be quite like that - a complete meeting of body and soul - and that he would find it, amazingly, when he was so alone and in need. That it was love he had no doubt. His heart quickened with the thought of seeing her again on the morrow, and then his concerns for her safety resurfaced.

He would not have her maligned, for anything. No hint of scandal should touch her. How he was going to manage that he had no idea. He would visit in the morning and somehow find a way to speak to her alone. Then he would have to approach his father and convince him to allow an engagement. He knew he was young, but he would wait to marry until he gained his majority if he had to. The important thing was to show her he was sincere and to bind her to him with a promise until they could be united before God. Once promised, he could do all that was in his power to improve her condition in life. As his betrothed he could surely set her up in a nice home with a suitable companion. Her family should be only to happy to see her well established.

That she should live in such a crude cottage was unthinkable. It was obvious she did not belong there. Her voice was educated, cultured, her good breeding evident. What kind of reverses had her family suffered to cause her to reside in such a lowly dwelling? She had mentioned the lack of servants to him as if not only he but also she would have relied on their presence. And she had talked of an aunt. Had she been sent off to live with a poor relation on the event of her parents' death? The more he thought about it, the more it baffled him. In the morning he had simply accepted her presence and been carried away by the sensations of being close to her. He hadn't looked any further than that. He hadn't thought about the conditions she lived in and the circumstances of her family. He hadn't thought about anything but the miracle of their love.

He was young but he was not completely naďve, and he at once perceived his visions of a blissful future being stripped away. His father would not countenance his marriage to a nobody, of that he was certain. Mr Darcy had a great deal of pride, and though he was a distant parent he had high expectations for his son. Fitzwilliam knew that marrying an unknown country girl was not one of them. But not only did he have an obligation to marry her, he wanted nothing else in the world than to have her as his own. He would have to confront his father and convince him of his regard and her worth, it was that or fleeing with her to the border, something he would only do if there were no recourse.

There was a knock at the door and Bristow entered with a candle.

"How came you to be sitting up here in the darkness, young master? Why was I not informed that you had retired for the evening?"

"I was in no mood for company."

Bristow was in the process of picking up the discarded boots, a look of distaste on his dour features. "Let me help you off with your things and prepare you for bed, sir."

"I wish no assistance, Bristow. You may leave the candle and go. Have a good night."

"Very well, sir," he said as he took the boots to the dressing room, and then quitted Fitzwilliam's compartment with a stiff bow.

One of Aunt Catherine's minions. Fitzwilliam eyed the retreating form with distaste. He was certain she had them spy on him. Bristow, the footmen, and even the groom. In the morning he was going to have to be cautious - head over to the home wood and then double back. He wouldn't even be surprised if she put one of the stable lads on his trail. She had an insatiable curiosity and could not bear to be in the dark about anything. Fitzwilliam knew that his behaviour at dinner had raised her suspicions.

This belief was corroborated in the morning when he sat down to breakfast. His aunt asked not a word about the location of the cottage. She talked instead of Anne's present wellbeing and delicate constitution. She implied that the discussion of the night before had worn on the dear girl's nerves, stressing that every care must be given to providing her with a tranquil setting. She shot him glances that he could not misconstrue. She meant to discover just what he had been about, but she could not act counter to her proclamation that peace should abound. She would be much more subtle today.

Fitzwilliam expressed the intent to go out riding and then excused himself. When he came down to the stables, he knew he would be followed. He meandered through the home wood until he noticed not one, but two servants shadowing him. He increased his pace and took them on a chase that led through a brook, out into a lane, over hedges, and back into the woods again. By the time he reached the open meadow he was free of them and he released Shadow to gallop furiously across the rolling plain. The run was not only good for his horse, it also relieved Fitzwilliam of the bottled up frustration that had been gnawing at him all morning. He passed the gnarled orchard and then circled round to the front door of the cottage. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. He was about to see her again. He knocked and willed that she would be the one to open the door, and she would be alone again. And he, though he wanted her in his arms, would pay her every respect due her.

The door was opened by a rough looking woman. Fitzwilliam was taken aback. He had been so certain it would be her.

"How may I help ye, young master?"

"Pardon me, but I was wondering if your niece was at home."

"Me niece? And what would ye be wantin' the likes o' her fer?"

"Yesterday I was caught in the storm and she offered shelter for myself and my horse. I have come to thank her for her kindness."

The old woman snorted loudly and broke into a grin. "Ye had me all befuddled, askin' fer me niece an' I couldna fer the life a me figger what a gennleman o' yer distinction would be wantin' her fer. But the young miss, now there's another thing entirely. A sweet lass."

Fitzwilliam could not make much more from this speech than that he had mistaken the woman's relationship to the girl. "Yes, if I could extend my thanks to the young miss I would be more than obliged to you."

"Well that be nigh impossible, I'm afeared. She be gone an' her aunt as well."

"Gone? That can't be!" The old woman stared at him in fascination as all the colour left his face and he began to reel.

"Me manners have gone a beggin'. Come in an' set yerself down afore ye faint dead away." She held the door wide, but Fitzwilliam declined the invitation. He could not enter the cottage or again see the room where they had met as one. Not if she was no longer here. He bolstered himself against the doorjamb and gasped for breath. As soon as he had control of his ravaged emotions he addressed her again.

"Where have they gone?"

"Now that I canna tell ye. I disremember where they was from."

Fitzwilliam was struck speechless for a moment. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"The aunt were from London, I recall, but they was headin' to the home o the lass, somewhere in the country."

"They do not live here? Are they not your family?"

"Nay sir, not but passin' travellers in distress. 'Twas a broken coach wheel."

"Could you tell me their names? Please? It is very important to me."

"I can see as it is, ye bein' so upset an all. But me mem'ry tis not so good. Seems the lady went by the name of Guarder or were it Ganderer?"

"And the young lady?" His voice was eager with a hint of repressed excitement.

"Ah! A nice name she had, if I could only recall. I'm sorry I canna be more help. Check at the smithy - they may know the direction."

Fitzwilliam thanked the woman and rode off to the smithy. He received no better information there. The owner of the carriage was from London - where it was bound was anyone's guess. The name was also a mystery - Gallagher, Garringer - something akin to that. He asked everyone who had been in contact with the coachman, the hostler at the inn where they had taken their lunch, and the post boys at the stables. He knew his aunt would hear of his questions, but he no longer cared. His world had just crashed down about his ears. He was lost, adrift on a dark sea without a rudder.

His eyes were open as he rode from the village but he could not see. There were not even tears to blind him - just the empty nothingness of blasted hopes, withered dreams, and insurmountable loss. He could not believe that she was gone as suddenly as she had come into his life. He had no name, no direction, nothing to help him find her but the strength of his love and the knowledge that he could not live without her.

Chapter Three

Posted on Friday, 8 August 2003, at 10:40 a.m.

The succeeding days proved that Fitzwilliam could, indeed, still live, but life held even less meaning for him than it had before. The depth of his pain had been replaced by a hollow numbness. He had no leads, no ideas, and no recourse. He was to go home to Pemberley in a week and though he hated to leave the only place he had ever seen her, the likelihood of her return was less than non-existent. Meanwhile, his aunt was making his days a torture with her constant questions and insinuations, driving him to spend his time in solitary rides upon the meadow. He went to the cottage once more, but the old woman could give him no further information, and the curious glances she directed his way brought him to realise that his continued enquiries would cause nothing but unwanted speculation.

His Aunt Catherine cornered him in the library one morning. "Fitzwilliam, I must speak to you in private. There are certain things I do not want brought to Anne's ears. I know that men will be men, but you are still little more than a boy. If you insist on discovering the mysteries of life with some milkmaid, I beg that you would be more discreet in your dealings, as behoves your position of dignity in this neighbourhood. I will not have my nephew be made a fool of and his name bandied in every tavern in the county."

Fitzwilliam looked at her in shock. "I . . . I am not a seducer of milkmaids. Such base behaviour is beneath me."

"So I would have thought, but you have been acting like a young, besotted fool, asking after some family that was staying at Widow Davies' cottage, and I mean to know why."

"It is not as you think! I was offered shelter from the storm and I only wanted to extend my appreciation."

"I know where a young man's interest lies with that sort of person, and I want to impress upon you that though I deplore such antics I know even gentlemen do indulge themselves and think nothing of it. Just remember that encounters of that nature are meaningless and the women who satisfy your male weaknesses are wanton tramps."

Fitzwilliam's face became suffused with fury. "I will not stay here to listen to your vile and groundless insinuations."

He strode from the library, slamming the door behind him. He would be leaving in three more days but he wished himself gone at that very moment. That his aunt had the audacity to speak to him of such things! He had acquaintances who boasted of philandering with parlour maids, but such behaviour was unthinkable to him. He knew his aunt was only speaking on conjecture, that no one could possibly know what had passed between the girl and himself, but that she should arrive at such a conclusion about him was preposterous. And to even consider that what had occurred at the cottage was no more than his male need to sow a few wild oats, caused fire to burn within him. It had not been like that. It had been pure and beautiful and meaningful, and nothing anyone said would shake his belief that it was anything other than love.

That evening at dinner, Fitzwilliam spoke only in monosyllables, letting his aunt drone on and on about who knows what. He did not listen to a word of it. He retired immediately to his room and sat in the darkness staring out the window at the vast display of stars that scattered to the far reaches of the heavens. He thought of how lonely and empty it must be out there and would probably have stayed with his cheek up against the glass all night if he had not been disturbed by a light knock. Upon its being repeated he called out for whomever it was to enter and, expecting a servant, was surprised when his cousin came into his room.

"I doubt you were expecting to see me," she said in her plain, stiff voice.

"This is highly irregular, is it not, Anne - visiting me in my room?" His voice was wary.

"My mother does not know, nor is she likely to find out," said Anne calmly. "Do you not have a light other than your fire?"

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Fitzwilliam found a branch of candles and lit them. "Is that more to your taste?"

"There is no need to be out of sorts, I am not here for any devious purpose."

"Please excuse my incivility, cousin. Do sit down," said Fitzwilliam with an excess of politeness.

Anne sighed and sat in an armchair by the fire. "I am certain you were aware that I was not really ill the other evening when I swooned." Fitzwilliam nodded. "Let me explain myself. All that afternoon and during dinner, I noticed a great change in your behaviour. You were happy as I have never seen you, and more - you were filled with enthusiasm, anticipation. I noticed that my mother's questions were disturbing you, so I fabricated a fainting spell. All this time I have been trying to understand where your happiness came from and where it disappeared to the next day."

"I don't see that it is any business of yours," said Fitzwilliam, shortly. He had never heard such a long speech from his cousin before and her very presence in his room aroused suspicion. He felt his aunt must be behind it.

"I don't imagine you do. Let us just say that I am intrigued - I wonder what happiness feels like."

"Then you should attempt to find some for yourself."

"I just might one day. Was she very beautiful?"

"Wh. . . who?"

"This girl you are searching for."

"I was just wanting to pay my respects . . ."

"Yes, I know all about that. I have my spies too, you know. And I do not carry tales to my mother. I heard she browbeat you with indelicate accusations." Here Anne's colour rose. "I do not think what she thinks. I know you would do nothing reprehensible. That is one of the reasons I have always been willing to marry you. I just want to know if she was very beautiful."

Fitzwilliam looked at his cousin in astonishment. Did he ever know her? He sighed. Nothing mattered any more. "Yes, but she was more than just beautiful. She was caring and compassionate. She filled me with hope - she brought me joy - she showed me what it is to love." He turned his head away. He could not face the curious stare of her mild grey eyes.

"And now she has disappeared out of your life," she said dispassionately. "Happiness is so fleeting. Tell me - was it worth the pain?"

"Yes. Yes it was." It was said with feeling as he stared into the fire.

"Then one day I hope I may find some happiness too, before I die. Goodnight Fitzwilliam." She said it in her normal bland way, her face expressionless. Anne got up from her chair. "I will see myself out."

In a moment she was gone and Fitzwilliam was left wondering about the significance of the clandestine visit. The next morning, and for the rest of his visit, she behaved as she always had done, giving no indication that anything had ever passed between them.

Though Lizzie was happy to be home with her sisters again, she was far from feeling contentment. She knew she would never see him again, and the very thought brought tears threatening to spill forth. It was only at night, when Jane was asleep beside her, that she allowed them to break free and soak her fine cambric pillowcase.

On her way home in the carriage, she had found the courage to ask her Aunt Gardiner some questions that had been of concern to her. Because of the delicate subject matter she was glad that her aunt had given her an opening that would help her queries avoid appearing suspicious.

"My dear child, I am afraid this trip has not been quite what I had planned. You have been made privy to some distressing facts of life that I hope do not build groundless fears. Let me assure you that childbirth is not always such a frightening and dangerous occurrence." Mrs Gardiner patted her hand encouragingly.

"May I ask you a question, Aunt?" started Lizzie in a timid voice.

"By all means. If there is something troubling you I should be happy to settle your mind."

"When a lady marries, does she . . . become with child directly . . . I mean, how long does it take after marriage before a baby is expected to be born?" She looked down at her hands.

"Lizzie, you have no need to worry yourself about such things. You are not yet out and it will be a few years before you will have to concern yourself with such matters. But, I can plainly see that you are troubled. Do not fear marriage because of what you have learned about childbirth. Sometimes children come before the first year of marriage is out, sometimes later, and even, in unfortunate cases, not at all. Children are a blessing that bring fulfilment and joy to their parents." Mrs Gardiner had no desires to broach the subject of the finer points of conception - there would be time enough for that when Lizzie was older and it was to be hoped that her mother would perform the task appropriately. She reasoned that such information at this point might distress her niece even more.

"But . . . do babies happen because the husband and wife share intimacies?" Lizzie blushed deeply.

Her aunt looked at her in no little shock.

"Mrs. Lattimer's chambermaids were discussing . . ." Lizzie let her voice trail off. It was true - now she knew what it was they were referring to with their loose talk.

"A slatternly pair of girls, those, with no thought of how to speak in front of a young lady. I'm sorry, Lizzie, that you were left in their company. I have already advised my sister to replace them because they went about their work in such a slipshod manner. I am very happy that I did."

"So is it true?"

"Yes, my dear. But with the blessing of the Lord upon their union, there is nothing disgraceful about such things in marriage. Your mother will be sure to speak with you of this when the time comes."

"But, outside of wedlock, when a girl loses her virtue . . . and is disgraced, is it also a humiliation for the man who has compromised her?"

"Lizzie! Whatever would make you ask a question like that?"

"Well you said that such things are not disgraceful inside marriage . . . so it follows that they are outside of it, and . . . I only wondered because my mother says we must always be on our guard for our reputations and . . . well, is this what she was speaking of?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And a young lady in such circumstances is wanton and depraved?"

"Not always, Lizzie. Sometimes they are simply reckless and foolhardy, or innocent and ignorant. But the effect is the same - they are ruined."

"And the gentleman is ruined also?"

"You are very persistent today. A man who would compromise a young lady is no gentleman. However, though a rake may be looked upon with a certain amount of disapproval, he will always be accepted everywhere in society unless he is completely base. A woman only has to commit an indiscretion once to be shunned by the world."

"So, no gentleman would ever?"

"Oh, Lizzie. What I have told you may be misleading. You cannot count on every gentleman not to make improper advances. Some are not as gentlemanly as they seem. Even a gentleman may succumb to temptation, but he would right his wrong."

"You mean by marriage?"

"Yes, but it would still be a disgrace. People would continue to talk and look down upon the young lady even though she was a bride. But do not be unduly concerned, Lizzie. A girl, properly raised with every virtue, knows not to be alone with a gentleman."

"Yes Aunt. That is something I will not forget."

"Oh Lizzie! I would never have any worries about you in this regard - you are much too sensible."

Lizzie had to turn her head so her aunt could not see the look of embarrassment on her face. Her aunt's trust in her was completely misplaced, and it pained her. Was she reckless and foolhardy, or simply ignorant? Had she been improperly raised that she had invited a gentleman in when she was alone? That she had allowed him to have his way with her? She was being unfair and she knew it. She was the one that had reached up to pushed back his strand of wet hair. She was the one who had offered comfort. Maybe she was wanton. And he was not a rake, but a gentleman. Just as her aunt had said, he offered to make up for what had been done - to marry her though he knew nothing of her background or family. She had been right to keep it to herself and not tell her aunt, to protect him from a decision that had the potential to ruin his life. Her aunt had even said that marriage would not save her reputation. Better, much better, that nobody knew.

Mrs Gardiner watched her niece as she sat with her head bent, letting herself rock unsteadily with the motion of the carriage. She looked to be embarrassed by the questions she had asked, and possibly the answers too. Mrs Gardiner sighed. If only her sister, Fanny, could be counted on to give her daughters sensible advice. But she was afraid that the bulk of Lizzie's knowledge came from the books she read. She glanced at the novel that lay forgotten on the seat between them. Were novels like that responsible for this train of thought? She mentally made a note to find some edifying reading for her niece, and to talk to her sister Phillips about the sort of books she was buying for the Bennet girls. As the coach rocked on along the high road, the book slipped deeper and deeper between the cushions. She was pleased when it completely disappeared and not even a corner was visible. This time she would ensure it was left behind.

Lizzie could not forget what her aunt had said. She rolled over in the bed and stared at the ceiling. Babies were the result of marital intimacies. Lizzie was certain that when these intimacies happened outside of wedlock the result would be the same - she had heard of natural children - by blows. How could she tell if she were increasing? It could happen within the first year, or even longer. That is what her aunt had said. Or maybe never. She had said that too. But how did one know? She felt no different; she looked no different. But the inescapable fact was she had been compromised and could be with child. If she were it would mean the end of life as she knew it. She would not only disgrace herself, but her whole family - perhaps spoil the chances of even one of her sisters to marry well, if at all. As much as she would love to hold a baby boy in her arms who would look up at her with his eyes and smile at her with his smile, she knew it was better if she were barren. Never to have a child at all. She hid her face in her pillow as Jane stirred beside her.

"Lizzie, are you awake?"

She stifled a sob and willed her breathing to return to an even rhythm.

"I know you are awake. What is the matter dearest?"

"I am fine, Jane."

"You have not been fine since your return, Lizzie," said her older sister as she folded her into her arms. "Please tell me what is troubling you."

Lizzie turned and buried her face in her sister's shoulder, breaking into wrenching sobs. "I can't. I can never tell anybody. But hold me please, and know that I love you more than ever." She cried until she fell into a fitful sleep as Jane held her close and stroked her back. Jane did not sleep again that night.

Chapter 4

Posted on Thursday, 14 August 2003, at 10:03 a.m.

For two long years Lizzie waited and watched, hoped and prayed, but her body showed no signs of increasing. She did not know whether to be pleased or disappointed, but every morning when she checked her stomach she felt relief that she could put off the concern for another day. Though the strain of uncertainty was wearing, Lizzie was not a person to let her worries adversely affect her humour. Her experience had taken her innocence and opened her eyes to the ways of the world, but she was not about to wallow in despair and despondence. She was necessarily more serious and sensible than heretofore, but her naturally lively nature could not be subdued. Her wit was a little more cynical and she had high expectations of her neighbours that were rarely met. She had now been out for a year complete, but she measured every new acquaintance by a yardstick of such human perfection as left them all lacking. No one could compare.

Of all her family, Jane was the most aware of the change in her temperament and could sense the sorrow that Lizzie attempted to hide from everybody behind her constant activity and cheerful demeanour. Jane knew the exact date of this change but never pressed her sister for an explanation. All she did was open her heart to her more and a sisterly bond deepened and strengthened between them as did not exist with their younger siblings.

Mr Bennet had also noticed that his Lizzie was less interested in the superficialities of socialisation and fashion, and more introspective and thoughtful in her dealings with others, but he put it down to maturing and had hopes that one day the same miracle would happen to his younger daughters. Jane had always been steady and cautious by nature, but the younger girls he regarded as some of the silliest in all of Britain.

In Lizzie he saw something special and he spent long hours with her sharing the works of authors he most loved. He could also count on her to enter into the pleasure he took in the oddities of human nature that he found so amusing. Just a look and a wink her way were enough to bring a little smile to her face in a drawing room or dinner party. He was aware that she was not easily swayed by the young gentlemen she met, though they often showed her great partiality, and this too he respected in her. He did not want to see her swept off her feet by someone who was unworthy. It was only a very special somebody that he would accept for his Lizzie.

Mrs Bennet was a trifle frustrated with both her eldest daughters. Jane had been out three years and Lizzie one, and still neither was engaged. She had to admit that she had great hopes to marry Jane off to someone much richer than any in the neighbourhood as she was such a beauty, but it was distressing how Lizzie had turned her nose up at very promising suitors. Mary was to make her come out now, and how she was ever to have a chance with two much more attractive sisters still unmarried, Fanny Bennet had no idea. Her nerves were shred to ribbons, as she noted to her sister Phillips one morning.

"My dear sister, these girls will be the death of me. How I am to marry five creditably should they all prove to be this fussy, I have no idea."

"You need not worry about Kitty and Lydia. Yesterday they were hanging out my parlour window staring after some young officers in the most promising way," said Mrs Phillips encouragingly.

"And to think they are but fourteen and twelve!" Mrs Bennet beamed with pride.

"Sister have you heard the news from our sister Gardiner? Her monthly visits have stopped. She is with child again!"

Lizzie entered the parlour at the same moment as this announcement was made. She started in shock and blurted out without thinking. "Monthly visits stop when a lady is increasing?"

Her mother and her aunt both turned to look at her.

"That was not meant for your ears, Lizzie," said her mother, "but yes - it is a sure sign."

"And Aunt Gardiner is to have a third child?" asked Lizzie to cover up the tumult of her thoughts.

"Yes she is," said Aunt Phillips a little wistfully. "I would say by November, for her monthly visits have stopped for three months . . . that would date back to the great snowstorm in February when the whole of England was housebound for a week. I shouldn't be surprised to see a new crop of babies come into the world this November."

"Sister, please," said Mrs Bennet. "Lizzie does not know of such things yet. There will be time enough to tell her when she is married. Lizzie, it was very unwise of you to come in just now without knocking. Please leave the room and forget all you have heard."

"Yes mama," said Lizzie gladly and ran out into the garden. She wandered aimlessly, not looking at anything, and how she came to the riverbank she had no way of knowing. All she could think was that she had been worried about something for two years when, if she had been with child, she would have given birth nine months after the encounter in the cottage. Nine months! And she had been hoping for and dreading a child for so long. If she hadn't just then entered the parlour, how many years would it have been until she had understood the workings of nature? Why had no one ever given her such important information? Only nine months. But her aunt had said it could be before the first year of marriage was out, or later, or never. That must mean . . . that it did not always happen after . . . intimacies were shared.

She sank under the willow tree and grieved for the child that never was. The image of him. She grieved that she had nothing more to remember him by than the memory of being held close in his arms, his kisses, and his gentle reassurances that he would stand by her and marry her. Nothing of him. No keepsake. She knew it was for the best that there was no issue from their union, but that did nothing to stem the tide of tears, nothing to ease the emptiness that yawned within her. She felt his loss as greatly as she did that day when she had let the carriage take her further and further from his reach.

And she allowed herself to dream, something that she always held fast against. She gave in to her longing and let loose the image of him riding across the meadow on his horse, the sight of him at the cottage door, the feel of his hand on her arm, the look in his eyes. What if she had stayed? How would their life have been? She would surely have a child by now, and they would be living together, embraced by love. A family. She imagined a comfortable home, a garden full of roses, herself standing at the gate, their child in her arms, as he came towards her across the fields upon his horse. Or evenings by the fireside, reading to each other, their eyes meeting in gentle understanding. And instead of pain in his, there would be happiness and fulfilment.

Where was he now? What was he doing? How had he felt when he had come to the cottage to find her gone? Had he searched for her or returned home in anger? Did he still think of her now? Had she meant as much to him as he did to her, or was she already forgotten, replaced by someone else's pretty face and comforting touch? Would she ever, ever see him again?

Fitzwilliam Darcy stared into the fire. Two years and he had nothing but the memory of her face, her voice, and the soft warmth of her body. He had stopped at inns all his way home from Rosings and gained no more information than that a carriage of that description was indeed travelling to London and that it hailed from Cheapside.

Cheapside! His father would have been pleased with that. He could very well imagine that gentleman's reaction when he asked to be allowed to marry a girl with relations in Cheapside. But he had not found her, and the request remained unasked. Without a street or a name it was more than hopeless. Even now, two years later, he haunted the streets of that part of London, hoping to see her. He knew them all so well. On some the houses were small and grimy, but others flaunted the wealth of the newly rich merchants. There were little parks with plane trees and rose gardens, but she was never to be seen walking by a pond or sitting on a bench. At times he would look desperately at a mother with a young child, hoping for some sort of recognition. If she had conceived, his child would have been that age. But it was never her face, her eyes. It was never his child.

He knew that if she had been with child she would be ruined in the eyes of society, possibly cast out by her own family, and it grieved him that he was helpless to do anything to rectify the situation, not knowing where she could possibly be. Unable to give her his support and the protection of his name. She already had his heart - it was gone from him forever.

He found he was becoming more like his father every day, and he finally understood the man who had turned his back on his own children when the light had been blown out of his life. But he was determined not to do the same thing. To the world he was aloof and distant, but to the one person who remained in his life, the one person who needed all his strength and was there to receive it, he gave all he had to give. Georgiana was eight now, and closer to him than anyone in the world. She was the only thing that brought his life meaning anymore. His reason for continued existence. She alone had the power to bring him happiness.

He was by no means friendless. He had one or two school-fellows whom he joined for sport or conversation and they were accustomed to his quiet ways and demanded no more from him than what he chose to give. There were also his cousins. Aside from Anne, who he saw once a year on his obligatory visit to Rosings, there were also his two Fitzwilliam cousins who were some years older - the future earl and his younger brother, a newly made army captain. With Captain Fitzwilliam he shared a closeness that allowed him more openness than with any of his friends from school.

Darcy was currently at Pemberley for school break and so too was the captain who was on a short leave before starting his training in earnest. Captain Fitzwilliam watched his cousin dispassionately for a few more moments as he sat with his gaze lost in the fire, and then decided that the time had come to interrupt his reverie.

"You are in such a brown study - if I did not know better, I'd say you were crossed in love."

Darcy only snorted.

"What is it then, man?"

"So, you do not think I could be crossed in love. Why is that?" Darcy stared directly at his cousin now instead of the fire.

"It is well known that you never look at a woman but to criticise her." Captain Fitzwilliam matched his stare.

"I see. You think I am heartless."

"I think you should allow yourself a bit of fun. You're eighteen. Have you ever made love to a woman? I know of a place where the courtesans are very lively and accommodating. Why don't you accompany me some time? Discovering what the fair sex have to offer should help remove this dark cloud you are always under."

"I have no need of it."

"There is nothing that helps a man more than a frolic in the hay. Don't be a prude, Darcy. Once you have experienced it for the first time you will thank me for my advice."

"I have experienced it."

The captain stared at his cousin in amazement. "Where? With whom? Not in a London establishment - a serving wench possibly?" He slapped Darcy on the back. "You dog! You have hidden depths I would never have expected."

"It was not like that. I would never force my . . . attentions upon one of my servants."

"It would not take force. No, I think many of them would be quite willing. You are a very presentable young buck, you know." The captain grinned and winked at him.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," said Darcy blushing. "I would never take advantage of a young girl in service, or any young girl for that matter."

"So it was a courtesan."

"Definitely not."

"Why are you so severe? They serve a most needed purpose - most men enjoy their attractions. Who then? Some older lady of your acquaintance - married perhaps and looking for amusement? I would never have thought it of you." Captain Fitzwilliam smirked.

"You are trying to shock me, I know."

"I have heard they can be very generous, though I must admit even I would draw a line at that sort of pleasure. Give over, Darcy. Who is this lovely wench that has stolen your virginity?"

Darcy had never meant to speak of her to anyone and chided what must have been his male vanity for admitting that he was, indeed, experienced. That and his unflagging honesty. "She is not a wench, nor is this something that I would wish to bandy about. I have made love with one girl alone on only one occasion, and it was the most truly wonderful experience of my life, to share love like that."

"Love?" said Captain Fitzwilliam. "You are a young idealist. But ladies do not bestow such favours before marriage, and I know of no lady of our acquaintance who I could even imagine you to be in love with."

"You do not know her."

"Where did you meet this paragon?"

"Two years ago in a cottage on my aunt's estate."

Captain Fitzwilliam whistled. "This has been going on for two years, this love affair? No wonder you are ever eager to visit the old battleaxe. Oh - I just had an awful thought - it is not your dear cousin whom you are destined to marry is it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Anne? The idea is . . . preposterous. I said that you don't know her. And there is no love affair. It happened two years ago."

"When you were sixteen? My but you are a sly one. You beat me to the . . . but in a cottage? Was it an assignation?"

"What do you take me for? I never intended to do what I did. It just . . . happened."

"But whatever was a lady doing in a cottage. You are not telling me the love of your life is a farm girl?"

"Do not mock me, cousin."

"I am sorry - but you must see Darcy - it was not love. It was pleasure. You are mistaking the two."

"I am not mistaken."

"You cannot expect me to believe that you fell in love with a young girl you met in a cottage, who is a lady, and that you consummated the act with her freely and that two years have passed since and you are still in love with her, though you have not been intimate again and neither are you engaged. Where is this girl now?"

"I have no idea."

"I wonder if all this staring at fires over the years has done something to the workings of your brain. You do not know where she is? Tell me at least you know who she is."

"If I knew her name do you not think I would have found her by now?" asked Darcy in a hounded voice. "Please do not make little of this. It means everything to me."

"I can see that it does," said his cousin softly, "but if you want my advice, you should come with me to this establishment in Mayfair and then you will be sure to discover that what you think is love is nothing other than sex. Afterwards you would be able to let go of your childish dream and marry a real lady when the time comes. I'll wager the experience you gain will come in handy on your wedding night."

"I have no need of practice. I can safely say that I have already proved to myself I will have no trouble with my performance," said Darcy ruefully. "And as for your second point, cousin, it is not some childish dream, but love. You cannot convince me otherwise. I know this is difficult for a man like you to understand, but believe me when I tell you I will love no other. All that I have seen are dross compared to her."

"Then I am very sorry for you. I want nothing but your happiness, but I see no solution to your problem. How will you discover an unnamed girl in all of England if not by chance? And what if she no longer loves you, or is already married, or has borne a child and is now somewhere ruined, living in abject poverty, or even dead?"

"Do you not think I have thought of all that, every day for the past two years?" Darcy turned his head and stared back at the fire.

His cousin watched him for some time and then let out a big sigh, walked over to the brandy decanter, and poured himself a stiff drink. He wondered at Darcy who never touched the stuff. He himself felt like getting good and drunk.

Chapter 5

Posted on Sunday, 17 August 2003, at 12:06 p.m.

Georgiana sighed. History was dull and so difficult to understand. Her governess had set her a lesson on William the Conqueror, and the succession to the throne was filled with intrigues that she had difficulty following. Why would King Edward the Confessor promise the kingdom to a Norman upon his death, and then why would the country choose Harold instead, a man who had sworn to support William I's claim? This had only forced the Norman Duke to invade and take the throne by force. Battles, battles, battles. There were too many battles. Why could not everything be resolved peaceably? She sighed again and began to consign all the dates to memory.

"Hello Miss Georgiana, my sweet."

Georgiana looked up in surprise at being addressed. An unknown gentleman stood in the doorway of her schoolroom. He had an extremely amiable expression on his handsome face, and he smiled at her charmingly.

"I am sorry if I have startled you, but I was so hoping that you would remember me. I am a friend from your childhood - I have been away at school, just as your brother has."

"Oh!" was all Georgiana could bring herself to say.

"You must remember me. You used to follow me about wherever I went. I'm George!"

Georgiana was still unsure - perhaps she had seen him before - there had been a young man on the estate of about her brother's age some years back, but she could not remember clearly. She was quite certain she had not followed anyone but Fitzwilliam about.

"Steward Wickham's son! Come now - is your old favourite so soon forgotten?" George advanced into the room as he spoke and drew near her desk where she had her books spread out.

"Ought you to be here?" asked Georgiana as she edged away from him.

"I have come to discuss some business with your brother, but I was so anxious to see you again that I have probably overstepped my bounds," he said apologetically. "You see when I was younger I spent countless hours in this very room. I will go away at once and this meeting can be our little secret."

"I do not keep secrets from Fitzwilliam."

"That is very commendable - for such a young girl you have well-developed principles. How old are you now, twelve?"

"I am but eleven, sir," Georgiana said with a small smile.

"I ask that you keep nothing from your brother. I will tell him of our encounter when I see him. What are you studying with such diligence?"

"History - William the Conqueror."

"Aha! The battle of Hastings! 1068."

"It was 1066."

"Was it indeed? I never paid too much attention to my history lessons I am afraid. Dreadfully dry stuff."

Georgiana giggled. "I think so too."

"Did I not tell you we had much in common? I will leave you to your lessons now so that I do not incur your governess' wrath, but I hope to see you again before I leave, madam." He executed a deep bow and winked at her.

After he was gone, Georgiana had difficult keeping her mind on the reign of William I. Although she had been uneasy at first, she had enjoyed the visit from her old friend. She sent her mind back and tried to remember anything she could about him, but all her recollections were shadowy. Well, if they had used to be good friends it must be true because he appeared to recall her so very well.

Fitzwilliam Darcy steeled himself as he turned towards to door. The servant had announced Mr Wickham - not an unexpected visitor but certainly an unwanted one. He hoped the interview would be short and painless.

"Darcy! What an age it has been." Wickham strode through the door with his hand outstretched.

"Sit down." Darcy ignored the hand as he indicated the chair. "Your letter said this meeting was of some urgency. What is it that you want of me?"

"I was hoping for a warmer greeting than that for an old friend."

"It seems I have a clearer memory regarding our former relationship than you do."

Wickham had the grace to blush. "Why don't we let bygones be bygones? Then we were but foolish boys, now you are the master of Pemberley at the young age of twenty-one. How that must please you, to finally be in control of the purse strings."

"I would prefer it were otherwise, and my father still alive."

"Well, undoubtedly it is a big responsibility, but think of what you will be able to do with the money. All of London will be at your feet. Your father kept you on a tight string."

"It was a string of my own choosing. Is this what you have come here to discuss, with not one word of regret at my father's passing? If so, I would ask that you leave right now."

"I was never more saddened to hear of a gentleman's death," said Wickham in a voice dripping with sincerity. "Please accept my deepest condolences."

"I will accept them in the spirit they were given," said Fitzwilliam stiffly.
"You cannot pretend you were attached to the old gentleman. He showed you no more favour than he did me."

"Remember that he was your benefactor. I would have you thrown from this house this minute if it were not for the respect in which I hold your father's memory. What is your business?"

"It is of a rather delicate nature. Your father's will has left me the living of Kympton, when it becomes vacant, but I really do not believe that I am suited to the cloth."

"There, at least, we are in agreement."

"I have the intention of studying law. I think it a much more profitable venture and distinctly more to my liking."

"You are certainly more suited to some aspects of it - but it takes years of diligent application to studies. Your aborted career at Cambridge does not bode well for your ability to stay on task."

"Have some faith in me, Darcy. Do you not think I have learned from my past mistakes? You see before you a man of only good intentions."

"And how do you propose to support this endeavour?"

"That is what I came to discuss. As I have no intentions of taking on the living at Kympton, I was hoping for some sort of financial restitution."

"What was the amount you had in mind?" Darcy opened a drawer and withdrew his draught book.

"Five thousand pounds."

"You must take me for a fool."

"I am giving up a valuable living. You owe me that much."

"I owe you nothing. Nowhere in my father's will does it state that I should buy you off if you refuse the living. I am being more than generous, and only because I want to honour my father's wish to have you established. I will give you three thousand and not a penny more, ever. This is the last time I want you to approach me. What you do with the money is your concern - I have washed my hands of you."

Wickham sat and smirked as Fitzwilliam carefully wrote the figures and then tore the page from his book and handed him the bank draught. "I am most obliged to you, old friend."

"You know your way out."

"I most certainly do. Your dear house is like a second home to me. It pains me that I am no longer welcome here." Wickham left the room with a smile and a light step. That had been much easier than he had expected. Darcy may say that this was the last he would get from him, but in a few years he would be good for a touch again, after all he had a fortune. 'There's no way I'm only going to settle for a few thousand pounds,' thought Wickham. 'Not by a long shot. I deserve much more than that.'

He walked down the steps and looked back at the stately mansion. He thought he saw a young face peering from one of the upper windows, and he waved and then blew a kiss towards the house. Now he had to hurry. He had arranged to meet a young parlour maid in the spinney. He could not disappoint her. He patted his breast pocket. It had been a very profitable visit indeed.

Fitzwilliam sat at his desk and stared out the window. The effrontery of the cad! He sighed knowing that he had given too much too easily, but he just wanted to rid himself of that loathsome presence. If ever there was a profligate, George Wickham was one. The only good to have come from the interview was the knowledge that a man so base had no intentions of entering the clergy. Gaming, womanising, lying and cheating - nothing was below him. The one thing that gratified Fitzwilliam was that his little sister had not been subjected to Wickham's presence. He took out his watch. She would be finished her studies now and practising in the music room. He tidied his desk and went off down the corridor in search of her.

After a morning taxing her brain with names and dates, Georgiana was pleased to take her place at the instrument and run through her scales. Fitzwilliam had recently hired a music master to teach her as he said he himself had taught her all that he was capable. She had at first been frightened to learn from a stranger, but Mr Hormsby was a kind, fatherly sort of man, and very patient with her. Not that her brother had not been patient - she just did not expect it from a tutor - her governess was always so insufferably cross with her when she made the slightest mistake. This she did not tell Fitzwilliam. She knew that he had shouldered great responsibilities when their father had died and she had no intentions of adding to his burden.

She was in the middle of a new piece when she heard a light footfall and glanced in the direction of the door to see her brother entering the room. She stopped immediately and ran towards him, her arms outstretched. "You are earlier than I expected!" she cried as she hugged him.

"I am sorry to have disturbed you. Your playing was very lovely." He leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"You always say that. Really, I played very ill - you must admit it."

"It sounded delightful to me," he said seriously.

She smiled up at him, pleased by his praise. "What are we to do today?"

"I was thinking of a walk in the garden after luncheon. It is a fine day for September. Maybe you could bring your paints and we could go to the stream."

"I would like that above all things. And you could bring your rod."

"You are too good to me, allowing me my favourite pursuits while I am supposed to be indulging you."

"To see you happy is my indulgence."

Fitzwilliam hugged her closer. His heart filled with love for her. If only it were enough for him, but he still longed for that love he had found and lost so suddenly, so many years ago. Would that he could forget her. But he knew deep down he had no wish to forget her, that he would be consumed by the need to search for her until he finally found her. He felt he was letting Georgiana down, but he could not help it.

"Let us sit for a moment, dearest. I have something to tell you." He led her to a settee and sat beside her, taking her hand and stroking it. "I am afraid I will be leaving you again for some months."

Georgiana felt sadness grip her, but she was determined that Fitzwilliam not know how lonely she was when he was gone. She did not want to tie him to her - she knew that there were many things a gentleman must do out in the world that a young girl like her could not take part in. "Where are you going?" she asked brightly.

"Do you remember my friend Charles Bingley? He has plans to buy his own estate and he is going on a tour of a few counties to look at likely prospects his agent has searched out for him. He relies on my judgement and wants me to accompany him as an advisor."

"I do remember him - he is very friendly and smiles a lot. I quite like him, even if he does take you from me," she joked. "He does very well to rely on you - there is no one who could advise him better."

"I thank you for your faith in me - I sincerely hope it is not misplaced. But I must own that Charles is such an amiable fellow he could be imposed upon very easily and without guidance would take the first estate offered no matter if the chimneys all smoked, or the drawing room faced north, or if the pastures were in dire need of draining."

Georgiana laughed. "Will anyone else be accompanying you?"

"I do not know for certain. I sincerely hope that his sisters will not join us. How he came to be saddled with such a pair of . . . no, I should not be uncharitable - but I cannot like them."

"Nor can I. They always want to kiss me and their scent is overpowering."

"Poor sweet. I wish I could procure you companions of your own age. It must be dreadfully dull for you with just myself and the few friends that sometimes visit - and now I am leaving you with only your governess."

"I also have Mrs. Reynolds and Cook, and there is a new litter of kittens in the stables. Have no worries on my account. I will be well entertained - but you will come home for Christmas, will you not?"

"Of course dearest - and with something special for you."

"My best present will be your return."

The afternoon was all that Georgiana could have wished. The troubled look lifted from her brother's brow as he stood, casting his line out into the sparkling waters, while she painted the statuesque beech trees that shadowed a nearby curve of the stream. After dinner they played cribbage together until it was time for her to go up to bed. She left him seated by the fire with a book, looking comfortable and content. It was only as she climbed into her bed that she realised she had forgotten to mention her morning visitor. It did not signify, however, because George had assured her that he would inform Fitzwilliam himself. She went to sleep remembering his dancing eyes and wondering why he had not appeared at all familiar. He must have changed indeed as he had grown older, that was all that could account for it. She hoped he would visit again - she had found him very agreeable.

"Mama is terribly excited about the new tenants at Netherfield, but I mean not to think of them at all," said Jane to Lizzie as they walked in the garden.

"She feels their very purpose in coming to the neighbourhood is to marry one or other of us! I have a great deal of sympathy for them, knowing they will have to endure mama's overtures. But I cannot doubt that once they lay their eyes on you, the two gentleman will realise that it was not sport that brought them at all - or, should I say - another sort of sport entirely."

Jane blushed. "Lizzie, you should not say such things."

"Why ever not? You are by far the prettiest girl in the entire county and any gentleman who does not realise that is nothing short of a fool."

"You are very pretty yourself, Lizzie."

"Your beauty casts mine quite in the shade. Besides, I have no interest in marriage as you well know, Jane."

"When you meet the right gentleman you may change your mind."

"If I should ever meet the right gentleman, I will consider reassessing my decision."

"I wish you would not be so stubborn. Could you really be happy as a spinster?"

"Jane, it is not happiness I seek, but contentment. If you find happiness in marriage and supply me with nieces and nephews to love, then I shall be content."

They arrived back at the house to find their mother recumbent on a divan and complaining of spasms.

"Oh Jane! We are undone! Your father refuses to visit the new tenants of Netherfield. Now how will he ever meet you so he can ask you to be his bride?"

"Which one are you referring to, mama?" asked Lizzie with a smile.

"Whichever of the two is richer and more handsome, of course! Oh! Bring me my salts."

"Mama, do not despair," said Lizzie. "They are certain to attend the next assembly and if I am a judge of such matters, they will seek out an introduction immediately so as to dance with Jane."

Mrs Bennet brightened appreciably. "Yes, they will! But - what a misfortune to have to wait to be introduced by Sir William, who will want them for Charlotte or Maria, or Mrs Long, who will only want them to dance with her nieces."

In the two weeks leading up to the assembly there was a great deal of news canvassed between the local citizens about the new tenants. The gentleman actually leasing Netherfield was thought to be worth at least four or five thousand a year and his friend considerably more. It would have proved even more exciting if they had been members of the peerage, but a plain Mr with five thousand pounds was nothing to be sneezed at. None of the Bennet girls had the good luck to see them prior to the ball, but they were touted to be as handsome as they were agreeable. They would be attending the assembly with a small party of their own, two ladies and another gentleman, reputed to be the husband of one of the ladies.

Lizzie looked in the glass as she put the final touches to her toilette. She had to admit that with her grandmother's pearls and her hair dressed in curls upon her head she was a fair way to being pretty - but to what purpose? She had no hopes of the assembly - there was no likelihood of his being there, and no one else held the least bit of interest for her. Oh, she would dance, sure enough, but she would do her best to be unencouraging.

The problem was that her liveliness and teasing tongue had a tendency to misinterpretation. Was it a fault in her that she wanted to take pleasure in an affair where she knew no future happiness could result? That she wanted to be light hearted because the only other alternative was emptiness and despair? She knew her own heart, but explaining it to young gentlemen in the throes of infatuation was something she preferred to avoid. She would attempt to temper her spirits without giving lie to her deeper feelings. She did not want to raise any suspicions in her sister. Jane was too good at reading her moods and she would spoil her sister's happiness for nothing. Lizzie was afraid that she was thinking too much like her mother, but she had great expectations concerning Jane and one of the new inhabitants of Netherfield.

She took a last look at her reflection as she arranged the lace at her neckline. If only things were different. If only she could walk into the assembly rooms and see him across the floor, leaning up against the wall, his eyes on the doorway, searching for hers. She was startled by the longing in the eyes that met hers - not his dark eyes, but her own, mirrored before her. She smiled wistfully and turned to go downstairs. The carriage was waiting.

Previous Section, Section II, Next Section

Chapter Six

Posted on Wednesday, 20 August 2003, at 5:39 p.m.

"Darcy, are you not going to dance?" Charles Bingley asked as he took a break from the floor. "You cannot possibly enjoy an assembly leaning up against the wall as you are in this stupid manner. You look as if you wish yourself anywhere but here."

"I do."

"But it was upon your suggestion that we attended. Sometimes your moods exasperate me so. Come, there are some remarkably pretty girls here - you must dance."

"You dance, Bingley. I have no wish to allow my ill humour to spoil your evening."

"My partner has a sister who is very pretty, look - the dark-haired young lady seated close by. Why not stand up with her?"

Fitzwilliam Darcy turned his head. "Which do you mean?"

Lizzie sat alongside the dance floor talking animatedly to her friend, Charlotte Lucas.

"Have you met the new tenants of Netherfield?" asked Charlotte.

"I have not yet had the pleasure of noticing any of them in this crowd. The assembly is uncommonly well attended tonight. I believe half the county is here to stake their claim on the unfortunate young men."

"I should think they are well accustomed to it," replied Charlotte. "Where wealth is present this type of attention is expected. I would imagine their pride would suffer grave disappointment were it not to happen."

"You are too severe on them, Charlotte dear," said Lizzie with a smile.

"I do not mean to be harsh - they ought to feel pride in their station, and deserve the respect they are given. I refuse to pity them as you do."

Lizzie's laughter filled the space between them. "You were always so much more sensible than I!"

"Oh Lizzie, if you turn your head now, you will see the two single gentleman of the Netherfield party, over by the pillar. They are both exceedingly handsome." This was said in a hushed voice and with a nod of her head in the direction she spoke of.

Lizzie turned slightly, and caught the back view of a tall gentleman with excellent bearing and dark, curly hair. She was suddenly overcome as her heart beat like a captive bird in her rib cage. Could it really be, after all this time? The heat of the room became overwhelming, the noise of the crowds a din that threatened to deafen her. She was certain all the colour had left her face. Charlotte was forgotten. She was about to rise up to her feet and approach him, throwing decorum to the wind, when, as if she had willed it, he turned to face her and their eyes met. Even at such a distance she could see their clear grey depths and all her anticipation came crashing down. Disappointment coursed through every vein. It was not he. How could she have misled herself so? She was caught, half risen from her chair, his eyes still upon her. Her face became suffused by a strong flush and she sank back down into her chair, quickly lowering her gaze.

Charlotte watched her friend with no little interest. What an unusual reaction. She looked from Lizzie to the gentleman and back again. "Have you met before?"

"No, we have not," Lizzie managed as her senses still whirled.

"But what is it then?"

"Please, I beg, do not ask me."

"I will not, but I must tell you that the gentleman is coming this way with my father. If I am not mistaken he is seeking an introduction"

Fitzwilliam glanced over at the girl Bingley had indicated. She had chestnut brown curls and a gentle, round face. "She is tolerable," he sighed, but her looks will never tempt me. "However, to ease your mind I will dance this one dance with her, if you promise to plague me no further tonight."

"Come then, and let me introduce you. I am certain you will find her very pleasant."

Fitzwilliam gave himself up to his friend's care and the introductions were made, the request for a dance accepted. Pleasant. Fitzwilliam wondered if Charles knew just how accurate his description was. The young lady smiled sweetly and made dull, predictable conversation, until silenced by her partner's lack of response. Fitzwilliam's mind was elsewhere. In what county, at what assembly he knew not, but somewhere on this night she was in all likelihood dancing a country dance just like he. Did she scan the crowd, hoping to see him, and find that none of her partners could hold her interest? Or had she long since forgotten? No, he could not think that. He was certain what they had shared meant as much to her as it had to him. Five years and he had not forgotten her smile, or the haven to be found within her arms.

Somehow he managed all the movements of the dance, like a sleepwalker who navigates darkened hallways without seeing his way, and returned the girl to her seat at the appropriate time. As he walked away, she turned and whispered to her friend. "I suppose I was not good enough to talk to. The rich are filled with pride and arrogance. From now on I shall content myself with dancing with the officers, they are much more appreciative." Her friend nodded her head and giggled in agreement.

Lizzie strove to compose herself. Whatever would he think of her? She had been blatantly staring. She stood as Sir William approached and addressed her.

"My dear Miss Bennet, this young gentleman wishes to be known to you. Mr Andrews - Miss Elizabeth Bennet." He turned to Mr Andrews with a big smile. "I am sure you will not find a lovelier partner. Oh, yes, and here is my Charlotte. You remember meeting my daughter, Miss Lucas, do you not?"

"Miss Bennet, Miss Lucas, a pleasure," he said with a bow, and then he turned to Lizzie. "Will you do me the honour of the next dance?"

Lizzie bobbed a curtsy and accepted quietly. There was nothing else that she could do. Up close, she could see why she had momentarily mistaken Mr Andrews for him. He was of the same height, and his build was slight, as in a very young man, but his face showed that he was clearly almost thirty. His expression was agreeable, and lightly amused, but his features were not as well formed as those she remembered so distinctly.

When they had been on the floor for a few minutes and dispensed with all the usual social niceties, Lizzie looked directly into his eyes and said, "You must be wondering at my lack of decorum. I apologise for staring just then, but for a moment I mistook you for . . . someone else."

"I believe I was at fault as well. I, however, did not mistake you for anyone else. I stared because I thought you the most beautiful girl in the room. I am sorry I am not the person you had hoped to see."

Lizzie blushed deeply. "I did not say . . ." She faltered. She had let out too much already.

"I had no intentions of discomposing you," Mr Andrews responded gently. "I was only repaying frankness with frankness. I do beg your pardon."

Lizzie smiled at him. "I have a way of saying things I ought not. Let us start over."

"By all means. I am Mr Andrews, of Bedfordshire, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet." He bowed and then was taken away by the movements of the dance.

When they were together again Lizzie said, "And how does Hertfordshire contrast to your fine county?" after which they spent the rest of the dance comparing the merits of their respective homes. When Lizzie was returned to her seat she had to admit to herself that the encounter had not gone too badly. Her partner led Charlotte out and she was left to reflect on their dance.

She had finally overcome the shock of thinking he was in the same room as her at long last. She strove to put all thought and desire of him out of her mind. Mr Andrews had treated her with more kindness than she deserved. She knew that her candour had prompted his flattery, so she was easily able to dismiss it. She had liked him - he was a nice gentleman - and as she watched his dance with Charlotte she hoped he would develop an attraction to her friend. Charlotte needed just such a man who would appreciate all her good qualities. Her reverie was interrupted by Jane who came to sit beside her, eyes glowing with pleasure.

"Is this not the most delightful assembly?" she asked.

"So, what is his name?"

"Who?" Jane blushed. "Oh, you mean the new tenant of Netherfield? His name is Mr Fairborn. Have you met his sisters? They are both very nice ladies."

"I have only met Mr Andrews, and he seems congenial."

"Yes, I could not help but notice you dancing with him. I thought you looked very well together."

"Dear Jane. And I was just thinking how well he and Charlotte look."

They were interrupted by Mr Fairborn, requesting Jane's hand for the dinner dance. Lizzie thought him very amiable, and was satisfied to see the soft look in his eyes when he beheld her sister, and the way they always travelled back to Jane, even while he was talking most politely to her. Lizzie soon excused herself and returned to her family spending the rest of the evening in conversation with Mary and her father and doing her best to ignore her mother's speculations about Jane and Mr Fairborn. She had no more desire to dance, and when Mr Andrews asked her again she declined. He stayed by her side and conversed with her family for a good length of time before he returned to his own party and led out one of his friend's sisters.

"It appears Jane is not the only one of my daughters who is admired tonight," said her father with a wink. "Mr Andrews seems an intelligent and sensible young man."

"He was just being polite, Papa."

Her father gave her a knowing look and said no more.

That evening, back at the inn, Fitzwilliam paced to and fro across the small sitting room of their compartments. He was on a fool's errand, but there was no way of stopping himself. Was he being fair to Bingley, not telling him his ulterior motives for accompanying him on this jaunt? It was true that he intended to help his friend find an acceptable estate, and that Bingley was, honestly, in need of his advice, but that was not the only thing that drove him, and as far as concerned him, it was the least important. They were to visit five different estates in three different counties. At least five chances of encountering her at some country assembly or neighbourhood soirée.

He had been unlucky in Cheapside, or any London party. The thought that she might make her come out in London had driven him to the city for the season the last few years. He had even graced the halls of Almacks, but to no avail. He had scoured both Derbyshire and Kent, even though he knew that Kent was hopeless. Now he and Bingley were touring Staffordshire, Leicestershire and Warwickshire, and, though Bingley was mainly concerned with the situation and repair of the estates his agent recommended, and secondarily interested in the society afforded in the general vicinity of said estates, Fitzwilliam only cared if he should chance to meet a brown-haired girl of about twenty with eyes that held his soul.

"I don't know why you torment yourself in this way," cried Bingley in exasperation. "Either go for a walk or come and sit by the fire - it is making me dizzy watching you stride back and forth in that manner."

"I do apologise," said Fitzwilliam, taking a seat and then restlessly drumming on the arm of the chair.

"Why do you insist we attend these functions if you derive no pleasure from them?"

In all fairness he needed to know, at least a little bit of it. "I am searching for someone who remains elusive." Fitzwilliam's voice gave away some of the anguish he was feeling.

Bingley leaned forward in his chair, his face eager. "I have long noticed this preoccupation you have and I had been hoping you would take me into your confidence."

"Am I that transparent? I suppose I must be."

"We spend a lot of time together. Most people only put it down to your general reserve, but I have been aware that something is not right with you."

"What would you say if I said that I am in love?"

Bingley's expression changed to astonishment. "I would never have thought that."

"There is no other woman for me," he said simply, "but I know not how or where to find her, or even her name."

"Then how do you . . . I mean . . . well, dash it all - how is something like this possible?"

"I was young and thoughtless - our feelings were more important than mere details."

"And now you are intent to scour the country for her. I never took you for such a romantic - still waters run deep." Bingley's voice held only awe.

"Have you ever been in love?"

"Many times!"

Fitzwilliam chuckled. "Yes, it was a foolish question. You are forever thinking yourself in love. One day, I hope, you will discover what I have - a deep, abiding, unforgettable passion. Just be sure to remember to ask her name." His voice became more serious. "I am sorry if I have been taking advantage of your good nature in using this trip as a means to locate her, and then giving way to my foul temper every time I am unsuccessful."

"Don't give it a thought. I am used to your humours, and now that I know the reason I am all the more prepared to endure them. I will travel all over the countryside with you, if that is what you desire. It is my fondest wish to see you happy."

"I may hold you to that, but for now, let us find you an estate. Wherever we may go, we will always need a starting point."

Fitzwilliam reached out and grasped Bingley's hand, his fierce grip conveying his appreciation of his friend's loyalty and support much more than any words could. He recognised the depth of friendship that unquestioningly championed his quixotic search.

In the weeks following the assembly, both Mr Fairborn and Mr Andrews were constant visitors at Longbourn, and Mrs Bennet was crowing all over the neighbourhood about Jane's conquest. She did not mind which of the two Jane eventually settled for, though Mr Andrews was the richer, Mr Fairborn appeared much more besotted. Sometimes she thought that Mr Andrews mainly came for her husband's company, because he spent so much time conversing with Mr Bennet and Lizzie.

One day Mr Bennet advised his family that they were to receive a visit from a relative they had never before seen, and when Fanny Bennet discovered that it was the very gentleman who would throw them all out of the house before her husband was cold in his grave, she greatly bemoaned the need to entertain him. Mr Collins turned out to be a slightly corpulent gentleman in his late twenties, whose obsequious attitude won Mrs Bennet over in a matter of minutes,

Upon entering the Longbourn drawing room, he compared it to that if his patroness, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, and Mrs Bennet could not help but feel all the grandeur of the compliment. He completed his conquest by informing her that his main purpose in the visit was to make reparations to the family by marrying one of the daughters. Mrs Bennet lost no time in informing him of Jane's anticipated betrothal, and suggested that he set his sights on Elizabeth. He was more than ready to comply and sought her company at every chance he could get. Lizzie was unaware of the machinations of her mother, and though she found her cousin offensive and grotesque to the extreme, had her own reasons to desire private conversation with him. She had a question to ask that she wanted nobody more astute than he to hear. One morning he joined her as she wandered in the garden and soon gave her the very opening she desired.

"Cousin Elizabeth, you would be most impressed with the magnificent grounds at Rosings. The walks are amazingly abundant, the design superlative - I would be most happy to one day show them to you myself."

"I can well believe it. I passed by the estate some years ago on a visit with my aunt."

"And did you not think it the most grand property you ever beheld? Did you, perchance, espy Lady Catherine and her charming daughter Anne in their carriage? A more regal equipage it would be difficult to encounter."

"No. I am afraid I missed that spectacle, though I did see a gentleman on horseback. He rode a very fine horse."

"By far the finest are those in my lady's stables."

As Mr Collins showed no interest in her mention of the gentleman, Lizzie felt it incumbent upon herself to persist. "You must be acquainted with the other well to do members of the parish. Would you happen to know who he may be? He was tall and dark-haired and I would imagine not too much older than myself."

"I, of course, know all the important inhabitants of that environ." Here Mr Collins primped. "I have met with all the first families while at tea or dining at Rosings. Lady Catherine is condescending enough to invite me nearly every week, and advises me on the smallest details of my parish duties. She is very devoted to my wellbeing and I pride myself that I give her all the due respect that she deserves. She has even advised me on marriage - and for her sake I will chose a wife that is both well bred and attractive." He gave Lizzie a look that to her eyes was little more than a leer.

"And the neighbours? Is there such a gentleman as I have described?"

"Well, it may have been Mr Ortenby, although he is nearing forty and run to fat. He has a very nice chestnut, though. Then there is Mr Henderson, who rides a bay mare. Lady Catherine says that if he were not quite so short he would look to advantage in the saddle. It could easily have been Sir Randolph's son, Barnard Dempsey, but Lady Catherine says he is no judge of horseflesh at all."

"And is he tall and dark?" asked Lizzie expectantly.

"He is a great hulk of a young man, with fiery red hair. I'm certain you must be mistaken, cousin dear, and really it makes no odds who he was because, as I have said already, Lady Catherine has the finest horses in all of Kent. I do not like this show of interest in strangers, especially while you are talking with me. I was hoping I had made more of an impression on you than that, or . . . is this a ploy to pique my interest with jealousy? Aha! You see, Lady Catherine has warned me of the arts and allurements young ladies like to use upon their beaux." He smirked at her and leaned in close to her face.

Lizzie recoiled in disgust. "Cousin! I do not use such arts and I have no interest in beaux."

"Sweet Elizabeth, own that you have a fondness for me, just as I have for you." He fumblingly tried to pull her into an embrace but she slipped from his grasp.

"Remember your station, sir!"

"Even the clergy desire the delights of connubial bliss, Elizabeth. I am not attempting to soil your virtue, I am asking for your hand in marriage. I think now I could expect a kiss to seal our betrothal."

"I have not yet given you an answer, sir. Do not be so hasty."

"But we both know the answer, do we not? Your mother has promised that you will be mine, to save your family in the event of your father's death, though I pride myself in acknowledging that there are more advantages to marrying me than that. Besides the obvious attractions of my person, and the security of the parsonage at Hunsford, there is the added bonus of the society of the great lady herself, and all the benefice she has to offer. The temptation of such an offer cannot help but be overwhelming." He reached for her again but Lizzie was able to outmanoeuvre him.

"Nothing on earth could tempt me to marry you," she spat. Whenever his hands grasped at her arms or touched the curve of her waist it made her flesh crawl with disgust. She had only once before been touched by a man anywhere other than on the hand and she felt defiled and nauseous. "I ask that you not speak to me upon this subject again."

"I will marry you," insisted Mr Collins as his face reddened in anger. "I have your mother's assurance of that. And when we are wed, you will be taught obedience. I am looking forward to the lessons very much."

Lizzie turned and ran as tears streamed down her face. She didn't stop running until she reached her father's study and burst through the door. "Oh Papa!" she cried as she threw herself into his arms. It was only then that she noticed her father was not alone. She hid her face in his waistcoat and convulsed in sobs.

Mr Andrews silently got up and walked from the room, his extreme concern plainly written on his face. The only one to witness the look was Mr Bennet. He sighed deeply and stroked Lizzie's hair. "What is it, my little Lizzie? You can tell me everything and I will endeavour to make it all right."

Chapter Seven

Posted on Wednesday, 27 August 2003, at 10:44 p.m.

"You cannot make me marry him!" cried Lizzie once her sobs had subsided.

"Marry whom?" asked her father in confusion. "I would never expect you to marry against your will."

"But he says it is all arranged with mother, but even if he were not so very disgusting nothing would induce me to marry him."

"So this is what has upset you so. Lizzie, I thought you had more strength of character than to be so overset by the pretensions of that fool cousin of ours."

Lizzie looked up at her father and dried the tears from her eyes. She could not tell him the reason she had become so distressed. That having any other man touch her in that way was completely abhorrent. That his advances brought on so much fear and doubt, and made her question the very thing that was more dear to her than anything in her life. Were all men base and shallow; were words without substance, to dry and crumble as fallen leaves and be scattered by the wind? Could she believe her memory of him or was it just a childish dream that she clung to?

"He attempted to take liberties." She hung her head.

The tone of her father's voice changed. "Did he now? His foolishness I can bear but that is one thing I will never stand for. I am sorry, Lizzie, that this has happened. I have not protected you as a father should - I ignorantly trusted that his clerical collar would keep you safe from ungentlemanly advances. Your upset is now understandable. He will be gone before the day is out."

"But mother . . ."

"Your mother will abide by what I say." He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Rest easy and put this all behind you."

Exiting through the gate as he departed Longbourn, Mr Andrews came upon Charlotte who was on the point of entering.

"Miss Lucas. You are on your way to visit Miss Elizabeth?"

"I am sir," she said with a smile.

"I hope that you may be permitted to see her. She has just come into the house in very evident distress." His voice held concern and he looked at Charlotte with entreaty.

"What has happened? Is she ill?"

"I know not - I came away only knowing that I had no right to stay and impose myself upon the family, but you - I think it would be good for her to have her dearest friend close by."

Charlotte thanked him and watched as he strode off towards Netherfield, a wistful look in her eyes. When she arrived at the door, the house was already in chaos. Mrs Bennet could be heard wailing, which was not unusual, but Mr Bennet's voice was also to be heard, raised in anger. Something must be terribly wrong. Without waiting for the servant, Charlotte entered the house, only to almost be bowled over by a flustered Mr Collins who was scuttling out the door, portmanteau in hand, clothing trailing from it.

"I came with good intent, and this is how I am repaid," he muttered as he passed. "Lady Catherine will be seriously displeased."

She watched him go in shock and then made her way down the passage where she met Lydia who greeted her with a smile upon her face.

"You will not believe what has happened - it is so droll! Mr Collins offered for Lizzie and she refused him, and then he tried to force his attentions upon her! Can you imagine? That toad! Now she will be all over with warts. And father was so livid he sent him packing. It was the funniest scene imaginable!"

"Where is Lizzie?"

"Oh la! I have no idea. She is probably in her bedchamber retching! I have never laughed so hard in all my life."

"Your compassion for your sister is commendable," said Charlotte as she started up the stairs. Lydia just tossed her head and ran off in search of Kitty.

Charlotte tapped on the door of the bedchamber that Lizzie and Jane shared and then opened the door and peeked her head around it. "May I come in?"

"Charlotte!" Jane looked up from where she sat with Lizzie in her arms. "I am so pleased to see you. Can you stay with Lizzie while I go to my mother? Mary does not understand how to calm her as I do."

Charlotte sat on the bed and took Lizzie's hand. When Jane had left the room Lizzie turned to her and said, "You must think me a complete ninny, reacting in this manner when I suppose I should be laughing."

"No I do not. I met Mr Andrews on his way out. He was extremely concerned for your welfare."

"Oh, Mr Andrews!" said Lizzie covering her face in shame. "What he must have thought of me crying in front of him like that?"

"I don't think it altered his feelings in the least."

"What are you saying, Charlotte?"

"The man is in love with you. His every word and action show it."

"You are imagining things."

"I think not. I also met with Lydia in the hall. She seems to think the whole affair of Mr Collins a good joke."

"I trust I too will see it thus one day. Thinking of it now still makes me shiver. Oh Charlotte - it was horrible - he said that mama had told him we were to marry and that when we did he would enjoy making me obedient . . . and I know he was referring to . . . the marriage bed . . . and I was filled with such revulsion."

"The thought is repellent, isn't it?" said Charlotte wrinkling up her nose. "I would try my luck as a governess before considering marriage to someone like him."

"It is so good to listen to your common sense. All my mother can do is lament about how I have destroyed her future."

"But, when Jane is married to Mr Fairborn and you to Mr Andrews, what worries will she have over losing Longbourn? She will be well provided for."

"It is my fondest wish that Jane marry Mr Fairborn, but I have no intention of marrying Mr Andrews, even if he were to offer for me, which I do not believe he will."

"But Lizzie, why ever not? He is handsome, rich, intelligent, and excessively kind."

"But I do not love him."

"Lizzie! Love will grow with time, though how you remain unaffected by him I have no idea. He is everything a woman could ask for." Charlotte blushed and turned her head away.

"I sincerely hope that you are wrong in your suspicions. I have no wish to bring pain to him, and I want your happiness too."

"What has my happiness to do with it?'

"Everything, from what I can tell." Lizzie put her arms around her friend and held her close. "I hope you are luckier in love than I have been," she whispered.

"Lizzie - I have no expectations of him ever falling in love with me, but I would accept him even if he were not, so why cannot you accept him, even if you are not in love? He will make the best of husbands."

"I do not doubt that - but I have no right to accept him, if he should ever ask, even if my heart were free."

"You are talking in riddles. You are worthy of anyone. And who could possibly already own your heart? There is nobody of our acquaintance that you love - I should know it if there were."

"No, you are right. There is nobody of our acquaintance - but I can say no more."

Charlotte thought back to the assembly and recalled Lizzie's unusual reaction upon first seeing Mr Andrews. Lizzie must have met someone on one of her visits to Gracechurch Street - someone who had broken her heart. It was a new feeling for Charlotte, but she knew what it was to love in vain, and she wondered if she could be as steadfast as her friend. Would she spurn such an advantageous offer when there was no hope with the object of her love? Would she choose spinsterhood over security? She thought not, though her heart burned. However, she probably would never be given the choice - at twenty-seven she had yet to receive one eligible offer.

~

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in the library of Fieldstone and braced himself for the sound of carriage wheels upon the sweep. Bingley had leased one of the estates they had visited in Warwickshire, and now his sisters were joining him. As much as Fitzwilliam wanted to return to Georgiana as soon as possible, he knew it would be uncivil to leave too promptly upon the arrival of Bingley's relatives. The eldest sister, Mrs Hurst, was married to a man of fashion who had the virtue of coming from a family of name, if not fortune. He was of a type all too common in every social circle - he enjoyed food, drink, and horses, and deplored rational conversation. His wife had married him for the prestige he brought her, and contented herself in assisting her younger sister to find an equally suitable match in the eyes of the fashionable world. Unfortunately for Fitzwilliam, Caroline Bingley had chosen him as her object.

Caroline was a beautiful and accomplished young lady, but she was as vain as she was proud, and she enjoyed belittling others in order to show her own abilities to better advantage. When she set herself a goal, she was zealous in the pursuit of it and Fitzwilliam often felt smothered by her excessive attention. It was for this reason that the crunch of wheels upon the drive made him cringe and lay down his book. He walked to the window, and looked upon the formal gardens that spread elegantly to the lawn. He would give himself a week and then he would return to Pemberley. He did not want to become trapped in Warwickshire by early December snows and be obliged to endure Caroline's company for an extended period of time.

He turned when the door opened, and hid behind the veneer of austerity that always descended when he found himself in social situations he preferred not to attend. Bingley recognised it immediately and gave him a rueful glance but made no other reference to his disappointment that his friend should feel uncomfortable in his family's presence. The Darcy he knew and loved was not the same man who showed a proud and distanced face to society, and on some occasions he almost felt like shaking him in frustration.

The thing that drew Caroline to Mr Darcy, besides his grand estate and riches, was his haughty demeanour. Here, she felt, was the perfect husband for her. He understood his place and was justified in all the pride he took in it. He was also the most handsome gentleman of her acquaintance, and she knew she would be the envy of the polite world if she could just capture his hand. She felt no concern at her lack of success so far; he was young and so was she - time was on their side. He was sought after by many, but had never showed the slightest inclination for one ladies' company over another. Caroline, as the sister of his dearest friend, felt she had a better chance than anyone of their acquaintance. With her beauty and accomplishments she was bound to make an impression if they were thrown together often enough. She was certain she was exactly what he was searching for - all she had to do was convince him of that fact.

"Mr Darcy!" she enthused as she drifted across the floor to greet him. "You cannot imagine our delight when we discovered Charles had taken an estate in the country, and in a neighbouring county to Derbyshire too. Everything looks very elegant, but of course you had a hand in the decision, so it is only to be expected. How is the society in these parts? Not too boorish, I hope?"

"You ask Darcy about the society?" scoffed Bingley. "You must know he has no interest in such things, but I can attest to it being as amiable as to be found anywhere. You will soon see for yourself, for there is to be an assembly."

Caroline gave Darcy a knowing look. "Country dances, how quaint!"

"He has taken quite a liking to such pleasant gatherings," said Bingley defensively.

Darcy looked at him quellingly from under lowered brows.

"I'm certain he has only been enduring them for your sake," said Caroline as she took Darcy's arm. "Now that we are here you no longer need to be subjected to such tedious displays." She smiled up at him in a way she thought exceedingly disarming. "We shall make our own company and have no need of outsiders."

"On the contrary," said Darcy, stiffly, endeavouring to unobtrusively slip from her grasp. "There is much to be said for a country assembly. You would find a very appreciative audience before which to display your most fashionable gowns."

"Well said, Darcy." Bingley turned to his sister. "You will be the hostess here at Fieldstone, Caroline, and I expect you will enjoy giving all manner of dinner parties."

Caroline chose not to take umbrage at Mr Darcy's words, and rather turned them into a compliment to herself. He noticed her sense of fashion and knew that she would be universally admired - could this not indicate that he was looking forward to seeing her in a ball gown, and dancing with her, if only for a country dance? She glowed when she finally responded. "I do have a number of very stunning new gowns. When I was fitted at the milliners everyone was quite ecstatic. I was afraid that I would have been wasting them here, but I see that I will be doing the young ladies of this community a service, giving them a model of perfect style to attempt to emulate. I may be able to raise the tone of their society as a whole."

Darcy had nothing to say to this piece of vanity, but Louisa Hurst joined her sister in agreement of the scheme and soon they were deep into a discussion of how they would bring a splash of London polish to this lowly corner of the world, and the respect and admiration they would gain for their efforts.

Mr Hurst then claimed Darcy's attention, enquiring as to the sport to be had so late in the season, and whether Bingley's cellars were amply stocked with fine port. Fitzwilliam gladly exchanged one banal conversation for the other and let Hurst ramble on about his matched pair of bays recently purchased from Tattershall's, which, though showy, had turned out to be not quite up to the rig and therefore was considering selling. His mind travelled further afield, as was customary during such conversations, wondering what county she was in right now. Was she as bored as he, in company equally superficial in its makeup, or was she part of a lively circle and had all thought of him been long pushed from her mind? He almost turned from Hurst to wander to the window and gaze absently out, but remembered just in time before he committed such a social solecism.

~

December brought great joy to Longbourn. Mrs Bennet had contrived to leave Jane and Mr Fairborn alone in the parlour one frosty morning while Mr Andrews, Lizzie and Kitty had gone out to meet Charlotte and Maria who were coming to visit, and by the time the shivering quintet had entered the house and divested themselves of their outer garments, congratulations were in order. Dinner that evening was a grand affair with Mrs Bennet outdoing herself with the amount of rich dishes offered and the praise she even more generously than usual bestowed on her daughter's intended.

Mr Bennet seemed pleased as well, and though he left the exclaiming to his wife, smiled softly and had a gentle expression in his eyes when they rested upon Jane.

That evening, Jane was finally alone with Lizzie and was able to share the feelings that swelled her heart.

"I am truly the happiest of girls," she said in her gentle voice, "to be able to give my family so much pleasure."

"What of yourself, and the pleasure you and Mr Fairborn will share?"

"Oh, Lizzie," said Jane, blushing nervously. "I believe Henry will be a very good husband."

"He has won you so he is extremely fortunate indeed. To love and be loved in return is a special thing, and I am so glad that you have finally found the man to make you happy."

"Yes . . . I believe we will be very happy."

"Jane! You do not have any doubts, do you?"

"No, of course not. I care for Henry more than any man I have known, and I believe he cares just as strongly for me."

"So what is it, dearest? You are a little hesitant."

"It is only . . . that I do not think I should leave you before you can be happy too."

"Jane, I long ago told you what would make me content and in marrying Mr Fairborn you are achieving that goal. Next will be the nephews and nieces you provide me."

Jane blushed again. "But I wish you the same happiness - could not Mr Andrews . . ."

Lizzie laughed. "Poor Mr Andrews, to have me continually thrown at his head. It will not do, you know. We are friends and that is the end of it for the both of us."

"While you two are single it is still possible to dream," said Jane, and then on even a more wistful note she continued. "Will you promise me one thing?"

"As long as it is not to marry Mr Andrews for you, I will promise anything."

"Do be serious, Lizzie. Will you come and live at Netherfield with Henry and me, after we return from our honeymoon?"

"Don't you think your husband will want you all to himself?"

"But I cannot leave you alone, knowing - knowing what you carry deep inside you. I mean, I do not know precisely . . . and I am not asking for any explanation . . . I just know there are times when you hurt . . . and I cannot bear to think of you alone at those times."

Tears came to Lizzie's eyes. "Jane, I am fine. I appreciate your concern, but I will not intrude on the privacy you and your husband deserve to share. I will visit often, but Longbourn will remain my home. Papa needs me, too, to provide some sensible conversation in the course of the day."

"Oh Lizzie," said Jane, hugging her closely, "I am being so very selfish."

"And so very foolish, to think you could ever be selfish! Tell me, Jane, is not the problem that you are a trifle nervous of marriage?"

"A very little," Jane admitted shyly.

"What has mother told you? No, do not answer; I do not expect you to tell me. I can see that she has made a mull of it. Believe me when I say there is nothing to worry about - nothing whatsoever. Mr Fairborn loves you and you love him; everything else will take care of itself."

Jane held Lizzie and accepted what she said without question. Somehow the confidence and gentleness with which Lizzie spoke held the essence of truth. Her apprehension dissipated, and if only she still was not concerned for her sister, her happiness would have been truly complete. Despite everything Lizzie had said, she continued to hold out the hope that one day she and Mr Andrews would marry. Jane did not doubt his love of her sister, and she hoped that in time, with them constantly being thrown together through the marriage of herself and his best friend, Lizzie would develop tender feelings for him. She went to sleep with this thought running through her head, rather than basking in the confirmation of her own future happiness.

Chapter 8

Posted on Wednesday, 3 September 2003, at 11:08 p.m.

"Georgiana, I have finally hired a new companion for you and now you may have your vacation in Ramsgate." Fitzwilliam leaned over to give his sister a hug and then took a seat beside her on the divan.

"What is she like?" asked Georgiana a little nervously.

"Don't worry, my sweet, she appears very amiable even though she comes on recommendation from Aunt Catherine. I am certain we will not discover Mrs Younge to be the ogre your governess turned out to be. You should have told me how much you disliked her."

"I did not want to cause you any trouble." Georgiana hugged her brother.

"I am heartily glad that I came upon her berating you. If you have any qualms about Mrs Younge, please let me know instantly. Nothing that I can do for your happiness is any trouble to me - do not forget that."

"Is she young and pretty?"

Fitzwilliam laughed. "She is old enough to be responsible, and she looks well enough - not formidable at all. She was dressed very respectably and spoke well. I believe you will find her to your liking."

"Oh, I will if you have chosen her. Can you not join us in Ramsgate?"

"I do not think so. Bingley needs me again."

"When will he decide on a place of his own? It has been ages; I was but eleven the first trip you made with him, and now I am fifteen! He only settled in Warwickshire for a year, and then decided it was not to his taste."

"His sister did not like it. If Bingley were left to himself he would have stayed forever. Between ourselves, I think Caroline was afraid he was about to make a most unsuitable match."

"Was Mr Bingley in love?" asked Georgiana with interest.

"Not any more so than usual. I don't believe he had any intentions of matrimony and found his sister's reaction quite surprising."

"And in which counties is he conducting his latest search?"

"Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire, and Hertfordshire, though I don't believe Caroline will settle for anything less than Derbyshire and Pemberley."

"But that she wants for herself," said Georgiana with an arch look.

"Quite," said Fitzwilliam giving his sister an appraising glance. "You are becoming a little minx. Rest assured that the only way she will attain Pemberley is to reproduce it stone for stone, and we all know that to be just as impossible."

"She is not travelling with you and Mr Bingley, I hope?"

"Heavens forbid! No - if he discovers something to his liking, she will come and preside over the establishment until she ascertains that it is in no way suitable."

"Poor Mr Bingley - it would be better if he did get married."

"In my opinion, it would be much better if she were to marry, and leave off hounding me."

Georgiana laughed. "Have you hired lodgings for Mrs Younge and myself as yet?"

"Yes I have. I am told they have a wonderful view of the sea."

"Thank you. That is all I ever wanted. You are the best of brothers."

"And you are all I could wish for in a sister and more."

That evening as she readied for bed, Georgiana pondered these trips Fitzwilliam took every year with Mr Bingley. It was almost as if he looked forward to them as much as his friend. As the days closed to his departure, she could see the suppressed anticipation build within him, and upon his return his mood was always suffused with melancholy. He was twenty-five now, and never exhibited any interest in matrimony. She wondered if he would ever fall in love or if he would eventually marry Cousin Anne, as their aunt insisted, or worse yet, fall prey to the persistent Caroline. No - he would have to be desperate for either of those eventualities to take place. She wished fervently that he would find someone to love for she knew in her heart he needed more than just his little sister to sustain him. What if she were to marry?

~

Georgiana wandered on the beach, relishing the crisp breeze that blew upon her face. Mrs Younge was following a few paces behind. For the most part, Georgiana was quite pleased with her new companion. She could be rather jolly and entertaining but she was at times a little lax in her attentiveness. It was a great difference from her strict governess, and she told herself that she ought to be glad of it, yet she couldn't help but wonder if the freedom she was allowed was indeed proper. Suddenly discarding her worries, she decided to take advantage of the circumstances and, kicking off her slippers, lifted her skirts about her ankles and paddled in the waves. She was so enraptured by this activity that at first she did not notice that she had company.

"Miss Darcy what a great surprise, and even greater pleasure!"

The warm voice was familiar, and when Georgiana looked up she beheld a smiling face she knew she had seen before.

"Why you are . . . you visited me at Pemberley a few years ago." She blushed shyly.

"You remembered me this time! How that pleases my troubled heart."

"I would not forget you again, Mr Wickham. What brings you to Ramsgate?"

"I would like to say you, but I never indulge in false compliments. I completed my studies of the law and decided a vacation was in order - a very fortuitous decision brought me here to Ramsgate rather than Brighton or Sidmouth."

Georgiana looked down at her feet and became aware that her skirts were in danger of becoming wet. She noticed that her companion was standing in the surf as well. "Your boots!" she exclaimed.

He looked down and laughed as the waves raced over them. "The dangers of the seaside! It is of no import, but may I suggest you come out of the sea before your lovely gown is ruined?" He offered her his arm just as a particularly large wave splashed up and wetted her hem.

They raced up the beach together and then he settled Georgiana on a log and collected her slippers. All the while Mrs Younge kept her distance.

"Your shoes, milady," he said as he knelt at her feet.

"No, no - please give them to me and sit down properly. I can put them on myself." Georgiana blushed hotly.

"As you wish," said George Wickham, looking grieved. He sat down beside her and seemed to recover his composure. "I do apologise. I was forgetting you are no longer the little girl I once played with on Pemberley's grounds. No indeed - you have grown into a most beautiful young lady."

"That is quite all right," said Georgiana shyly. " I am happy to see you again, truly."

"And it was remiss of me not to ask after my dear friend, Fitzwilliam. I have not seen him these four years. I trust he is well."

"Very."

"Is he here with you in Ramsgate? I would so like to see him again."

"No, he is in the country with his friend, Mr Bingley. Are you acquainted with him?"

"Sadly, no, but I have heard he is a splendid gentleman. And whom are you staying with? Some relatives perhaps?"

"I am here with my companion, Mrs Younge. Would you like to meet her?"

"Very much," said George, standing and looking in the lady's direction. Mrs Younge took this as a cue to approach her young charge.

"Miss Darcy, I see you have found an acquaintance," she said as she reached the couple. "When the two of you met on the beach, I immediately surmised by your greeting that it was a close family friend, so I thought it best not to intrude."

Georgiana smiled. "Indeed you are correct. May I present to you Mr Wickham? He grew up at Pemberley with my brother and I have not seen him since I was a young girl."

"My, but how delightful. It is a pleasure to know you sir." She held out her hand.

"Likewise," said Wickham, bowing low over it. "Thank you for allowing me some moments with this charming young lady. I trust we will meet again soon."

"I do hope so," said Georgiana with a smile. She watched Mr Wickham as he walked down the beach, turning every so often to smile and wave. She had been feeling a mite lonely, but meeting him had cheered her considerably.

"A very handsome and dashing young man," commented Mrs Younge. "And he appears quite taken with you my dear."

Every time Georgiana and Mrs Younge walked upon the cob or down along the sands they chanced to meet Mt Wickham, who always joined them. He was an entertaining and considerate companion and she looked forward to the meetings with anticipation. It became so that she no longer thought of the beach or the library as her object for going out, but only a means for another opportunity to see Mr Wickham. Mrs Younge assured her that inviting him to dine with them was of the utmost propriety as he was such an old and valued family friend. Before long she did not need to go out to find him as he called every morning, and Mrs Younge had no scruples about leaving them on their own together for, in her words, he was almost a brother. In no time Georgiana was a fair way to falling in love.

~

Fitzwilliam was exhausted and disheartened. He had never before felt so close to giving up his search as he had this evening. Buckinghamshire had been a disaster, ill managed estates and insipid assemblies where even Bingley found nothing to tempt him. Bedfordshire was no better. The entire evening the orchestra had played off key. He removed his neck-cloth and threw it on the bed. The inn was worse than any he had stayed in yet. The bed had not been aired and the sheets were sure to be damp. The fire smoked. The window was so grimy that he threw away the handkerchief with which he had wiped it so that he could see the night sky.

He sat in the small embrasure and looked out at the stars - distant glowing spots of light that held a fascination for him. They were something that he knew, no matter how far apart they were, could be shared on any given night. He liked to believe that she was gazing out upon them just as he was at this very moment. That their sparks of light were reflected in her fine eyes. That her thoughts were with him. But the certainty that they would meet again - that he would be able to hold her once more and look into those eyes himself - that was diminishing. He saw ahead a life of unrelieved emptiness, and he gazed out upon the stars and prayed for something to save him from that fate. Tomorrow they were to go to Hertfordshire. Was it the county that held his destiny?

He heard the clatter of hooves and looked down to see a horse pull up in front of the hostelry. The bell over the door echoed resoundingly through the establishment. He heard running steps and then a sharp rap upon his door. He opened it and was handed an express, which he took over to the light to read. It was postmarked Ramsgate, and bore his Aunt Catherine's seal. With trepidation he ripped it open. It was not from Lady Catherine, but from his cousin, Anne.

FD

I do hope this finds you soon. I have today arrived with my mother to Ramsgate. This afternoon I noticed a man leaving your sister's lodgings. It was none other than Mr Wickham, your old steward's son. Mother knows nothing of this. Your presence is needed immediately.

AdB

Fitzwilliam crushed the letter into a ball and threw it into the fire. He grabbed his neck-cloth from the bed and quickly tied it under his chin. He threw what was unpacked into his portmanteau and drew on his greatcoat. Bingley appeared in the doorway.

"Have you received bad news? Is your sister . . ."

"Hopefully I will not be too late - no, do not look so shocked - it is not her health, but I must leave immediately. I will be unable to accompany you on your inspection of Netherfield."

"I will manage on my own. Your need is pressing - I wish you luck and Godspeed."

As Fitzwilliam hurried from the room, calling to the landlord for a horse, Charles' eyes followed after him with deep concern. He had never seen such a look of anger on his friend's face.

~

"Brother! This is unexpected - look who is . . ." Georgiana stopped in mid sentence as Fitzwilliam strode across the room to pull Wickham up off the settee by his lapels. "What are you doing?"

Darcy ignored his sister and gave George a shake. "Tell me that you have not compromised her in any way!"

"Darcy! So good to see you. I'm afraid there is some sort of misunderstanding."

"Then please enlighten me as to your presence in this establishment."

"I am paying court to your sister. Georgiana and I have fallen in love."

"It is true," said Georgiana, clutching at her brother. "Please don't hurt him - he has done no wrong. We are going to get married. I thought you would be pleased."

"Pleased?" Fitzwilliam looked at her in amazement.

"Yes, it was to be a surprise. George said we should run off to Scotland for Lady Catherine would frown on me marrying a steward's son, but that you had already given him your blessing."

"You think I would ever agree to give you to this scoundrel?"

"But . . . George said . . ." Georgiana looked around in confusion, tears streaming down her face.

"You have made my dearest one cry," said Wickham, reaching for Georgiana. "You are acting like a complete cad. We are to be married and there is nothing you can do to stop us."

"Do not touch her. There is no way in heaven you will ever marry Georgiana." Fitzwilliam drew his sister close to him and looked into her eyes. "He has imposed on you, dearest. He does not care for you - it is only your fortune he wants."

"But I . . . George said he loves me."

"And so I do, sweet thing," said Wickham, flashing Darcy a smug smile. "Your brother is just a trifle jealous and a little more than surprised. He will come around if you stand firm."

"But, you said you had gained his consent."

"Slight exaggeration on my part, Georgiana darling."

"Where is your companion, Mrs Younge?" Darcy asked of his sister.

"Dear Mrs Younge seems to have stepped out for a moment. She is always so very obliging," Wickham answered in Georgiana's stead, then he sat back on the settee and crossed his legs as he looked challengingly at Darcy.

"Why did Mrs Younge allow this? How did you and Wickham come to meet? He must have been a stranger to you - he left Pemberley when you were but five, and you could not have seen him since."

"But, remember brother? He visited four years ago and came up to see me in the school room. He said he would tell you all about it."

"I must have forgotten to inform him. There were other pressing matters that we discussed, love."

"Yes, money matters. Georgiana - he came to me for money and I made him a very generous settlement on the condition he never apply to me again. Last year he saw me in London and asked for more, which I refused. He became very angry and swore revenge, but I had no idea he would try to get back at me through you."

"I spoke in anger - I did not mean a word of it. You can't possibly believe such things of me, my love."

Georgiana looked back and forth between them. "I do not know what to believe, but I have never known Fitzwilliam to lie. If he does not like you he must have good reason." She hid her face in her hands.

"Dearest, I'm sorry to have involved you in such a scene. Please go up to your room while I deal with Wickham, then I will come to you."

"You will not hurt him?" she begged through her tears.

"I promise."

"No - stay - stay and support me," called Wickham, but she ran from the room, the door slamming behind her with finality.

Darcy stared at Wickham, his face white, his hands clenched. "I want nothing more to do with you. Leave this house now and count yourself lucky."

Wickham returned his glare. "I don't know how you discovered us, but a few more days and you could not have sent me away. I would have been your brother. A frightening thought, is it not? I have not finished with you yet - I will find another weakness to tap - you will see."

He left the house and it was only by sheer force of will that Fitzwilliam held himself back from exacting his anger from Wickham's hide.

Mrs Younge returned soon after and it did not take long for Fitzwilliam to discover she had been in league with Wickham from the outset. In half an hour she was gone from the house too. The rest of the night he spent in his sister's room as she cried in his arms. In the morning her tears were done but she was broken. Her honour was intact but her trusting heart was shattered - it was as crushing a violation as any physical transgression would have been. And Fitzwilliam shouldered all the burden of the blame. If not for his overwhelming desire to find the girl he would have been with Georgiana and Wickham could never have made her his prey. He should have taken more care in finding a companion for his sister, not blindly accepting the first applicant just because of her respectable appearance. If she was anything, Mrs Younge was a good actress, and she had deceived Fitzwilliam fully. He would not be so deceived again. He would never, ever leave Georgiana alone. There would be no more trips with Bingley, no more country assemblies - all he would ever share with her would be the stars. Georgiana would be first and foremost in his heart.

~

Bingley arrived at the door of Netherfield to have it open before he could knock. He was faced with a genial looking gentleman only a few years older than himself.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon, but I was under the impression that this estate was to let. I was supposed to meet the agent in the drive, but . . ."

"Mr Bingley, is it? Yes, I let Stevens go, as we decided on one more week in the country - my wife's family, you know, pressing engagements - that sort of thing. I thought I could show you about myself - that would be much more congenial. My name is Fairborn. Do come in."

"Very pleased to meet you. My friend was to join me, but he was called away on business."

Bingley entered the hall, thinking how affable his host was when suddenly his attention was arrested by a vision coming down the stairs. She was the loveliest lady he had ever seen, dressed in the palest blue with a shawl flowing from her elegant shoulders. She looked like an angel, with a cherub on either side of her, also in that same ethereal blue. He stood still, open mouthed in amazement.

As Jane descended the stairs with Lily and Rose on either side, she noticed that the door was open and someone was standing beside her husband in the entrance. He was almost silhouetted against the afternoon sunshine that streamed in through the archway. Sunlight glinted amidst golden curls. His face was radiant. He looked like a god. She almost stumbled, and to hide her embarrassment picked up Rose and held her in her arms.

"My Dear, please come and meet Mr Bingley. He's interested in leasing Netherfield. Mr Bingley, this is my wife, Mrs Fairborn, and our two daughters, Lily and Rose."

"A pleasure," was all Bingley could manage to say.

"I hope you will excuse me," said Jane with an attempt at composure, "but I promised to take the girls into the garden." With that she smiled and was gone, moving with grace through a parlour door.

"That is the easiest way to the gardens," said Mr Fairborn. "We must go out on a tour ourselves, but first I would like you to meet my guests. Come this way - they are in the drawing room."

Bingley followed him gladly. He needed a distraction. It was not good to have such thoughts about another man's wife. She was everything that was perfection and she was completely out of reach.

Mr Fairborn suddenly stopped by a door and held it open. "First let me show you the library. There is an amazing collection of books in here. And then we'll look into the billiard room - maybe you would even fancy a game?"

Bingley stepped forward and entered the room, feigning great interest in all the leather-bound tomes, opening them and reading short passages, anything to clear his head of the image that would not leave it. He hoped fervently that his host could not read minds.

In the drawing room, Letitia Fairborn paced restlessly. The two other inhabitants of the room sat quietly reading, and she was suffering from boredom.

"I thought to be in London by now."

Mr Andrews looked up from his book. He hadn't been able to read it anyway - there was a great deal pressing on his mind. He had finally come to an important decision, and if only his friend's sister would leave him alone with Elizabeth, he would do something about it. "If you have such a need to walk, why don't you go out of doors?"

"Oh, you are so insufferable! I see no suggestion of joining me. The both of you would much rather read your books than entertain me."

Lizzie looked up from the page she was reading. "I offered to walk with you not a half hour ago, but you declined. If you really want to walk, I am more than willing . . ." She was in the process of putting her book down and rising from her chair when Letitia interrupted her.

"There is no need. I see Jane outside with the girls and I will join them." She shot Mr Andrews a dark look. "Thank you for your consideration."

As soon as the French doors closed behind her, Lizzie let out a giggle. "You are so disobliging, Mr Andrews!"

"It is time she knew where my interest lies, and it is not with her." Mr Andrews voice was very serious.

Lizzie looked over at him and her heart fluttered. Oh, no. He was not finally going to come to the point after all these years was he? She had hoped that he understood her better than that. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him pain.

Mr Andrews came and sat beside her. "Elizabeth," he said as he took her hand. "You have no objection to me calling you that, have you?"

"We are such dear friends and have known each other for so long, I cannot," she said, smiling warmly.

"Elizabeth, do not speak of friendship - you must know - I have so much hope for us. I know you do not love me with the same depth of feeling as I love you, or I would have asked you this question years ago, but I cannot leave you again and go off to London without . . . without even trying to make you mine. I would endeavour to be the best of husbands and I would be so proud and happy to have you for my wife."

Lizzie put her hand up to still his lips. "Hush. Please do not say any more. I will always cherish your friendship, but I can never marry you."

"Why never? How can you be so positive? I thought with time you would come to care for me well enough."

"I do. I care for you very much. Aside from Jane, papa, Charlotte, and . . . you are one of my favourite people - I will always want you in my life."

"And who, Elizabeth, and who?" There was anguish in his voice. Lizzie hung her head but would not speak. "I will not press you. If all I can have is your friendship, I will gladly accept it - but you must know that I want something more, and that cannot change. Until you are married to another I will not give up hope."

"I will never marry," said Lizzie, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Don't cry," he said, taking out his handkerchief and drying her eyes. "I did not mean to hurt you."

"It is I who have hurt you," said Lizzie, "and I am heartily sorry for it. If it was in my power to make you happy, I would - but I do not love you in that way, and I could not marry you unless I did. It would never work." She did not add that even if she did not love another, even if she did truly love him, she could still not marry him. She had lost her virtue and was in no position to marry anyone - not even . . . but she would not think of him now. That would be even more unfair to Mr Andrews.

She allowed him to hold her in his arms for a few minutes to give her comfort - so he could derive what comfort he could for himself. She felt nothing but his warmth and presence. Nothing. It was as if she were being held by Jane, or her father. "You must stop thinking of me, and fall in love with another. You deserve to marry," she said as she slowly eased herself from his arms.

He looked at her and smiled. He wanted to say, 'I will never stop loving you,' but to what purpose? He had said his bit and been unsuccessful. Deep down he had always known the result. Somehow, sometime, somewhere, someone had won her heart and still kept it, unrequited. It was a pain he could well understand. He hoped now that she would not feel awkward in his presence, worry that he would attempt to forward his suit whenever they were alone. "If ever you should change your mind, you would just have to say a word - I will not bother you with this subject again."

Lizzie looked up and smiled her thanks. She took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. At that moment the door opened and her brother walked in with a young gentleman in tow.

"I have not interrupted anything, have I?" he asked as Lizzie and Mr Andrews quickly jumped apart and stood up.

"Oh, no. Not at all," Lizzie assured him as she came forward to be introduced.

Bingley held out his hand and met the two new people with his usual charm. It was apparent that they had indeed interrupted something. He had noticed that the gentleman and lady were holding hands when he had come in. Miss Bennet turned out to be the sister of the angel that he had seen earlier in the visit. She was not as pretty, but he had to admit that her eyes held his interest for quite some time. He wondered what Darcy would have made of her. Too bad that his friend had been called away for a family crisis.

After the tour of the house, Bingley declined viewing the gardens and the rest of the estate. Although it wasn't quite true, he told Fairborn that he was certain it would not suit his sister who was very exacting in her specifications. In reality he did not want to chance another sighting of Mrs Fairborn. He had never had his strength of character tested as strongly before in his life because he knew deep down that the thing he desired more than anything was to gaze upon her lovely face again.

When Jane came in from the garden she was both disappointed and relieved that their guest was gone. That night she found falling asleep very difficult. She could not understand how as contented a wife as herself could feel such a strong attraction to another man. Whenever she closed her eyes she could see his face, lit by the sun, so she forced them open. Then, of course, she kept imagining his figure printed up upon the canopy of her bed.

Chapter 9

Posted on Sunday, 7 September 2003, at 3:35 p.m.

The next morning Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived at the lodgings in Ramsgate and sought private discourse with Darcy. "I have dealt with him and he is gone," finished Darcy after he had explained the situation to his cousin.

"You just let him go? I would have had him horsewhipped!"

"It took a great deal of forbearance, but that is what Georgiana wished."

"She also wished to marry him!" cried the colonel, grasping up his riding crop and slashing it through the air. "I wonder you did not grant her that wish too."

Darcy's face went livid. "I cannot expect you to understand - I did not act out of weakness. I refuse to add to Georgiana's suffering. Now is not the time for vengeance - instead, I must protect my sister and restore her faith in the world. I hold myself completely accountable for what transpired here in Ramsgate. The fault is mine, and mine alone, and I shall remedy it as best I can."

"You will have to deal with the old crow and her caged sparrow. It was upon Anne's information that I came."

"I too, but she assured me that Lady Catherine knows nothing."

"Has she ever acted not in accordance with her mother?"

"Yes, I believe she has," said Darcy slowly. "She once managed to interrupt an inquisition with a fainting spell. She is deeper than you think."

"She took your side against her mother?" The colonel appeared dumbfounded.

"Unobtrusively. There was no suspicion at all. But she did it for her own purposes, not out of any sympathy for me."

"Can you be sure of that? She has just protected your sister from scandal - she must have the family honour at heart."

"Yes, she did, but I can't shake the feeling that she hopes to gain something from this."

Colonel Fitzwilliam stood still for one long silent moment, his eyes not leaving the younger man's face. "Then it can only be one thing."

Darcy looked back, an expression of desolation in his eyes. "And I shall have to grant it her."

~

"You see what danger you have placed your sister in," said Anne, her voice level and calm.

"I do not need to be told of it - I know only too well that I am at fault." The response was wrung out of him. He turned his face away from her candid stare.

"There is no need to take on so. I only want you to accept that it is time to end this foolish quest of yours."

Darcy brought his head back around and looked deep onto her grey eyes. "Do you see everything from your glass tower?"

"Anything about you I make my concern. I have watched you tear your heart to shreds over that girl all these years. She is gone from your life - you cannot change that. It is more than likely she is married now, with a happy home somewhere in the country and a troupe of growing children. She could be gone to fat and beleaguering her husband. She could be dead. You need to give up this fantasy and get on with your life. You are all that Georgiana has, and it has been made pitifully clear that you are not doing your best by her while you are consumed with this overriding need to search for some unknown woman. I don't mean to be harsh, and I don't mean to be cruel, but you must face facts."

"I have spent the last forty-eight hours doing nothing but."

"Then I think you will agree with me when I say that you must marry. Your wife will give Georgiana the companion she needs. And as you cannot possibly marry for love, it would be best that you not marry a lady who would expect love in return. You need someone who will want to take Georgiana in hand and will benefit from the match just as much as you."

"What would you stand to gain by marrying me?"

Anne's gaze did not falter. "I see we understand each other. Your fortune, of course, holds no interest for me. My mother has set her heart on the match, and would refuse any other offer for my hand, though who would offer for me, I have no idea. Even the most hardened fortune hunter could not possibly know of my existence, and anyway, I have no wish to buy a husband. I want to be taken from Rosings and my mother. I want a husband who will not spend his time philandering, entertaining trollops with my money. I want to marry a man of honour and integrity. I made my decision to marry you a long, long time ago. I have always been confident that circumstances would fall my way, and as you see, they have."

Darcy thought of all he had desired and looked forward to in life. The dream of again finding the girl he had met nine years ago. The one person he had given himself to - body, heart, and soul. He watched all his hopes crumble to dust, become as grains of sand on some lonely shore to be washed away by the tide. Irreclaimable. He had never any desire to marry Anne, but he could see no other alternative if he were to make up for his neglect of Georgiana. At least, married to Anne, there would be no expectation of something he could not give. Marriage to anybody else would be a union of deceit. Here, everything was out in the open. And if he could not marry her, it may as well be Anne as anyone.

"Is there anything else you would want from me but the freedom you so desire?"

"There is one small thing."

"Name it, and then let us go and inform your mother of the joyous news," said Darcy in resignation.

"I would like a child."

~

"Are you certain you are willing to go through with this?" It was the colonel who spoke, but both he and Bingley stared at Darcy in appeal.

"I have had six months to think about it and my mind is unchanged."

"But what if you were to finally meet your dream girl tomorrow?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam gave Bingley a scornful look. "He is well out of that fairy tale. How an otherwise sensible man like you could have encouraged him there, I have no idea. You did him no service."

"And your idea of entertaining barques of frailty was a better solution?" asked Darcy bitterly.

"It would have cured you of your illusions," said his cousin. "And then you might have set your mind to finding a wife among the beauties of the season rather than shackling yourself to our wraith of a cousin."

"That would never have happened. I am going through this marriage for Georgiana's sake alone - if it were not for how I failed her, I would never marry at all. Unless . . . but it is useless to think of that any more. Come, it is my wedding day - let us make the best of it."

"At least join us in a drink," entreated Colonel Fitzwilliam as he poured three tumblers full of brandy. "You will need it to face your bride."

"I expect a long marriage ahead of me - I will have to face it without pot valiance."

"You are right cousin, or you would be drunk every day of your life!" He threw back his drink and then also the one he had poured for Darcy.

Bingley sipped his slowly and looked at his friend with regret. 'If there were any other way,' he thought, but he could come up with nothing. The church was already filling with guests. He felt only the deepest sympathy for Darcy who was sacrificing so much. He had taken on more blame than necessary for what had happened to his sister. Bingley had never witnessed any neglect on his friend's part. A more caring and loving brother he had yet to meet. But nothing he had said to Darcy could convince him otherwise. Today was a sad day indeed. It would be a wedding at which there was every reason to cry.

~

Lizzie leaned forward to catch the view from her coach window - it was a thing she would never tire of. The thought brought back a memory. Had not she, ten years earlier, felt that same interest in what lay beyond her windowpane? In Kent. Yes, and then she had seen a rider. There was no rider now, though she was driving through the best hunting country in all the land. She strove to drag her thoughts from memories of him, to keep her eyes from searching the rolling meadow. But what she needed to think on brought little to ease any pain she may be feeling. Her concern for Jane flooded back, and she was no longer content to peer from the window. Instead she wished the horses to run faster, the wheels to roll quicker. Jane needed her.

It was late in the day when the coach finally pulled to by the wide entranceway to Litchford House; the light had almost gone and the sky was a wan grey. Jane came out on the steps to meet Lizzie, her black crepe drawing off what little colour was left in her face. She smiled a strained smile and held her arms wide.

"Lizzie, oh Lizzie. You are finally here."

"Yes Jane dearest and I will not leave you," cried Lizzie as she ran up the stairs to her sister. She pulled Jane into a warm embrace and hugged her close. She felt as light and frail as a bird in her arms. "How are Lily and Rose?"

"They do not understand. They call for their papa and he does not come. They are too young to be without a father."

"Is anybody still here with you?"

"They have all gone this morning. Letitia was wild to leave. She said she could not bear to be in her brother's home without him. Mr Andrews wanted to await your arrival, but I told him I would be fine until you arrived. He accompanied Letitia and Prudence back to town. He has been so good and kind to me, as has everyone, but he more so than the rest."

Lizzie smiled as she thought of her friend. Of course he would do his utmost to support Jane and Henry's sisters, even though he himself must be crushed from losing his closest friend. As much as she cared for him, she was glad that he was gone. She didn't want to see the look in his eyes that she could do nothing to mend. "Let us go inside. I don't believe you have eaten anything since the accident - you are nothing more than bones."

"I have tried to eat, Lizzie, but I have no appetite."

"You need to eat for your girls, and you will now that I am here to care for you."

"Oh Lizzie! I have longed for you so."

Lizzie led her sister to the drawing room of the home she had lived in for a little short of a year. The young family had left Netherfield to fulfil Mr Fairborn's dearest wish and settle in the East Midlands, where a newer form of foxhunting was in practice. The race with the hounds was fast and furious, fences taken at a neck or nothing pace, and it was in his favourite pursuit that Henry Fairborn had come to grief. His mettle on the field was held in great respect by all his fellows, but that was of no consolation to his young widow, or his two darling daughters.

That evening, after visiting with the little girls and convincing Jane to eat something sustaining, Lizzie and her sister sat in Jane's large bed and talked half the night. This practice continued the following nights and soon became their standard routine. Lizzie had expected to have to console a sister who had lost the one she loved the most - to try to rebuild from a point of emptiness that was even deeper than what Lizzie had suffered herself - for though she had lost her love, she still had hope; but for Jane there was nothing. She was surprised to learn that this was not the case. In their second week together, Jane made a deep confession, one that both startled Lizzie, and gave her cause to feel that Jane would survive much better than she had herself.

"Lizzie, I cannot have you continue labouring under a false impression. My loss is great, but not so great as you would think. My suffering is more for my children than for myself. Do not think me devoid of feeling. I have a great regard for Henry, and am bitterly saddened by his death - I would have never wished it for the world."

"Of course not, Jane. I would never think that of you. You have the most tender heart of anyone I know."

"Yet, how do I tell you that my heart is not completely broken, that I believe I will recover in time and hope to find love again, without you thinking me callous?"

"That is only right, Jane - for you deserve happiness - but I had always thought you deeply in love."

"I thought I was too . . . that is to say, I was unsure, but I hoped. I was twenty-two. Everyone was expecting me to make a fine match. Mama was worried about losing Longbourn when papa eventually died. You were certain that I was in love, Mr Fairborn was so attentive - everything seemed as though it was meant to be. Do not mistake me - Henry was a good husband. He was always kind and considerate. He treated me fairly and with fond regard, but I think that after we were both married for a year we realised that our love was not of the deepest kind. I never felt completely . . . comfortable with my wifely duties, and it pained me that I had failed my husband in some way, but he was never one to complain. After Rose was born, we suspended intimacies altogether. I know that he remained faithful to me in deed, as I did to him, but I do believe he was unfaithful in thought. He enjoyed the attention of pretty women, but he was nothing if not discreet. And now I must say something that will greatly shock you. I have also felt an attraction for another gentleman. I don't know if it was a trick of the light or something in his smile, but the sight of him filled me with warmth and with a certain amount of fear at the same time. I saw him only the once, and yet, in this past year I have thought of him often. It might have been because I was lonely here in this new place . . . or it could have been some other reason, but I do know that I was not fully in love with my own husband. If I loved Henry to distraction, I'm certain there is no way another gentleman could have made such an impression on me."

"Oh Jane," cried Lizzie, not knowing what to say. "To think that I pushed you . . . when I only wanted . . . I was blind and thoughtless." Too caught up in my own emotions. Too tortured by my own lost love to see your feelings for what they truly were. "I did you a great disservice."

"No Lizzie, you did not. I have been very content - I am certain I have been happier than most, for how many people really find their own true love? I believe love is a very illusive thing. If I hadn't married, I would not have my two dear daughters. I regret nothing. I would have lived contentedly with Henry to the end of my days. But now I have a second chance, and I will try and be sure this time. But I wonder, how does one know if one is truly in love?"

How does one know? For Lizzie it had happened in a blinding flash, and she still did not question it ten years later. "Jane you feel it with all your being - there is no room for doubt."

"Thank you Lizzie. I know it is not easy for you to talk about."

"I am sorry to have never told you about it, Jane, but I . . . I suppose I did not act wisely in the situation, and I did not want you to think ill of me." Lizzie turned her head and looked toward the window. She had never mentioned him to anyone other than Charlotte - and even to Charlotte she had said only that she loved someone, and nothing more.

"You need tell me nothing Lizzie, but you know I could never think ill of you."

Jane's voice was full of loving warmth, and Lizzie knew she owed Jane more than she had ever given away before. "In this instance you would, believe me. I . . . I did meet someone all those years ago, and we both . . . we both knew it was love even then, at that young age, even though we knew nothing of each other. But naught in life is that simple. He was willing to marry me - but under the circumstances I could not expect it of him. I left - and I did not even tell him my name, or learn his own. If I could go back and change one thing, the only thing I would change is to know his name. All these years and the only name I have to call him by is Love."

In the dim candlelight Jane looked at her sister and knew what she was not telling her - what she could never bring herself to tell her - and she could not fault her for it. She understood that what had happened meant more to Lizzie than anything she had ever experienced. She felt compassion for the pain she had suffered, love for her damaged soul. Jane stroked Lizzie's hair gently, putting it back behind her ears and looking deep into her eyes. She said the only thing that she could. "One day you will find him."

"And you will find your own love too," said Lizzie with conviction.

Chapter 10

Posted on Wednesday, 10 September 2003, at 9:13 a.m.

Lizzie was pleased that Jane had consented to return with her to Longbourn. In her old home, in the heart of her family, Jane bloomed once again. Lily and Rose no longer clung to their mother but spent time with their various aunts and grandma who doted on them madly. But the thing that the two loved most, especially little Rose, was to sit on their grandpa's lap while he read to them. And if anyone noticed the look of tender regard in his eyes as he gazed upon them, they would have realised that he found as much pleasure in the arrangement as they did. "Come to me, my little flowers," he would say, holding his arms wide, as they peeked around his study door - and they would run to him and perch upon his knees.

Litchford House was to be let. Jane had been willing to go to London and discuss the particulars with her late husband's man of business, but Mr Andrews begged to be allowed to perform the service. He had been named an executor in the will and felt a responsibility to the young widow and her two sweet daughters. The little girls saw him as a favourite uncle, though no such relationship existed, but he encouraged the sentiment, not only out of his feeling for them, but his knowledge that a close connection with the family would keep him in contact with Elizabeth. Though he knew there was little hope he could not yet give her up.

It was with Mr Andrews in her thoughts that Lizzie set out on her walk to Lucas Lodge and Charlotte, whom she had not seen in some time. It had always been her wish for her two friends to marry and she sighed at the capriciousness of fate that had led him to fall in love with her instead. Charlotte was now thirty-two and remained unmarried, and though she often spoke of marrying for practical purposes and not love, Lizzie was certain that she had spurned one or two very eligible suitors in the last few years. It seemed love had an effect on her after all. Lizzie still hoped to bring the two together but had no idea how she would induce Mr Andrews to transfer his affections to her friend. She had thrown them in each other's paths often enough and while Mr Andrews had a great regard for Charlotte and talked with her in a most companionable way he remained frustratingly loyal to Lizzie herself.

Charlotte was in the garden picking the last blooms of the season and looked up as Lizzie arrived.

"If you had not called on me so early, I would have been the one walking through your gate in another hour or so. How fares Jane?"

"She gains strength and brightness with every day."

"Poor dear, to lose her husband so early in marriage and when they were so in love as well."

Though Lizzie shared most everything with her closest friend, she honoured Jane's confidences and replied with a wry smile. "There are no guarantees in life, it seems."

"No there are not. I have come to a momentous decision myself and would dearly like your opinion on it."

"Though my opinion will not change your mind if it differs from your own," replied Lizzie in her teasing manner.

"Yes," Charlotte answered with a ready smile, "but I do hope that your feelings on the matter are in accordance with mine."

Lizzie smiled and encouraged her to go on.

"As you know I am well beyond a marriageable age. I do not intend to live as a dependant of one of my family for the rest of my days. I have taken up a post as governess with a family that is a connection of my mother's. They live in Sussex and have three daughters that will be in my charge. The eldest does not come out for two years. I believe that my considerable experience with my own siblings will make me well able to subdue their giddy childishness and instil more genteel and elegant behaviour."

"Not only that. I'm certain they will benefit from your great storehouse of practical knowledge. Oh Charlotte! You will be gone so far from me. Lucky, lucky girls to have you all to themselves." Lizzie's heart plummeted, but she dared not show her friend what she was truly feeling. They had a long discussion before joining Lady Lucas and Maria in the drawing room. Lady Lucas was much more interested in telling Lizzie the details of Maria's courtship with a gentleman farmer from a neighbouring district than dwelling on what she looked upon as the failure of her eldest daughter.

It wasn't until she was walking home that Lizzie allowed free rein to the strength of emotion that had built up inside of her. Not only were all her dreams for Charlotte and Mr Andrews crumbling down around her ears, but all her dreams for herself. She was twenty-five. It was only a matter of time before she would be forced to take just such a step. Unless, somehow, somewhere she were to meet him again. And tied here as she was to Longbourn how was that ever to happen? In ten years he had never come her way. There was still hope in her visits to the Gardiners. In a week she was to join them again, and not only would they stop for a fortnight in London, but they were taking her on a tour of the Lake District. It was only the thought of this trip that kept her from descending into a pit of gloom.

Lizzie slipped into the house quietly and intended to seek some solitude in the library when she was arrested by her mother's strident tones coming from the parlour. Mrs Bennet was holding forth on one of her favourite topics, a complaint she canvassed again and again, but this time she voiced a resolution that directly affected Lizzie. To hear that she was to be denied her one consolation threw Lizzie into a state of upheaval. Anger, disappointment, frustration and resentment battled within, and she had to take a moment to school her features before she grasped the door handle and calmly entered the room.

"You shall go in her stead, Kitty, and make the most of your opportunity. I have given up on Lizzie completely."

"Mama," said Lizzie, "what are you speaking of?"

"I have decided that Kitty shall join your aunt and uncle on this holiday rather than you. You have been invited many more times than she, but you have gained nothing from the experience. Kitty deserves a chance to come out of your shadow."

"And what is it I was supposed to gain by visiting Aunt and Uncle Gardiner that I have not?"

"Oh Lord, Lizzie!" cried Lydia. "A husband, of course. You have mama quite distracted with your ungrateful behaviour." She giggled.

"To have five grown daughters and only one of them married!" Mrs Bennet reached for her salts. "I never would have thought it, especially after Jane made such a good match. I was certain you girls would be thrown into the path of other rich men and I would see you all pleasantly settled within a twelvemonth. Mr Andrews! I cannot think of him without bursting into tears. So eligible - so rich - and you ought to have caught him, Lizzie. Five years forever in his company all come to nothing! I am sure you will end an old maid! And the rest of you girls have fared no better."

"But mama," interposed Mary, "I have a young man who calls on me regularly."

"Nothing but a clerk of your Uncle Phillips! Oh - do not look at me so with that pained expression, Mary. He will do well enough for you. But the other girls are all so pretty - it is such a shame. Lydia, I had expected you to marry quite young for you took so well and are by far the liveliest."

"Mama! I am not ready to tie myself down to one gentleman, unless, of course, he were rich enough to give me all the pin money I desire, and jewels, and a house in London. I do so enjoy flirting with all the officers. Do you know that Denny and Sanderson are quite at outs with each other over me? It makes me laugh so to see them sulk and frown. They are such fools for I don't care a fig about either of them - but it is such good sport. I don't know why Mr Andrews never looked at me for I should not have rejected him. Though he is so very boring, he is handsome and has a great fortune. What a pity Mr Fairborn did not invite other rich friends to stay - and then he would go and die before any of the rest of us had a chance to stay with Jane at her house in London. But you could open it up now, could you not Jane? We could have ever so much fun, all us girls together."

"Lydia!" Lizzie looked at her in shock. The colour had drained from Jane's face and she seemed on the point of collapse. Lizzie rushed to her and held her hands.

"Did I say something I ought not?" asked Lydia contritely. "I am so very sorry, dear Jane. I was not thinking. Of course you cannot entertain in London while you are still in mourning. We shall do it next year." She turned to her mother and eagerly continued without another thought for Jane. "I don't know why you say Kitty should go to London and the Lakes. I should very much like to go, and if I were to meet a rich gentleman on our travels I would be sure to capture him."

"No, it is my turn!" cried Kitty. "Mama says. You have all the officers dangling after you, and anyway I do not want a paltry fellow like Sanderson either. I deserve a chance to find a husband on my own without you anywhere near to steal him from me."

"Oho! You are still cross because Sanderson shifted his attention to me!"

"Girls! That will do," shrieked Mrs Bennet. "Have mercy on my poor nerves. I have decided it shall be Kitty and that is final."

"Do not our aunt and uncle have any choice in the matter?" asked Lizzie. "It was their invitation to me, after all."

"I do not see how it can signify to them which of you girls they take. I will simply tell them that you cannot leave Jane in her time of need." She turned to Kitty and immediately became more animated. "We must hurry to Meryton to buy some trimmings for your gowns, and a new hat I should think - and you may borrow Lizzie's green pelisse. We will have it taken in. Lydia, you may come too. Sister Phillips tells me there is a new shipment of Spanish lace at the milliners. Hurry and get ready while I ask Mr Bennet if we can have the horses."

Lizzie watched her mother and two sisters leave the room with no small amount of relief. At least now Jane would be free of their insensitive conversation. Mary already had her nose deep onto the covers of her book and may as well not have even been there.

"Are you all right, dearest?" Lizzie asked Jane.

"I do wish you were able to go on your trip," sighed Jane. "You have been looking forward to it for so long."

"I would much prefer being with you and keeping you happy," whispered Lizzie sincerely. It was the one thing her mother had said that held any validity. She could not leave Jane. As much as the little girls were entertained in the house, the only family member who really gave Jane the comfort and care that she needed was herself. She willingly put aside her own disappointment and the hopes she had built up for the trip and gave all her thought over to Jane. They were vain hopes anyway. The chances of seeing him again on this trip were no greater than those of any other she had taken with her relatives in the past. Some things in life were meant to be. Others were not.

The next week when Mr and Mrs Gardiner arrived it was discovered that they were not to go to the Lake District after all. Their trip had to be curtailed so instead they were only to tour Derbyshire and visit the village of Lambton in particular, the place where Mrs Gardiner had spent her youth.

~

Mrs Reynolds opened the door to her master's study and cast a sympathetic eye on the scene before her. He was gazing into the fire as she oft found him, a distant look in his eyes. She softly walked up to his side before he was even aware of her presence. She touched him reassuringly on the shoulder. "The doctor has gone and the mistress would like to see you now."

She could never bring herself to refer to Anne Darcy as your wife. To Mrs Reynolds it did not seem at all right. She was not the woman for Mr Darcy, Fitzwilliam as she called him in her heart of hearts. She had been in the Darcy household for all her adult life and had seen him grow from a baby to a sunny happy child to a young man who had more than his share of pain and responsibilities to bear. She understood his need to marry his cousin, but that did not mean that she had not wished something better for him.

Fitzwilliam looked up and thanked her softly and then slowly rose from his chair and left the room. She gazed after him thoughtfully, hoping that the news would be good.

After a gentle rap on Anne's bedchamber door and her clear invitation to come in, Fitzwilliam entered the airy compartment. She had done little to change it in her few months of residence. It was decorated with the same light hangings that his mother had used. Flowers from the conservatory filled large bowls on the bureau and low table, loosing their fragrance throughout the room. The windows were open and the gauze of the curtains fluttered and shifted in the background. Anne was stretched out on a divan, looking otherworldly in a filmy white robe.

"You will no doubt be glad to hear that I am with child," she said as he took a seat across from her.

"I am most pleased."

"Of course you are, now you no longer have to perform your husbandly function. You must be feeling no small amount of relief by now."

Fitzwilliam only nodded his head. He still had difficulty facing his cousin's candour. There were things he would rather not speak of at all. "I am happy you have got what you wanted and our agreement is fulfilled," was all he said.

"I am with child, but it remains to be seen if I can carry it full term. I may yet need your services again. Do not look so dismayed. The doctor has said that if I follow all his advice there should be no danger of losing the child. Now I wish that I had requested two, for I had not anticipated conceiving quite so early, and will miss our intimacies. I see I have shocked you again - or is it more fright than shock? I would have preferred a more willing lover, but then it would not have been you, so I have no complaints. I see you are longing for a change of subject. My dear husband, I assure you this is what married people often talk about - but then it was not what you had bargained for, was it?"

"Children generally result from marriage; I should not have been surprised that it was an expectation of yours. And I cannot fault you in your treatment of Georgiana. You have provided her with companionship and showed her every kindness. I know you will care for your own child even more so, and I will love the child too, for it is also mine and will possibly even be my heir."

"And yet you say that with such sadness, because it is not hers." It was said without resentment or spite, just a matter of fact statement as if she were discussing the weather.

Fitzwilliam bit back the tears. How well she knew him - sometimes it was almost frightening. Everything she had said was true. When he heard she was with child, relief had coursed through him - not relief at the blessing of new life, but relief that he would not have to share Anne's bedchamber again. It was not something he had counted on when he had first agreed to the marriage. When Anne had hit him with that request his senses reeled, but she had timed it well - he had already pledged his word. The idea of being intimate with anyone other than her was truly abhorrent to him. He felt that he was violating the love they had shared, and this feeling never left him throughout those sessions. He performed a purely mechanical act, devoid of any feeling, his mind blank and disinterested. He was aware that Anne responded differently. At first he thought the pleasure she derived was only due to her hopes of the outcome, but in her most unguarded moments he realised that she was taking pleasure from the closeness to him. This appalled him even more than anything else. The only thing that eased his spirit about the whole affair was that, though he had done what he saw as his duty and fulfilled his promise to Anne, he had remained completely faithful to his love in his heart and in his mind where it counted the most.

Anne looked at him for a long time, realising that he had drifted from her again, as always happened when they were together. She could never keep his attention, especially during the intimacies they had shared. At first she had considered that he let his thoughts fill with that woman at those times, but later she came to realise what strength of character he truly possessed. He would never sully her memory in such a way. Anne wished it were otherwise for if he had he might have given himself over to abandon and fulfilled her need to a much greater extent. As it was, those days were over for her, and all she had left was the memory of the bliss she had stolen from the encounters.

"You must think me pitiful to have enjoyed something that was given most unwillingly."

"I do not pity you, Anne, I just do not understand you."

"It is only a very basic need for fulfilment that is all too human. In this child I hope to finally have someone who will love me for myself, with no conditions placed upon the giving or receiving of love. After the baby is born, I want you to know that I would be more than willing to welcome you back to our marriage bed, if you should ever desire it."

"That would go beyond what I feel duty to dictate," said Fitzwilliam carefully, looking away from her.

"It is the answer I expected. You would have let me down if you had responded differently. You may go now - I know you have long wanted release from this interview."

Fitzwilliam turned back to her, and as he rose from his chair to leave he said, "I do wish you well."

"I know. You are just awkward with my candour. Do not worry - tomorrow we will be back to speaking of books and music and the beauties of the countryside and you may be at your ease again." As she watched him go, admiring his tall, lean body that moved with such grace even in embarrassment, she wondered again what it was about him that attracted her so. He had never shown the slightest interest in her. She knew she did not love him, but she desired him more than anything she had ever known - almost as much as the baby she had finally conceived. And even though she did not have his heart or his mind she had him, and she felt victorious over that nameless girl who could never possess him now. Nameless to him, that is. There were many things that Anne knew that he did not, and never would if she had any control over the matter.

~

Fitzwilliam left the private chambers of the house deep in thought. He needed to get out into the meadows where he could feel the wind on his head, breathe the pure, unscented air, ride until the breath was torn from his lungs. He rounded a corner and on the landing leading to the main staircase almost ran into a girl.

She was standing in the falling light of the tall windows, turned slightly from him, looking up at a portrait on the far wall. Her figure was light and girlish, her hair dark brown curls that were tied in disarray atop her head. He held his breath. Surely it could not be. All he could see of her face was the soft curve of one cheek - the curl of eyelash raised toward an arched brow.

"Where have you come from?" he whispered in wonder. "And why now when all is lost?"

She turned at his voice, her eyes wide in surprise. They were light hazel, not the dark blue that he remembered so vividly. Her nose was longer and more defined, her lips not quite so full. But never before had he seen anyone who resembled her as closely. His heart was beating so loudly, he was certain that she could hear it too.

"It's you!" she cried, adding to his confusion.

What did she mean? It was not her. How could this girl he had never seen before recognise him?

"In the picture," she said, gesturing. "I do beg your pardon - you must be Mr Darcy." She blushed full red.

"It is I who should beg your pardon for I came upon you so abruptly," he said, his mind still spinning from the shock he had received. "And who do I have the pleasure of . . ."

"Oh! I am Kitty Bennet. I - we - that is, my aunt and uncle are here as well - we are touring your lovely house with your housekeeper, but I stopped to admire the portrait and - I think they have already gone downstairs."

This said, they both looked down the stairs to see Mrs Reynolds standing at the foot with a fashionably dressed lady and gentleman. All three were watching the exchange with much interest. Fitzwilliam offered Kitty his arm and escorted her down the staircase. Introductions were then made and he stood and talked for a few minutes until he excused himself. Kitty's eyes followed him as he walked off towards his study.

When they were out in the gardens she whispered to her aunt, "What a very handsome gentleman, and so polite."

"Do not get your hopes up dear," replied Mrs Gardiner dampeningly. "He is married."

"Just my luck," said Kitty, her bottom lip beginning to protrude in a pout. "He appeared to be quite taken with me."

~

Fitzwilliam sat in his chair and tried to settle himself. His blood was rushing swiftly through his veins leaving him light headed. He could not believe that he had almost mistaken someone else for her. Almost rushed to the girl and pulled her into his arms in front of her own relatives and Mrs Reynolds, despite the fact that he was a married man. How could he have explained such behaviour? His mind was in such turmoil that he had not caught the names of her aunt and uncle as he stood and talked with them. He had no clue what he had said, but he had managed to get away without disgracing himself at any event.

The encounter brought her into the forefront of his thoughts as he had not allowed her to be for quite some time. Her eyes, her hair, her cheeks. Those of Miss Kitty Bennet paled in comparison. The longer he had looked at her the more he realised how much the girl in his vision surpassed her. The mistake must have been a trick of the light. But he was still suffering from confusion. What if he were to see her now, in his married state? Would he be able to restrain himself or would he lose all reason and let propriety fly as he very nearly had done? What would she think of him if he did, given the nature of their prior meeting? If ever he were to meet her again, no matter the circumstances, he would have to restrain his emotions and desires and face her with all the politeness and decorum that he possessed.

His reverie was disturbed by Georgiana who popped her head around the door. He looked up and smiled and held out his hand and she came to join him, sitting in the chair beside his desk that had become hers over the years.

"I hear I am to congratulate you."

"Not for some months, I believe," he said with a tight smile.

"Is it what you wanted?"

"It is what she wanted, which is more to the point, but on reflection it is a very good thing. I shall be happy to be a father."

"And I an aunt."

"Are you content, my sweet?"

"Why should I not be, Fitzwilliam? You are always here, and Anne has been so very good to me. I want for nothing."

"Shall we go to London?"

"Anne is not allowed to travel in her present state." There was a flicker of fear in the back of her eyes.

"We could go, just the two of us, and see a play or a recital."

"I - I don't think I am ready to go anywhere yet," she said quietly.

"You will be coming out next year," he reminded her softly.

"I will endeavour to be ready. I have spoken at great lengths with Anne and I am feeling much more confident, but I really would prefer to stay home at present."

"As you wish," he smiled fondly at her and tried not to show his concern.

Georgiana knew that look, and it pained her to bring it to her brother's face. She realised that he had married Anne out of concern for herself and not love of their cousin, and though Anne was cold and candid she really had become a valuable companion. She taught her how to stand up for herself and not be taken in, and she taught her that love was an important but rare commodity. She balanced Fitzwilliam's protective nature and helped Georgiana find strength from within. The warmth that Anne lacked, she had from her brother in plenty. She was still hesitant and shy, but she was no longer fragile and vulnerable to being taken in by charm and a handsome face. At least she didn't think she was. The mention of Wickham, indeed the very thought of him, still brought tears to her eyes, but she had come a very, very long way from that evening in Ramsgate when she had come to know his deceit.

Her biggest worry was her brother. He had sacrificed so much for her and she wanted nothing but his happiness. She wished he had married someone out of love rather than duty and she hoped fervently that the child would bring the light into his life that he so desperately needed.

Chapter Eleven

Posted on Sunday, 14 September 2003, at 6:52 p.m.

"Must you always go on about that gentleman you met in Derbyshire who was so very taken with you even though he was married?" asked Lydia. "I forever have married gentleman flirting with me. It is no great thing."

"Yes but none so rich as Mr Darcy," replied Kitty. "If only he were not married I am certain I would have had a chance with him. You should have seen the look in his eyes when he first saw me. I do believe I broke his heart."

"Kitty!" said Lizzie. "How can you say such things when your fiancé is at this moment on his way to visit you?"

"Yes, are you not afraid that I will tell him of your infatuation with another man?" Lydia smirked as Kitty regarded her in shock.

"Mama! Please send Lydia away!"

"I am staying right here," said Lydia smugly.

"Well you shall not say anything. I was not infatuated with him, it was the other way around - though he was so very tall and handsome." A dreamy look came into her eyes, and then she lowered her voice to a whisper. "But should you even think of mentioning him, I will tell Mama about you going behind the skreen in Colonel Forster's drawing room with that young lieutenant."

"You will not!"

"I shall!"

"Would both you girls please hold your tongues?" asked Mary from the corner where she was reading. "I wish that Jane's year of mourning were over so I could be married to Mr Phelps and out of this madhouse."

"I wish it too," said Kitty. "It is so difficult for my dear Mr Fawcett and I to have to wait. For a cleric he can be ever so amorous," she added in an aside to Lydia.

"I would never settle for a fusty old parson!" cried Lydia.

"He is neither fusty nor old," said Kitty with a toss of her head, "and when his aunt, Lady Emerson, dies he stands to inherit a tidy sum. You are just jealous for I am to marry before you."

"I am delighted that two of my girls will be wed in only a few months," said Mrs Bennet looking up from her needlework. "If only you had the sense Kitty has, Lizzie. I send her off on one trip with the Gardiners and she captures not one heart but two. It was a pity about the rich gentleman being married, but Mr Fawcett's prospects are extremely good. You have been countless times and come up with nothing."

"I wish you would excuse me, Mama," said Lizzie, "but I promised Jane that I would join her and Lily and Rose in the garden." She put down her stitchery and went in search of her bonnet.

"Lizzie! Do not be long, girl. There is much to be done to ready your sisters' bridal clothes. Oh, that girl will be the death of me; my poor fingers shall be worn to the bone for all the help I get from her!" Mrs Bennet fanned herself and looked around the room for assistance, but as the three girls present were oblivious to her actions, she quickly gave up the idea of becoming faint and returned to setting her stitches.

Kitty and Lydia giggled as they resumed looking through all the latest fashion plates that were spread out on the table before them.

"Seed pearls!" cried Kitty. "The very thing!"

"Look at the lace and the cut of the bodice. Ooh la!" Lydia rejoined.

~

Fitzwilliam paced the floor of his study. He had never expected it to affect him in such a way, but he was very apprehensive about what was happening upstairs behind the closed doors of Anne's bedchamber. That morning while he was visiting her, her pains had begun and he had watched her change from her usual controlled self to a frightened child in need of consolation.

"I have such a fear of dying," she admitted through her tears.

"Anne, if there is anything I have learned in this marriage to you it is that you are much stronger than anyone could ever have believed. You can manage any situation you find yourself in and I expect this to be no different."

"It is true - I have great mental strength but it is the physical that I lack."

Fitzwilliam took her hand in his. This was the closest he had ever felt to her - when she admitted her vulnerability. Her frame was small and frail, and childbirth was an arduous task. Rather than catch her fear, he talked to her softly and encouragingly until the midwife arrived and took over the task of keeping her calm. Just before he left the room she called him to her side again.

"If I do not survive this, I have one favour to ask of you."

Her face was pale and her eyes very large with dark rings underneath. Just looking at her raised Fitzwilliam's level of concern, but he was determined not to show it.

"Anything, Anne, but you will survive."

"Promise me that the child will be brought up with a free spirit, especially if it should be a girl. Do not let her be confined and coddled as I was, barely allowed to breathe on my own. I want her to live life to the fullest, and most of all, I want her to be loved."

"I promise - but you shall have your share in the task for you are not going to leave us."

Anne winced in pain and arched her body, grasping his hand tightly, her fingernails biting into his flesh. When the cramp was over she looked at him again imploringly. "And if it is a girl please call her Elizabeth . . . Elizabeth Anne."

Fitzwilliam smiled. "Why not Anne first, and then Elizabeth?"

"No," whispered Anne softly so that he could barely hear, "Elizabeth will always come before Anne in your heart."

Fitzwilliam was then shooed from the room by the midwife who said it was not the place for a gentleman, husband or not. That had been in the morning, it was now late into the night and no word had come from upstairs yet other than that the mistress was very worn down, but still holding her own. Anne's fear had caught him in its snare now and as he paced he realised how much the child had come to mean to him. He prayed fervently that neither mother nor child would be lost and when a gentle rap sounded at the door he turned in trepidation.

"It is finally over, Mr Darcy. The mistress has delivered a beautiful little girl. You may come and see them now," Mrs Reynolds said from the doorway. "May I be the first to congratulate you?"

"Thank you, Mrs Reynolds. How is Anne?"

"Very tired, but well, sir, and quite pleased with herself, I might add. It seems a girl is what she set her heart on."

'Elizabeth Anne,' thought Fitzwilliam as he remembered the unusual request. 'Why would she expect me to love the child more if she were called Elizabeth rather than Anne, my own mother's name?'

When he entered the room he saw a much changed Anne. She may have been worn and tired but she was absolutely radiant, filled with a glowing inner-light. "Come and see her," she whispered with all the pride a mother could possess. "Isn't she precious?"

Fitzwilliam looked down at the little bundle in her arms and instantly his heart swelled. He reached out and Anne passed her to him, showing him how to cradle the tiny head in his hand. He was in awe. She was so small and so perfectly formed. "Hello Elizabeth Anne Darcy." His voice was soft as it stroked the air. "My but you are beautiful." He held her for a few minutes, gazing at her lovingly, before placing her back in her mother's arms.

"You are pleased with her?" Anne looked at him with an expression of eagerness.

Fitzwilliam had never seen this Anne before. She was warm and happy - complete. "Very."

"I never knew I would feel quite like this," said Anne. "It is more than I had ever counted on. I did not think it possible to love somebody so very much." She smiled and her whole face looked more alive than he had ever seen it.

"I have come to take the wee bairn," said the midwife as she bustled into the room. "Your wife needs to get her rest, sir."

Fitzwilliam accepted his dismissal, taking a moment only to congratulate Anne and give his daughter a last fond look.

Anne lay back on her pillow. She felt her contentment could never be eclipsed. After all she had gone through to bring her tiny daughter into the world she realised that no suffering was too great when the reward was so immeasurably wonderful. She felt warmth run through her and as sleep became overpowering she smiled and gave in to it. As she slept her light bleeding began to flow more heavily and she slowly slipped away to a different kind of freedom than she had ever previously known.

~

"If you feel yourself up to it, Jane dear," said Lizzie, "I think going to London for the season would be a very good thing. Since your state of mourning ended you have barely been into society, save attending our two sister's marriages, and then Letitia's own. Our small assemblies are nothing to the balls, concerts and plays we may attend in town."

"And Prudence has promised to procure vouchers for Almacks for the both of us," said Jane. "But how will Lily and Rose like to be in the city? They are so happy here at Longbourn, and you know how Papa dotes on them."

"Would it be too very difficult to leave them behind?"

"I would miss them terribly."

"Then it is settled! Papa must come with us."

"Oh Lizzie! You know he dislikes London."

"He will be the one to suffer, then, left alone in the country without his sweethearts. The children's nursemaid will like it, though, and they can visit with our cousins at the Gardiners."

"I am decided," said Jane. "We shall do it. I will send word to Possons to open up the town house and hire more servants." Her eyes held more excitement than had been there for a long while.

Lizzie hugged her sister. She had been too long in the country. As much as she loved it, Jane would never find a new husband if the highlight of her day was a walk into Meryton and her only gentleman caller was portly Squire Bedford who was looking for a mother for his four wilful sons.

The parlour door opened with a crash and Lydia came bounding into the room. "I have just now met the most handsome and charming gentleman in the entire country," she exclaimed as she threw herself onto the settee, "and he is invited to Aunt Phillips' tomorrow night for a loo party. You shall all be able to meet him, but don't forget, he is mine for I saw him first."

She was followed in by Mrs Bennet who continued for her, "Such address, such gentlemanly grace! And to think he will soon have a red coat too for he is joining Colonel Forster's regiment! He will be just perfect for our Lydia."

"But I thought Lydia meant to marry someone rich," said Lizzie with a sly grin. "Do not tell me he has a fortune as well as a red coat."

"Alas, no," said her mother, "for I understand he has been treated very shamefully in the past and was not given his rightful inheritance."

"Never fear," said Lydia. "He has hopes to reclaim it in the end, besides which he is so devastatingly handsome that it is of no consequence. I would marry him if he had not a penny to his name."

"And is he prepared to take you with your small dowry as well?" asked Lizzie.

"Fie, Lizzie, do not be so silly. He does not yet know that he is to marry me."

"I cannot wait to meet this paragon and tell him the treat that is in store for him."

"Lizzie - Lydia has no need of your mocking ways. The man is truly a gentleman, and if Lydia has to set her sights lower now as regards fortune, it is no fault of her own. She receives no invitations to London and it is very vexatious that the new tenant of Netherfield is a married man who never entertains. Why he even moved into the neighbourhood, I have no idea. If Jane would only open her house in town!"

"But I am planning to Mama. Lizzie and I will be going to London in a fortnight, and Lydia too, if she should wish it."

"Jane, how could you?" cried Lydia. "No sooner does a gentleman like Mr Wickham come to Meryton than you make plans to separate him from me. Do you not want my happiness?"

"Of course I do, and you are not constrained to accept the invitation," said Jane good-naturedly.

"Not accept the invitation? What do you take me for? All that remains is to convince Colonel Forster to send Mr Wickham to London while we are there. I am the special friend of his wife, after all, so I see no reason why he would not do a little favour like that for me."

The next evening Lizzie and Jane had the pleasure of finally meeting the gentleman whom their mother and sister had not stopped talking about. He was not overly tall, but he had regular features in a pleasing countenance and a most knee-weakening smile. His best feature were his clear blue eyes, which seemed to tell every lady that he spoke to that she was more important to him than anybody else. Lizzie could well see why Lydia was smitten.

They had not been long at her Aunt Phillips' before he singled Lizzie out.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet! I have been hoping for a moment with you since the instant we met."

Lizzie eyed him sceptically. "I thank you sir."

"I hope you will pardon me saying I find it difficult to believe that a beauty like you has not yet been snapped up by one of the local gentry." His eyes gleamed with appreciation as they slowly slid over her form to rest again upon her face.

"Is that a flattering way of saying that I am on the shelf?" asked Lizzie with a twinkle in her eye.

"By no means," replied Wickham, not missing a beat. "It only suggests that you have broken many a heart."

"I have yet to meet a gentleman that appeals to me."

"Did you hear that?" whispered Wickham provocatively. "It was the sound of my own heart breaking. You are too cruel."

"And you, sir, are an accomplished flirt."

"You doubt my sincerity? I will prove how faithful I am. I hereby give up all other woman henceforth." He held his hand over his heart as he made the vow, a wicked smile upon his lips.

"I do not think my sister will be too pleased if you begin to court me," said Elizabeth tartly.

"What care I for your sister?"

"I think you will have better luck with her," said Lizzie. "If you will excuse me, sir, my aunt desires my assistance."

As she walked away, Wickham watched her go. She was pretty, yes, but not a particular beauty like her elder sister, yet there was something about her that sparked his interest. She had the most teasing eyes, and she dared to withstand his charm. If there was anything that appealed to him, it was a challenge, and in his opinion she had just thrown down the gauntlet.

~

"Are you ready for your come out, dearest?" asked Fitzwilliam as he joined Georgiana in her chamber where she had just completed packing her trunks.

"Fitzwilliam, I am now eighteen and it is well time for it. I promise you that I shall not embarrass you."

"You will do me proud," he said, drawing close to her and kissing her forehead. "What is more important is that you enjoy yourself."

"I am very relieved that I will not have to be presented in court, and I am truly looking forward to all the plays and concerts that we shall be attending, even more so than the balls, I must admit."

"I do hope you enjoy the balls, nevertheless. I have even gone to the trouble of procuring vouchers at Almacks, which can be a terrible bore, but is the most prestigious location to launch you, so I am told. If you are seen there, you will be invited everywhere." His eyes held a teasing glint.

"Fitzwilliam, you speak of me as if I were a ship! Will you break a bottle of champagne over my bows? You know that I do not really want to make a splash in London society, merely get my toes wet."

"I am sorry. I have received the bulk of my information from Bingley's sisters, for which I do apologise. What I really want is for you to enjoy your season and make some friends."

'And what I really want is for you to finally find a lady you can love who will love you in return. That is why I am agreeing to all this,' thought Georgiana to herself. Out loud she only said, "I would like that above all things."

"And we will have Elizabeth Anne with us, so while we are not out gallivanting we will never be lonely."

"Our sweet little girl. Do you know she very nearly took a step on her own today?"

"We do not want her to start walking yet! How are we to keep her still in the carriage upon our journey?"

"You know that she will be in your arms the entire time and she always behaves like an angel for her papa."

Fitzwilliam smiled, just thinking of his little girl. She had recently turned one year old. A year replete with the joy that she had brought to his life. He wondered how he had ever managed without her.

Chapter Twelve

Posted on Saturday, 20 September 2003, at 4:08 p.m.

"La! This is a fashionable district," said Lydia as she looked out the windows of the elegant parlour onto Curzon Street, and noted the size and grandeur of the neighbouring houses. "When last I was in London it was at the Gardiners' in Gracechurch Street. Not an address I would like to repeat to any tonnish gentleman I should meet, but I cannot feel ashamed of this direction. In fact when I told Mr Wickham of it, he was duly impressed."

"I am most certain it caused him to look upon you with much more favour," said Elizabeth.

"Yes it did, for he knows what's what in the world," responded Lydia, oblivious to the sarcasm of her sister's comment. "Bye the bye, we had a most delightful conversation at the Lucas' soirée last night. It is the drollest thing. Remember that Mr Darcy Kitty left swooning over her at that great house in Derbyshire? Well it comes about that he is the gentleman that wronged Mr Wickham and denied him the living that had been willed to him."

"Hardly the act of a gentleman," said Lizzie dryly, "though ought we put so much trust in Mr Wickham's word?"

"Certainly, for he is so very handsome and charming. It is a great pity he was not able to make sermons, though, in truth, I like him much better in a red coat than I should have in a parson's collar. I have no wish to copy Kitty and marry a parson."

"There I am in complete agreement with you. Mr Wickham would make a terrible parson and you are most unfit to be a parson's wife."

"But the very good joke is that the great man Kitty set so much in store by is no more than a lecherous, selfish beast. How I will laugh at her when I see her next - always putting on airs about her conquest! This will serve her!"

"I think such slander is best kept to yourself, Lydia. You are basing your opinion on nothing but supposition."

"Oh, no, I have dear Mr Wickham's word. When he arrives in London you can hear it from his own lips. Just don't monopolise him as you always do."

"I do my best to avoid his company, believe me."

"You have done nothing but try to steal him from me since you met him," cried Lydia with a toss of her head. "But you will not win him, not if I can help it."

"I have no interest in him and I sincerely hope that while we are in London you will meet another gentleman that will put him out of your head."

"If he is not more handsome than Mr Wickham he will have to be very rich indeed!"

"Lydia, there is more to choosing a husband than appearance and fortune. His character ought to matter - whether he is intelligent, amiable and kind."

Lydia threw herself upon a settee and gave Lizzie a despairing look. "Lord, you are so boring. It is no wonder you have not married yet." She looked about the room and heaved a great sigh. "When will Jane be done with the housekeeper? I want to go to the milliners - my gowns are ever so dowdy. I can't be seen dressed in such a countrified fashion. This is London, after all."

~

Almacks was an establishment only open to the elite of the ton. Without a voucher from its esteemed patronesses one was not admitted entry. Lydia counted herself lucky that Jane's sister by marriage, Prudence, was related somewhat distantly through her own marriage to Princess Esterhazy and well looked upon by Lady Sefton and Lady Jersey who were very discriminating in their judgements. If any of these ladies had been at all acquainted with the youngest Miss Bennet, it is doubtful she would have been admitted to those hallowed halls the second Wednesday after her arrival to London. As it was she looked about herself in awe upon entering the ballrooms, pleased that she was able to rub shoulders with the very pink of society. Even if it were to turn out to be an utter bore, with all its stiff rules and regulations, it was her opportunity to make an impression upon some very rich gentlemen.

Georgiana, on the other hand, entered the same rooms filled with trepidation. Though she had overcome the sense of betrayal and self doubt that had been her legacy from the Ramsgate affair, she was naturally shy and unused to large crowds. She also had no pretensions of being all the rage in London society and pandering to people interested only in money and status. Her eyes large, she looked to her brother and he, in return, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Fitzwilliam wondered, not for the first time, if his decision to bring Georgiana had been a wise one. The crowds could be intimidating, and he did not relish the idea that, in everyone else's eyes, the two of them had just entered the marriage mart. Though looking for a new wife was the furthest thing from his mind, he knew that it was the expectation of every marriageable young lady and her mama. He did not think this out of vanity, but experience, and if the rapacious looks in the eyes that were focused on him were any indication, he was correct in his conjecture. His consolation was that he could devote his time to the other members of his party - Bingley, his sisters, and Mr Hurst - and avoid the clutches of some avaricious female. Well, not entirely, for though Bingley's sister Caroline had married shortly after his own nuptials, she was here without her spouse and appeared to be quite as intent on monopolising his favour as in the past.

Lizzie, choosing to keep to the background, settled with Jane upon some chairs in an area frequented more by married women than by debutantes. Lizzie had come only to support her sisters and not out of any interest in her own pleasures. She planned to enjoy watching the dancing and maybe standing up for a set or two with a gentleman from her own party. Mr Andrews seated himself between Lizzie and Jane while Prudence led Lydia to a more prominent situation. Her husband set off in search of refreshments to help tide him through the evening, though he knew from experience that the offerings were not of the most reviving sort. He also deplored the fact that cards were not an option and prepared himself for an evening of supreme boredom with nothing to do but converse with dowagers he would rather avoid or, heaven forbid, dance.

"I would prefer to sit in a more secluded place," said Georgiana as Caroline steered the company to an open area alongside the dance floor.

"Darling, you need to be on view," said Caroline.

"I am certain anybody who wishes to greet us will search us out no matter where we sit," said Fitzwilliam. "We are not here to be on display, but to enjoy ourselves, and Georgiana's comfort is my primary concern. This is her first ball of any size."

Caroline conceded gracefully, and for a moment the entire party paused to look over the room. Caroline was looking for acquaintances before which to flaunt the man she considered her escort; Georgiana a quiet nook; Bingley a dance partner; Louisa neighbours of social prominence; Mr Hurst a palm to fall asleep behind; and Fitzwilliam a position that would satisfy the needs of everybody concerned. Suddenly his attention was arrested.

He had not even thought of her all day, so why should he imagine he was seeing her now? He told himself to look away, that it was only a trick of the warm candlelight that filtered into the corner where the lady sat, but he could not. His attention was caught by her pose, her head turned towards her partner. It was so like how he remembered last seeing her, her head tilted away from him to hide the tears in her eyes. Could it be? He was certain, and then uncertain, and then certain again. He began to walk forward without a thought for anything else, even Georgiana who was on his arm and carried along in his wake.

He could not say why he was so positive - her figure was not that of a girl but womanly, and to his mind very lovely. His eyes did not leave her as he willed her to turn from her companion and look in his direction. To let him see the eyes he had dreamt of all those years. She turned her head to glance about the room and then hesitated. The breath left his body. He stopped almost as abruptly as when he had started moving and Georgiana was brought up short at his side. His every dream had just been answered.

Lizzie felt her breath catch in her throat. It was him, standing not three yards before her. Of that she had no doubt. He was even taller now, with the build of a man rather than a boy, but decidedly him. The same hair falling forward on his brow; the same eyes; the same haunted look.

His gaze then took in more than her, including her companion and situation in the room. His heart jolted in his chest and his veins, which were sending blood charging excitedly throughout his body, froze. She was certainly married, and the gentleman she was talking to undoubtedly her husband.

The joy that rose in Lizzie's chest was suddenly tempered. There was a beautiful young woman on his arm, and another behind him, holding him in a proprietary gaze. After all these years she must have known him to be married - it was foolish to think otherwise - and one of these two women was most likely his wife. She felt faint and barely heard Mr Andrews who was calling her attention.

"Miss Elizabeth, is something amiss?"

She tried to focus her eyes upon him, but all she could think of was the other gentleman she had just seen for the first time in twelve years and the fact that he was more lost to her than ever. Why did fate play such heartless tricks?

"Are you unwell? Would you like me to escort you to a more airy chamber, or would you like a drink?"

"I think a drink," said Lizzie in a shaken voice. "I will be all right presently."

Fitzwilliam permitted himself to be led off to some chairs, avoiding Bingley's questioning glance. His mind in turmoil he neither knew what to think or how to go on, and though he understood in the reasoning part of his brain that he should think no more of her, he could do nothing else. As Georgiana watched, a worried look upon her brow, he let his eyes wander back to the alcove she inhabited, saw the gentleman speak to her with concern and then get up and quit the room, slowly making his way through the crush of the crowd. A lady that appeared also to be of her party was invited to dance, looking over to her for approval, and then she was left alone, seated motionless, her head still turned away. Without even knowing that he had formed any decision to move, he found himself on his feet approaching her, ignoring the fact that because she was married there could be no point in prolonging his misery by dancing with her. As the first strands of a waltz struck up he was at her side, wordlessly holding his hand out to her.

Though Lizzie had not turned her head, she had felt him walk across the room. His presence beside her chair was a vibrant thing that called out to her so loudly she could not believe that the others in the room were unaware of it. She little thought of the formalities of introduction or the propriety of waltzing with an unknown married man. The force that pulled her from her chair to join him on the floor was irresistible, and though she could not meet his eyes, she gave him her hand and allowed him to lead her to the centre of the floor. Just the touch of his hand on hers sent her pulses racing, and when he placed his other hand upon her waist, she could barely contain her senses. She had never waltzed in her life before, but her body responded to his every movement and she followed his lead.

Fitzwilliam looked down at her, taking in the heady feeling of being near her and the nostalgic fragrance of rosewater that brought back their previous closeness with great clarity. He wished she would look up. Her lustrous curls and the smooth curve of her forehead could no longer sustain him when what he wanted was to look deep within her eyes once more; and yet, the moment she raised her face and her eyes met his he realised it was a mistake. There was so much in that look, so much that lay between them fogged and twisted by the intervening years that he was brought speechless. What could he say to the lady he had sought for so long when, with her married, there was an embargo on every subject?

As Lizzie looked into his face she had to suppress the urge to reach up and touch the curl of hair that had fallen upon his forehead - push it back into place. She felt the danger of loosing herself in his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to break the contact, only to notice both women of his party staring at them, one curious and confused, the other with a cold calculating look upon her face. Even though she knew one must be his wife, the need to look back up at him was so strong she could not resist it. This was the face from her dreams, subtly changed by the years, still in some pain and even more handsome than she remembered.

Fitzwilliam struggled with all the emotions that were racing through his body and finally found his voice. "I never knew your name." A simple statement, but an admission, if one was indeed necessary, that he had not forgotten her - that he knew very well with whom he was dancing.

He had said it in a low tone, in a voice both rich and raw. It cut through the confusion Lizzie was feeling and gave her to realise that though they could never be anything to each other they could exchange this one thing - the gift of each other's names. "Elizabeth Bennet," she said almost in a whisper.

"Elizabeth." It came out in a tender caressing breath as realisation hit him. Elizabeth - always first in his heart. And though he supposed he should feel resentment towards Anne for keeping all she knew from him, he could only feel thankful that she had given him an Elizabeth of his own that carried the name of his only love. In her life she had been shallow and deceiving, but in motherhood she had been all that was unselfish. He recollected himself, realising that Elizabeth was waiting for some kind of reciprocal gesture from him. "I am Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Fitzwilliam. Lizzie took the name and held it within her heart, but out loud she only said, "Mr Darcy," and then as another unhappy thought opened up she asked, a slight tremor to her voice, "of Pemberley?"

"Yes."

Lizzie's conversation with Lydia flooded back into her head. This was the gentleman who had so admired Kitty even though he was married? This was the man who had purportedly blighted Mr Wickham's future? She knew not what to think, only there was nothing she could say to him that could be voiced. The questions that needed answering were ones that could not be asked. Polite conversation was impossible with all that was going on within her mind.

They danced on in silence, not aware even of the other couples, their every effort concentrated on keeping their emotions in check, and in doing so remaining very serious. Neither was given a glimpse of the other's feelings as a protective barrier erected itself between them.

A movement on the edge of the dance floor drew Fitzwilliam's gaze and he saw the gentleman who had previously been sitting with Elizabeth, standing as if frozen, a glass of lemonade in his hands and a glazed look upon his face. Her husband. Fitzwilliam felt his face turn white as he thought what must be going through the man's mind. He instinctively took a step back from Elizabeth even though they had not been dancing closer than propriety dictated and he instantly felt the loss, knowing that if he should meet her at a ball or assembly again, he could never take the chance he had done tonight and dance with her. He had no wish to cause his beloved grief with her husband and he realised that in dancing with her this night he had been utterly selfish.

Mr Andrews had nearly dropped the glass of lemonade when he returned to the room after having been waylaid by countless annoying acquaintances only to find Elizabeth - his Elizabeth - waltzing with another gentleman. She had steadfastly refused to waltz with anyone, ever, including himself. It could only mean one thing. What he had hoped would never happen had finally taken place. This was surely the man who owned her heart. He felt his own tearing to shreds.

At the end of the dance, Fitzwilliam returned Lizzie to her seat and bowed stiffly over her hand, thanking her for the dance in a tight, distant voice, and then turned and walked away. He did not see her eyes fill with tears. He was too concerned with escaping before his own did.

Lizzie sat down mutely and turned her head away. It hurt to be left so coldly, and what hurt even more was the knowledge that he was returning to his lady. She could not look to see them together again, it would be more than she could bear, but despite herself she turned back and followed him with her eyes, watched as he took the young lady's arm and led her from the room, her vision almost completely blurred.

"I am sorry I took so long about your drink."

Mr Andrews was at her side looking more than apologetic. Lizzie turned her eyes full of unshed tears upon him and asked to be taken home. His heart wrenching at the look of desolation on her face, he complied immediately and made excuses to Jane, who he promised to return for.

"Lizzie, I am so sorry. I did not know you were feeling unwell," cried Jane in concern. "Give me a moment to collect Lydia and we can all be away at once."

Lizzie thanked her but insisted that she did not want to spoil either sister's pleasure and what she really needed was only some quiet and solitude. "Enjoy your dance and know that I am well, dear Jane, just a trifle fatigued."

Jane could see that there was more to it than what Lizzie was saying but feared that, in not letting her have her way, she would cause her even further distress. She watched as Mr Andrews led her sister from the ballroom and then went to join Prudence and Lydia in their spot by the edge of the dance floor.

When told of Lizzie's indisposition, Lydia only said, "What great good luck for us that we did not have to leave with her. I have barely sat down all night! Lord, I am so fagged."

In the outer room, Mr Andrews and Lizzie walked past Mr Darcy on their way to the door. Lizzie's head was bent so she did not see him, but Mr Andrews gave him a long, hard stare that seemed to warn him off ever speaking to her again. Georgiana looked at the parting pair and then back at her brother. There was some mystery here that she did not understand.

"Who is that lady, Fitzwilliam? Is she not the one you danced with?" And the one you dragged me near halfway across the room to stare at?

Her brother turned to her and shook his head as if to clear it. "I beg your pardon. I have been behaving very badly by neglecting you on your first night out. Can you forgive me?"

"And can you not tell me what is troubling you?"

"I will - one day - but not now." He took her arm and returned to the ballroom. "Tonight is for you alone and I want you to make the most of it."

Upon rejoining their friends, Georgiana found herself immediately petitioned by Mr Bingley for the next dance.

"It will be my pleasure," said Georgiana, smiling lightly.

Charles Bingley looked back at Darcy as he led Georgiana out. He had watched the earlier proceedings with no little alarm. Had Darcy finally discovered the girl he had been searching for until he had been constrained into marrying his cousin Anne? From all that he could see the reunion had not gone well. The lady appeared to be married. The sight of her had jogged a memory for him too. He was certain he had seen her before, and the gentleman who was most assuredly her husband, but he could not place where or when. His heart flew out to his friend who had suffered more pain and loss than anyone ought to in one lifetime.

He smiled attentively at Georgiana and conversed with her when the dance permitted, but while the figures of the dance separated them he found himself thinking back to a comment his own sister had made.

"Whatever do you think Mr Darcy means by waltzing with that woman? She is nobody as far as I can make out and I have no idea how he comes to know her."

"You do not know all his acquaintances, Caroline," he had replied, "and I do not think he is accountable to you for who he dances with. You may do well to remember you are married or you are likely to make a fool of yourself."

Now, as he looked over to the side of the floor where his friend stood, he could see that Caroline had still not given up her quest of Darcy. She stood simpering beside him while it appeared all Darcy wanted to do was lean back and watch his sister dance. He appeared both apprehensive and proud as his eyes followed her along the floor, and irritated whenever Caroline interrupted his contemplation of Georgiana with a fatuous comment.

Bingley returned all his attention to Georgiana when the dance brought them together again. Her cheeks were flushed with the pleasure of enjoying her first dance, but he could sense her nervousness as well and determined to set her at her ease. As the number ended, he chanced to look across the floor and spied a vision that put all thoughts of both Georgiana and Darcy out of his head. It was his angel - in the very room - and just as beautiful as ever. Even more beautiful. Her dress was cerulean blue with silver detailing. There were spangles, like stars, gleaming in her golden curls. But she was married, he had to remind himself. No good would come of dancing with her.

"Do you always stop dead in your tracks in the middle of a ballroom, Bingley?"

Charles turned to see Hurst leading Louisa from the floor. "No - I just saw . . . somebody that I once met." He blushed to the roots of his hair, and his sister, ever ready to be enlightened as to her brother's affairs, followed his gaze. So too did Georgiana.

"I see! You have eyes for the beautiful widow." Louisa's voice held a teasing note.

"Widow?" he asked, his elation mounting.

"Yes, I have heard she inherited all his estates. A tidy sum. There is the complication of two daughters, though." Louisa stopped talking when she noticed Charles was no longer listening.

He returned Georgiana to her brother, thanked her for the dance, and then eagerly started forward, his eyes never leaving his object. When Hurst reminded his wife that they had been about to go and take refreshment in the other room, she whispered, "No, wait. I want to see this."

The entire way across the floor, Bingley wracked his brain to try and remember the gentleman's name. He had met him once, when was it? Two or three years ago? He ought to feel sad to learn of his death, but he was only a chance acquaintance and now . . . Fairborn, that was it. He remembered thinking how well it suited her. He came up to where she was conversing with another young lady and coughed slightly.

"Excuse me, Mrs Fairborn? I do not know if you will remember me but I . . ."

She looked up at him and his voice ceased to work. She was just as ethereal as he remembered. Her eyes were a blue that warmed his very soul. Her voice rose up to him, sweet and gentle. "I do remember you."

It was all he needed to hear. She remembered him? His heart was singing. "Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

"Yes," she answered, and smiled so warmly that his thoughts, which at first had gone no further than the one dance with her, were now running full-fledged down the road to further and more abstract pleasures.

Chapter Thirteen

Posted on Sunday, 28 September 2003, at 7:14 p.m.

The carriage ride home was very quiet. Lizzie held herself firmly in control, though she did not look up at Mr Andrews at all. When he reached for her hand, she let him hold it, but without returning the gentle squeeze he gave to it. He started to speak, but she shook her head and held up her other hand to forestall him. When they arrived at the door she thanked him.

"Is there not anything I can do to bring you comfort?" he asked, his voice ragged.

Lizzie looked up at him for the first time. "There is nothing anyone can do," she said softly and evenly. "I must heal myself."

"And what is to be done about the one who wronged you?"

"I was not wronged."

"But . . ."

"Please, do not think that. I thank you for your concern and your understanding. Goodnight."

"May I call tomorrow to see how you do?"

Lizzie gave him a weak smile. She owed him that much - he had always been a good and caring friend to her, and tonight he had neither questioned her nor tried to take advantage of her vulnerability. "You may."

Mr Andrews saw her to the door, and then returned to the halls of Almacks where he was only admitted because of his errand. Latecomers were always refused entry. He made it his business to discover the name of the gentleman who had danced with Elizabeth, and watched him surreptitiously in an attempt to get a measure of the man. Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy - well connected, well respected, and wealthy. The worst he heard of him was that he had a great deal of pride, which was evident in the way he was leaning against the wall and watching the proceedings with a sombre air.

Mr Andrews was not disposed to think well of him, but he had to admit that he knew of no reason to think poorly of him other than he had very obviously caused Elizabeth some distress, no matter what she said to the contrary. He was aware that Mr Darcy had danced with no one else, and he could not mistake the look he had seen in the man's eyes when he held Elizabeth in his arms for the waltz. They had been filled with powerful, warring emotion. He too was suffering. Still now, he could see a residue of that pain behind the carefully schooled features. Mr Darcy turned his head and the two gentlemen locked eyes, and with the look Mr Andrews understood that they were not adversaries but joined somehow in their admiration of the same woman and the anguish they both were destined to bear because of it. Mr Andrews could not endure the acknowledgement any longer. He broke contact and made his way through the crowds to where the rest of his party were sitting.

Darcy watched the man as he wove his way across the room. The look had surprised him. Where he had expected the anger he had seen before, he had found understanding and hurt. The man was of good character - there could be no doubt - but what else could he expect from the gentleman who had won her, Elizabeth, while he was unable to find her? That she should be happy was now all he desired, only he greatly feared that this chance meeting between them had destroyed the present happiness of all three.

He looked back over to where Georgiana was dancing with a young man. She appeared to be enjoying herself well enough, but it was almost as if she were putting on a show for him to prove that she was having a good time. When she was close by he could sense her underlying nervousness and when she thought he was not attending he noticed glances of worry thrown his way. The evening was saved from being a disaster by the evident pleasure of Bingley who was floating in his own cloud of euphoria and making reference to angels.

That night and the next few days, Fitzwilliam was overcome with numbness. He had given Elizabeth up, he knew, the day he had agreed to marry Anne, and though she was now gone from this world, he had never seen her death as freeing him to search for his lost love again. Now here Elizabeth was, suddenly in his own realm of society. He could little avoid meeting with her again - they were sure to frequent the same theatres and be invited to the same parties. With a sister to escort he could not become a recluse. And though the pain of seeing her was so great, he could not honestly say that he did not desire it with all his heart. His thoughts were consumed with nothing else but her - the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, how she had felt in his arms. It was as it had been in the past but intensified one hundred fold.

Outwardly he became inattentive and silent. He barely spoke to his guests and answered interruptions to his thoughts with an uncharacteristic shortness. Even Caroline was afraid to talk to him. He knew his behaviour was insupportable, but he was in no mood for company; all he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts until he could bring about the balance that he needed to cope with this new situation. He allowed Caroline to chaperon Georgiana to a number of luncheons and morning visits while he strove to harness his inner turmoil and become a good companion for his sister again. His only relief was in his visits to the nursery where his daughter's smiles would wash his cares away for the moment and he would give himself up to her entertainment.

When Georgiana returned from a social engagement, he tried to be the same with her as he was with little Elizabeth Anne, but it was so much more difficult. What he wanted more than anything was to ask his sister if she had been present, but he could not bring himself to do so. Somehow, Georgiana understood his wishes and answered the unasked question.

"She was not there."

They both knew exactly who was being referred to and no more was said, though Georgiana did take his hand and look at him imploringly. Finally all she said was, "You will accompany me to dinner at the Selfridges tomorrow night, will you not?"

"Of course."

"I think Mr Bingley is falling in love."

"That is not unusual. Every year a new debutante turns his head for a week or two. He is made of stronger stuff than I ever expected, though. I had thought he would make a foolish marriage years ago, but somehow in the end his good sense always prevails."

"Fitzwilliam! This time it is different. For one thing, she is not a young girl, but a lady close to his own age. She is a widow, and very beautiful. Do you not remember seeing him dance with her at Almacks?"

"I dimly remember him speaking of an angel." He had other memories of that evening that were consuming his thoughts.

"That is the very lady," said Georgiana with a smile, but then she noticed that she had lost her brother's attention again. She raised her hand and touched his cheek. "Did you even go outside today Brother?" she asked, her voice filling with concern.

"No, I . . ." He let his sentence hang.

"Would you come for a walk with Elizabeth Anne and me tomorrow? Please?"

He looked at her face and instantly felt contrite. He was behaving so selfishly, blanketing himself in sorrow at his loss and not giving a thought to how he was hurting his sister. To walk with her on the fresh air and see growing living things was suddenly most tempting. "I know the very place we should go," he said and he kissed her forehead gently. "Thank you for having so much patience with me."

Lizzie awoke feeling much the same as she had the past few days. The gaping hole inside of her had not receded. Sadness washed over her as she lay back upon her tumbled sheets. Why had she thought he would always be true? That was such foolish thinking. She was a chance-met girl. Nobody. She knew he had offered marriage, but he was very young - people change with time - he could not carry a torch for her forever. Life goes on around them, and why should a gentleman born to prosperity even think of a girl he met in a cottage?

She knew so little of men, but she knew the opinion of the world regarding what had happened between them that day. Did he now look upon her the same way? As someone morally wicked? Was that what caused his coldness at the end of the dance? Oh, why had he danced with her anyway? He was married - he had no reason even to look at her again - unless . . . but that was preposterous. She could not think like that. How could she even let a foolish comment of Lydia's influence her? Kitty had said he was attracted to her, but Kitty could not be relied on as a font of accurate information either. Lizzie preferred to believe that the look he gave Kitty was because she reminded him of herself. There was a strong resemblance, more so than with any of her other sisters. There was no way she would believe him to be a rake - even given the circumstances of their first meeting. She could not be mistaken about the love they had shared.

And the other accusations about him that Lydia kept repeating when she discovered just whom Lizzie had danced with - she could no more believe those either. At Almacks, he appeared to be as honourable as she ever remembered him. He had said nothing untoward; in fact, other than exchanging names, there had been no conversation between them. He had seen her, remembered who she was, and danced with her. Why? For old time's sake? Curiosity? Because he had found her as irresistible as she had found him? Was he going through the same suffering as she, or was he even now wishing that they had never again met? Was he sitting contentedly with his wife with no more thought to her at all?

Lizzie threw back her bed covers and arose; she would gain nothing from such ruminations. She had told Mr Andrews that she would heal herself and she could not do so closeted in the house. She needed to go out into the world again - attend teas, honour dinner engagements - and if she should meet him again, she should hold her feelings in firm control and treat him with the same civility and deference as any chance acquaintance.

At breakfast she attended to her sister's conversation more than she had done since that night at Almacks. Jane looked at her and smiled.

"I had almost given you up, Lizzie, but I believe that today you are on the mend."

"I believe that I am, Dearest."

"How you could let one evening's entertainment knock you up so much I have no idea," said Lydia, "or did you suffer disappointment because Mr Darcy was more pleased with Kitty than with you?" She giggled.

"Lydia!" cried a shocked Jane.

"Oh fiddle! We all know what sort of a man he is. Why should she care for his good opinion?"

Jane gave Lizzie a worried glance. She too wondered about the dance with Mr Darcy, but not in the same way as Lydia did. Lizzie had said very little that night or in the intervening days, but Jane sensed that there was a connection in all this to the sorrow that her sister had carried around for most of her grown life. How waltzing with a stranger like Mr Darcy fit in, she had no idea, and she wasn't about to pry. She could not think badly of the man, as Lydia did. In the whole affair between him and Mr Wickham there must be some sort of misunderstanding. He was a friend of Mr Bingley's and . . . with the thought of Mr Bingley her ideas took a swift and much more pleasant turn. A small smile graced her lips. She completely missed hearing Lizzie's answer to Lydia and Lydia's rambling conversation about how soon she expected to see Mr Wickham in town. She was pulled from her happy reverie when Lizzie told her that she planned on visiting the Gardiners that morning and taking one of her young cousins for a walk.

"Should Mr Andrews call, could you be sure to tell him I am out?"

"We shall not be sitting about the house waiting to give messages to your admirer, Lizzie," said Lydia. "We have much better ways of passing the time."

"Don't mind Lydia," said Jane, who was relieved that Lizzie was not staying home by herself again this day. "I have no plans to go out as yet today - we shall be in for our callers."

"Oh Lord!" said Lydia. "We are in London! Why should we be sitting about our own parlour?"

"To receive your gentlemen callers, of course," said Lizzie. "You cannot forever be taunting them with your absence - you must give them some hope." She then excused herself to put on her pelisse and ask the footman to order the carriage to take her to Cheapside.

After a quiet visit with her aunt, to whom she admitted only that she had been indisposed for a couple of days and desperately wanted to be out in the open air, Lizzie and her cousin Emma, who was happy to be afforded a break from the school room, set out for a walk to the nearby park. It was a largish park for the area, and boasted not only flowerbeds, benches, and tree-lined walks, but a small pond upon which the young boys with their nannies loved to sail their toy boats. It was to this pond that Lizzie and Emma went, for the young girl enjoyed watching the ducks and throwing breadcrumbs to them. Lizzie found the ducks' antics along with her cousin's laughter did much to lift her spirits.

As Fitzwilliam and Georgiana waited for Elizabeth Anne's perambulator to be unloaded from the carriage, Fitzwilliam looked about him at the park he had frequented so often all those years ago. It was not in a fashionable part of town, but it had a pleasant aspect and was well tended. He placed Elizabeth Anne among the folds of her blankets and then allowed Georgiana to push the vehicle as he strolled beside them.

"Why have you never brought me here?" asked Georgiana in some surprise at the location of their outing.

Fitzwilliam had no answer for his sister, but directed her along one of the meandering paths that led to the pond. When they arrived at the water Georgiana seated herself upon a bench and took the baby out of her pram so that she could see her most interesting surroundings.
"Look at the ducks, sweetheart," she said, pointing to the water, and Elizabeth Anne pointed along with her, laughing proudly at her ability.

"Let me take her closer and show her the little boats bobbing about," said Fitzwilliam as he stretched his arms out to his daughter. Georgiana pretended to grudgingly relinquish her, but she was secretly overjoyed at the lightness of her brother's mood. She sat back on the bench and watched as he first led Elizabeth Anne with both hands, he himself almost doubled over, and allowed her to take her own little steps along the gravelled walk. When they arrived at the shore of the pond, she showed an alarming interest in continuing to walk directly into the water. Fitzwilliam squatted beside her and held her close in a hug, pointing out the white sails of the toy boats and then took her in his arms and slowly straightened up.

The first thing he saw was a lady and a young girl standing with their backs to him, casting breadcrumbs to a brood of ducklings upon the water. He knew immediately exactly who she was. He had told himself all the way to the park that he had chosen the location because he wished to avoid acquaintances and not because he had hoped to see her, but the very sight of her straight back and her lustrous curls peeking from the pale green bonnet proved to him that her presence was what he had longed for more than anything else. She stood there like some haunting vision and with her was a girl who was of the right height to be . . . Fitzwilliam began to feel very light headed. He took a deep breath, and then approached her, almost forgetting the small child in his arms and the mistaken impression Elizabeth would receive upon seeing her.

"Mrs Bennet."

Lizzie turned, so startled to see who was addressing her that his exact words did not register. Emma, on the other hand, looked at the gentleman with some confusion.

"Mr Darcy." Lizzie felt a sharp stab of pain at the sight of the sweet little girl in his arms. The child was a confirmation of all her suppositions - he was indeed married. She took Emma's hand and made to walk away but he forestalled her, looking intently at the girl by her side.

"You have not yet introduced me to your companion."

"I do apologise. This is Emma Gardiner, my cousin."

"Your cousin?" he said, colouring. "I had almost supposed . . ." It was out before he could prevent it, and he stood and waited for her response in the embarrassed silence that followed.
Lizzie blushed deeply, well aware what he had supposed. Finally she answered with as much composure as she could muster, "She is a tall girl for her age, do you not think? She is only ten years old."

Emma smiled proudly.

Fitzwilliam turned to her and said, "You are not only tall, Miss Gardiner, but very pretty."

"Thank you. What is your baby's name?" asked Emma, feeling much less bashful with the tall stranger now that he had smiled and talked to her.

"Elizabeth Anne Darcy." He turned his child so she could give Emma one of her wide smiles. He was very conscious of Elizabeth's eyes upon him and the stricken look on her face. He had just admitted that he had been married. It should not have mattered to him that she knew, for she was married herself, but he wished she could know that even though he had married, he had loved only her. In an effort to fill the awkward moment he addressed himself again to Elizabeth. "Do you have any children?"

She stared back at him in shock, at first wondering how he had the audacity to ask her such a question until it dawned on her that he had earlier referred to her as Mrs Bennet and was somehow under the impression that she was married. Lizzie's heart beat a little faster. She raised her eyes to his and looked at him directly. "No, sir, I am not married."

"But . . ." Fitzwilliam began, flustered, but decided better upon what he had been about to say. He could in no way ask her who the gentleman she left Almacks with was. He had no right to ask a question of such a personal nature, but he desperately needed to know. Was he her suitor? Were they engaged? Or was it possible that she was free? He felt his heart begin to loose itself from its cage, to flutter its clipped wings. "I beg your pardon."

Lizzie lowerd her eyes under the increased intensity her words brought to his gaze. Was it right for a married man to look at her like that, and for her to feel the way she was feeling with the look? Lydia could not be right - she could not!

Georgiana could not stay patient any longer. Fitzwilliam was talking to the same lady that he had danced with the other night. They both appeared to be very moved by what looked like a simple and somewhat stilted conversation. If she was to discover who the mystery lady was, she had best join them for an introduction. She came up to them and had to touch her brother's arm to get his attention.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Gardiner, may I introduce my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy?"

"Miss Darcy, I am pleased to meet you," said Lizzie, holding out her hand and smiling. She felt a great relief that this young, lovely girl was not his wife, but had to remind herself that he must still be married. She thought back to the haughty lady from the other night and supposed it must be she, though how he could marry someone who appeared so unpleasant she could not imagine. But did she really even know him - know anything about him? All she had ever known was his heart, and maybe she was mistaken in that too. She tried to attend to what the young lady was saying, but her head began to throb terribly. Being so close to him, hearing his voice, and seeing the child, her dark eyes so like his, had all taken its toll upon her. Her mind was whirling in confusion and she no longer knew what to think.

"Miss Bennet, are you unwell?" His voice was low and full of feeling, surprising her with its urgency.

"I am quite well, sir, thank you," she managed, "but I feel I must return to my aunt's house with my cousin now."

"May I - we - escort you home?"

"I do not think that will be necessary. I was most happy to meet your sister and your . . . child." Her voice almost broke as she said the word.

She and Emma took their leave and left Fitzwilliam staring after them until Elizabeth Anne squirmed in his arms, wanting to get down and walk again. This time he and Georgiana each took a hand and they walked the little girl back to her perambulator. Fitzwilliam wondered at Elizabeth's evident distress. Had he done or said something to drive her away? Did she not feel anything for him anymore? Was his presence just a reminder of an incident in her life she would prefer lay forgotten? As he was about to place Elizabeth Anne back in her pram he looked at her sweet face and everything was suddenly clear. She thought him married. That explained all her reticence since they had seen each other across the ballroom floor. It explained her discomposure after their waltz, her need to flee Almacks, and her hesitancy to converse with him today at the park.

"Georgiana, will you take Elizabeth Anne for a moment? There is something I need to do."

Georgiana took the little girl and cradled her in her arms while Fitzwilliam hurriedly retraced their steps and then almost ran in the direction he had seen Elizabeth and her cousin go. He arrived to the park gates and looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of them. He walked back to his sister slowly, acknowledging that calling out to Elizabeth in the street that his wife was dead would have been the height of impropriety, yet wasn't that exactly what he had been about to do? He would see her again soon, somewhere. He would fulfil every social obligation that he had in the hopes of meeting her again at some function, and the first subject he would address would be his marital status.

He apologised to Georgiana when he returned and they made their way back to the carriage. It was not until they were seated inside and returning to their townhouse that Georgiana finally questioned him.

"Can you not tell me who she is now?"

He sat back and gazed at the ceiling. "She is the answer to twelve years' worth of dreams."

Lizzie and Emma arrived back at the Gardiner house quite out of breath from the speed at which they had returned. Mrs Gardiner was surprised to see that her niece looked the worse for her outing.

"Lizzie! You really are ill," she said. "Would you like to lie down in my bedchamber?"

"No thank you, Aunt, it is only a headache," said Lizzie as she sank into a chair.

"I will make you a cold compress," said Mrs Gardiner. "Emma, you did not overtax her with your chatter, did you?"

"No Mama, but we did speak with a gentleman and his sister, and he had the sweetest baby."

"Who was it that you met?"

"His name was . . . Mr Darcy, was it not, Lizzie?"

"Mr Darcy?" asked Mrs Gardiner, stopping in her tracks on her way out of the room. "How do you come to know him, Lizzie?"

"I met him at Almacks last Wednesday," she answered quietly as her aunt eyed her intently.

"And on such a short acquaintance he spoke with you in the park?"

"He introduced his daughter and his sister," said Elizabeth.

"He did? Well, I must say that when we met him on our tour of Pemberley he was extremely civil. Such a shame about his wife, don't you think?"

Lizzie looked up suddenly. "What has happened to his wife?"

"Did you not know? She died shortly after the baby was born. The poor little child has never known a mother. I believe he has just come out of mourning to present his sister this season."

"He is a widower?" asked Lizzie, her aching head barely allowing the information to seep in.

"Yes he is, and now there are many young ladies in London hoping to become the mother of his little girl, although to mother a child is not their greatest goal. He is a very rich man." Mrs Gardiner went down to the kitchens, wondering all the while what would bring a man of Mr Darcy's stature to come for a walk in a park in their neighbourhood.

Lizzie was left with entirely different reflections.

Chapter Fourteen

Posted on Friday, 10 October 2003, at 12:33 a.m.

Lizzie had returned to Jane's townhouse in a daze. She had lain down for two hours with the cold compress in a darkened room, and despite her aunt's concerns was then able to assure her she was feeling well enough to undertake the carriage ride home. In fact, her headache had disappeared entirely, to be replaced by such a jumble of emotions that she could not make head or tail of them. Part of her told her she could hope, part of her told her she could dream, part of her told her she could love. Another part of her, deeper yet, warned her that no matter how she felt she was not worthy to be his wife and she must not let herself even think along those lines. The rational part of her told her that she must tamp down all these feelings - that discretion was her best recourse. For the first time since she had seen him again she knew that he was free, and she could think of him in a way she had never allowed herself before, but she was also increasingly aware of the awkwardness of her situation. She knew nothing of him - they were for all intents and purposes strangers to each other, and they had this thing between them, this memory of their intimacy, which constrained them even further.

As Lizzie entered the parlour Jane rushed up to her.

"You took so long that I was becoming worried and just about to send a note to our aunt. Have you forgotten that we are to go out to dine tonight?"

"Indeed I had." Lizzie attempted to clear her head.

Jane looked at her in concern. "Are you well enough to join us? I do not want to coerce you in any way."

"Jane, I am much better for my walk than I had ever expected to be. Here you see a new Lizzie who is not lost to you anymore. I am fully prepared to enjoy an evening in society conversing with friends, and especially with you. I feel I have sadly neglected you these last few days."

Jane regarded her closely and then smiled. "No, it is not a new Lizzie I see, but the old one, and I am glad to have you back."

"So now you would have it that I am old, Jane? That is a most unkind thing to say."

Jane laughed. "Come, we must make ourselves ready. Lydia has been at it this past hour already."

"We shall be no match for her, then," answered Lizzie, "but I think we have time to at least become presentable."

An hour later, when they were in the parlour again and waiting for the carriage to be brought around to the door, Jane was satisfied to see that Lizzie looked much more than just presentable. There was a glow about her that had long been missing, and an underlying nervous excitement that was barely perceptible but to those who knew her well. Jane herself was feeling far from placid, and her appearance too was enhanced by her anticipation of pleasure. Lydia was dressed very fine, but there was sulkiness in her countenance that the jewels at her throat and perfect arrangement of her curls could not conceal.

"I was certain Mr Wickham would be in town before now," she complained.

"Surely you did not expect him to follow you here," said Lizzie. "You must know that you have not the money to entice him."

"He has need of money, but no one can fault him for that," retorted Lydia. "If only you would settle some of your fortune on me, Jane, he would be sure to marry me."

Lizzie looked at her sister askance. "Lydia! Your jewels, your dress - everything you are wearing has come from Jane. Shall she buy you a husband now too? Would you really want to marry a man who is only interested in you to line his own pockets?"

"That is not true. He finds me singularly charming and has told me so on many occasions."

"So he has told me as well, and many another young lady, I have no doubt."

"You had better set your sights on a more deserving young man, Lydia," said Jane. "I noticed that Mr Greenly was quite taken with you at last evening's soiree."

"He was?" asked Lydia, losing her pout. "I do not quite recall him, for there were so many gentlemen paying me attention."

"I believe you were calling attention to yourself," said Jane. "I do wish you would behave more discreetly. But Mr Greenly appeared amused with your antics, and I noticed him watching you for the rest of the night."

"He was not that old dotard, was he?" asked Lydia.

"He is no dotard - perhaps he is a little older than your usual admirer, but he is no more than five and thirty."

"Is he rich?"

"I know nothing about him other than he appeared to be most amiable," responded Jane.

"I know not when you made these observations," said Lydia, "because I thought your attention never left Mr Bingley. Ooh la- there's a prize!"

"Who is Mr Bingley?" asked Lizzie, noticing the blush that rose in Jane's cheeks, but Jane was saved from replying by the announcement of their carriage. Lydia did not restrain herself from teasing her sister in front of the footmen, however, no matter how many quelling looks Lizzie threw her.

~

Georgiana gave her brother another sideways glance as they sat together in silence on their way to the dinner party. Since the meeting with Miss Bennet at the park there was something subtly different about him. It was as if a burden had been taken from his shoulders. His face was graced with a light smile but there was also a tense, expectant flavour to his movements. Georgiana thought about when he had gone running across the park after the young lady - she had never known him to act so impulsively. He had not offered an explanation for his action, and other than saying Miss Bennet was the answer to twelve years' worth of dreams, he had given her no information about the mystery lady. She hoped Miss Bennet would be at tonight's dinner party, which she knew was to be a large and lavish social event. Caroline had said that the Selfridges knew everybody who was anybody. Georgiana wondered if Miss Bennet fit that category - even though she frequented a park in the environs of Cheapside, she had also attended Almacks where the entrance policy was very sticky. And, come to think of it, had not she and her brother been walking in the same park? She again pondered his choice of park. Had Miss Bennet's presence been a coincidence, or had he been expecting to see her there?

Fitzwilliam's thoughts mirrored his sister's in that he hoped to encounter Elizabeth at the dinner party also. He knew there would be little chance for private conversation with her, but to be in the same room and see her smile, hear her laugh, was all that he desired. He needed to discover what exactly was her relationship with the protective gentleman who was squiring her at Almacks. Whatever he did next depended on the outcome of these inquiries.

He wondered how she would feel when he told her he was widowed, or if she knew already. It was possible that she could have learned it since he had seen her that morning. He knew his availability was the subject of society gossip and that it would not take much time for the information to come to Elizabeth's ear through these channels.

It had been so many years and he was now unsure of her love. Twelve years ago he could not doubt it, and when his mind went back to reflect upon their intimacy he knew that what they had shared was pure and good and right, and if that was not love then what was it? It was not lust, as his Cousin the Colonel would have him believe. Elizabeth had acted out of caring innocence, not wanton desire. It was love, and he still felt it as strongly as he did that day, but could she possibly feel the same after a separation of so many years, or had she formed a new attachment? Would he have to win her away from her gentleman friend? He supposed that the honourable thing to do, if she was now enamoured of someone else, would be to not disturb their happiness, but he had yearned for her for so long, he could not envision giving her up now that she was unexpectedly back in his life.

The carriage stopped outside the brightly lit home. Footmen jumped to the carriage door to assist the guests to alight and lined the stairs up to the imposing front door. Fitzwilliam had never before felt such tightness in his stomach in anticipation of a social event. He looked at Georgiana who was visibly displaying her nervousness, and squeezed her elbow reassuringly before they mounted the stairs together. "We will be among friends," he whispered.

She smiled rather tremulously. "I will be all right," she whispered in response, and he could see her back straighten and her face regain its former composure.

The rooms were brightly lit and very crowded. Mrs Selfridge greeted the Darcys with pleasure and then took Georgiana's arm and led them both into the next room.

"There is someone I would like you to meet, my dear," she said. "Miss Pawson has just come out also and knows very few young ladies in London. I think the two of you will hit it off famously."

Fitzwilliam blessed his hostess for taking the trouble to ensure that her young guests were comfortable in their unfamiliar surroundings. They found Miss Pawson in a quiet corner looking about herself apprehensively, with a simply dressed lady accompanying her. The introductions were made and then Mrs Selfridge hurried off to greet more of her guests.

It was the lady who spoke first. "I am so pleased that you have arrived, Miss Darcy. Aurelia and I were just saying how lovely it would be to meet someone. Isn't it strange that one can be in a crowd such as this but still remain all alone?"

Georgiana looked to her brother and then smiled nervously. "Indeed, I am experiencing quite the same thing. I find coming out to be a most nerve wracking affair, much to my brother's consternation."

"Do you live in London?" asked Miss Pawson timidly as her companion smiled encouragingly.

"I spend a good part of the year here, but I prefer the country. My brother and I live in Derbyshire."

"I live in Sussex and have rarely been to London," admitted the young lady.

The conversation looked about to wane again. "And do you also come from Sussex, Miss Lucas?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"Oh, no. I am from Hertfordshire, though I have been away from my home for almost two years. I am employed by the Pawsons as governess to their two younger daughters and companion to Aurelia now that she is out. Unfortunately Mrs Pawson's health is such that she is not able to attend many social functions with Aurelia so I find myself pressed into the duty."

By Fitzwilliam's observation, Miss Lucas appeared to be very much a gentlewoman and accustomed to moving about among people. "I would say Miss Pawson is very lucky to have you," he said.

Charlotte smiled at him, appreciating his civility in not snubbing her for being in service. She was used to being regarded as invisible at most of the functions she attended.

Rather than excuse himself and his sister as Charlotte had half expected, Fitzwilliam continued to talk with her about her home county which he had never the pleasure to visit. This developed into a conversation between Georgiana and Aurelia about their own homes and they soon found they had much in common in their love of nature. When Fitzwilliam felt his sister to be truly at ease he looked about the room, to see if Elizabeth was present, but instead saw his good friend Bingley conversing with the very gentleman he wanted to know more about. He excused himself, trusting that Georgiana was comfortable with her new friends, and walked across the room to join Bingley.

"Darcy! I was beginning to worry that you had turned your back on society!" cried Charles.

"Not when I have a sister to escort. Please extend my thanks to your sisters for including her while I was preoccupied."

"May I present Mr Andrews to you? I met him a few years ago when I was estate hunting. You may recall you were to have accompanied me, but you had business in Ramsgate."

"I remember distinctly. I am pleased to meet you, Mr Andrews. I was hoping to make your acquaintance."

"And I yours, Mr Darcy."

Bingley looked at them both speculatively but refrained from asking what was uppermost in his mind. "Mr Andrews was a visitor at that estate in Hertfordshire, Netherfield I think it was. I met him again the other night - he is a good friend of Mrs Fairborn and her sister whom I also met on that trip."

"Mrs Fairborn?" asked Fitzwilliam, looking at his friend.

"I have told you about her," said Charles. "I danced with her at Almacks."

"Oh, yes - the angel." He looked again at Mr Andrews. "And her sister?"

"Is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," said Mr Andrews composedly. "I have been a friend of the family for seven years. The late Mr Fairborn was my closest friend."

"I see," said Fitzwilliam with equal composure. "And they reside in Hertfordshire?"

"You were unaware . . ." Mr Andrews let his voice trail off. "But are you not acquainted?"

Fitzwilliam was saved answering by the entrance of the very ladies of whom they were speaking. His heart leapt to his throat as he beheld Elizabeth looking lovely in ivory silk. There was a light in her countenance that had not been there in the morning and when her eyes met his they did not waver.

Mr Andrews looked from one to the other and knew that he was completely without hope. When Elizabeth's eyes finally broke free from Mr Darcy and rested on him he saw sadness and he smiled and held out his hand to her, not wanting her to witness the final collapse of his heart.

The reactions of both men and the young lady were lost on Bingley as he joyfully greeted Jane and turned excitedly to introduce her to Darcy. "Mrs Fairborn, I would like you to meet my very good friend, Mr Darcy."

When she introduced her sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to the two of them as well, he was stunned to learn that his friend needed no introduction. The conversation continued in an almost surreal manner just as the earlier incomprehensible conversation he had witnessed between Darcy and Andrews, and it slowly dawned upon Bingley that Mrs Fairborn's sister was the same lady that Darcy had waltzed with that night at Almacks. He now knew why she had seemed so familiar when he had seen her that evening. The implications were not lost upon him. He had been so wrapped up in his discovery of Mrs Fairborn that he had given no more thought to that incident, but now it was more than apparent that Darcy had at last found the girl he had spent so many years looking for. Not only that, Bingley was able to quickly ascertain that the foiled trip to Hertfordshire would have brought them together sooner, before the fateful marriage to Anne.

Bingley was not the only one that was making these connections. Mr Andrews was intelligent enough to realise how close this meeting between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy had come then, the day of his failed proposal. Fitzwilliam carried the revelation even further than his friend Bingley. If they had met then the outcome may have been very different. His suffering would have been lessened by a couple of years and some momentous happenings in his life would not have taken place. He may not have been able to prevent Georgiana from being seduced by Wickham and he would never have married Anne. She might still be alive today, but Elizabeth Anne would never have been given life.

It is no wonder that with all this going on in the minds of the respective parties that most comments made seemed very disjointed and unrelated. Jane stood and listened in confusion, knowing that there was a past history between her sister and Mr Darcy about which she was completely unaware. The memory of Lizzie's late night confession slowly dawned upon her and she wondered if this was indeed the gentleman to whom she had been referring. She recalled Lizzie's words: we both knew it was love even then, at that young age, even though we knew nothing of each other . . . He was willing to marry me - but . . . I left - and I did not even tell him my name, or learn his own. Could it really have been Mr Darcy? Were they finally reunited? Jane's hopes for her sister's happiness rose - she was beginning to believe in love. She sighed and became all the more aware of the gentleman at her side and how his very presence affected her thoughts.

Conversation was almost impossible for Elizabeth too. She was trying to cope with talking to the man she hardly knew but loved, and the man she knew very well who had cared for her faithfully while she had set herself aside for that abstruse thing called love.

Striving to bring the conversation back to the realms of the drawing room they all inhabited, Fitzwilliam made a commonplace observation. "I understand you are from Hertfordshire, Miss Bennet."

"I am," she answered with relief. "I have lived there most of my life."

"Earlier this evening I met another lady from Hertfordshire, in fact I have left my sister talking with her and the young lady she is escorting. I wonder if you are acquainted at all."

"I cannot admit to knowing all the inhabitants of the county," answered Lizzie with a smile.

"No indeed, but this is a night of coincidences so I will try my luck. The lady's name is Miss Lucas."

"Charlotte? She is here?" cried Lizzie, her face brightening even more. "She is my very dearest friend and I have not seen her these two years! I must go to her."

"Will you allow me to lead the way?" asked Fitzwilliam.

"Certainly. Mr Andrews, will you not come and see Charlotte too?"

"I would like to very much," he said.

Fitzwilliam sat beside his sister and watched with pleasure as the two friends were reunited. Elizabeth simply glowed with happiness and her conversation was filled with laughter. Her friend was more placid, but in her own quiet way showed her delight. He was learning more about Elizabeth all the time. Her liveliness enchanted him and her wit showed her quickness of mind and intelligence. Everything he saw as he watched only served to deepen his love for her.

Charlotte could not help but notice Mr Darcy gazing at Elizabeth with such intensity. She found herself remembering a conversation she had with Lizzie years ago, after Mr Collins' outrageous proposal. She had intimated at the time that she had already lost her heart to someone and could not give it to Mr Andrews - for their conversation had soon left all thought of Mr Collins far behind. On this night Charlotte saw an Elizabeth that was bubbling forth with exuberance, not the more subdued Lizzie she was accustomed to, and she felt there must be more to such bliss than her own unexpected presence. Could this handsome gentleman be the one to whom Lizzie had been referring? That there was something between them was evident. Every so often Lizzie would cast him a warm glance, and he would smile ever so softly. She felt a pang for Mr Andrews who was making a valiant attempt to act as if he was unaffected, but she also felt a glimmer of hope awaken deep within herself.

Bingley and Jane had been left behind to enjoy a few moments of private discussion. His sweet angel remarked about the great coincidence that his best friend was acquainted with her sister and neither of them had been aware of it. He responded in kind and then led the conversation along paths that had more to do with her own concerns than those of her sister and his friend. They joined the others just before dinner was announced, and Jane was able to bestow upon Charlotte a hug and a warm smile before they were all separated by their hostess' elaborate seating plan.

Lizzie found herself seated some way away from Mr Darcy, but close enough to his sister for light conversation. She noticed that Lydia, who had attached herself to a younger set of friends as soon as she arrived, was now sitting beside a very solicitous gentleman in his mid thirties and appeared to be enjoying his attentions greatly. Jane was placed quite at the other end of the table next to people she was barely acquainted with and the gentleman who had brought such a bloom to her complexion was nowhere near to her. The one placement that really satisfied Lizzie was that Charlotte and Mr Andrews were side by side and in deep conversation.

There were many long glances down the length of the table during dinner, and occasionally eyes met. Lizzie had to admit that she was not the best of company as she was often distracted and caused her dinner partner to repeat himself on more than one occasion, but she truly could not help herself. Mr Darcy took up the greater part of her thoughts. She found his quiet self-sufficiency very attractive. She longed to converse with him on various topics and discover his interests and opinions. So far she knew him to be kind, caring, and generous from her own observation but she could sense great depths in him as yet unfathomed and she longed to know his innermost thoughts. He turned in her direction again and their eyes locked. Lizzie blushed with the knowledge that at that moment his innermost thought was of her, just as hers was of him.

After dinner it seemed like ages before the gentlemen rejoined the ladies. Lizzie had taken a seat beside Miss Darcy to further their acquaintance, while Jane had joined Charlotte and Miss Pawson. Lizzie had no sooner begun to ask the young lady about her flower garden when they were interrupted by the finely dressed haughty lady that she remembered from Almacks.

"Georgiana!" she cried. "It is such a crush here that I have been unable to get close to you up until now. I'm sorry that you have had to make do with conversing with strangers. I am here now to save you from that harsh fate."

"Mrs Ellington, I appreciate your concern but I have been well entertained. Do you know Miss Bennet?"

"We have not met," answered Caroline shortly.

"Then you certainly must," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet, this is Mrs Ellington, Mr Bingley's sister."

"I am most pleased to meet you," said Lizzie. "I have only just met your brother tonight but I find him very amiable."

"Charles knows how to charm the ladies," said Caroline.

"Miss Bennet is Mrs Fairborn's sister," said Georgiana pointedly.

"Indeed," was all Caroline had to say to that, and then she turned to Georgiana and continued as if dismissing Lizzie. "Do not forget that you and your brother are joining me for an evening at the theatre tomorrow night. He has been very desirous of escorting me to this particular play. Our tastes in literature are so exactly alike and Shakespeare is our very favourite playwright."

Georgiana could not help but think that this remark was aimed at Miss Bennet to lead her to believe there was much more between Caroline and her brother than truly existed.

"Which play is being performed?" asked Lizzie, attempting to overcome Mrs Ellington's rudeness.

Caroline was flustered for a moment and then replied, "It is either one of his tragedies or one of his comedies. They are all equally brilliant."

"But would you not agree quite different in nature?" said Lizzie with a sparkle in her eye that Georgiana did not miss.

"Georgiana you must tell me how little Elizabeth Anne enjoyed the present that I gave her," said Caroline, completely ignoring Lizzie's remark.

"She is still full young for jacks, but she likes the handkerchief they were wrapped up in very much."

Caroline turned to Lizzie and said in a condescending voice, "You will not know whom we are discussing. Elizabeth Anne is Mr Darcy's sweet, adorable daughter. I absolutely dote upon her."

"I met her only this morning," said Lizzie, effectively silencing Caroline for a full minute and giving Georgiana the opportunity to resume talking about her garden. Caroline found little occasion to enter a conversation that held no interest for her so after one or two comments aimed at bringing the attention back to her own concerns, she gave up and flounced off to discuss fashions with another well bred lady like herself.

When Fitzwilliam entered the room he was gratified to see Elizabeth and Georgiana conversing together. They both looked up and smiled welcomingly and he joined them. Georgiana offered him her chair, saying that she wanted to become better acquainted with Miss Pawson. He watched her go and then turned to Elizabeth, suddenly feeling all the awkwardness of the subject he was about to address.

"You know, of course that I have been married," he said. "Elizabeth Anne is proof of that, but . . ."

"I am aware that you were widowed shortly after her birth," said Lizzie quickly. "I am very sorry for your loss."

Fitzwilliam smiled at her, appreciating her directness. "Thank you. At least Anne was able to know her daughter and name her before she died. She was my cousin and her constitution was always delicate. Having a child of her own was her greatest wish."

He wanted to say more, to tell her that his love had never faltered, but it was too soon. They were just beginning to know each other. Their relationship, begun in such a backward manner, was still a very tenuous thing and needed to be developed with care and patience. He knew as much as anything that he loved her, but he also knew this time he had to take it slowly. She deserved all the respect and consideration of a proper courtship, and as he had now established that there was no impediment, court her he would.

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on Friday, 17 October 2003, at 1:07 a.m.

Lizzie awoke to bright sunlight streaming in mellow shafts through the gaps in her curtains. She had slept soundly and contentedly. She could not remember her dreams, but she was suffused with such a feeling of wellbeing that she could not doubt they had been pleasurable. She arose from her bed and pulled open the draperies, freeing the sun to fill the room, its rich light now filtering to the darkest corners. The sky was bright and clear and brilliant blue. She longed to go out, and though she was in the city and had no access to the rambling wooded pathways that the countryside afforded, there was a park across the street that would have to suffice. She rang for her maid. People kept such late hours in town she knew she would be able to manage a walk before breakfast and not be missed.

"Sarah," she said, when the young girl had finished assisting her to dress, "would you be able to accompany me to the park?" While Lizzie was in the habit of traipsing about alone in the wilds of Hertfordshire, she knew that in London a companion was expected, be it only a maid.

"I would be most happy to, Miss," said the young girl shyly.

They set out, making their way quietly through the house where none but the servants were up and about. The butler returned Lizzie's greeting and let them out of the house. The street was quiet as most of the gentry were still abed and the park was virtually deserted.

Lizzie at first attempted conversation with Sarah, who hesitantly told her about her five brothers and sisters. "You can't be interested in the likes of us, Miss Bennet," she said softly, but Lizzie assured her that she truly was and listened attentively to the young maid's descriptions of her lively siblings. After Lizzie remarked that she must miss them very much they lapsed into a contemplative silence which suited the mood of both.

The park was small, but had a number of pretty walks amongst flowerbeds and plane trees. Birds sang high up in the branches and flitted to and fro through the open spaces. Lizzie held her face up to the sun and breathed deeply. She knew not what the day would bring nor when she would see Fitzwilliam again, but she could not doubt that if he did not visit in the next few days she would meet him at some event. It was inevitable. She knew he was destined for the theatre that evening, and hoped that he would be well pleased with his company. She could not suppress a smile, remembering the pretentious Mrs Ellington and her insinuations. From her own observation of them together the evening before, it was greatly apparent that the interest between that lady and Fitzwilliam Darcy was all on the lady's side. She knew she should be commiserating with the gentleman's misfortune to be burdened with such a companion for the evening, but her amusement at his expense won out.

Thoughts of Fitzwilliam naturally led to remembrances of the many looks they had shared the night before and Lizzie was soon caught up with visions of his eyes, warm and dark upon hers, his soft smile, the smooth plane of his cheek, the dark curls that refused to stay in place. She also recalled the attention he paid to his sister - caring and solicitous - and his thoughtfulness to bring Charlotte's presence to her own notice. He had an appreciation of wit and was capable of making the kind of subtly humorous rejoinder that Lizzie admired. All in all the previous evening had shown him to her in a very good light and she was left wanting to know him more. The only impediment was the memory of their indiscretion which, now that she was in his company again, did not fail to bring a blush to her cheeks.

Lizzie came in from her walk to find Jane just coming down to the breakfast parlour. She gave her pelisse and bonnet to Sarah and joined her sister in choosing from the array of dishes on the sideboard. The refreshing sleep and exhilarating walk had restored her appetite.

Jane smiled across the table at her. "It is so good to see you well and happy," she said.

"I am sorry if I have caused you worry," said Lizzie, reaching over the table and putting her hand over her sister's. She then lost all her seriousness and smiled. "It is a most glorious morning! You would have enjoyed all the birds and could have told me which was which for I do not know a house finch from a sparrow."

"We can go out again after breakfast with Lily and Rose," said Jane quietly. "Lizzie, it is so long since we have been alone together and there is something I need to share with you." She blushed lightly.

"Does it concern a certain gentleman I saw you conversing with so earnestly last night?"

"Not earnestly, Lizzie!"

"Well then, maybe it would be more accurate to say absorbedly."

"Lizzie, do you remember when my Henry died and I talked with you of love and I told you I had once met a gentleman who had attracted me greatly? I wondered if it were a trick of the light, or if I only thought of him because I was a little dissatisfied with my own husband or if it was because I was lonely, living so far from my family for the first time. I worried that I would be attracted by other men - that it was a flaw in my makeup - but no other gentleman I have seen before or since inspired me with the same feelings. Do you believe it is possible to recognise a kindred spirit at a glance?"

"I do know that I once saw a gentleman through a coach window - riding across a meadow with his dark hair flowing in the breeze - and my young heart was stirred, but whether it was coincidence or not that I met him again later and found even more than I had ever hoped for in his eyes, I know not."

"I never thought love at first sight could be a real thing."

"Love at first sight?" asked Lizzie. "Are we speaking of Mr Bingley?"

Jane blushed. "I believe it must be love, for I want to be with no one but him and when we are apart I think only of him."

"And when you are together of whom do you think?" Lizzie teased.

"I do not believe I think at all. I barely remember to breathe." Jane's eyes were shining brightly. "And I trust he feels the same way."

"The gentleman is clearly besotted with you," said Lizzie. "I wish you both very well. All that is left is for him to find a moment alone with you and mama shall be in transports once again."

"Oh Lizzie!" Jane was laughing and blushing, but not at all displeased with what her sister had to say. "I have confided in you - now are you going to tell me about your horseman?"

"I told you that same night."

"I remember - you said he wanted to marry you, but neither of you knew each other's name. Now I think you both do."

"Yes we do."

"And is he everything you remember him to be? You were both so very young at the time."

"I still know my heart - I was not mistaken, but now I have to come to know the man."

"And he you," said Jane in a whisper. She hesitated and then continued. "You need not answer me if you would rather not, but why when you danced with Mr Darcy at the assembly did you become so very overset, and yet last evening you were sparkling and radiant in his company?"

"We both thought the other married that night at Almacks." Lizzie looked at Jane earnestly and then continued. "I still do not know, Jane, where this will all take me, but I am pleased to at last see him again, and to know that he does not hold me in contempt. For now I am content with that."

"Lizzie, next you will say that now you can meet as common and indifferent acquaintances."

"I would never say that, Jane. Mr Darcy is far from common."

Jane was so happy that Lizzie could joke and laugh again that she forbore asking any more questions. Shortly they were joined by the little girls and spent a happy hour in the park with them. By their return Lydia was still not yet down. She had completely adjusted to London's fashionable hours; in fact it was hardly an adjustment because even at home in the country she practised them as often as she could manage.

~

"Who would you like to visit this afternoon?" Fitzwilliam asked his sister with a smile after she had emphatically stated that she hoped they would not need to drop in on Mrs Ellington and Mrs Hurst, as they were already obliged to spend their evening with them.

"Well, I was hoping to see more of Miss Pawson. I liked her quite well and it would be nice to have a friend my own age, but I would also like to become better acquainted with Miss Bennet." She glanced at her brother shyly.

"You are pleased with her?" There was eagerness in his look that warmed his sister's heart.

"Very much so."

"Then far be it from me to deny you - it shall all be as you wish. But you do not mind if Bingley accompanies us do you?"

"As long as he is not escorting his sisters."

Fitzwilliam almost laughed. "I do not think that would serve our purpose at all. He will be joining us for luncheon on his own and then we will set out."

During Georgiana's visit with Miss Pawson Bingley was extremely distracted, drumming his fingers upon his knees and one minute jovially asking a question of Miss Lucas, the next looking out the window in abstraction. Fitzwilliam smiled in amusement. He longed to hurry the visit as much as Charles but his duty was to his sister and he was very pleased with her attempts to forge a new friendship. A girl of her own age was just what she needed - all her life she had been too much in the company of those older than herself. Besides, Miss Lucas was a dear friend of Elizabeth; in talking with her about her home he felt he was learning more about the place where his love resided as well.

Charlotte was quite confident that she knew where the interests of the gentlemen lay so she was happy to oblige by speaking of the environs of Lucas Lodge, Longbourn and Meryton, without actually mentioning the name Bennet at all. She found the one's evident curiosity and the other's obvious distraction equally endearing. She only wished she had as much confidence in the happiness of her own future as she had in that of her two friends.

The visit was wrapped up in due time and Georgiana and Aurelia, who had progressed so far as to call each other by their given names, established plans to walk out in the park and spend an afternoon together. Upon descending the stairs of the Pawson townhouse, they passed Mr Andrews who was arriving for a visit. The gentlemen all tipped their hats and shared a polite greeting, then the Darcy party hurried off so as not to keep their horses waiting. Fitzwilliam was pleased at the order of his visits for he had a strong suspicion that he knew from where Mr Andrews had just come. As much as he respected the gentleman, he felt more comfortable if his pursuit of Elizabeth was not always to be under his watchful eye.

Mr Andrews stared after them before he banged the knocker. He had a good idea where they were about to call next - he had just come from Curzon Street himself and had been pleasantly surprised not to find his rival there. Not that he could really think of Mr Darcy as a rival, after all he was well aware that Darcy was already the victor - he had only come to claim what had long been his. Mr Andrews schooled his features to hide his sadness and regret. It was time to give Elizabeth what she had always wanted - his friendship and nothing more. He needed to find a new outlet for his love, and if he turned to a pretty, innocent debutante what wonder was there in that? He would not be the first gentleman crossed in love to do so, nor the last.

~

"Lord, our visitors are all so dreadfully dull this afternoon," said Lydia stifling a yawn. "Mr Andrews was more boring than ever - what can be the matter with him, sitting and barely speaking? He used always, at least, to have plenty to prose on about with you, Lizzie."

Jane looked swiftly at Lizzie and then responded. "Perhaps he is unwell, Lydia. It does you no credit to speak so unfeelingly about a dear family friend such as he."

"Well I see no reason not to speak my mind as I may. It is a blessing that I agreed to drive out with Mr Greenly this afternoon. Anything will be better than to be cooped up all day in this mausoleum. I hear a carriage now." She tweaked the curtains open and peeked out the window in quite a blatant manner that put Jane to the blush. "It is your lover so you shall be quite pleased, Jane," she said with a smirk, causing Jane to blush all the more and disclaim. "And he has brought his friend Mr Darcy with him, though why he needs to come I cannot comprehend. And a young lady."

"Miss Darcy, I imagine," said Lizzie with studied calm. "Please stop displaying yourself in the window like a hoyden, Lydia. Come and sit down - it is not yet time for Mr Greenly to arrive."

Lizzie thought that she was well prepared to face Fitzwilliam again, but the moment their eyes met the memory of that day in the cottage could not help but intrude and she felt all the awkwardness of her position once again. Could she not see his smile without thinking how his lips had felt upon hers and how much she longed for that feeling again? And more. She desired it all and that fact alone embarrassed her more than anything else. Even though she knew it was inspired by her love of him, she wondered for the millionth time whether or not those cravings were wanton. She could not look up to meet his eyes again until she cleared her head; she was certain her thoughts were written plainly on her face for him to see.

Fitzwilliam noticed how his look had discomposed her. Had he been wrong? Did she not welcome his friendship? The chill that this thought gave him ran deep within and curbed the ebullience he had been feeling ever since their previous meeting. He continued his greetings and allowed himself to be introduced to the youngest Miss Bennet before he absently took a seat close to Miss Lydia. His sister joined Elizabeth immediately and was smiled warmly upon. That did something to improve his humour but still he sat in confusion and indecision. It had all seemed so easy the night before. Right and inevitable - the only possible course. He was startled out of his thoughts by her sister who suddenly addressed him in a most forward manner.

"Mr Darcy, I have a bone to pick with you," she said defiantly.

He looked up at her quickly, wondering what she knew and was about to say. He shot an apprehensive glance at Elizabeth who had suddenly frozen and then looked back at the girl.

"I don't know how you can hold your head up in polite society after the despicable things you have done." Lydia eyed him with hostility. A hush fell over the room. Even Jane and Mr Bingley's attention had been caught.

"Lydia!" cried Lizzie "How can you speak to Mr Darcy in that manner?"

The colour had fled from Fitzwilliam's face. "Will you tell me what am I accused of, that I know how I am to reclaim myself?" he asked.

"Please say no more, Lydia. All that is left for you to do is apologise to our guest," said Lizzie firmly.

"After what he has done to dear Mr Wickham?" asked Lydia, tears pricking in her eyes. She turned to Fitzwilliam and continued, "Can you deny that you withheld his inheritance and ruined all his chances to be rich, leaving him with no recourse but to marry an heiress so that he can resume his correct station in the world? It is so unfair for I would gladly marry him."

Lizzie heard a gasp from Miss Darcy and she looked to see the girl white and trembling and near collapse. She reached for her hands and held them firmly while speaking to her in soothing accents.

Fitzwilliam regarded Lydia. "I do not know in what way that scoundrel represented himself to you or what lies he has told of his dealings with me, but I can only assure you that I have treated him with much more forbearance than he deserves." His voice was like ice. He looked over to Elizabeth and held her eyes in silent appeal. "I am an honourable man," he said with trembling softness.

"I never doubted that," said Lizzie. "And I never gave Mr Wickham's accusations any credence, even before I knew . . ." Her voice drifted off but there was only one person in the room in any confusion about what she meant.

Lydia looked from one to the other, completely at a loss and only just then realising the gross impropriety of her words. "I . . . I am sorry Mr Darcy. It was told to me with so much sincerity - there was truth in his every expression." Her voice faltered and she appeared close to tears.

Lizzie felt Miss Darcy stir beside her. "Miss Lydia," she said, the firm control of her voice surprising everyone in the room. Her brother looked at her in concern. "Please do not blame yourself. The man has such charm that he can fool even the most sensible young lady, but believe me that he is not to be trusted."

Fitzwilliam was at once by his sister's side gazing at her with loving solicitude. "Georgiana," he said softly.

"Do not worry, Fitzwilliam, I am fine." She smiled tremulously.

Bingley looked on helplessly as Jane did the best thing she could think of, order tea. Then she attempted to turn the focus of conversation by remarking on the lovely spell of weather that they had been experiencing.

Lizzie looked at her gratefully while Lydia collected herself and wiped her cheeks dry upon her hanky, and then proving how truly resilient she was, lifted the curtain once again and exclaimed, "Mr Greenly has come to take me out to drive. He has the most stylish perch-phaeton I have ever seen! I never would have thought it of him . . . my." This ended in almost a sigh. She looked back at the others and said somewhat shamefacedly, "I hope you will excuse me. It was pleasant to make your acquaintance." Then she ran from the room, her excited squeals could be heard as she greeted her escort and then silence as the outer door closed behind them.

Lizzie thought it a blessing that Mr Greenly had not been ushered into the room. For once Lydia's flighty behaviour had actually been of benefit to those around her. But her earlier comments were still inexcusable and regrettable. Lizzie hoped she could do something to lessen the damage that Lydia had wrought. The subject of Mr Wickham was patently very sensitive for the Darcys, and Lydia's audacity in bringing such accusations up in public was totally mortifying for Lizzie. How poorly it reflected on her and Jane to have a sister with so little propriety, such a lack of consideration. She and Jane both apologised again and again as tea was served and although true equilibrium was never restored to the gathering the visit continued with some semblance of normalcy.

The day had held so much promise but now that was all shattered. The guests left shortly afterward, and it is safe to say there was a huge amount of dissatisfaction left in the breast of each and every one of them. Lizzie went to her room to be disconsolate; Jane looked to her girls for solace; Georgiana scolded herself for still being so affected by the mention of Wickham's name; Fitzwilliam grasped Elizabeth's statement that she had never doubted him to his heart, though he knew he still had to prove himself; and Bingley wondered if he would ever contrive a moment alone with that celestial being who had won his heart.

Chapter Sixteen

Posted on Friday, 24 October 2003, at 11:45 p.m.

Charlotte had been relieved of her charge for the remainder of the afternoon as Aurelia had gone on an outing with Miss Darcy and her brother. Her two younger charges were still in the country enjoying freedom from their lessons and she was accompanied only by Mrs Pawson who was languidly lying on a divan with her pug curled up on a cushion beside her. For Charlotte it was an opportune time to do a bit of mending; there was a rent in the hem of one of her gowns that she had long been meaning to attend to.

"Ought we to have any hopes of Miss Darcy's brother for Aurelia?" asked Mrs Pawson in her thin voice. "I hear he is very rich, though I do not like the idea of my little girl marrying a widower."

"I think it is safe to say that Mr Darcy sees Aurelia as a good friend for his sister and nothing more."

"That is just as well. There was another gentleman caller of respectable fortune, was there not?"

"Yes, Mr Andrews," said Charlotte with composure. "He is well respected, kind and considerate, but I can't help thinking him a little old for Aurelia. She is, after all, only just turned seventeen and he is, at the very least, five and thirty."

"Indeed. But it is often the case that an older man makes a steadier, more patient husband. I think he ought to be encouraged."

"Aurelia has shown no preference for his company," said Charlotte firmly.

"Her preference is neither here nor there. Our job is to see her well established, not to cater to her whims. Left to herself she would fall in love with some earnest young man without a feather to fly with. She will listen to your advice - she sets great store by all you say."

"I could not advise her to go against her heart," said Charlotte.

"Miss Lucas! I did not think to hear such sentimentality from you. Remember your place in this household. You will do as I bid and not encourage my daughter in romantic nonsense."

"Yes Mrs Pawson," said Charlotte with a curt nod of her head. She bent more intently over her mending as her mistress transferred her focus to the pug. She had no intentions of encouraging romantic nonsense in Aurelia, but neither had she of encouraging an unequal match. Aurelia was a sweet and innocent girl, but a bit of a featherbrain, and though Charlotte knew Mr Andrews would make any lady the best of husbands, he was much too good for her. Besides, after his last visit, Aurelia had confided in her that despite the fact that Mr Andrews was a pleasant gentleman he was so very old and she hoped to meet some younger men at the ball on Friday. Aurelia's eyes had lit up at the thought of her first ball. Thinking back, Charlotte was convinced that there was already a prodigious amount of romantic nonsense floating about in her young charge's pretty little head.

After suffering a visit from two extremely self-important women and the unsophisticated young nephew they had dragged along in the hopes of meeting Miss Pawson, Charlotte was both pleased and disappointed when Mr Andrews was announced. Her heart leapt when she saw his cherished face and felt his smile warm her countenance, but sadness ran through her too that he was again setting his sights on someone who could not make him happy.

He did not appear too disheartened that he had not found Miss Pawson at home, and after a brief conversation with the mother, entered into discourse with Charlotte.

"Miss Pawson is on an outing with the Darcys, did you say?"

"Yes, she and Miss Darcy are becoming quite close."

"I understand he is a very good brother."

"He seems to take great care of his sister."

"I am pleased that he is a man of such good character."

"Yes, we need no longer be concerned for her."

They both knew they were no longer referring to Miss Darcy.

"We . . . should be content to know that . . . she now has a chance to grasp . . . that which she . . . longed for. I wish them happy. I do not see how they cannot be."

"Now what remains is for you to find that same kind of happiness for yourself." Charlotte's voice was low and soft. The deep compassion in her eyes spoke to him words that she could not.

Mr Andrews reached out and touched her hand. "Thank you." For a moment he was at a loss for something to say and then he recalled that this was Charlotte's first trip to London. He asked if she and Miss Pawson had yet visited the British Museum or the National Gallery, and together they organised an outing to view the Elgin Marbles the following Monday. After that there was no difficulty to converse on any manner of subjects, and the half-hour was over before either of them were cognisant of it. A cough from Mrs Pawson alerted Mr Andrews that it was indeed time to take his leave, and saying that he looked forward to Friday night with the hopes of obtaining a dance from Miss Pawson, he departed.

"You appear to be on rather friendly terms with the gentleman," said Mrs Pawson in a tone of disapproval.

"I have known him these seven years," said Charlotte with no hint of apology. "He is a very close friend of the Bennet family, my nearest neighbours, and has frequently been a guest in my father's home." She thought that a reminder to Mrs Pawson of her true status as a gentlewoman would not go amiss. The lady was wont to forget that her own background was no more elevated than that of her governess.

"Remember that I have designs on him for my daughter."

And do not send out lures to him yourself. It was unsaid, but Charlotte knew what Mrs Pawson was intimating. She was finding the yoke of service increasingly oppressive; though she was treated well for the most part she did not enjoy the condescension and constant reminders of her lowered position. Charlotte kept to herself any comment she may have been tempted to make and smiled mildly back. Mrs Pawson would not get the better of her. Charlotte's actions and reactions could only serve to show which one was the more truly well bred.

~

"I cannot present myself at Friday's ball without new slippers! The ones I have are all scuffed beyond repair from that horrid Mr Smorsley stepping on my feet."

"Lydia, if you wait a few hours I can accompany you, but I have promised Lily and Rose . . ."

"They would love to come shopping with us, would you not, sweeties?"

Lily and Rose stared at their auntie open mouthed and shook their heads in a manner that sent their curls bouncing around in abandon. Just then Lizzie returned from her walk and both Jane and Lydia turned to her in appeal.

"Lizzie," cried Lydia, "you can have nothing else to do. Come with me to the Pantheon Bazaar - I promise to buy you a present if you do. Jane is not very obliging this morning."

"If it means saving Jane from your pestering, I shall do it," said Lizzie, "but you need buy me nothing. If I see anything I like I shall buy it myself."

"How very sensible of you, for I should have asked you to forward me the money in any case." Lydia crouched down and smiled at her two young nieces. "Instead I will buy each of you a surprise to show I bear no resentment!"

Lydia ran off to fetch her bonnet and pelisse while Lizzie put hers on once more.

"Thank you," said Jane. "I know you can have no desire to be dragged all over the Bazaar by Lydia."

"Maybe I will manage to prevent her from making too many frivolous purchases," Lizzie said with a smile. "Anyway, I will endure anything for you."

When her sisters departed Jane sat down upon the settee with her little girls on either side of her. "What would you like me to read to you this morning?"

"I would like to hear that most very lovely poem," said Lily, her blue eyes large and sincere upon her mother's face.

"The most very lovely one," echoed Rose.

Jane kissed them each and sweetly teasing said, "It is your favourite poem because you are both in it."

They smiled and nodded as she opened the volume of Shakespeare in her lap and found the correct page, marked by a red ribbon.

"You can thank your Auntie Lizzie for this poem because she was the one who showed it to me."

"But you read it the very best," said Lily smiling up at her mother.

"Read," said Rose, her blue eyes beseeching. Jane read slowly, her voice soft and clear. So involved were she and the girls that they did not notice a gentleman being announced into their sitting room by a shy parlour maid.

"From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play."

When she was finished they still did not notice the gentleman as he stood on the threshold, lost in wonder at the charming tableau before him.

"Say my part again."

"Say mine."

"Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;"

Bingley could not help himself, but softly spoke the following lines - lines he had never heard before but were impressed upon him by the beauty of the reader and the sweetness of her voice.

"They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those."

Jane looked up and their eyes met. He almost faltered at the initial contact, but completed the two lines of verse before falling completely dumb. Silence stretched across the room until Lily spoke up clearly.

"Mommy, who is that gentleman?"

"Mrs Fairborn . . . I did not mean to . . . I was announced . . . you made such a pretty picture I could not disturb . . ."

"It is quite all right, Mr Bingley," said Jane once she collected herself. "I am most happy to see you. I would like you to meet my girls, Lily and Rose."

Bingley came forward, smiling a bit shamefacedly, and held out his hand. "You are fairer than the very flowers you are named for," he said, and that easily he won them over completely. It was not just what he said, but something in his eyes and the cheerfulness of his countenance that gained their confidence.

"You know our favourite poem too?" asked Lily.

Bingley drew up a chair and sat beside them. "I confess I don't read as much as I ought, but it was very beautiful and most apt."

"Would you like to read us another one?" asked Lily.

"Please," begged Rose, her head on one side, her curls spilling into her eyes.

"If I may," said Bingley holding his hand out for the book. Jane's fingers brushed his as she passed it and the thrill of contact made them nearly drop it. "Do you have any preferences?" he asked once he had found his voice again.

"A Fairy Song is another favourite," suggested Jane. "The yellow ribbon marks its place."

Bingley smiled his thanks and found the page. He cleared his throat, and then, with a valiant attempt to look at the little girls rather than their mother, began to read.

" OVER hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moone's sphere;"

His voice was joined by Lily's clear one and Rose's slight lisp.

"And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green:
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;"

He stopped, entranced and watched as they finished on their own from memory.

"Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear."

"Why did you stop reading, Mr Bingley?" asked Lily.

"Why?" asked Rose.

Bingley, who was quite unused to children, marvelled at their quickness and their inquisitiveness. He tried to pull his thoughts together. "I had no idea such little girls could be so accomplished."

"I am not so very little," said Lily seriously. "I am five years old."

"I'm little," said Rose, peeking enchantingly around her mother.

Bingley looked up at Jane and laughed. "Your daughters are utterly adorable."

Jane beamed. The one thing that had concerned her about forming a new attachment was how her girls would be received - they were a part and parcel of her life. Anyone who loved her must love them or, no matter how her heart reacted, she could never promise herself. And not only that, the girls' feelings towards her intended were also paramount. Here before her eyes everything was coming together, even better than she had ever dreamed. All the trials of her life were worthwhile if they had brought her to this moment.

~

Lydia had already purchased rose kid slippers, a spangled shawl, and inlaid silver hair combs. She was now debating on a half dozen silk rosebuds of a shocking shade of magenta. "Lizzie! They will add so much colour to my toilette."

"They are much to brassy," said Lizzie. "I am afraid they will make you look fast."

"No, it is the cut of my bodice that will make me look fast. Perhaps what I need is a pendant to help draw the eye." Lydia held up a shoddy bauble set with paste gemstones of unbelievable proportions.

"If it is the cut of your bodice then I suggest a double row of lace," said Lizzie taking Lydia by the hand and leading her to where there was a display of delicate trimmings.

"Oh fie, you are so very stuffy and prim. It is small wonder you have not yet caught yourself a man." Lydia tossed her head and then began to study the finest of the laces with some interest. She reached for a sample just as another hand stretched out to touch it and found herself vying for the same goods with a very dear friend of hers whom she had just met at a party the night before. "Louisa Farnham!" she cried.

"Lydia Bennet! Fancy!"

Lydia turned to Lizzie. "I know you have long been wanting to explore the bookshop. My dear friend can help me with the last few of my purchases and I will meet you there in half an hour."

Lizzie reasoned that Lydia would buy what she wanted regardless of her presence, so after greeting Louisa Farnham cordially, she headed for the respite of the bookstore. As she entered the shop she savoured the aroma of parchment and leather, and was soon perusing titles of her favourite authors. Caught by the flow and cadence of written words upon the page, she little noticed time or the approach of a gentleman to her side.

"Miss Bennet you are the answer to my unspoken dreams."

She looked up, startled, to see Mr Wickham's face very close to her own. She stepped back a pace and came up against a shelf. "Excuse me sir, I am just leaving," she said.

"I am hurt to the quick! Are you not even the tiniest bit happy to see me?"

"I have no time for your nonsense," she said firmly. "Could you please let me pass?"

"Not until you pay a forfeit," he said, reaching his hand out towards her cheek. All of a sudden he found his arm stayed by the firm pressure of another man's grip.

"You will do as the lady says." Fitzwilliam's voice cut like steel.

"Darcy." George Wickham turned and eyed his adversary. "What a pleasant surprise. How is your sweet sister?"

"My sister is very well, no thanks to you. I can see that I was much too lenient on the last occasion we met. I warn you that should you come anywhere near her or Miss Bennet again you will rue the day you were born." Fitzwilliam directed him with a firm push towards the door.

"Miss Bennet is it? So you two are acquainted," Wickham said, attempting not to lose any ground. "What a small world. She and I have a longstanding relationship of a most intimate nature."

Wickham found himself roughly carried out and almost thrown upon the paving stones.

"Do not test my patience. You had best leave London immediately." Fitzwilliam turned his back on Wickham and re-entered the shop. All he could see was Elizabeth, book in hand, leaning against the shelves with her head facing away. His anger against Wickham was dispelled to the far reaches of his conscious, his only thought was to offer comfort. He took three swift strides forward till he was by her side. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. He merely took me by surprise." She kept her eyes upon the wall of books.

"I know that what he said was untrue."

She finally turned to look at him. There were tears glistening in her eyes. "How can you be so sure?"

"I know him. I know what drove him to say that. But more importantly, I know you."

"What you know of me should only cause you to doubt," Lizzie said brokenly.

"I could never doubt you." The gentleness of his voice caressed her; she raised her eyes to his and they held. She felt like she was falling into their depths.

He took a step closer, raised his hand to wipe away the tear that had trickled down her face and then arrested this movement, instead taking his handkerchief from his breast pocket and placing it in her hand.

"Thank you." Lizzie wiped her eyes as reason returned. She had almost succumbed. Almost fallen into his arms in a bookshop for all and sundry to see. Almost shown how very brazen and wanton and totally lost to depravity she really must be that she could not even withstand a look of compassion from him. "You have no need to worry about me - I am much better now."

"I must tell you sometime my history with him, but this is neither the time nor the place." Fitzwilliam was only grasping for something to say. He had almost lost himself, but luckily had stayed his hand at the last moment. He knew that if he had let his finger touch the soft skin of her cheek he would not have been able to answer for himself - not with the way his feelings had raged within. Here - in a public shop - to take her in his arms meet her lips with his own, was unthinkable - and a thought he was determined to eradicate from his mind.

"I would say not," she said, forcing herself to smile. "I think I neglected to tell you that I was very pleased to see you. Thank you for your help."

"I am only glad that I turned into this shop upon a whim. I thought to buy my sister a book."

"Oh? Did you have anything in mind?"

"I was wondering if you could suggest something."

Lizzie looked down at her hands and realised she was holding a book. It was a new novel by a lady she found had the ability to depict life and love with such wit and truth that she could read her words again and again, always finding some new and delightful insight to the very type of world in which she lived. She was about to recommend it when Lydia burst into the shop.

"There you are, Lizzie! I have bought half the trinkets in the whole Bazaar and I am ready to leave. Oh! Mr Darcy - I did not see you standing there. I must apologise to you. I have just discovered you were so correct about Mr Wickham. He had Lizzie and myself half in love with him, but now I know it was nothing but lies. I saw him not five minutes ago, and he all but ignored me. If I had not run up and confronted him he should have walked right by. He looked at me with such disdain and when I questioned him about the truth he merely scoffed and said some very unfeeling things about you, Mr Darcy. Such language! I know he is a soldier but there is no pardoning it. Then what do you think Louisa told me Lizzie?"

"I have no idea," said Lizzie, momentarily stunned by such a barrage of words from her sister.

"She told me he is not a gentleman after all, and only the son of a steward. Nobody in London recognises him and he spends his time in gaming hells. This is the last time I will allow my head to be turned by a handsome face and a charming line."

Lizzie hoped that Lydia would remember the lesson she had just learned, but she doubted that it would be longstanding. However, that she was finally over her fascination for Mr Wickham was a blessing and only good could come from it. She turned to Fitzwilliam, wondering how he had withstood her boisterous sister and the brash and common expressions she had used.

"You will not hold any hard feelings for the impolite way I accosted you the other day, will you?" Lydia turned her charm full on.

"You are completely forgiven," said Fitzwilliam with the hint of a smile.

"Thank you. That proves you are not as bad as that wastrel said. I will only think good of you from now on. Well, Lizzie, the carriage is outside and all my packages are aboard so make haste - and if you are planning to buy that book, you should not because I have filled the box so much there is barely any room left for the two of us."

Lizzie turned to look for the gap in the shelves from where she had taken the book.

Fitzwilliam put out his hand. "May I?"

"Certainly," she said, giving him the book. He escorted the two ladies to the carriage and saw them off, then returned to the bookstore to make his purchase. He did not look in the shelves or ask to see any titles; he merely bought the work that was in his hands and watched absently as the merchant wrapped it securely in brown paper.

Chapter Seventeen

Posted on Wednesday, 12 November 2003, at 1:15 a.m.

Lizzie was relieved to see that Lydia had indeed added two rows of fine lace to her décolletage; it attracted attention but it also added a semblance of demureness to her gown. However there was nothing demure about the expression on Lydia's face when she clasped a sparkling pendant about her neck that sunk gently into the folds of the delicate thread work. It was neither large nor garish, but it drew the eye and brought attention to her assets with more subtlety than she was usually wont to show.

"You see, your admonitions have not fallen upon deaf ears," she said to Lizzie with a wink as she reached for her satin stole. Then she looked at her sister appraisingly. "You have put a deal more attention than usual into your toilette - you actually look quite pretty."

"Thank you," said Lizzie, aware that Lydia, who usually noticed nothing other than her own concerns, was giving her a compliment of no small order. "Though I think we will both be outshone by Jane. Not even the dowdiest hairstyle or the plainest gown could hide the radiance of her countenance tonight."

Jane's hairstyle was simple but by no means dowdy. Her pale hair was put up in a smooth roll with a few shiny curls spilling forth. It was unembellished except for a tiny silver butterfly pin. Her gown was of layers of sheer lavender over a silver satin under-dress. She looked delicate and ethereal, like a fairy princess. Quiet joy spilled from her eyes and radiated about her as if she were bathed in magic dust.

"She is in love - it can't be helped," said Lydia matter of factly. "She does not worry me at all; she will be no competition for all the gentlemen will know that she is as good as spoken for."

"I will not be vying for any of your admirers either," said Lizzie.

"No - you have Mr Andrews to pay you attention and I have given him up these many years." Lydia eyed Lizzie speculatively. "I shouldn't be surprised if you attracted one or two others of the older set. There may be a chance for you yet, sister."

Just then the carriage was announced and the three sisters followed the footman to the door. Lizzie was glad that Lydia had been distracted - it was not a discussion that she had wanted to continue. She herself was filled with nervous apprehension. They were going to a ball where she would surely see Fitzwilliam again and dance with him. She wanted nothing more than to be in his presence and have the chance of conversing with him, but she feared her reactions to him - she feared dancing. Even through her gloves she knew the touch of his hand would be more than she could bear.

~

"Why my mother insists on me wearing white, I have no idea. Does not she realise all the debutantes will be in white and there will be nothing to distinguish me from the others?" Aurelia gave Charlotte such a plaintive look that she had to compress her lips to stop herself from laughing.

"Your sweet face and light figure will give you much distinction," said Charlotte, as she fixed the last rosebud to Aurelia's coiffure. "I also think the choice of yellow trimmings is singular. Most young ladies will be trimmed in pink or blue, and you will be like a breath of fresh country air." She stood back to admire her handiwork.

Aurelia giggled. "Will they not think me very provincial, then?"

"They will find you very refreshing."

"You look lovely yourself," said Aurelia. "Oh, Miss Lucas, I do wish you could find the man of your dreams while we are in London."

"I have no thought of that," said Charlotte, "and no one will be looking at a governess who is well past her prime when there are beauties such as you to be danced with."

"You do not look at all like a governess," said Aurelia. "Nobody should know it if they were not told - your gown is so very elegant and your expression is not forbidding in the least, like all the other companions and old maids. You shall be asked to dance by more than one gentleman, I'd wager."

"Come, no more of this talk about me. You know I am only attending the ball to keep you company. What would your mother say if I were to be frivolously dancing the night away with no thought to you?"

"Oh, pooh on my mother!"

"Aurelia!" said Charlotte reprovingly, but secretly she was pleased by her young charge's support. "We must hurry downstairs and show you off to your parents before we depart."

~

Georgiana looked about the crowded ballroom hoping that Miss Bennet would be there. She knew Fitzwilliam had met her again since the disastrous visit to Curzon Street and she had great hopes that any setbacks that occasion had engendered would be swiftly overcome. He had appeared quite distracted when he had given her the book he had purchased, and when questioned admitted that he had bought it upon Miss Bennet's recommendation. That same evening she had noticed him pick it up once or twice and absently stroke the cover.

He was now standing by her side with an expression of barely concealed anticipation on his face. She knew how much he disliked balls and at this close proximity she could feel all his nervous tension. Georgiana smiled thinking of the preparation he had gone to for this evening's event. He had been longer in his dressing room than she and when he had come downstairs she had been rendered breathless though he was her brother. She did not think there could possibly be a more handsome man alive. Only one person could put him in such a state, and as he surveyed the room she heard him let out a breath that was between a gasp and a sigh. She followed his gaze and beheld in a corner, smilingly conversing with Miss Pawson's companion, Miss Bennet herself. She was dressed neither more fashionably nor more elegantly than any other lady in attendance but she had an indefinable air about her that was at once both vulnerable and assured, and warmth of expression that emanated from the glow of her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.

Fitzwilliam grasped his sister's elbow, his hand now sure and confident, and directed her towards that corner. He did not speak, but words between them were unnecessary. They both had the same object and crossed the room in one accord. As they approached, Miss Bennet looked up and Georgiana saw in her face all the expectation and wistful longing that she knew must be reflected in her brother's.

~

Lydia left Lizzie with Charlotte and lost no time in filling her dance card. She allowed Mr Greenly two dances - one being the dinner dance - so he was well pleased, and was able to watch her dance upon many another gentleman's arm without so much as a twinge of jealousy. In fact if his expression were to be analysed, it was one of wry amusement.

Jane was just as soon joined by Mr Bingley, and while not dancing they entered into conversation to the exclusion of all others. If any gentleman had the audacity to ask Mrs Fairborn for her hand she complied readily, but her attention was never long bestowed upon her dance partner. Her eyes soon strayed to the outskirts of the dance floor where Mr Bingley stood and watched her every movement, unknowingly dashing the vain hopes of many a young lady. There were numerous winks and glances in their direction from the gossiping tabbies who sat by the ubiquitous potted palms and fanned themselves, and before the night was out practically the whole of London was cognisant of an engagement that had not yet even taken place.

Mr Andrews arrived to this tableau: Elizabeth and Mr Darcy talking with that gentleman's sister while Charlotte Lucas looked on, Jane Fairborn and Mr Bingley oblivious of the throng about them, Lydia prancing happily upon the ballroom floor, and Miss Pawson surrounded by a group of very green looking youths. He did his duty by his hostess and then made his way through the crowds to Charlotte's side.

After the usual courteous greeting he said, "I suppose I am too late to find a spot on her dance card."

"Oh, no," said Charlotte with a smile. "I instructed her to be sure to save one for you."

Mr Andrews' expression was rueful. He would have rather the girl had saved one of her own volition. "Give me a moment to claim that dance and I will return to you," he said.

Charlotte watched sympathetically as he approached Aurelia. The younger gentlemen gave way for him and the girl smiled at him brightly showing her dance card and writing his name upon a line quite far down. After a few more words with her, Aurelia was claimed for the next dance by a young man with more air and address than those that had been clustered about her. Mr Andrews returned to Charlotte and sighed.

"She has become quite popular all of a sudden."

"Yes, she has turned a lot of heads," said Charlotte. "I am happy for her. She is very much enjoying the success of her first ball, but you know the novelty will soon wear off. Next week there will be a new young face all the rage and the greater part of her admirers will drift away."

"I do hope she will not be hurt by such fickleness."

"She does not want for sense, you know, though she is so very young and naive. I believe she will come to understand who her friends really are and appreciate steadiness of character above empty flattery and dashing charm."

"You have just painted a very boring picture of me - hardly appealing at all. Is that how you see me?" He smiled down at her teasingly and Charlotte felt her heart lurch. Did he actually care about her own opinion of him?

"I think of you as a much valued friend who could never be boring," she said.

"Well I do hope you are able to influence Miss Pawson then," he said lightly.

Charlotte smiled and looked away.

Mr Andrews watched her and noticed that she was wearing a most becoming gown. It struck him that a lady in a gown such as that would probably like to dance, and though he had not thought of dancing with Charlotte earlier, now he decided it would be a generous gesture - something that might even bring her pleasure. The thought of giving her pleasure was somehow gratifying.

"If you are not engaged would you do me the honour of joining me for the next set?" he asked.

Charlotte turned back towards him and spoke candidly. "Do not feel that you are obliged to dance with me."

"Not at all - I should very much like to," said Mr Andrews sincerely, realising all of a sudden that it was indeed so.

Charlotte agreed, and as he led her out to the floor at the start of the new set, he noticed Elizabeth and Mr Darcy coming away from the dance that had just been completed. She cast Mr Andrews a bright smile, which he returned with a bow as he cursed his foolish heart that still reached out to her. He would have to wean himself from that tendency. Her happiness was evident in her face, her bearing, her every move, and he told himself that he should be content to finally see her so. Yet he could not dispel that pang of regret or prevent the shadow that fell over his face for a moment.

Charlotte could not help but be aware of the exchange, and though it affected her it caused no deep pain. She understood that it would take time for Mr Andrews to overcome his attraction to her friend but she had great hopes that he would eventually emerge and see that what was before him could at least provide him some modicum of comfort. And, though the likelihood was slim, if she could be the person within his sights when that day dawned, all her dreams would not be in vain.

~

Lizzie had found it difficult to focus on anything other than Fitzwilliam from the moment she had been aware of his presence in the ballroom. She knew that despite her fears the only thing that brought her there was him. What she was so desperate to avoid was the object she most wanted in the world. With every passing day her desire for him grew stronger, so much so that at times she could not understand herself. The way he looked tonight did not help one bit. Not only was he very elegantly attired in eveningwear that showed his tall and vital figure off to advantage, but there was intensity in his gaze that was almost overwhelming. The presence of his sister at his side was a relief - a necessary distraction from the wayward direction of her thoughts.

They immediately fell to speaking of books since Georgiana lost no time in expressing her delight in the volume Fitzwilliam had purchased for her and shyly issued her thanks to Elizabeth for making the recommendation. It did take a while for the natural flow of conversation to develop. It had to overcome Georgiana's inherent shyness and the preoccupation of the two principals in the group. But the common interest of all three freed them from those constraints and before long Lizzie was able to give her opinions of Scott and Cowper without being rendered speechless by her contemplation of the plane of his cheek, the subtle spiciness of his cologne that wafted her way when he leaned towards her to hear her over the hubbub of the crowd, or the warmth of his glance. If at times her pronouncements seemed to lose track or she faltered and stumbled over the occasional word, it was no different with Fitzwilliam's responses. By the time that Georgiana was taken away to dance by an eager young gentleman they had progressed so far that Lizzie's wit had returned, and if Fitzwilliam had not already lost his heart to her years ago he would have forfeited it once again.

The moment had come, and with only a look from him and assenting smile from her he took Lizzie's hand and they made their way upon the dance floor. The warmth of his hand as it encircled hers caused Lizzie to cast her eyes down and hold her breath. As the music started she found that she was concentrating every functioning part of her mind upon the steps of the dance.

Fitzwilliam found himself in the same predicament and blessed the fact that years of observing correct etiquette were now coming to his aid, as he had to fall back upon social habits while he wrestled with the tumultuous feelings within. Her hand cradled in his increased his desire to pull her close within his arms; he ached to touch the silky smoothness of her cheek, to feel her sweet breath upon his face, her lips warm on his.

"We must speak," he said, knowing he was in need of a diversion.

Elizabeth lifted her eyes to his. "The room is uncommonly large," she said.

"It is fortunate because size is needed to accommodate such a quantity of couples."

"Yes, and a cotillion takes up so much more space than, say, a country dance would." Lizzie attempted to keep her countenance but could not help but suppress a small giggle.

"Now all I have left to say," responded Fitzwilliam feigning the utmost seriousness, "is that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones."

"Oh yes indeed." Lizzie pursed her lips. "Now that we have made such earth shattering observations we may be silent for a while." They shared a look of pure enjoyment before the figures of the dance took them away from each other.

When they were returned once again within conversation's range Fitzwilliam looked at her with eyes still full of laughter. "The necessary interruption of accommodating all the other dancers of this set has made me forget what we were speaking of - there is much to be said for dances such as the waltz that limit the interaction to one couple alone."

Lizzie blushed, thinking of the only time they had waltzed together, but matched his light, bantering tone. "Our conversation was surely enlightening - we touched upon two or three very stimulating subjects most successfully, but I cannot imagine what next we are to talk about. How does one improve on the sublime?"

"We can always fall back upon books."

"Talk of books in a ballroom? Sir! Do you take me for a bluestocking?"

"Then by all means let us talk of fashion, though I must admit that I am unsure if I can attain impressive heights of erudition upon the subject."

"It is quite above me as well," said Lizzie, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "so we must resign ourselves to the mundane and speak of literature and philosophy."

They ended speaking of neither but conversing warmly on a variety of diverse subjects. The half-hour ended with them feeling quite a bit more at ease in each other's company. As she was escorted from the floor, Lizzie noticed Mr Andrews leading Charlotte out and smiled warmly. It was her fondest wish for her two friends to come to an understanding and she hoped that now he would begin to notice Charlotte's true worth. She deserved as much.

Fitzwilliam went in search of refreshments while Lizzie joined Georgiana. When he returned he found them deep in a conversation about her family, something they had not yet touched upon. He knew nothing other than that she came from Hertfordshire, and he knew nobody of her relatives but the young cousin and two sisters he had met. He was also aware that she had an aunt and uncle living in Cheapside, the very aunt she had accompanied to Kent twelve years ago.

"Fitzwilliam, did you know Miss Bennet is one of five sisters? How I would have enjoyed to even only have one - not that you are not the best of brothers - but I have often longed for a sister."

"And I would have liked a brother," said Lizzie. "My parents particularly wanted a son because the estate is entailed to the male line, but it was not to be. Instead they were burdened with five very boisterous and wilful girls."

"I can see where that description might apply to your youngest sister," said Fitzwilliam, "but neither you nor Mrs Fairborn could have been anything other than perfect daughters."

"Dear Jane," said Lizzie. "She has been the biggest comfort to my mother with her calm nature, caring and clear-sightedness. My father and I have always been very close but to my mother I have been somewhat of a trial."

"I cannot believe that," said Georgiana.

"My mother will never forgive my spinsterhood."

"You are no spinster!" cried Georgiana.

"In my mother's eyes any girl of seven and twenty and still unmarried is doomed to a terrible fate."

"I am certain your mother will be relieved of such worries in the very near future," said Fitzwilliam softly, but not too softly for Lizzie alone to hear. She turned her head away, unable to meet his eyes, and he continued in a louder tone. "Your other two sisters - are they younger than you?"

Lizzie was able to collect herself though her pulse was beating irregularly. She did not want to read too much into his words, but really they could only mean one thing - it was as if he had declared himself right there in front of his sister and a room full of people. But he was not expecting an answer, only giving reassurance that his intentions were unchanged from what they had been twelve years before. Lizzie knew how she wanted to respond and how she ought to respond, but she also knew that for now she must continue the conversation as if the statement had not been made. She quieted her singing heart and answered with as much tranquillity as possible. "Mary is a year my junior and Kitty two years younger still. You met her, I believe, when she toured your estate with our aunt and uncle. I'm sure you will not recall the visit - you must encounter so many tourists."

Understanding dawned. Fitzwilliam could never have forgotten the young girl he had almost mistaken for her or that fateful day itself. "I remember her perfectly. She is very like you, but not nearly so . . . lovely." The word was inadequate, but any word he could say in this setting could not describe the true difference between the sisters, at least to his mind and heart. "For a moment when I came upon her on the landing I almost thought . . ."

Lizzie looked up at him and their eyes held. It explained so much - she almost laughed aloud now at the thought of all Kitty's vain suppositions. Something like relief coursed through her, not that she had ever doubted him, but that his words proved she had been right to believe in him all along. "They are both married now thus increasing my mother's dissatisfaction with my unmarried state." Her eyes twinkled as if with a private joke and Fitzwilliam responded with his slow, soft smile. They were unto themselves as an island in a sea of ball gowns and court cards, enchanted to discover that even more than the physical attraction and bond of true feeling that existed between them, there was a meeting of their minds opening up ever new vistas that broadened all their hopes and expectations. The only word to describe what they were experiencing now was awe.

Georgiana watched the two of them and felt a flush of happiness at the thought that her wish of having a sister would surely soon be answered.

Chapter Eighteen

Posted on Tuesday, 18 November 2003, at 12:11 a.m.

Mr Andrews arrived promptly at 11:00 to escort Miss Pawson and Charlotte to the British Museum to view the Elgin Marbles. The Greek sculptures that had caused so much controversy for the past ten years, since their arrival upon British soil, had recently been procured by the museum and now were its most popular attraction. During the short carriage drive, Mr Andrews explained their history to Miss Pawson, telling her how Thomas Bruce, the seventh Earl of Elgin, had bought them from the Turks who were presently controlling Athens.

"But do you truly think," interposed Charlotte, "that his prime objective was to save them from being destroyed by the Turks and used as building materials?"

"By no means," said Mr Andrews. "He wanted to use them to decorate Broom Hall, but what with being taken prisoner by the French on his return trip and discovering his life here in England all in a shambles when he was finally released, he found himself in very straitened circumstances." He was careful not to mention the scandal of the Earl's wife leaving him for another man in the interim. "They were mouldering in packing crates for years until he was able to sell them to the British Museum, and many pieces had broken during transport and were beyond repair."

"Would that he had left them where they were," said Charlotte. "I understand that he incurred great expenses bringing them home that he was unable to recoup."

"He was asking seventy-five thousand for them originally, but after years of haggling finally settled for thirty-five. I understand his estate was completely bankrupt."

"Then he was justly served by fate, don't you think?"

Aurelia looked out the window, bored with the conversation. She hoped the museum would be better - so far the outing was no more than a dreary history lesson. Everyone in London was in raptures over the marbles themselves so she had been excited to see them, but this introduction was unpropitious.

Once in front of the display, Aurelia had to admit it was well worth the visit. She dutifully nodded whenever Mr Andrews informed her of some irrelevant fact, but if asked she could never have repeated what had just been said to her. She was not interested that the statues were created by the fifth century master, Phideas, or that they had originally formed fifty-six sections of the frieze and tympana of the Parthenon in Athens; what caught her attention was the grand scale of the sculptured forms of male and female physique - rippling muscles showed through the marble tunics and armour - soft curves through the filmy stone draperies. She barely noticed the missing noses and broken arms; she was struck by the virility and perfection of high classical Greek sculpture.

Charlotte was left breathless herself. Her usually practical mind was caught by the beauty of the ancient stone that resonated with myth and legend. "To have been able to see it as it was, intact, high above the columns of that magnificent structure." Her voice echoed the wonder of her sentiment.

"Warmed by the Aegean sun - the crowning glory of the Acropolis," agreed Mr Andrews. He looked over at her and thought how the light in her grey eyes enhanced her face. He had never before noticed, but she was actually quite pretty.

"Though I feel honoured to have seen them," she said, "I think that bringing them here was truly a travesty. Would the Turkish builders really have destroyed such works of art?"

"I cannot say. They do not respect these treasures and have laid waste to many temples. They may have sold them instead to another buyer. For some, money is of higher value than any other consideration."

"I would not put money highest on my list," said Charlotte.

"Nor I," he softly replied, wondering at the spell the statues had laid upon him. Charlotte Lucas was turning out to be a most enjoyable companion. He had always known her to be kind, sensible, and dependable, but he was now discovering that she was also sensitive and intelligent.

"What are your impressions, Aurelia?" asked Charlotte. She had almost forgotten the girl's presence and had to remind herself that it was because of her that Mr Andrews had accompanied them. As much as she enjoyed talking to him, her protege must be brought back into the conversation.

"They are indeed impressive. How lucky we are to have them here in England, for I should never have undertaken a voyage to Greece to see them."

"You do not like travel, then?" asked Mr Andrews.

"I have travelled but little," she admitted. "I should think it would be frightfully exciting but for all the hours spent bouncing in a coach and all the dust." She then turned her attention to Charlotte. "Miss Lucas, would we be able to move into the other room? I noticed Miss Burnley enter it. I met her at the ball and would dearly like to greet her."

Charlotte cast Mr Andrews a questioning glance and he politely took both their arms and led them from the grand display. She looked back one last time, her feelings still very mixed regarding the marbles. When they reached the other room, Aurelia pointed out a fashionably dressed young lady escorted by an elegantly attired gentleman.

"There she is with her brother."

Charlotte eyed Aurelia suspiciously as a faint blush spread across her countenance. She wouldn't have been surprised if this chance meeting of her new friend was not as accidental as it would seem. The couple turned just then and came forward to greet them. Charlotte watched closely as Aurelia made the introductions. Both she and the young man appeared quite conscious, and Miss Burnley herself a trifle over-eager. If Charlotte had been one for betting, she would have laid money on the fact that neither young lady was at all acquainted. She was quite annoyed with Aurelia for serving Mr Andrews such a trick, but did her best to conceal her displeasure.

Mr Andrews shook hands with Mr Burnley thinking that they must have met each other on some previous occasion, so familiar he was, and then he had a revelation of why he knew him. He was the very same gentleman who had claimed Miss Pawson's hand at the ball, and he was certain she had danced with him more than once.

It soon came out in their conversation that Aurelia's friends had not yet seen the marbles, so she begged to be allowed to accompany them. "I will be able to pass on all the information which I have already learned from you and Mr Andrews," she said guilelessly.

"I do not know that I want to see them again," said Charlotte. "They make me think too much. I would prefer to wait for you outside in the fresh air."

Mr Andrews looked from one lady to the other. He was ostensibly Miss Pawson's escort, but he could not allow Miss Lucas to go outside unescorted. His responsibilities lay to Mrs Pawson and he ought not leave her daughter in favour of her companion, but the Burnleys appeared to be well-bred, pleasant people and quite irreproachable.

Charlotte understood his dilemma. "Have no concern for me - I will do very well on my own. At my age there can be no impropriety in it."

That settled the matter for Mr Andrews. He had known Charlotte Lucas for many years and could not bear to see her speak of herself as if she were an ageing spinster. "I will accompany you, Miss Lucas," he said and then he turned to Aurelia. "I hope you will forgive me."

"Oh, I understand completely. My dear Miss Lucas must not be left alone - I would not have it. Thank you so much for your kindness, Mr Andrews. We shall not be above fifteen minutes, Miss Lucas, I promise." She smiled brightly at them both and then accepted Mr Burnley's proffered arm.

As they watched the threesome walk away, Charlotte said to Mr Andrews, "Thank you. I hope you do not mind too much."

"On the contrary." He took her arm and steered her through the crowds to the entrance. "I am glad to be in your company. I enjoyed our talk back there very much, and was hoping for more conversation with you. And I am very curious about one thing you recently said."

"What was that?"

"You stated that the marbles make you think too much."

They were now outside and found a low bench in the balustrade to sit upon. "I usually have such a sensible, rational nature," said Charlotte, "but in the presence of so much resonating history I felt as if I was being besieged by thoughts and visions of ages past. Oh! It sounds so foolish when I say it here in the light of day."

"It does not sound foolish at all. Those old stones struck me in much the same way. I was strongly reminded of my own mortality."

They sat in deep conversation hardly noticing that the fifteen minutes became half an hour. When the Burnleys eventually returned Miss Pawson to them, they both regretted that their discussion had to come to an end. The carriage ride home was silent, but it was a comfortable silence that none of the three wished to disturb.

When he left them at their door Mr Andrews went on to his club, mildly surprised at how contented he felt. He did not stop to question why he should when the intended object of his regard had not really paid him much attention, or he her. Instead, as he waited for the dinner he ordered, he ran his mind over what other excursions of interest he might escort the ladies on, his thoughts running more to things that would please a lady of two and thirty rather than a young girl of seventeen.

Aurelia immediately excused herself upon entering the house and went to her room to gaze out her window and wonder if, under that elegantly tailored morning coat, Mr Burnley looked anything like those most amazing sculptures. Charlotte was so lost in thought that she forgot to question her charge about the not so chance encounter with Miss and Mr Burnley and instead was happily grateful for the half hour of pleasure it had afforded.

~

Bingley nervously fiddled with his cravat as he waited for the door to open. He was hoping against hope that she was in. He had come to a momentous decision and had now finally screwed up the courage to put it into action. He was certain she loved him - well, almost certain. There was always room for a small doubt until she confirmed it. That he loved her was unquestionable. He had been falling in love since that day they had first met. No matter how much he had striven to put her memory out of his mind, the vision of her had never faded. If he thought Darcy tortured by love of a girl unknown, then he was even more pulled apart knowing he was in love with one who was married and completely unattainable. It was thoroughly perverse. How could one's mind, heart and soul conspire against one like that? But now . . .

The door finally opened and he was led again to the parlour where he had seen her the other day with her sweet little daughters. What a sight for his eyes that had been. It was all he could do to prevent himself from proposing then and there in front of Lily and Rose. They had charmed him even more, all three of them, showing him what a family he could have - what happiness could be awaiting at his own hearth every single day.

He was ushered into the room and to his delight she was alone. Fear pricked again. The fear that she would not have him and all that he now enjoyed would be lost. He would never be able to bask in her warm smiles if it turned out she did not care - that it was only her sweet nature that smiled on him and nothing more. He liked to think that she gave him smiles that were different than the ones she gave other men. Smiles that said she cared for him above all the others. In fact he was sure of it. This surety gave him resolve and he stepped forward.

Jane looked up from where she sat at Mr Bingley who had just been ushered into the room. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a butterfly looking to escape its confines. He did not move, just stood there slightly beyond the door that closed behind him and uttered not a word. The look on his face was unreadable - almost apprehensive. A sudden dread tugged at her. Was he about to say goodbye? She could not bear for him to leave, not now when everything seemed to be going so perfectly. Every minute spent with him had been magical. She was almost assured of his love - his every glance seemed to speak of it. Except right now. Instead his look seemed wary, unapproachable.

He stepped forward suddenly and his face opened. He smiled. With his smile the light returned to her soul. She smiled too and the warmth in his doubled, trebled.

Her smile had sealed everything. The way it lit up her delicate face, the way her cheeks rounded so becomingly and her eyes were infused with life. His breath was taken away by the sight of her and his greatest fear now was that he would be unable to speak.

"I had been hoping to find you alone." It had been his only thought and he still could not believe that it was reality. That the time to take hold of his destiny was now.

The emotion in his voice caused her to tremble. She looked up into his face and could not look away. He had not come to say goodbye - he had come to claim her as his own. Her whole being filled with gladness. It was as if somewhere deep inside a nightingale sang.

He knelt by her side and took her hand. She barely noticed his actions; all she could see were his eyes and she marvelled at how clear and blue they were.

"May I call you Jane?" He could not imagine proposing to her with the name Mrs Fairborn upon his lips. He would not say Mrs to her again until he could call her Mrs Bingley, nothing else.

She nodded her head, unable to speak.

"Dearest Jane," he said, his voice choking up. "I have longed for this day, and yet I have this fear inside me that only you can dispel."

"You need fear nothing." She spoke so softly it was barely audible.

"If I were to tell you how long I have loved you, you would not believe me, but I can name the very hour of the very day - the very location where I first set eyes on you - and say that I have loved you since that moment though I feel I have loved you forever. When I saw you again at Almacks my heart stood still. I knew not how I would live through the evening wanting you as I did and thinking you unattainable. You cannot imagine the joy I felt upon learning you were free." He reached out and stroked her cheek - a feather-light touch that sent warmth rushing through her.

"I felt that same joy upon seeing you again. I too can name the time and the place of our first meeting," she said. "I knew it was wrong of me - so wrong - but I could not help the feelings that suffused me that day."

"I hated myself," he admitted, "even as I loved you. But I never regretted the love. I never wished I had not seen you."

"I too."

He inched closed to her, his one hand still clasping hers, his other tenderly playing with the loose curls at her temple. "It would only have been wrong if we had acted upon it," he whispered. "I left as soon as I was able. It is the most difficult thing I have ever done."

"When I came indoors and you were no longer there I knew it was as it had to be, but I felt such sorrow just the same."

"My darling," he said, and kissed her hand. "But now there is room only for happiness."

They both knew there would be a time later when they would have to speak of her marriage, have to deal with the guilt they both felt at gaining their happiness through Henry Fairborn's death. But this was a time to speak only of love - the love they shared for one another.

Jane smiled and Charles longed to take her in his arms and discover how sweet her lips could be when joined with his own, but he needed to ask for her hand first - to commit himself to her, body and soul.

"My Love, my heart, my very angel." His voice was gently caressing. "I want nothing other than to marry you, if you will but say yes."

"And I want nothing but to marry you, my dearest love."

His hand slipped down and back, behind her head, caressing as it went. He leaned closer, and not losing contact with her eyes said, "I want to hear my name on your lips."

She sighed and reached her free hand to his curls. "Charles," she whispered. "My love, my own."

She could say no more for his lips had found hers. They kissed softly, slowly savouring the moment, then he rested his forehead against hers and simply held her close.

Chapter Nineteen

Posted on Monday, 24 November 2003, at 11:43 a.m.

As soon as Bingley took his leave, Jane lost no time in sharing her joy with Lizzie.

"I wish you could have my happiness Lizzie," she said as her sister offered her congratulations with a warm hug. "I am beside myself with joy - I never knew such a feeling. He loves me!"

"Of course he does Jane," said Lizzie. "How could he help himself?"

"And he has always loved me, ever since that day I first set eyes on him. What I felt that day was not some prurient inclination but rather something pure and true. And he felt it too!"

"Oh Jane," said Lizzie, feeling tears rise quickly to her eyes. "This is what you have long deserved."

"Mr Bingley has left to go directly to Longbourn to speak to Papa. I feel as anxious as a schoolgirl."

"Papa is sure to be very taken with him, and Mama will be beside herself."

Jane laughed. "And no one there to protect poor Charles from her effusions. I must go and tell the girls they are to have a new father. How do you think they will take the news?"

"Very well," said Lizzie. She saw no problems there. Since they had met Mr Bingley, the two little girls spoke of him constantly, hoping that he would visit them soon. Lizzie watched her sister leave the room and remembered Jane's doubts as she entered into her first marriage. There was none of that this time - instead she was overflowing with light and laughter.

Lydia received the news well, if a trifle enviously. It seemed to her that although Jane and Mr Bingley had been smelling of April and May since that night at Almacks, it was still unfair that her sister should have been proposed to and accepted for a second time while she yet remained unclaimed. She consoled herself that at least she had received two or three very flattering and quite amorous proposals in her career, whereas Lizzie had only that disgusting proposal from Mr Collins to her credit.

~

Mr Bingley returned the following day and the announcement of the betrothal reached every house in London by the morning paper the day after. Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, of course, heard it directly from the man himself who was so deliriously happy he was almost too much to behold. His sister Caroline was having great difficulty showing her forbearance.

"If I again hear the story of how he first saw his angel descending the staircase at Netherfield, I swear I shall become ill. Is he not just too, too love-struck, Mr Darcy?" She leaned towards Fitzwilliam as she spoke, clearly expecting some fellow feeling. He was nearly overpowered by her cloying scent.

"I am very happy for him. Mrs Fairborn is a lovely lady."

"She smiles too much, but to be sure she is very sweet. I do find her sister rather shrewish, though. And such designing airs. I must warn you that she will seek to gain from her sister's good fortune."

"Indeed?"

"Have you not noticed Miss Bennet casting her lures your way? Be forewarned - she is out to garner a fortune, that one."

"If that were the case," said Fitzwilliam blandly, "she would have married that Andrews chap years ago."

"Mr Andrews? You are quite mistaken. He is mooning about after that Pawson chit like a callow youth. I wager he did not come up to the mark with Miss Bennet and now you are in some danger of her full attack."

Despite himself, Fitzwilliam's anger was piqued. "Desist in your slanderous remarks, Mrs Ellington," he answered stiffly.

Caroline could not contain herself. In her jealousy her spiteful tongue got the better of her good judgement. "There are some that call her pretty, but I see none of that. Her teeth are tolerable, her features merely passable, and her eyes, which are generally spoken of as fine, to me appear calculating. Her behaviour shows a certain disregard for propriety. It is small wonder that at the age of seven and twenty she has become quite desperate to marry, for who would want her?"

"She is the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance and very desirable," said Fitzwilliam, turning his back on Caroline and walking from the room.

He made his way up to the nursery and stood watching his own Elizabeth Anne as she slept, moonlight gilding the curve of her cheek. He reached out and touched her soft curls while his anger dissipated into the still air. After all these years he should have known better than to let Caroline Ellington's malice affect him so much. The woman would never forgive him for spurning her - would never leave off trying to impress him even though married herself. Her overtures had bordered on the improper more times than once. He wished fervently that her husband would come to London and rein her in.

"Brother, our guests are leaving," said Georgiana from the doorway. "Will you not come down and bid them goodnight?"

"I am so sorry for deserting you, dearest," he said, smiling at her expression of gentle concern. "I will be down directly."

Georgiana always knew where to find him when he was feeling out of sorts. Nothing calmed him like his little daughter. There was only one person in the world who meant more to him than her.

~

"If I am to be in the same room as those lovebirds all day, I swear I shall elope with the first man that asks me," cried Lydia.

"Then it is to be hoped that your gentlemen friends show more good sense than you," said Lizzie expressively as the young men who had come to call looked over at Lydia eagerly.

Mr Greenly only sat back in his chair and smiled. "Miss Lydia, do I detect a note of envy?"

"Not in the least," she was quick to return. "It is just so utterly boring. Lord, and to think we will have to suffer a month of this."

"A month is quite a short engagement, is it not?" he answered.

"Not short enough to my mind!"

"I think your sister and Mr Bingley are in agreement with you."

"W . . . will you not drive out with me?" ventured one of her younger swains.

"Oh, I should dearly love to. May I Lizzie?"

"And leave all your other callers dangling their heels here with me?"

"I should not mind in the least," said Mr Greenly gallantly.

"You see?" said Lydia, somewhat chagrined at his compliance. She had been hoping that Mr Greenly would offer to take her out for a drive himself. "There are no objections."

"But . . ." interposed the other young gentleman who was seated beside her.

"Mr Porter will not mind if you join us, Mr Uruquart, will you?" She bestowed a beseeching look upon the gentleman who had originally offered the invitation.

"N-not in the l-least," he managed, though he appeared far from pleased at the prospect. "Though . . . how would it be m-managed?"

"It would be highly improper, Lydia," said Lizzie.

"And we c-could not all s-squeeze into my c-curricle," said Mr Porter, casting Lizzie a look of gratitude.

"Oh fie! I was not suggesting anything so vulgar," cried Lydia. "Mr Uruquart came on horseback and he will ride by my side, once we reach Hyde Park. It is above reproach, Lizzie. Really."

"Then I see no problem," said Mr Greenly. "And it should alleviate any worries you may have had regarding elopement, Miss Bennet. I don't suppose your sister would undertake to elope with two young men at the same time."

Lizzie stifled a giggle in part at Mr Greenly's comment and in part at the look of deep annoyance that Lydia cast him.

"Miss Lydia, do not be concerned on your sister's and my behalf," continued Mr Greenly. "We shall be quite happy to stay here and chaperone the besotted couple. In fact I am looking forward to becoming better acquainted with Miss Bennet."

"Oh!" said Lydia. "Do not think that I care one single jot how you plan to spend your time, sir!" And she flounced out of the room, followed closely by the two young gentlemen, who were quite relieved to see that their most serious rival had worked himself into a position of disfavour. Neither thought the other a threat at all.

"I must apologise for Lydia's behaviour," said Lizzie hurriedly. "Sometimes she is a little rash."

"No need at all," said Mr Greenly shaking his head. "I understand her perfectly - and regardless of her very obvious faults I am quite taken with her. I know that deep down there lurks a girl who is very worthy of esteem and I plan to go the distance in securing her."

"You have my best wishes for success in your endeavour," said Lizzie. "Lydia will be very lucky to have you."

He nodded in acceptance of her compliment and answered in a voice that showed he truly meant all that he had said, "And I count myself lucky to have found her."

~

An excursion to Richmond Park was what Mr Andrews had eventually decided upon. Mrs Pawson accepted the invitation on behalf of both her daughter and Miss Lucas and it was decided to drive out the following Tuesday. Miss Pawson did all that was in her power to turn the occasion into a group outing but her plans fell through when the friends she desired to join them, Mr Burnley and his sister, admitted to having pressing family obligations that day.

The week that led up to the excursion seemed to drag for Aurelia. Mr Andrews visited three times and Mr Burnley only twice, and one of those visits coincided with his rival's. Luckily Mr Andrews seemed content to converse with Miss Lucas because, though he was quite handsome even for his age, his conversation was boring compared to that of the younger gentleman. His lacked the fulsome compliments and poetic utterances of Mr Burnley, and he never did gaze into her eyes with quite the same earnest devotion. He was rich, as her mother was intent on reminding her, but he was not her idea of an ardent lover. She was looking for passion, not intellect - romance rather than good common sense.

Tuesday arrived with cloudless skies of a bright spring blue. Even Aurelia had to admit that it was the type of day designed by nature expressly for enjoying a drive in a park. Richmond was like being in the depths of the country again, something that she truly did miss though she was delighting in the bustle of city life.

She enjoyed seeing the timid deer bounding off at the sound of the carriage into the depth of the woods. They stopped and picnicked by the side of a pond, sharing their scraps with the ducks that came up from the water in the hopes of a handout. The baskets Mr Andrews had brought contained a truly sumptuous repast. After they had their fill, they walked by the water. Aurelia lapsed into silence as she let her thoughts drift upon more fanciful lines than the plebeian conversation of her companions.

In her imaginings Mr Burnley came upon them on horseback. His muscles rippled beneath his riding clothes and as he rode by he bent down and scooped her up to sit before him on the saddle. They rode off into the dimness of the woods as he whispered words of love into her ear. What was to happen after that she had no idea - her fantasy just drifted off into pleasant, wistful feelings and then started from the beginning again where she detailed his appearance, his expression, the strength of his grip as he pulled her up, until they again rode away to explore that wonderful mystery of life together.

Charlotte noticed that Aurelia had a distant look in her eyes, but after two or three attempts at including her in the conversation she gave up trying. Mr Andrews did not seem to mind that the girl was preoccupied and soon Charlotte left off worrying about it as well. She was having too good of a time to spoil it with unnecessary concerns. In her mind the day was close to perfection. If she had been Mr Andrews' favoured companion for the day, and the outing arranged solely for her benefit, then it would have been perfect. But she cautioned herself not to forget that it was all for Miss Pawson's entertainment, and if Mr Andrews chose to converse with her while the girl enjoyed her surroundings it was just a measure of his kindness and hospitality.

For his part, Mr Andrews was suffering from a certain amount of confusion of mind. Miss Pawson was pretty and naively charming and he ought to find her company more interesting than he did, but her conversation was either insipid or non-existent. To all intents and purposes she was ignoring him, and yet he was having a most enjoyable time. He had always held Miss Lucas in esteem for her friendship with Elizabeth Bennet, but he had never really known the true depth of her character. She was a very entertaining companion.

His increasing disinterest in Miss Pawson disturbed him and it was difficult for him to discover why. He had committed himself to her in no way, so he knew that if he stopped his attentions towards her he would not be going back on any promises, in fact he was sure that her interest in him was marginally less than his in her. So if he stopped courting her he would be hurting no one. But the idea of no longer visiting her caused him regret.

He was enjoying himself now; in fact he was happier than he had been in quite a while. He was no longer a prisoner of unrequited love. When he saw Elizabeth Bennet in the company of Fitzwilliam Darcy he had slowly come to the realisation that loving her was futile. It was with much sadness that he had released her, and though deep down he knew he would always feel a tender regard for her, he no longer felt that burning need that he had carried around for so long until it had become a habit. He only recently realised that when, in the end, he had given all hope of her up he had really set himself free from a cage of his own devising.

And now, his second attempt at securing love had gone awry. He smiled at himself as he assisted Miss Pawson and Miss Lucas back into the carriage. He was finally able to see the foolishness of his own actions. His heart fresh and eager to love had rushed from his loss headlong into desire, but not desire of a lady for who she was. Instead it was the idea of loving again that had appealed to him so much. The idea that was as young and fresh as the girl he set his sights on. It could have been any girl, but for some reason he had chosen Miss Pawson. He was handing the ladies down from the carriage on their return when, as he held Miss Lucas' hand and looked up into her eyes, he realised that he had chosen Miss Pawson because of Charlotte Lucas herself. It was that plain and simple.

That was the moment Mr Andrews realised he had embarked upon his third attempt at securing love. And suddenly he was filled with such confidence as he had never before felt.

~

Fitzwilliam sat back in his chair and sighed. Bingley had been happily engaged for two weeks and yet he could not bring himself to the point of declaration. He had been in Elizabeth's company on numerous occasions, usually with the vision of Bingley and Mrs Fairborn's bliss before him. Somehow the spectacle of their openly expressed devotion caused Elizabeth to be shyer than she had been in his company before the event, and more withdrawn. When she looked at him her eyes were filled with an emotion that he could not quite read, and she looked away all too quickly. When they conversed she was more contemplative, less witty, and at times almost overcome with self-consciousness. This, in turn, caused his reserve to resurface - his fears to return.

Being in her presence was always a heady experience and that had not changed. Whenever he saw her he was again struck by his overwhelming love of her. But his heightened awareness helped him to feel the discomfort that radiated from her. He could not understand the cause. Every evening, upon his return, he would sit and contemplate - try to discover if he had somehow done or said something to cause her such unease. But he could not. Why her sister's happiness affected her this way he could not fathom. He was afraid it had something to do with their past, and he knew that though he was sure of their mutual love there were hurdles of a very complex and delicate nature that they would have to master. He just hoped that they were not insurmountable.

He got up from his chair and walked to the window, pulling back the blind. The street was dark, barely lit by the light of the crescent moon. Even blacker shadows were cast by the looming shapes of the close-built London houses. It had rained earlier and glassy puddles reflected what little light there was. The aspect was completely uninviting. He would find no answers there.

He left his study and started up the staircase, his hand running along the smooth oak banister as he went, treasuring the familiarity of the old wood. His heart hung heavy in his chest. On the landing he hesitated. His quarters were to the left, the nursery to the right. In his bedchamber there was nothing but his own thoughts eddying endlessly over the same doubts and fears. In the nursery was his one consolation in life - the amazing blessing he had received from the greatest sacrifice he had ever willingly made. When he looked at Elizabeth Anne he was always filled with wonder that a union so empty had created such a thing of beauty. He could never have not loved her. It was immediate and automatic. She had brought joy out of emptiness and if he lost all else he would cherish that forever.

He turned to the right, treading softly as he manoeuvred the dark corridor.

Chapter Twenty

Lizzie came downstairs slowly, pausing at the landing to hold her thoughts in check. She did not want to enter the breakfast room with her disquiet written all over her face. This was Jane's special time and nothing should cloud it - but she couldn't help the foreboding that rose from the pit of her stomach and threatened to choke her. While Jane looked ahead to happiness she saw nothing for herself but an empty shell of a life. Why had she even allowed herself to be deluded into thinking that it would work? The dream of being his own was too alluring, too enticing, and her desires had led her astray from her convictions, her principles.

His face was always so tight and cold now - so distant - and their conversation strained. And her dreams - they haunted her as they had never done before. There was the cottage and the rider and rain falling in torrents from the darkened sky. She stood in the doorway, but though she could see him riding by in the distance he never came near. He just stayed out in the driving rain until it washed him completely away and she returned to that shoddy parlour where the fire refused to light and she tumbled upon the coarse hearthrug and tried to will his warming presence to her - but she was unrelievably cold.

She knew she ought not let such dreams impress themselves upon her thoughts and twist them like smoke. She knew that dwelling on her sorrows would lead her down a sunless lane. She needed to remember what was still light and bright in this world and cling to it. Revel in Jane's good fortune. But what Jane had gained reminded her all too strongly of what she could never possess. And with each day her sorrow deepened.

At first she had only felt delight for Jane and a secret sizzling joy at her own prospects - but then she was struck forcibly with a truth that she had almost succeeded in hiding from herself. A day or two after Jane's betrothal she had been walking in the small garden that ran alongside the stables behind the house, a high stone wall dividing it from the buildings that rose up alongside. There was barely room between wall and cobbles for the few gaunt shrubs that valiantly grew in the shady plot but it was a place where she could be out of doors and on her own. The words Jane had said to her suddenly flashed within her mind. What I felt that day was not some prurient inclination but rather something pure and true. And it was all suddenly brought back to her. What Jane and Mr Bingley had was indeed pure and true. But she had followed her prurient inclination. She had made the move that had led Fitzwilliam to unleash his great need and longing and she had harnessed it with her own body. She had acted upon a feeling that she ought to have controlled. She had taken advantage of his vulnerable state and she had ruined herself for any man in the process. Even for him. Especially for him. As her disgust in her past actions built she forgot every other consideration.

When she next saw him she could barely look at him for mortification, and after that she only looked at him to find proof of her own fears. Sometimes one is only capable of seeing what one is looking for though the real truth is staring one in the face, and she saw only what she expected to find. He was uneasy in her presence - his good manners must have hidden it from her before. She made him uncomfortable. Their past was lodged between them - an impenetrable barrier that even their love could not surmount. She had renewed her earlier vow, that she would marry no one, not even him because she wasn't worthy of anyone's love and she shed her idyllic dreams.

Each day it became harder to bear, especially as she was constantly in his presence. Every afternoon soiree, every dinner party that she attended he was there and she was drawn to him as to a magnet, unable to give up his company even as she gave up their very future together. It was something beyond pain.

Lizzie took a deep breath and put a smile upon her face, and then continued down the stairs. No one was seated at the table when she entered. She served herself sparingly from the chafing dishes and sat in her accustomed spot. There was an envelope addressed in her name lying before her. She opened it casually, thinking that invitations were just what she needed at this point in her life - to keep herself active and her mind from traversing that same torturous ground. It was from Georgiana Darcy inviting her to walk out that very morning. She knew she ought to decline but the temptation was just too great, and anyway, she told herself, the invitation did not mention that he would be present, so there was no reason for her heart to race as it was doing. Before continuing her light repast, before allowing herself the time to reconsider her decision, before she remembered the pain of salt upon a fresh wound, she rang for her writing materials and dashed out a quick acceptance, and then, barely allowing time for the ink to dry, she called for a footman to deliver it at once.

~

When Lizzie was shown into the well-appointed drawing room, Georgiana's evident pleasure at seeing her caused her to make an extra effort to exert herself and shake off the melancholy that enveloped her like a cloak. She tried to ignore the feelings that simply being in his home evoked. The elegance and yet comfort of the compartment spoke to her of his character and she once or twice had to avert her eyes when the feelings of loss became too strong. To counteract this deleterious effect the room had upon her, she strove to inject lightness and gaiety into her conversation.

"My brother is caught up with estate business this morning," said Georgiana, "and sends his regrets, but he will be free to join us at luncheon. It was my plan to take Elizabeth Anne out with us - there is a small garden an easy distance from here."

Lizzie readily assented and soon they were underway, the child's nursemaid pushing her ahead of the ladies in her perambulator. Talk centred around the little girl and as if she knew she was the centre of attention, she sat up in her pram, straining her curly head to see past her nursemaid's form and smiling enchantingly at first Georgiana and then Lizzie.

In the garden the young maid settled herself on a bench and took Elizabeth Anne upon her knee, but the toddler squirmed and struggled, intent to scramble down to the paving stones and freedom.

"She loves to walk," explained Georgiana. "Fitzwilliam and I take her by either hand and let her lead us about the flowerbeds. Would you mind if we did that, you and I?"

"I would like that very much. My young cousins were the same at her age and I have spent many a fond hour in just such a pursuit," said Lizzie.

Georgiana could not help but notice that though her friend was hiding it well, there was a shadow that hung heavily over her liveliness and a wistful expression in her eyes when they rested upon Elizabeth Anne. She had every intention of attempting to discover its cause, and so, after allowing the child to entertain them for some time, they returned her to her nurse and then strolled a little further afield all on their own.

There was a short walk lined with large azaleas in full profusion of dusty pink, blazing orange, and warm yellow blooms. They provided not only fragrance and beauty but also the privacy that Georgiana sought.

She turned to Lizzie. "Miss Bennet, I am about to be presumptuous. I hope you will not think ill of me for being so bold, but I cannot watch you struggling to pretend all is well and say nothing. I feel very much that I am your friend . . . and it hurts me to see you this way. Is there anything that I have done to upset you?" Georgiana blushed and faltered but she made it through her speech, even if her final sentence was a little rushed and breathless.

Lizzie was deeply touched at the offer of friendship and concern for her wellbeing, especially as Miss Darcy, for all her shyness, was able to voice such an intimate subject. "Miss Darcy, you must not think that. You have always been so kind and so generous to me, much more so than I deserve. I am well - I had a disturbing dream - it left a feeling that I cannot shake. It is only foolishness on my part. I am sorry if I have not been a good companion."

"I am enjoying your company as I always do. It is just that I am perceptive in this regard - I have long experienced watching my brother do just the same thing." Lizzie looked up at Georgiana, her eyes wide, her colour drained. "But I did not come here to talk of Fitzwilliam . . . I want to know if there is any way I can help you. Do you feel able to share your troubles with me, or am I asking too much?"

Lizzie turned towards the flowers trying to regain her composure. She did not see them. Her eyes were filled with welling tears that she strove to keep at bay.

"I am sorry - I should never have asked. Pray forgive me." Georgiana's voice shook and she slowly began to walk away.

"Stop." Lizzie held out her hand and beckoned for her to return. "Thank you for the care you have shown me just now. It has touched me deeply. There is nothing you or anybody can do to help me, but you deserve to know what is troubling me. When I was young I did something that I regret and the consequences are far-reaching. I cannot go back and change the past, only accept the future I have wrought through that action."

"I too did something when I was young," admitted Georgiana. "The consequences were quite devastating." At that Lizzie looked over to her and their eyes held. Georgiana continued in a steady voice. "But good came out of it too. You must not blame yourself forever for your past mistakes - they are done and over. It is what lies ahead that is important."

"For one so young you are very wise."

"I let all the pain of my mistake engulf me. My cousin Anne helped me out of that darkness with her good counsel - Fitzwilliam with his love. I am only passing on what they have taught me."

"I see no way out of mine," said Lizzie, smiling sadly through the mist of her tears.

"There is always a way out," said Georgina with such conviction it startled Lizzie. "The first step is to take the hand that is held out to you."

She held out her hand and Lizzie took it. That simple gesture created a bond between them as tangible as the flowers and leaves that surrounded them, as tender as their softly delicate fragrance of honey and dew, and as lasting as the blue of the sky above that continued on and on until it reached heaven itself. They stood for some moments in silence and then, upon Lizzie's quiet "thank you," they retraced their steps to Elizabeth Anne who greeted them with cries of delight as her nursemaid tucked her back into her pram.

They walked back to the townhouse. Georgiana was once again the quiet, somewhat reserved Miss Darcy and Lizzie the lively and gently teasing Miss Bennet. The web of sadness had lifted, blown into gossamer threads upon the spring breeze. The deep well of confusion, however, remained.

~

Fitzwilliam threw the ledger down upon his desk. It had taken all his determination not to join the ladies for their walk and now his mind could not stay on his books. The figures just turned into a blur and danced about the page as his thoughts would not leave Elizabeth. Somehow he had to find a moment to speak with her - really speak with her. This distance that had wedged itself between them was too much for him to bear. He could go on no longer without knowing its cause, but the fear that something was irreparably wrong held him back. He stood and began walking restlessly to and fro across the room. When he reached the window that looked out upon the street he held up sharply. They were there below him, just now back from the gardens.

He leaned against the casement and watched Elizabeth say something to Georgiana and smile in that way only she could. The last few times he had been in her company her smiles had been tentative and her eyes had not met his. Was it him then? Or was there no cause for worry at all? Had he been allowing phantoms full rein when there was no reason for their existence? She smiled again and all he could think was that he wanted her to smile upon her thus and erase the torment from his soul.

They stopped at the stairway and the nursemaid lifted Elizabeth Anne out of the perambulator. As Georgiana reached over to take her, Elizabeth intervened and caught the child up in her arms instead. The little girl looked up and laughed into her face and then, putting her tiny arms about Elizabeth's neck, rested her head contentedly upon her shoulder. Elizabeth shifted her burden slightly, leaned her cheek against Elizabeth Anne's profusion of soft curls and then started up the staircase and out of Fitzwilliam's view.

It was just as he had always imagined it, so much so that he wondered if he had indeed witnessed the scene of if it was a creation of his all too active mind. But no - there was the nursemaid still in the street, wheeling the carriage towards the back entrance. There was Georgiana disappearing up the steps. And there, as if imprinted on his mind, was the vision of Elizabeth and his daughter, looking as much a mother herself as he could ever wish.

~

"Miss Darcy." A parlour maid almost as young as Georgiana herself bobbed a little curtsy as she stood in the doorway. "I apologise for the intrusion, but Mrs Grantley finds she has need of a few words with you of an important nature."

Georgiana turned to Lizzie in mild concern. "I hope you don't mind my leaving you alone for a few minutes. My housekeeper would not interrupt me while entertaining a guest unless it was a matter of some urgency."

Lizzie smiled to set her at ease. "I will be quite content with a book while I wait," she said.

"There are some on the table but if you do not find any of interest I could send a footman to the library."

"That should be quite unnecessary. You appear to have a large selection here and if I cannot find one to interest myself for a few minutes well, there would be no excuse for me."

"Thank you. I will try not to be long."

Lizzie picked a book from the table at random. It was a small volume and quite new and felt as if it had been there nestled in her hand on some earlier occasion. She did not see how it could be possible. The book fell open and she ran her eyes over the page, turned back to the beginning and studied the frontispiece. It was the very book she had been perusing when Fitzwilliam met her at the bookshop.

Fitzwilliam. Wherever her thoughts went they always came back to him. So he had bought his sister the book at her own recommendation. Lizzie felt a thrill of pleasure, and rather than read the book let her mind wander back to that afternoon when they had met by chance. I could never doubt you. The sound of his voice reverberated in her head, gently soothing. Could she cling to that?

The door opened and Fitzwilliam himself entered the room. He stood on the threshold, hesitant, and then closed the door and strode forward to stand directly before her.

"How comes it that you are alone?" His voice sounded tentative and strained. She looked up at his eyes and saw what she had been avoiding - his pain.

"Your sister was called away by the housekeeper."

"Did you - did you enjoy your walk?"

"Very much. Elizabeth Anne is the dearest child."

Fitzwilliam smiled in appreciation but all too soon the unsettled look returned to his face. "Elizabeth, we must talk. I . . . you . . . what is happening to us?"

He sat beside her on the divan, reached for her hand and then held back. She turned away and stifled a sob. "Us?" It was all she could manage.

"Yes, us. It was always us. You know that yourself." His voice almost tore. "But what is it that has suddenly come in between? Have I . . ."

"It is not you." The words were wrung out of her. "It is me . . . I am not worthy of you."

He took her hands this time. She could not look at him, not with the way his very touch made her feel. She could feel herself slipping, slipping . . .

"Elizabeth, don't ever think that," he said in desperation. "Don't you remember what I said to you that day? I meant it then and I will always mean it. I think you a wonder. A light in the darkness of my soul."

"But I - I behaved in a most wanton manner. I encouraged you. I made the first move that led to . . ."

He raised her hands to his lips. Kissed first one, then the other - lightly like a feather touch. Still, it burned in her veins and sent that fire throughout her body.

"I was the one who should have held back - I was the one who ought to have known where those actions would lead to - it was up to me to protect you from my desire . . . but I can see that it is not my actions that have caused you so much consternation and confusion, but yours. Elizabeth, how can you think it a wanton act? It was a pure, giving, loving response on your part. You saw my pain and you healed it. You restored my soul. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. It should bind us, not divide us."

She looked up at him then - showed him her tear-streaked face. "I will always be bound to you. From that day you have owned my heart."

"And you mine," he softly whispered, kissing her hands again without losing contact with her eyes. "And you mine."

She rested her head upon his chest, gloried at the sound of his heart beneath her ear, breathed in his scent. Wondered yet again that a love so strong could exist - that it could be reciprocal - that it superseded everything. She could no longer reason, only feel.

"Then we are agreed?" He released one of her hands and placed his arm about her, caressed her cheek. He spoke softly into her hair. "There is no impediment?"

"None."

"Good." He tilted her head up and looked directly into her eyes. Gone was the aching emptiness within their depths. Now they were warmed and filled with love alone, love that was reflected back to her from his own. "I want nothing more than to marry you."

"Do you know how many times I heard those words repeated, awake, or in the deepest of sleep? And how I wished I had been able to answer them that day as I longed to?"

"Answer them now, but you can only agree."

"There is no other answer, Fitzwilliam. I want nothing more than to marry you."

He pulled her to him again. Pressed her head to his chest, rested his cheek upon her hair. "Elizabeth." Her name flowed out in a sigh. "When I returned to the cottage to find you gone I was more lost than I ever had been in my entire life. Now I am whole."

"Leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever done."

"I vowed I would never stop searching for you . . . but my sister needed me. I gave up - can you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive. I was the one who left without a trace. I did not mean to hurt you so. I was young and confused."

"Let us not argue about who should take the greatest fault. You are back where you belong and I will never let you out of my sight again."

Lizzie giggled. "I am afraid you will have to, my love. You must go to Longbourn and speak with my father. I promise not to run away while you are gone."

"And I shall be able to assure your mother that she is to be relieved of all her worries."

"My mother! I must warn you about my mother, Fitzwilliam. She is prone to quite excitable behaviour."

"And you have not yet met my Aunt Catherine."

"I have heard she is rather formidable, and from your tone I believe it must be true."

"Yes, but we need not concern ourselves with her right now. I would much prefer to speak of us. I have lived without you for so long. What say you to a special licence? Will you mind not having a splendid wedding?"

"All I want is you."

"If your parents were to return with me, we could marry within a week."

Lizzie sighed and snuggled back against his shoulder. She could feel all the rushing desire she had felt so many years ago, but she understood the sensation now and she could restrain it and channel it into the overflowing happiness of being within his arms. "To think this morning I lived in a world of gloom. I had convinced myself you were more lost to me than ever."

"My silly love," he said fondly. And as their eyes met she realised that restraint would not be as easy as she had thought.

Fitzwilliam longed to kiss her. The look in her eyes was more than tempting, the feel of her softness in his arms, the delicate scent of roses that he remembered so well. As he lowered his head towards her face he recollected the vow he had made upon leaving the cottage, to show her every deference of propriety, to wait until marriage before sharing any intimacy, and he curbed all the longing he felt to taste her lips again. The kiss that grazed her forehead was all that was sweet and loving and dear. She looked up at him with such unbounded affection that he knew he had made the right decision.

Georgiana backed quickly out of the drawing room before her presence was noticed. The happiness of the couple seated so close together upon the divan was more than evident. She knew she ought to re-enter the room soon with a little more noise but for now she thought to let them have another few moments alone together. They deserved at least that much after the years of heartache they had endured.

The End

Epilogue

Posted on Sunday, 7 December 2003, at 4:51 p.m.

"The gossip mill says the young lady you are engaged to is a country nobody and not in her first youth, even." Colonel Fitzwilliam looked across the top of his glass at his cousin. "What has possessed you, Darcy? Only just free of that disastrous marriage to Anne and you allow yourself to be trapped again. When it comes to women you have never had the least clue."

"Have you been speaking with Mrs Ellington and her cronies?" asked Darcy, looking at his cousin sharply.

"Why yes, it was Bingley's sister who informed me."

"And you don't think it possible she might be biased in her judgement?"

"She's been married a few years now and no longer . . ."

"The woman has never stopped in her attentions to me." Darcy's penetrating gaze held the colonel silent. "Just what did she tell you?" His voice had an edge to it.

"That Miss Bennet had nothing to recommend her but had somehow used her cunning to ensnare you."

"I think you should reserve your judgement until you meet the lady herself. Do you remember the story I told you long ago?"

The colonel sipped his drink. He was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable - there was only one story Darcy could be referring to. "She is not!"

"She is."

"But . . . you couldn't possibly marry her. She could be no more than . . ."

"She could be no more than the girl I fell in love with twelve years ago. I will not have you say a word against her, or refer again to what I disclosed to you in the past. She has always been the only woman in the world for me. There could be no other."

Colonel Fitzwilliam tossed his drink back and reached for the decanter. "Don't get all up in the stirrups!" He sighed resignedly as he refilled his glass. "You were always a hopeless romantic. Marry your mystery girl for all I care - I only hope she will manage this elevation into society without disgracing you."

Darcy laughed dryly. "When you meet her you will understand just how ridiculous that statement is. Regardless of all you have just said I expect you to join us at our wedding Saturday."

"You are losing no time!"

"I have already lost twelve years."

Three days later, Colonel Fitzwilliam finally understood why his cousin had always remained so steadfast. He himself had been a complete fool and he admitted it gracefully. He threw off any preconceptions he had ever held regarding the lady, and in the ensuing years developed a strong friendship with Mrs Darcy. He would never suffer anyone to say a word against her and had a falling out with his aunt, Lady Catherine, over just such an incident. In the end that overbearing lady had to grudgingly admit that her granddaughter was receiving the best of care from her new mother.

~

"I was quite put out by the suddenness of the wedding. With a fortune of ten thousand a year, Lizzie should have had a lavish ceremony - but it is over now and can't be helped. She was wearing the most beautiful emeralds, though! In the family for centuries I daresay. Maybe Lizzie was right to insist on a hurried wedding - tie the knot before he could change his mind! After all you had your chance with the man and all came to naught."

"He was married at the time," wailed Kitty feeling quite put out at how poorly fate had dealt her cards. First her parents descend on her in her home without warning and then they spring a shock like this upon her. "But do not think he was not interested."

Mr Bennet chuckled. "I still have visions of the man striding into my library and demanding Lizzie's hand, then outright telling me to pack my bags for London almost immediately. No Kitty dear - I do not think his interest in you could have been comparable to this. He would have left his wife outright, otherwise."

"Well, I for one am truly pleased that Lizzie has finally married," said Mary primly. "I hope that she will be as happy as I am in my own marriage."

"I do not doubt that she will be doubly so," said Mr Bennet. "I haven't seen my girl so happy since she was a child."

"With ten thousand a year how could she not be?" cried Mrs Bennet, ready to wax long upon what had become her favourite subject ever since Mr Darcy had presented himself on their doorstep. "She must be out of her mind with joy! The jewels! The pin money! The fine estate in Derbyshire!"

"Yes, dear, yes. No need to have an apoplexy."

"And Jane will soon be married again too," said Kitty a tinge of resentment in her voice. "Her Mr Bingley is rich as well, I understand."

"With her beauty I knew it only needed a trip to London to set her up again. And he is such a charming gentleman!" Mrs Bennet sighed and dabbed at her eyes. "I have lost all my girls but Lydia! Oh that I could see her married too!"

"I shouldn't wonder if she receives an offer very shortly," said Mr Bennet smugly.

"Half of London is taken with her for sure," cried his wife. "I suppose her only trouble is choosing one over the other."

"I believe I know which gentleman shall be approaching me."

"Who, Mr Bennet? Who is it to be?"

"I will not tell you till he crosses my threshold."

"You do delight in vexing me, cruel man! I will not rest until I know."

Mrs Bennet would not desist but her husband stood firm. When he tired of the fun he retreated to Kitty's husband's study. The young parson had sensibly chosen that morning to do the rounds of his parish. Mr Bennet seated himself in the most comfortable chair with a volume of Milton and then settled to read until dinner as the excitable conversation in the drawing room continued unabated.

~

Mrs Pawson was quite put out when Charlotte announced her engagement to Mr Andrews. She accused Charlotte of using her position in their household to her own advantage and was highly incensed at such double-dealing. Aurelia, however, expressed her great delight upon hearing the news.

Charlotte returned to Lucas Lodge immediately and Mr Andrews took himself off to Hertforshire to resume his courtship. They were married on a beautiful autumn day surrounded by family and their closest friends. Mr Andrews did not exactly throw himself prostrate upon the ground and grovel at Charlotte's feet (as Alicia wanted him to) for being such a blind nitwit all those years, but he cared for her lovingly throughout their married life and tended with great attention to her every need. He was the best of husbands and most appreciative of his intelligent, sensible wife. They made many trips to the continent and especially enjoyed touring Athens and Rome and seeing all the impressive sculptures and architecture in their natural setting.

Miss Aurelia Pawson, without the good guidance of her sensible governess, enjoyed a season of fickle flirtation. The following season she did as her mama bid and married a man for his fortune. His physique couldn't match that of any of the romantic heroes of her fantasies, and he was older and much more boring than she would have liked. She never was able to discover if Mr Burnley did look like those Greek sculptures under his evening clothes, or if any of her other swains did for that matter, but she never stopped speculating, or daydreaming about the rippling muscles of the many gentlemen who were now forever beyond her reach. Her husband did his best to see that it stayed that way by removing his young bride to the country and rarely bringing her to town.

~

Jane and Bingley's wedding made up for Lizzie's in Mrs Bennet's eyes. The two were married from Longbourn in the parish church. The silk, seed pearls, and lace were all that Fanny Bennet desired. And to top it off, it took place in front of all her closest friends and neighbours so the Lucases, Longs and the like could see how well at least one Bennet girl had married. The wedding breakfast was an extravagant affair and Mrs Bennet's happiness would have been complete if the couple had taken the lease up at Netherfield or even Haye Park. Unfortunately for her, they stayed only their wedding night and then travelled to Derbyshire, where Bingley had purchased a residence not ten miles from Pemberley.

A fortnight after Jane's wedding, Mr Bennet received a visit from a certain gentleman. As Mr Greenly entered his library, Mr Bennet looked up and said, "Are you sure you know what you are getting into young man?"

"I am quite well aware, but I believe I am up to the task." There was a twinkle in his eyes.

Mr Bennet looked at him shrewdly and then smiled and held out his hand. "I do believe you are. She is the last I have to offer or I would try and tempt you with an alternative."

"There is only one of your daughters that is right for me. I think Miss Lydia will keep my life interesting."

"That she will, and if I may offer a few suggestions . . ."

Mr Greenly took a seat and the two gentlemen had an enjoyable conversation for more than an hour.

"I think by now we must put at least my wife out of her misery," said Mr Bennet grudgingly. "It will be a pleasure having you in this family."

"The pleasure is all mine," said Mr Greenly and he went off to tell Lydia that her father had smiled upon his suit. He didn't bother to tell her that the man had also laughed.

~

"Isn't he the most precious thing you have ever seen?" Lizzie looked up at her husband, her eyes shining, her face radiant. In her arms she held her firstborn - James Edward Darcy - named after both his grandfathers.

Fitzwilliam knelt at her side, his hand upon his heir's tiny head. He looked away from his new son and back to his wife. "No," he said softly.

"Of course - you saw Elizabeth Anne when she was born."

"Yes, and I am also looking upon you - precious things must come in threes because I can think of nothing more precious than the three I love the most." He leaned in and kissed her gently on the cheek. "I don't think you have ever looked more lovely," he whispered.

"Fitzwilliam! That is the grossest exaggeration. I have only just undergone childbirth. My hair is undone, I am in my oldest nightgown and my face is still red from screaming, I am sure."

"Now who is exaggerating? I was in the corridor for the last two hours and though you were not quiet the entire time, you did not scream once. My dear, if you must know, motherhood becomes you. There is a light in your eyes and a glow upon your cheeks as never before. We must have many children so that I can watch you grow ever more beautiful with each one."

Lizzie laughed. "Stay your nonsense - do you know the agony I've just been through? You would wish that on me many times more, would you, just for your own gratification?" She turned to the baby in her arms. "Master James, never listen to your father. He is a very silly man."

"You intend to teach him not to mind me from the cradle?"

"I don't think there will ever be any worry of your children not minding you, but I will teach them to laugh at you! Now please I can wait no longer - bring Elizabeth Anne to meet her brother."

While Fitzwilliam was gone on his errand Lizzie gazed at the wonder that was her baby boy. He was so tiny and so perfectly formed and though his eyes were grey and his skin still red there was something about his features that echoed his father. She thought of the baby she had never conceived, the one that she almost believed was growing in her for two confused years and knew that he was finally born. Here was the result of the love between her and Fitzwilliam - love that was more fulfilling than she had ever imagined. There was nothing wanton or lustful about her desire for him, her need of him and his of her. When their bodies merged so too did their hearts, their souls.

She held little James Edward to her cheek, kissed him gently on the forehead, and took one of his small hands in hers, stroking the perfect long fingers. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. She felt love overflowing.

Elizabeth Anne walked into the room on her tiptoes holding tightly onto her father's hand.

"Is that really him, Mama?" she asked in an awed voice.

"Yes my darling."

"May I hold him?"

"Climb up on the bed dearest and snuggle close to me. You are too small to hold him on your own but we can hold him together." She moved over and made room for Elizabeth Anne. Fitzwilliam took off the little girl's slippers and picked her up to place her beside her mama. Her hands reached eagerly for the tiny bundle and soon she was happily sitting with him in her arms.

"Papa said he looks like you, but I think he looks like himself. You are not so red and funny."

"And I thought he looked like Papa."

"Papa is not red and funny either. And he is ever so much bigger. My James is teeny tiny." She bent over and kissed the tip of his nose and then laughed up at her mother when he sneezed.

Fitzwilliam sat on the end of the bed and gazed at them, a smile of deep contentment upon his face.

~

Fitzwilliam had no interest in what happened to George Wickham as long as he stayed away from his own family. None of the Darcys ever saw him again, but it was heard that he had failed miserably in the Militia. His gambling debts had caught up with him and in the end he had fled. Helped by one of his few remaining friends he purchased passage on a ship bound for the colony of Upper Canada. How he fared there is anybody's guess.

Georgiana blossomed into a lovely and intelligent young woman. She never lost her reserved nature but she was able to perform before strangers and carry herself with elegance and grace in any social setting. There were some that called her proud, but they were usually girls of lesser accomplishments whose envy got the better of them. Many gentlemen sought her hand but she had gained the clarity to see which were interested in her charms and which her fortune. They all soon found that her heart was not easily touched.

Georgiana was never so happy as when she was at Pemberley with her beloved brother and Elizabeth who had become so dear to her, and the sweet children who loved nothing more than to have their favourite aunt tell them stories and tuck them in at night. One year a young gentleman came to visit a neighbouring estate. He had spent most of his youth travelling the continent and had even visited such exotic countries as Egypt and Turkey. Georgiana listened in fascination to stories of the glorious mosaics in Constantinople, and he raptly sat while she played, his eyes never leaving her face.

They met at Easter and were married by Christmas. His estate was in Suffolk, but a year did not go by that either they visited Pemberley or the entire Darcy family paid them a visit in their snug Inglewood, an old stone mansion covered in ivy and climbing roses.

~

When Anne had died her most faithful servant, Martha Hodges, had stayed on in Darcy's employ at Pemberley, but upon his remarrying she had begged leave to return to Kent where her niece still lived, working as a maid at Rosings. Lady Catherine agreed to take Martha Hodges back as an upper parlour maid. Martha had stayed at Pemberley only long enough to see if what her mistress had once foretold would come true.

It was twelve years since her niece, Nancy, had worked as a serving wench at the inn in Hunsford. Twelve years since her niece had come to visit her at Rosings full of gossip. There had been a young lady and her aunt who had stopped in for a meal. They had been journeying through Kent when a wheel had come off their carriage and with the repairs done they were about to leave. Young Nancy had not thought much of it. She had done her duties and when clearing the table had pocketed a lovely linen handkerchief forgotten in the rush. The next day a gentleman from Rosings had come questioning everybody about the travellers.

Nancy had said nothing to the gentleman - he was so tall and frightening - but she could not wait to show the handkerchief to her auntie. It was the whitest linen, trimmed with lace, and prettily embroidered. On one corner was the name Elizabeth in pale blue silk, stitched finer than she had ever seen before. Martha was one to see a golden opportunity and grab hold of it. She urged young Nancy to tell no one and her future would be secure, then she took the information to her mistress, Miss Anne. The next day Nancy had sworn undying allegiance to Miss Anne DeBourgh and began her training in service to the Rosings cook. Martha herself became Anne's personal maid.

More than once Anne had confided in her most trusted servant. "Mark my words," she had said, "If he ever marries someone other than me, her name will be Elizabeth."

After Anne's marriage, she changed the confidence to: "When I die, only one name will replace me. Elizabeth." So Martha had stayed after her death out of loyalty. She needed to be there herself when the prophecy came true; then she could go home, her duty to her dead mistress done.

~

It was late in the evening at Pemberley; the children were long since tucked in their beds. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth sat upon a settee close by the fireplace. A beautiful Persian rug graced the spot in front of the hearth. It was a very fine piece to put so near a fire but the Darcys had their reasons for its placement in just such a spot. These reasons they never shared when questioned, but a certain look of mischief would come to their faces. Most thought it better not to ask.

Fitzwilliam put down his book and watched the play of firelight upon his wife's lovely countenance. Five years of marriage and he still was awed when he would look up and see her next to him.

Elizabeth glanced up and her breath caught. Her husband's face was golden hued in the light cast from the fire's flames. Simultaneously they snuffed the branches of candles that were close by. Fitzwilliam stood and dealt with the rest while Lizzie put away her book. Soon the only light in the room was that cast by the briskly burning fire.

Fitzwilliam held out his arms to her and Lizzie stood and came to him, reaching up to push a stray curl from his forehead.

"I love that lock of hair," she said, "but I believe you train it to do just that."

"Hours of rigorous training," he said softly as he brought his face close to hers.

"Your time has not been wasted," she said as she trailed her fingers down his cheek.

"I know."

Lizzie could see the flames reflected in his eyes just moments before his lips met hers. Then she had the familiar feeling of losing herself in him. Her hands ran down his back as he pulled her closer and she felt an inner warmth that had nothing to do with the fire at all.

~

(This extra added piece is purely to humour Alicia and should in no way be taken as fact.)

As Lizzie and Fitzwilliam made their way up the shadowy staircases and along darkened hallways to their bedchamber, Lizzie noticed the old retainer, Glimwort, slink up an unused staircase towards the attics. He was but a wraith in the depth of the darkness but she was certain her eyes had not mistaken her. She had fine eyes and they worked very well.

"Dearest, I believe that old decrepit fellow has just ascended the abandoned stairs. I thought you had said that part of the attics was condemned."

"And so it is my sweet," said Fitzwilliam pulling Lizzie closer to him. "Glimwort's mind is failing him in his old age. None of the other servants can stop him from going there, though they have tried. I only want him to be happy, so I have ensured the room at the top of the stairs is safe. I believe he only sleeps up there and can come to no harm."

"You are so thoughtful and considerate, Dearheart," said Lizzie as her arms encircled his waist.

"I am well aware of it," said Fitzwilliam. "Now let us repair to our bedchamber where I can show you just how thoughtful and considerate I can be."

"I can be thoughtful and considerate too," Lizzie reminded him with an arch smile. They continued along the corridor. Lizzie thought no more about the old man and completely forgot that he had appeared to be carrying a tray laden with food. All she could think of was the thoughtful consideration she and her husband were about to share.

Later on, as she was lying half-asleep in bed she heard strange thumping sounds coming from above. This was not the first time she had heard them, nor would it be the last, but her curiosity finally got the better of her. She gave her husband's shoulder a shake.

"What is it, my pet?" he mumbled as her turned and pulled her into his arms. "I thought I was considerate enough."

"One cannot complain about either the thoughtfulness or the consideration," said Lizzie huskily, "but I was just wondering what that very strange noise is that I hear almost every night."

"Noise?" asked Fitzwilliam, looking as vague as he possible could. I don't believe it was possible for a person to actually look vaguer.

"Yes, listen." Lizzie quieted her breathing, which was quite difficult due to the proximity of her thoughtful husband. It usually had a tendency to come in quick gasps when his arms were about her. He always knew how to calm her, though. He was so considerate.

"Pigeons?" Fitzwilliam tried it out and it sounded good to him. "Yes, quite definitely pigeons roosting in the eaves."

"But I have never seen pigeons flying about Pemberley."

"This particular variety is nocturnal," said Fitzwilliam quickly.

"That explains everything then," said Lizzie with satisfaction. She nestled in his arms and closed her eyes to return to sleep directly. At least she thought she would return to sleep directly - she hadn't considered the other option. As her breathing became ragged Fitzwilliam took it upon himself to fix things.

Up, way up, in the darkness of the lonely gable, a thin figure thrashed about upon a worn and cobwebby mattress.

"I know yer not partial to pheasant, Mistress Anne, but 'twas all I could find in the larder, Now eat up, do, or I'll have to chain ye up again." Glimwort held a forkful of the delicate meat up to her clenched teeth. "Seems yer just as bad as when ye were a child. Here we go then, one fer me, and one fer you. There's a girl."

For those of you who are never satisfied - the list of children:

Lydia: A son named Percy (who took after both his parents)

Kitty: 2 daughters named Louisa and Sophie and a son named Ralph (They unfortunately grew with much more expensive tastes than their fortunes could allow)

Mary: A son named George and daughters named Ruth and Mary (All were steady, dependable, and good natured)

Aurelia: 2 sons named Randoph and Bertram, and a daughter named Penelope (Randolph and Penelope were the utmost snobs and Bertram became somewhat of a loose screw.)

Georgiana: Two daughters named Letitia and Viola and a son named Robert (but they called him Robbie)(The girls were as accomplished as their mama and the boy became a diplomat)

Charlotte: A son named Ferdinand and a daughter named Carmen (They grew up mainly in Spain.)

Jane: Besides Lily and Rose, 2 sons named Peter and Francis (The boys grew as amiable as the girls did sweet.)

Elizabeth: Besides Elizabeth Anne and James Edward, a son named Samuel and 2 daughters named Emily and Olivia. (Pemberley became a house filled with light and laughter, and the most highly polished banisters in Derbyshire. (We all know how that happened) And I can promise you there were no skeletons in the attics.)

If you want any more you'll have to invent it yourself.

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