I Shall Not Go Away

By SandyL

Part One

Posted on Thursday, 27 March 2008

Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire could be a singularly obstinate young lady at times, particularly regarding matters matrimonial and the unsolicited opinions of others on the subject of whom she should or should not marry, and though finally forced to admit to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who came all the way to Hertfordshire from Kent on purpose to harangue her on the subject, that she was not at present engaged to that lady's nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Elizabeth simply refused to give the demanded promise not to enter into such an engagement. Lady Catherine, accustomed to complete obedience from all whom she deigned to command, was predictably incensed.

“Miss Bennet, I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I shall ever recede. I shall not go away, till you have given me the assurance I require.”

“And I certainly shall never give it,” Elizabeth declared, continuing on to assail Lady Catherine's spurious arguments against the match under discussion, feeling almost as if she was engaged in convincing herself of the possibility of such a felicitous union taking place.

Lady Catherine ignored Elizabeth's logical objections to such interference in both Elizabeth's own and Mr. Darcy's affairs, and continued to attack the Bennet family's respectability, focusing on the disgraceful marriage of Elizabeth's youngest sister. Elizabeth was still sensitive on this particular subject and decided that it was time to conclude the infuriating and mortifying conference.

“You can now have nothing further to say,” she resentfully answered. “You have insulted me, in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house.” So saying, Elizabeth turned her back on the fuming Lady Catherine and with determined strides began to do just as she had said, assuming that Lady Catherine would realize that further remonstrance was fruitless, and would return to her carriage and depart. Elizabeth, however had underestimated her adversary's obstinacy, and was chagrined to find that Lady Catherine chose instead to follow her and continue her harangue. Elizabeth determinedly ceased to pay her any mind, and focused instead on the turmoil of her own feelings, wondering what Mr. Darcy would think when he heard of this confrontation, as she had no doubt he would; it would be too much to hope that Lady Catherine would not, after her failure to convince Elizabeth, turn to the nephew to exert her influence in that quarter to prevent the rumored match. Elizabeth cringed at the thought of such an interview. Her attention so completely engaged in dreading the outcome of such a confrontation, Elizabeth did not return her attention to Lady Catherine until she realized that that lady, instead of returning to her carriage, had followed her back into the dining room, where her mother and her sister Kitty were still sitting in some wonder at Elizabeth's extraordinary visitor.

“Lady Catherine, your carriage awaits,” Elizabeth ground out with no attempt to hide her annoyance.

“I told you, Miss Bennet, that I would not go away, till you have given me the assurance I require.”

“And I told you, Lady Catherine, that I would not give it, and there is nothing you can say or do to persuade me otherwise.”

Lady Catherine fixed Elizabeth with a steely glare, and with great deliberation seated herself in a chair and resolutely turned her gaze straight ahead, as if she was simultaneously staking out a claim to that portion of the Bennets' dining room, and dismissing those who were within it from her notice.

Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were, fortunately, too stunned and confused not only at the appearance of Lady Catherine in their dining room in the first place, but at Elizabeth's audacity in engaging in an apparent dispute with such a distinguished personage. Elizabeth, for that matter, was hardly less stunned, for it was impossible to credit that Lady Catherine actually meant to carry out her threat and remain at Longbourn until she received a promise from Elizabeth not to marry Mr. Darcy. Such perplexing behaviour left Elizabeth with something of a quandary. She would not, under any circumstance, give Lady Catherine the promise she desired, as Elizabeth had every intention of marrying Mr. Darcy if he should ever happen to propose again, however unlikely she now felt that such a proposal would be forthcoming. It remained imperative, however, that no one else in the house discover the reason for Lady Catherine's unexpected visit, and the notion that the lady would, in fact, refuse to leave made it seem quite likely that some sort of explanation would have to be offered at some point, at least before dinner. Elizabeth's hopes with regard to Mr. Darcy's affections were, at that time, a secret to all, except, quite possibly, in part, Lady Catherine, and a secret once known loses all of its merit, particularly if it is told to such a one as Mrs. Bennet, who would no doubt make mischief with the knowledge. It was most unfortunate, in such a circumstance, that Elizabeth had no notion of how she ought to act. She stared about the room at each of the silent women in turn.

To Elizabeth's great mortification, Mrs. Bennet was the first to regain the power of speech.

“Can I offer you some refreshment, Lady Catherine,” she simpered with uncharacteristic meekness and grace.

Lady Catherine did not deign to reply other than to screw her face into a look of disdain. Elizabeth chose to act before any conversation between Lady Catherine and two of her most embarrassing relatives could take place.

“Lady Catherine desires to rest herself here for a time -” Elizabeth began, and then hurried on when a most undignified, and yet quiet snort seemed to issue from the lady, “... so I think it is best that we leave her in solitude while she recovers her...” Elizabeth floundered for an appropriate word - senses? Manners? Equanimity? Sanity? “ - erm, composure. She has had a long journey this morning.”

Mrs. Bennet, who had regained some of her own composure after having faced the ordeal of speaking to Lady Catherine for the first time, did not wish to leave the company of her noble guest, but she was equally reluctant to do anything to impede the comfort of the most distinguished person ever to grace her dining room, and she realized that Elizabeth, who was obviously well acquainted with Lady Catherine - after all, Lady Catherine had come to call on Elizabeth - would therefore know best how to accommodate the whims of such a person. However, it was unfortunately a part of Mrs. Bennet's nature to argue with Elizabeth whenever possible, and so she could not help doing so as Elizabeth ushered her mother and sister out of the room with as much grace and haste as she could muster, a glance back at Lady Catherine showing the unwanted guest to be sitting rigidly and immovably in her chair.

“But Lizzy, I have it from Lady Lucas that the journey to Hunsford is but fifty miles, and all on good roads - surely in such an equipage as is now parked in front of our house -”

Elizabeth did not hear the rest of her mother's statement as she had unceremoniously shoved her dear Mama and Kitty into the drawing room and firmly shut the door, suddenly realizing that she had another matter to resolve, that of Lady Catherine's carriage and the attendant servants. Elizabeth had no way of knowing how long Lady Catherine could maintain this freak of behavior, but, with even her own limited knowledge of horses, Elizabeth was aware that it could not be good for the animals to spend hours, or more, if worse came to worst, in the traces. She dreaded what kind of information could pass from Lady Catherine's servants to those of Longbourn if the former were allowed to pass the rest of the afternoon in the servants' hall, but, sadly, there was no way to properly avoid offering them such accommodations, and so Elizabeth, with resignation, sought Hill, the housekeeper, and directed that Lady Catherine's horses, carriage, and servants be disposed to await her pleasure.

Having dispensed with that chore, Elizabeth sat down on the stairs in the hall to think, keeping her eyes and ears alert for any movement in either the dining room or the parlor where she had deposited Mrs. Bennet and Kitty. Before she could come to any resolution of what should be done, a distraction came from another direction; Jane and Mr. Bingley, who had fled to the far reaches of the garden when the carriage had first been seen to enter the drive, reentered the house.

“Lizzy, who has come?” Jane asked her sister, having noted that the servants were unhitching the carriage, which indicated that the visitor whose presence she and Bingley had attempted to avoid by walking out was not to leave any time soon.

“Oh, Jane! I am in such a fix!” was the response she received from her normally indomitable sister.

“Why Lizzy, whatever is the matter?” Jane cried, instantly alarmed, and rushing to her sister's side, followed with alacrity by her equally concerned intended.

Elizabeth hesitated, looking keenly at first one and then the other of the two worried countenances before her. She made a resolution that if she was to have any hope of extricating herself from this mess she would need allies, and would therefore have to take someone into her confidence. She glanced again at the closed doors, which for the moment separated herself from the sources of her anxiety, and those sources from each other. Determining how to act, she sprang to her feet, and grasping Jane and Mr. Bingley each by the hand, dragged the two astonished lovers into the breakfast room and shut the door behind her, leaning against it as if she required its support.

“Lady Catherine has come to call and... she refuses to leave!” Elizabeth blurted out, knowing that such a brief explanation could only serve to confuse her audience further, but feeling that the worst of it should be disclosed first.

“You mean Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Darcy's aunt?” asked Mr. Bingley.

“The very same,” Elizabeth sighed.

“What do you mean, she refuses to leave?” Jane asked, perplexed.

Elizabeth, now on the point of exposing all, hesitated. Could she enlighten Jane and Mr. Bingley without revealing her feelings?

“Lady Catherine received word of your engagement...” Lizzy paused, loath to continue, and yet, at the same time, amused at the look of affectionate pride sported by her future brother. Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humor, after all, and in the midst of her own personal disaster could still appreciate the mildly absurd mooncalf who was so enamoured of her favorite sister. Jane, however, continued to be confused.

“So... she came to offer her congratulations?” Jane offered the only explanation that presented itself in her mind, as peculiar as it was that a woman so wholly unknown to herself or dear Bingley would take the trouble of traveling all that distance to wish her joy on her engagement, and if that were the case, there could be no reason for Lizzy to be so agitated at the lady's refusal to leave. If that were the reason for the call, surely her ladyship would leave as soon as Jane and her intended allowed her to offer her congratulations. Fortunately, exasperation provided Elizabeth sufficient impetus to continue her narration.

“No, Jane. It seems that when Lady Catherine heard the news of your engagement, it was accompanied by some other... a rumor. Evidently, she was informed, by I know not what means, that I am also shortly to be wed - to Mr. Darcy.”

Both of Elizabeth's auditors gasped.

“Lizzy! You never dropped a word! Nor did Darcy! I cannot tell you how delighted I am to hear it - Darcy is to be my brother! I do not know when I have heard anything so wonderful, aside from my own dear Jane's acceptance of my proposal. Is not this wonderful, Jane? Lizzy, allow me to wish you joy!” Mr. Bingley accepted the `news' with characteristic enthusiasm, while Jane continued to look stunned. Elizabeth hastened to disabuse him of his misperception.

“No, Mr. Bingley, that is not... that is, I am not engaged to Mr. Darcy. That was, as I said, merely a rumor that somehow reached the ears of Lady Catherine, and, well, she came here to express her extreme displeasure at the notion of a union between Mr. Darcy and me.”

“Well, surely you need not concern yourself with her approval -” began Mr. Bingley, before he was interrupted by Jane with a statement that shocked him into silence.

“But Lizzy, did you not explain to Lady Catherine that you refused Mr. Darcy's proposal?”

Elizabeth winced and glanced quickly at Mr. Bingley before answering. “Lady Catherine does not know about the events of last April, and there is no reason she should find out about them; I have informed her that I am not engaged to Mr. Darcy.”

“Last April...” Mr. Bingley muttered to himself.

“Then why ever is Lady Catherine refusing to leave?” Jane asked.

Elizabeth sighed - shuddered, really - and abandoned her post by the door to sink into a chair.

“She is requiring... assurances that I... am not inclined to give. Well, that I cannot honestly give.”

“What kind of assurances?”

Elizabeth realized that she would not be able to evade Jane's questions indefinitely, and that having started to share her difficulties with Jane and Mr. Bingley, she would have to be completely open. She did regret, however, having brought Mr. Bingley into it, as he seemed fixated on the fact that Elizabeth had refused Mr. Darcy, and that it had apparently happened the previous April, and she now heartily wished that she had, in her moment of panic, left her future brother out in the hall while she made her disclosures to Jane. The fact that she suspected that Jane would share everything she was told with her intended was somehow irrelevant; it would be easier to confess what she must without Mr. Bingley present.

“Lady Catherine demands a promise that if Mr. Darcy should propose to me, that I will refuse him - she requires a pledge that I shall never marry him.”

Jane's reaction to this news startled Elizabeth.

“Well, really, Lizzy,” Jane huffed in exasperation, having had more than enough drama within her family in the last month to last her for a lifetime, “Why must you be so stubborn and argumentative always? I love you dearly, but I cannot understand why you insist on defiance merely for the sake of defiance. If all you have to do is promise not to marry Mr. Darcy in order to please Lady Catherine, then do it! There is no call to engage in such willfulness - Lady Catherine is, perhaps, behaving in a high-handed and overbearing manner, but after all, you do not want to marry Mr. Darcy anyway!”

Elizabeth's shock at receiving such a harsh response from the always gentle, always agreeable, always understanding Jane caused her to reply with more openness than she ever would have done had she been thinking clearly.

“But I DO want to marry him!” Elizabeth cried.

“You do?” Jane and Mr. Bingley responded simultaneously.

“Yes, I do,” Elizabeth admitted simply, tears starting in her eyes. “And now, just when I was looking forward to his return from town, hoping that perhaps we should be able to... to build on what was begun in Derbyshire, Lady Catherine has come along and ruined everything!”

All three were thoughtful for a few moments.

“Is Mr. Darcy still to return in a few days?” Jane asked Mr. Bingley.

“Yes, I have had a letter from him saying that his business is proceeding as expected, and he will return to Netherfield as planned. Should I, do you think, send him an express to return immediately?”

“NO!” Elizabeth shouted, overpowering her sister's much more sedate reply of, “Yes.”

Jane and Bingley looked to Elizabeth to explain her vehement response.

“Mr. Darcy cannot know about any of this. The only thing to do is to get Lady Catherine out of here before he returns, and make sure that no one else knows the real reason she is here. I cannot believe that she truly means to remain here until she receives my compliance to her wishes - I am sure this is merely a temporary fit of pique on her part, and when she sees that I will not give in, she will leave.” Elizabeth's stubborn assurance was actually bolstered by the skeptical looks she was receiving from her companions, and continued, “There is, however, a more pressing matter, and that is that Mama must be kept in ignorance of why Lady Catherine is here. I think it is obvious that I am engaged in... a quarrel with her ladyship, but Mama must not know what it is about. She cannot know that I once refused an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy, and -” Elizabeth sighed, and pointedly ignored Bingley's obvious continuing interest in the information had been inadvertently revealed to him, “... above all, she cannot know that I have even the shred of a hope that he will renew his addresses. It is only a small hope, truly. But it is absolutely imperative that Mama not know that Lady Catherine's purpose here is to dissuade me from such a match if an offer is made. I cannot say whether Mama's anger at the potential loss of such a match for one of her daughters would not be stronger than her deference for a person of Lady Catherine's rank. I shudder to think of what kind of... well, the results of a battle between Mama and Lady Catherine would be difficult to predict, so we must do our best to keep it from happening. I -”

Elizabeth was here interrupted by a knock on the door, and when Jane bid the person enter, Hill, the housekeeper, did so hesitantly.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but, will your... guest be staying for dinner? Only, the maids need to begin to lay the table.”

The three conspirators exchanged glances.

“Yes, Hill, she will be staying. I do not think she is inclined to move from her chair at the moment, however, so please ask them to... work around her. And, Hill?” Elizabeth said as the woman prepared to leave the room.

The housekeeper of Longbourn showed some strain in her eyes as she paused in her leave-taking.

“Lady Catherine is a powerful and important woman, if she may at the moment appear a bit... eccentric. I hope that all of the staff understand the consequences of indiscretion?”

“Yes, Miss,” the beleaguered servant replied, returning to her duties.

“What do you want us to do, Lizzy?” Jane asked with deep gravity that did not sit well upon her gentle features.

“Will the two of you go sit in the dining room with Lady Catherine? I know that she will not be pleasant company - although, I can assure you that if she intends to maintain an icy silence, she will be a far sight more amiable than if she chooses to speak to you - but I would feel more confident if someone I trust, someone with some sense, would keep an eye on her.”

“And what will you tell Mama?”

Elizabeth wracked her brains.

“Charlotte. I will tell Mama that this is about Charlotte. I will say that Charlotte has done something to disoblige Lady Catherine, and that Lady Catherine has come in the hopes of enlisting my aid in making my friend see reason.”

“Will your mother believe that?” Mr. Bingley asked, with an expression of incredulity that appeared to be rapidly becoming permanently affixed on his countenance.

“It is not any more unbelievable than the real reason Lady Catherine is here, I think, and Mama will be easily convinced that a woman of Lady Catherine's stature might be so quixotic as to make such a long journey for such a reason. Believe me, Mama is suggestible enough to believe anything,” Elizabeth replied, thinking, at the same time, that her father would be harder to convince of such a tale, but that he was also much less likely to require an explanation at all; as long as he was provided such a diversion as their visitor would most certainly present, he would not question the motivation behind it.

“But Lizzy, Mama is still angry with Charlotte for marrying Mr. Collins when he was meant for you. Will she not simply demand that you comply with Lady Catherine's wishes?” Jane pressed.

Elizabeth ignored Mr. Bingley's evident fascination with this new tidbit of information and plowed on with her plans. Though they vehemently deny it, men are as hungry for gossip as any housewife.

“No, because I will tell her that Lady Catherine is pressuring Charlotte to cast us out to starve in the hedgerows as soon as Papa has died, and that Charlotte is refusing to do such a thing when the time comes.”

“But Lizzy, even if Mama believed that Lady Catherine would have the audacity to try to enlist your aid in such a venture, that would definitely cause Mama to fight with Lady Catherine, and then the truth will surely come out!”

“Leave Mama to me, Jane. Now, will you please go watch over Lady Catherine in the dining room?”

The three left the breakfast room together, Elizabeth leading the way to the dining room. She felt compelled to attempt introductions for form's sake, just in case Lady Catherine suddenly felt conversible. Not that she gave any sign of it when they entered the room. She still sat immovable as a statue, the only change, perhaps, a deepening of her frown which caused Elizabeth to wonder if her mother's constant advice to her daughters when they were young, that if they made unpleasant expressions their faces would freeze that way, might come true in Lady Catherine's scowling visage. `It would not enhance her looks,' Elizabeth mused.

To make the introductions seemed an awkward business - the maids were in the process of laying the table for dinner, and obviously feeling constrained by the strange, and yet rather fine, lady who impeded their progress, and their conversation. Lady Catherine did not even glance at the newcomers, nor acknowledge them in any way when Elizabeth presented “Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley” to her. Ignoring their obvious uneasiness, Elizabeth left her two allies to the mercy of the dour dowager and made her way back into the hall, where she hesitated. She was debating with herself whether she should go straight to her mother, or perhaps give her father some indication of what he could expect at dinner, when a maid left the parlor where Mrs. Bennet was ensconced, carrying a letter.

“What is that?” Elizabeth asked the housemaid.

“A letter, Miss, that the mistress has asked be sent immediately to Meryton.”

Elizabeth held out her hand for the missive, and the housemaid easily handed it over to her. It was addressed in Mrs. Bennet's hand to her sister, Mrs. Philips in Meryton. It could only be news of Lady Catherine's visit, which was news that Elizabeth was determined should not pass beyond the walls of Longbourn.

“I will take care of this,” Elizabeth said, grimly, and the housemaid responded with a curtsey and took herself off to her duties. Elizabeth pocketed the letter and went immediately to the parlor to see her mother. She was relieved to see that both her mother and Kitty had remained in the room, and were both quietly engaged, although it did seem a bit odd that they were each apparently engaged in writing letters.

“Oh, there you are, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed when she saw her daughter, “Is Lady Catherine to stay to dinner? I thought that perhaps if she is, I should invite the Lucases, though it is late notice, as they will like to hear about Charlotte from her neighbor. Do you not think that a good idea?”

“Yes, Mama, Lady Catherine appears to be staying, but I think you had better not invite anyone tonight.”

“But why not?” Mrs. Bennet asked peevishly, thinking that Elizabeth was merely being her usual contrary self in order to vex her poor mother and bring on an attack of nerves. If she only knew!

“I will explain, Mama, but,” Elizabeth turned to her sister. “Kitty, do you think you could finish your letter upstairs?”

Kitty complied with her sister's request, but with a decided lack of grace, dawdling as she collected her things, and then leaving the room in a petulant huff, muttering all the while about never being allowed to hear `the good stuff', and other such whiny complaints. The patience of her mother and sister was sorely tested, and Mrs. Bennet's voice was as petulant as Kitty's when the closing of the door and a glance from Elizabeth gave her liberty to speak.

“Well, Miss Lizzy, what have you to say for yourself?”

“Mama, I feel that I should reveal to you the reason for Lady Catherine's visit today...”

Mrs. Bennet's expression brightened at the prospect of what she thought would be some juicy news, but as Elizabeth progressed with her explanation Mrs. Bennet's smile faded and her complexion paled. Not for nothing had Elizabeth Bennet spent her whole life as her mother's least favorite daughter; one and twenty years of experience had taught her well the ways to vex and agitate her maternal parent, thus by the time Elizabeth had finished weaving her tale, painting her friend Charlotte as a steadfast heroine who refused the tyrannical, cold-blooded schemes of her half-wit husband's noble patroness, shocking her mother with tales of intermittent bouts of madness in the noble lady - a veritable she-dragon - brought about by a severe head injury in a carriage accident, and then terrifying Mrs. Bennet with the notion that Lady Catherine, if she were to be goaded into one of her fits by any wrong word on the part of Mrs. Bennet, would dismiss Mr. Collins, sending him and poor Charlotte to live with the Bennets until such time as Mr. Collins became the rightful master of Longbourn, and, for good measure, and not the least germane to the issue, throwing in a few words of praise for Mr. Darcy in order to pave the way for the future, just in case there came a time when she would need her mother to have an improved opinion of him, Elizabeth had managed to work her mother in to such a fit of anxiety that she had passed beyond hysterics into a sort of petrified whimpering. For perhaps the first time in her life Elizabeth found herself grateful that she had a mother of weak understanding, for it was just that feeble lack of penetration that allowed Mrs. Bennet to accept the entire farce at face value without once questioning the ridiculousness of many of the details.

Elizabeth smiled with satisfaction as Mrs. Bennet was helped to her room, where she declared she would remain until Lady Catherine left the house, but the feeling of triumphant relief was short-lived; no sooner had she cleared her mother from the field than Kitty flounced down the stairs in her pelisse and bonnet, pulling on her gloves.

“Where do you think you are going?” Elizabeth asked warily.

“To Meryton to post a letter, and then to call on Maria Lucas,” Kitty replied with what she hoped was aloofness, but was, in reality, the same petulant whine she had employed when she had been ousted from the parlor.

“A letter? To whom?” Elizabeth frowned.

“To Mrs. Wickham,” Kitty replied with a successful attempt at smugness.

“Well, I am sorry, but you cannot go out.”

“Yes I can, you cannot stop me! You are not the boss of me!” Kitty could not help accompanying her words with a frustrated stomp.

“No, you cannot,” Elizabeth stated firmly, “for we have a guest, dinner will be soon, and Mama is poorly... and before she went upstairs she told me that she did not want any of her girls to leave the house until... she is well again.” Elizabeth was a generally truthful person, and hated telling so many lies, and was becoming a little unnerved at how easily she managed to invent them, and such outrageous ones, too - not to mention disappointed in the intelligence of her nearest relations for swallowing any of the absurdities she was feeding them. For Kitty, as easily as Mrs. Bennet had earlier, accepted without question the truth of Elizabeth's words.

“But what about my letter!” she cried, returning to the petulant whine.

“I will see to it for you,” Elizabeth said with what she hoped was a sisterly, affectionate, understanding smile.

Kitty sulkily handed over the missive, and then reluctantly returned upstairs to sit with her mother until dinner, as Elizabeth suggested.

Once again Elizabeth found herself alone in the front hall of Longbourn, contemplating her next move. Lady Catherine was safe in the protective custody of the lovebirds in the dining room, Mrs. Bennet had been reduced to a whimpering, quivering, and, more importantly, compliant fit of nerves, and was safely upstairs with Kitty, who now believed herself confined to the house under the authority of her mother. Mr. Bennet had not yet emerged from his library, and Elizabeth decided to leave him there in peace and ignorance for the moment. That left only Mary, of all the family, unconstrained, but as Elizabeth stood in the hall, slipping Kitty's letter into her pocket, she could hear the sounds of Mary's pianoforte upstairs, and with a great deal of relief realized that there was no need to do anything to forestall Mary; she would remain cloistered until dinner, and would show a remarkable lack of curiosity when she emerged.

Elizabeth was pulled from her reverie by the opening of the dining room door, but her immediate alarm abated when she saw that it was Mr. Bingley who emerged, looking sheepish. In his hand was a letter.

“Lady Catherine has written a letter to Darcy, and demands it be sent express,” he said with in low voice, though he had closed the door behind him when he had left the room where Lady Catherine was confined.

“Well, Lady Catherine should have realized that I am not in a humour to accede to her demands today,” Elizabeth said with a smile as she pocketed Lady Catherine's letter. Before she could ask Mr. Bingley how he and Jane were managing with Lady Catherine, who had obviously unbent enough to ask for - no, demand, more likely - writing materials, Mr. Bingley took her hand and asked her a fervent question.

“May I not write to Darcy, Lizzy?”

“Mr. Bingley -”

“Please, Lizzy, you are to be my sister, you must call me Charles,” he said with a gentle smile.

“Charles,” Elizabeth said, returning his smile, “Please, do not write to him. I do not want him to know -”

“Lizzy, I have known Darcy for a very long time. And one thing I know about him is that he despises when anyone tries to arrange his affairs for him. He would want to know of his aunt's interference, and he should know. And even more, he would not want you to have to face her alone on his behalf.”

“And I am sure that Lady Catherine will tell him herself, at some point, but I cannot... I am having enough of a challenge trying to control this situation without having to handle a scene with Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley - Charles - I gather that neither Jane nor Mr. Darcy ever told you that he proposed to me in the spring, and that I refused him. I said some terrible things to him that day, things that could very justifiably have made him hate me. I was mortified to meet him again at Pemberley last month, but to my very great surprise, he treated me with civility... cordiality... kindness! You were, there, you must have seen. I began to see him in a different light, and began to believe that perhaps he still had some affection for me, and then... Lydia, but the less said on that subject, the better. I was sure that I would never see him again, but I was filled with such hope when he returned with you to Netherfield not a fortnight ago, even though he does not seem to welcome my friendship the way he did in Derbyshire. But that is only to be expected - you, of all people, must be aware of the low opinion he holds of my family, and we have certainly had enough scandal to drive away a man like Mr. Darcy. I... I do not wish for him to know what has passed between me and his aunt, I could not bear for him to have another reason to think ill of me.”

“But do you not wish for Darcy to hear of this from a more objective observer of the events, rather than in what will be an account highly biased against you?”

Elizabeth hesitated, but still found herself unable to agree. Deep down she was still hoping that some resolution to the impasse could be found that would preclude Lady Catherine ever relating to him what had occurred at Longbourn that day. Elizabeth hung her head as they were both silent for a spell.

“Do you love him?” Mr. Bingley broke the silence to ask.

To her great chagrin, Elizabeth's newfound facility for untruth abandoned her.

“Yes, I do.” Elizabeth could not help but feel sad as she admitted it.

“Then let me write to him.” Mr. Bingley's expression was one of earnest pleading.

“No, Charles.”

Mr. Bingley sighed, and gave Elizabeth's hand a squeeze. “I should return to Jane. You know, Lizzy, Darcy has made a few brief mentions lately of your ease in managing Lady Catherine de Bourgh when you met in Kent. I realize, of course, that she was not behaving like this at the time, but I must say, even so, I admire you if you were able to get the better of that woman. She is formidable! I will so like having you for a sister! Now, if only you can manage to get me Darcy for a brother, which Caroline has never been able to accomplish...”

Elizabeth could not help but laugh, though she blushed, at his teasing, and felt glad that after all the trouble of the year past, she would finally be welcoming the charming, kindly Mr. Bingley - Charles! - as her brother.

The chiming of the clock in the hall alerted Elizabeth to the nearness of the dinner hour, and she decided that it was time to inform her father a little about their guest, but first, she rang the bell for Hill, having another small office to perform.

Hill, when she arrived, looked haggard, which for someone used to catering to the whims of Mrs. Bennet, indicated a high degree of vexation indeed! Elizabeth imagined it had something to do with the addition of the Rosings servants below stairs, but as she had enough to be going on with above stairs, she chose not to inquire into Hill's concerns for the moment, asking only if Lady Catherine had traveled with a lady's maid, and upon receiving an affirmative, asked Hill to send the woman to Lady Catherine to see to the lady's needs before dinner.

Her duties as hostess dispatched, Elizabeth knocked on the door to her father's library, still unsure as to what she would say to him in explanation of the peculiar situation he would encounter at dinner. `As little as possible...' Elizabeth thought to herself as she let herself into the room.

As she had expected, her father showed little curiosity, but great amusement that they were to entertain Mr. Collins' noble patroness for dinner, and accepted with mirthful equanimity Elizabeth's cryptic caveat that the woman about whom he had heard so many things to amuse would likely not choose to engage in any dinner conversation; she gave her father to understand that though Lady Catherine was to stay for dinner, she was... displeased with Longbourn and its inhabitants, and was currently expressing her disapproval with silence. Mr. Bennet was disappointed to be denied the diversion of Lady Catherine's vaunted pearls of wisdom, but he was certain that he would be equally diverted by her silent fit of pique, and so Elizabeth was able to feel some lessening of her dread of the dinner hour, believing that her father would himself maintain his customary taciturnity.

As she emerged from the library, Elizabeth encountered Mr. Bingley once again, and he had yet another letter. He handed it over to Elizabeth as they shared a mischievous smile; a glance at the direction revealed it to be meant for Mr. Collins.

“By express?” Elizabeth asked with an arch smirk as she deposited the letter in her pocket with all of the others she had collected.

“Of course!” Mr. Bingley replied, unable to restrain a small laugh.

Elizabeth was then informed by the gentleman that Jane had gone up to dress for dinner, and that he had been ordered into the hall while Lady Catherine's abigail performed some service or other for her ladyship, but he promised to return to the dining room at the earliest possible moment, particularly before any of the Bennets arrived for dinner. Elizabeth felt compelled to offer her most grateful thanks for Mr. Bingley's assistance all afternoon, but he laughed off her gratitude - in truth, he was enjoying himself!

`Only Charles Bingley could be amiable enough to find enjoyment in the company of a sulking, fuming, irascible old termagant like Lady Catherine de Bourgh!' Elizabeth thought, not without humour, as she mounted the stairs to her room.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Aside from Mr. Bingley, no one had much to say; the frosty anger emanating from the unwanted guest at the table did much to silence the rest of the ladies, and proved diverting enough to Mr. Bennet (who smiled contentedly throughout the meal) to satisfy him in the absence of conversation (although one might conjecture that the absence of his wife also contributed to his pleasant air of contentment). Lady Catherine had not remained completely silent, however. When Elizabeth had presented her father and Mary to her ladyship, they being the only ones who had not yet been introduced, she broke her indignant stillness to say “You have a very disobliging daughter,” to her host, to which Mr. Bennet replied dryly, “Several, in fact,” thus ending Lady Catherine's contribution to the evening's discourse.

There ensued a very awkward moment when the meal concluded; the ladies rose to adjourn to the drawing room, and the gentlemen remained at table until, in a few moments, it became clear that Lady Catherine, who had not only refrained from speech, but also from food, still refused to budge from her seat. With knowing looks from Mr. Bingley, and quizzical ones from Mr. Bennet, the two gentlemen rose to repair to the library instead, with Mr. Bennet bestowing upon his second daughter a glance both searching and piercing as he passed by her where she remained in the doorway.

Elizabeth waited until all of the others were safely out of hearing before dismissing the servants who were beginning to clear the remains of dinner, and addressing her stubborn guest.

“Shall I call for your carriage, your ladyship?” she inquired with a steely voice.

“Are you prepared to give me your promise, Miss Bennet?”

“Certainly not.”

In the stillness that followed, as Lady Catherine did not deign to respond further, Elizabeth contemplated asking whether she could have a chamber prepared for her ladyship, but decided not to. If the woman chose to behave in such a completely unreasonable manner, Elizabeth did not feel inclined to insure the invader's comfort - after all, her aim was to encourage Lady Catherine to leave, not to entrench herself further at Longbourn! Besides, Elizabeth was much more comfortable having Lady Catherine downstairs while her mother remained upstairs. Not willing to spend the rest of the evening in the shrew's company, and equally unwilling to destroy anyone else's enjoyment of the evening (specifically, Jane's or Mr. Bingley's), Elizabeth decided that no one need keep watch in the dining room, though she did request of the poor, afflicted Mrs. Hill that some one or other of the servants remain at watch outside the dining room door for the remainder of the evening, and alert her if Lady Catherine should emerge - and, feeling some compassion for her ladyship, requested also that a bowl of fruit and some bread and wine casually be left on the sideboard, in case Lady Catherine's hunger finally overcame her obstinacy.

Elizabeth joined her sisters in the drawing room, where Kitty undertook to pry from her the explanation for their guest's extraordinary behavior, but when she received nothing but curt refusals from Elizabeth, and gentle pleas for consideration from Jane, she abandoned the attempt and focused instead on re-trimming a bonnet. Elizabeth found herself grateful not only for Jane's compassionate nature, but for Mary's taciturn one - Mary Bennet showed no interest whatsoever in the eccentric visitor in the dining room, though Elizabeth suspected that her next-youngest sister was forming strictures in her mind about the behavior of the titled classes.

When Mr. Bingley rejoined the ladies he bore a summons to Elizabeth from her father, which she had been expecting and dreading since the uncomfortable scene at the end of dinner. As she passed him where he held the door for her, Elizabeth's eye was caught by a paper in his pocket. He saw where her gaze rested and had, at least, the decency to blush.

“Mr. Bingley,” she said, with her eyebrows raised and her hand held out to receive the secret missive, addressed in a deplorably blotchy manner, as she saw when he sheepishly laid it in her hand, to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, -- Street, London.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she quelled him with a look, and left him to Jane's sympathy, adding yet another letter to the collection in her pocket and reporting as directed to her father's library.

Her father, however, had not issued his summons to interrogate his daughter, her merely wished for an opponent at backgammon, and had found Mr. Bingley, who not only been peculiarly, almost rudely un-Bingleylike in asking Mr. Bennet's leave to write a letter immediately on entering the library, but then, when his letter was finished, proceeded to spend the rest of his time there throwing wistful glances at the door (which, admittedly, he did every evening he had dined at Longbourn since his engagement) until Mr. Bennet could no longer bear his company. Elizabeth was more than happy to entertain her father, particularly as Mr. Bennet deplored conversation during backgammon.

In fact, Mr. Bennet seemed to have forgotten about Lady Catherine's presence in his house altogether, a surmise of Elizabeth's that was confirmed when, at the end of their game, Mr. Bennet expressed an inclination to rout Mr. Bingley out of his drawing room and send him home so that he might go to bed himself.

“Erm, Father, about Lady Catherine...” Elizabeth began, halting at the surprised expression on her father's face.

“Good heavens, is she still here? I had forgotten all about her. Well, call her carriage, then; I suppose she is staying at the inn in Meryton?”

“Well, no, actually... she is staying here, in a manner of speaking.”

“In a manner of speaking, eh? And what manner is that, pray. It would seem to me that a person is either staying here or not, and I might wish to be given a little more notice, by the bye, when my hospitality is to be extended to strangers,” Mr. Bennet had turned peevish. He disliked house guests, and had, in his mind, barely recovered from the visit of nearly a year ago by his current guest's annoying clergyman.

“You see, Father, Lady Catherine has, erm, taken up a position in our dining room and refuses to budge from there.”

For all he never left home, Mr. Bennet had certainly read enough to make him something of a man of the world, and was therefore a difficult man to discompose, and yet, Elizabeth's statement left him decidedly nonplussed. He poured himself a brandy and took a generous pull on it.

“And are you going to explain this extraordinary circumstance, Elizabeth?”

“I would very much prefer to avoid doing so, Sir.”

Mr. Bennet regarded his favorite daughter with something like a scowl, though not without a twinkle in his eye. “I surmise that you are the `disobliging daughter' to whom Lady Catherine referred at dinner?” he asked wryly.

“I am.”

“Tell me, Lizzy, is Lady Catherine de Bourgh mad?”

“I am beginning to suspect, Sir.”

“Well then, I can suggest two courses of action, and I will leave you to choose whichever you prefer: either we call the constabulary and have her forcibly ejected and arrested for trespassing, or we call a physician and have her committed to Bedlam!”

Knowing that her father would never do either, as he was too indolent to take the trouble, and too impatient with any kind of scene to want one in his own house if he could possibly avoid it, Elizabeth found herself able to answer him calmly.

“As I am reluctant to embroil this family in further scandals to the titillation of the neighborhood, I believe I will choose a third option, namely, to allow her to pass the night in the dining room if she so chooses,” Elizabeth replied with a hint of dry sarcasm that would have done her father credit.

“And I am not to hear an explanation?”

“It is a very long story, Papa, and I am sure you do not wish to hear it tonight.”

“Meaning you are unwilling to explain it now. You might have told me all of this sooner,” he grumbled, making his way towards the hall so that he might evict the one guest over whom he still exercised some authority.

“Well, I am a very disobliging daughter, you must remember. Oh, and if Mama mentions it, you had best disregard anything she has to say on the matter, as the explanation I gave her was a pack of lies - though I would be most grateful if you would refrain from informing her of that fact.”

Mr. Bennet laughed, though without much true mirth.

“I am to be obliging, then, where you shall not? Believe me, Lizzy, were I not so tired this evening you would most certainly be required to be a great deal more forthcoming, but as it is, I have decided that for the moment I had much rather not know, and as I have a feeling that your mother's quietude this evening is somehow tied up in this, and therefore your doing, I shall let the matter rest for the moment out of gratitude. But do not think that you will be allowed to continue in this defiance indefinitely, Elizabeth. I may be a bit lax about what goes on in my house, but when a deranged lady chooses to spend the night in my dining room because my daughter has been disobliging, it behooves me to seek an explanation in due course.”

“I understand, Papa.”

“Good. I leave you in charge of this disaster. Goodnight, child,” Mr. Bennet could not long remain angry with his favorite, especially since he was expecting a highly diverting tale from her in the morning, so he kissed her and left her in peace in the library, while he went to give Mr. Bingley a broad hint to go home.

When Elizabeth left the library she was met by Hill and another woman she had never seen before who was soon revealed to be Lady Catherine's lady's maid. Elizabeth had been curious about that particular person for the last several hours. She knew that lady's maids of those of a high rank were usually quite elegant creatures who, in spite of their positions as servants, in some cases thought very highly of their own status, sometimes even considering themselves to be greater than those who were above their station socially (like, for instance, the ladies of the Bennet household), simply because they believed that they were conferred a sort of reflected glory from their employers. Elizabeth had a clear memory of being sneered at by the elegant females who waited on Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst when she had stayed at Netherfield Park during Jane's illness the previous autumn, but she did not know what to expect from the woman who performed the same office for Lady Catherine. On the one hand, Lady Catherine's consequence, or at least, her over-inflated perception of it, might very well give her maid an air of superiority, having such an illustrious lady in her charge. But, it was difficult to imagine that anyone could maintain even the smallest bit of personal pride in service to Lady Catherine. The overbearing nature of such a mistress, and her tendency to believe that she knew everyone's business better than they could, would, it seemed to Elizabeth, be more likely to beat down the spirit of anyone in such a position. After all, Elizabeth had seen the way the other servants at Rosings, particularly Anne de Bourgh's companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, had been cowed by Lady Catherine, and so she was alive with curiosity to know whether Lady Catherine's maid would be haughty and high in the instep, or if she would show any kind of consciousness of the unreasonable behaviour of her mistress.

As it turned out, Lady Catherine's maid was extremely mortified, though she did not say so; Elizabeth read it in her countenance and bearing. She had humbly asked Hill for some bedding, apparently at Lady Catherine's request, so that the formidable lady could stand her ground and remain in the dining room of Longbourn all night. Hill, naturally, did not know what to make of such an unusual, not to mention unreasonable, request, and so chose to defer to Elizabeth, whom Hill had long realized was the person in authority at Longbourn for the time being. Elizabeth struggled not to laugh, primarily because she did not want to further distress Mrs. Parkes, as Lady Catherine's maid was called, but it was a sore trial to her to hold in her amusement that the stubborn old termagant would rather sleep in the Bennets' dining room than capitulate in any way. It pleased her further to consider that as Mrs. Parkes would be given a place to sleep in the servants' quarters, she would pass the night more comfortably than her overbearing mistress. Elizabeth charged Hill to provide Mrs. Parkes with whatever she needed, and fled up the stairs to her own room to release her pent up laughter. It was with these lighthearted musings that Elizabeth went to her bed.

Part Two

Posted on Thursday, 27 March 2008

Such lighthearted feelings as Elizabeth had felt on retiring could not be sustained under the true duress of the cirumstances, however, and long after the rest of her family had surrendered to dreams, Elizabeth lay awake in her chamber. As it happened, her bedchamber was directly over the dining room, and Elizabeth found herself in a state of constant vigilance, listening keenly for any sound of movement emanating from the room beneath her. That she heard none during all the hours she lay awake was no source of relief, and when she finally did fall asleep, she was plagued by dreams that, though she did not remember their substance in the morning, she knew were of an unsettling variety. Her first act upon arising in the morning was to ring for the maid and ask for some headache powders.

Having much to do in order to minimize the damage to her family's reputation and her own prospects that Lady Catherine's occupation might inflict, Elizabeth dressed immediately and hurriedly, without the luxury of time to allow the medicine a chance to work on her throbbing temples. She had spent some of her wakeful hours devising strategies for the day ahead, her primary goal being the containment of all persons inside, and therefore all information about the siege, within the bounds of Longbourn. Her first task, therefore, was to descend to the servants' hall to address the staff. Her late-night musings had included worries that perhaps she ought to have assembled all of the servants before bed and spoken to them about the crisis. Mrs. Bennet, for all her faults, was an able housekeeper, though her attacks of nerves and general peevishness had at times undermined her discipline with the servants. However, her two eldest daughters had been well trained in the arts of housewifery, and, coupled with their greater understanding and better dispositions than their mother's, they had developed their own degree of authority with the staff, so it was with a high level of respect and gravity that the assembled housemaids, and footmen, and assorted other servants listened to Elizabeth when she warned them in plain language not betray the confidence of the house to any outsider whatsoever, be it merchant, laborer, or a servant from a neighboring home. Stern reference was made to the disagreeable events of the summer, and the disgraceful part they, the servants, had played in disseminating gossip around the neighborhood, to the shame of the entire household, and Elizabeth even went so far as to threaten to dismiss, without a character, anyone who engaged in gossip about the queer Lady above stairs in the dining room. In addition to respecting her, the staff all liked Miss Elizabeth, and they could see the strain these extraordinary events had placed on her; coupled with a desire to maintain their posts, this affection for the young lady led all to solemnly agree to prevent any outsider from hearing of the unorthodox goings on in the household. That they did not refrain from extensive whispered conversations about the peculiarities of the gentry and nobility was only to be expected, but as long as they kept it amongst themselves, Elizabeth could have no complaint. She took the opportunity, while she was in the housekeeper's realm, to apologize to Mrs. Hill for the inconveniences which the unreasonable guest had heaped upon her, and give her instructions on how to proceed for the remainder of Lady Catherine's stay (all the while hoping that it would not extend beyond the morning), including a notice that the family were not at home to any visitors for the duration of Lady Catherine's visit.

Elizabeth was always the first to emerge from her chamber in the morning (Mary was the earliest to rise, but her regimen of studies kept her in her room until breakfast), but by the time she had finished giving orders to the servants, including instructions that Lady Catherine's maid should bring the obstinate visitor her breakfast on a tray in the dining room and see to whatever needs she might have after spending the night there, she found that her family (minus her mother) and Mr. Bingley were all assembled in the breakfast room. Deciding that the wisest course would be to attend them, she put off what she felt was an obligatory meeting with Lady Catherine to determine the current state of the standoff, and went in to break her own fast. She paused on her way to the breakfast room, however, and placed an ear to the door of the dining room; there was a commotion inside, which she assumed was due to Lady Catherine making some sort of hurried attempt to appear in good order if anyone should enter. Elizabeth stifled a laugh, and left Lady Catherine to stew for a while as she went to her own breakfast.

When Elizabeth entered the breakfast room, Jane and her intended regarded her with searching looks, her father with amusement, and Kitty and Mary not at all. Elizabeth chose to behave as if there was not a thing different about that morning, and poured her cup of chocolate and buttered her toast as if she had not a care in the world. It was not until Kitty, liking the feeling of importance she derived from having such an illustrious personage in the house, and eager for details to share when finally able to gossip about their guest, asked whether Lady Catherine would be coming down to breakfast with them, that Elizabeth realized that while they were all aware that Lady Catherine had remained at Longbourn for the night, her father was the only one of the family who knew that Lady Catherine had spent the night in the dining room instead of the guest bedchamber. She instantly determined that if she could by any means prevent them from knowing the true state of events, it would be the best thing for all concerned, and thus did not disabuse her sister of the notion. Elizabeth smiled at her sister as she informed her of their illustrious guest's desire for solitude, but her moment of optimism was short-lived; Kitty continued in a fretful tone.

“I do not see why we are allowing her to stay here, when she has only come to have us evicted from our home to make way for the Collinses. Mama says -”

“KITTY!” Here it was imperative for Elizabeth to interrupt her sister, as her father and Mary suddenly turned very interested gazes upon her - Mary's filled with something between wonder and horror, and Mr. Bennet's with unmistakable amusement and curiosity. Clearly he remembered that she had informed him the previous night that she had fed her mother a series of untruths regarding Lady Catherine's purpose at Longbourn, and he was now discovering just how fantastic her story had been. He was obviously diverted, but Elizabeth knew that the outrageousness of the story she had told her mother must have piqued his curiosity, and she knew that she would have to give him some kind of reasonable - if not truthful - explanation before long. She inwardly prayed that he would not ask for it in present company.

Jane looked distressed by Kitty's words, even though she knew there was no truth to that tale - Elizabeth could not be sure what was filling her with dismay - and Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth was certain, was hiding a laugh behind his napkin. “Surely you know that Lady Catherine is incapable of doing any such thing, Kitty, and Mama is ill, you should not be... encouraging her to talk about...” Elizabeth was at a loss. The lies and nonsense that had flowed with such facility the previous day were much harder to formulate when she had a headache, and had passed a nearly sleepless night, and while all those faces regarded her with such interested expectation. She took a deep breath and collected herself. “Clearly either you, or Mama, or both of you are laboring under a misapprehension of Lady Catherine's purpose here. I think it might be best if you did not sit with Mama today, you will only agitate her if you are going to be spouting such nonsense.”

Kitty was duly offended. “I have no desire to sit with her, in any case - you know I do not like sick people. You are the one who made me wait on her yesterday.”

`Clearly that was a mistake!' Lizzy thought to herself.

“And anyway,” Kitty went on, “I do not see why you should be telling me what to do, Lizzy - you are not my mother, but that is how it always is! And I asked Mama yesterday if she really said that none of us were to go out while she is ill, and she said she never said any such thing, and she would rather we would all go out and leave her in peace in her distress. Then she went on and on about her nerves, and the hedgerows, and what YOU told her Lady Catherine said -”

“Oh, Kitty, do hold your tongue,” Mary said crossly. Ever since the Lydia incident had occurred, and Kitty's part in it had been made known, Mary had come to hold her next youngest sister in complete contempt, particularly as the departure of Lydia from the family circle had failed to, as Mary had expected, increase Kitty's respect for her most studious, accomplished, and virtuous sister.

“Mary,” Jane admonished in her gentle tones, while Kitty stood up from the table in high dudgeon.

“Where are you going?” Elizabeth asked her.

“I am going to call on Maria Lucas, and then I am going to Meryton!”

Realizing that her authority with her flighty sibling was at an ebb, Elizabeth turned a pleading look on her father, who, to her surprise and relief, frowned at Kitty.

“Catherine, what have you done today of any value to the world?” he questioned Kitty with a stern countenance. Kitty only gaped at him, as there was no possible answer to such a query. “Did I not inform you,” Mr. Bennet continued, “that your former means of occupying your time, in idleness and gossip, would no longer be countenanced?”

Kitty gasped in horror; her father had, in fact, announced his intentions to treat her with greater strictness after Lydia's summer adventure, but he had not actually held her to any of the new rules and restrictions he had laid down on his return from London in search of his wayward youngest daughter.

“But PAPA!” Kitty wailed, but her father deigned no further reply other than to tell her that it was his wish that she stay at home and find some useful occupation, adding that she was to mind her older sisters, refrain from plaguing her mother, and leave him in peace. He then turned his attention to his letters, which were on a tray beside his plate, and no matter how much Kitty cried, he remained unmoved. Therefore, it was not until Kitty had subsided into sulkiness that some semblance of domestic tranquility was restored.

Elizabeth had little appetite, and her anxiety to conclude her business with Lady Catherine was such that after only a few bites of her breakfast she rose, hurriedly excusing herself to the assembled company and walking with what she hoped was casual haste to the door. Her father's voice arrested her on the threshold.

“Lizzy, where are you going?”

She turned and looked at him; he had an odd expression on his face, but he was not looking at her, he was regarding rather quizzically a letter he held in his hand.

“I... I thought I should check on Lady Catherine, to see if she needs anything this morning.”

Mr. Bennet looked up. His gaze was piercing, and Elizabeth wondered if it was something she had said or his letter which had produced such an intense regard. “Yes... you do that. And when you have seen to our illustrious guest, I wish to speak to you in my study.” He waved the letter briefly before turning his attention back to it. Elizabeth could have sworn that she heard him chuckle. It was not a comforting sound.

Elizabeth had not advanced more than a few steps across the hall when she was halted again, this time by Jane calling to her as she followed her rapid progress out of the room. Elizabeth turned; Mr. Bingley, predictably, was hard on Jane's heels.

“Lizzy, what would you have us do for you today? Shall we sit with Lady Catherine again when she comes downstairs?”

Elizabeth considered for a moment what would be the best way for Jane and her intended to help her with the increasingly urgent situation. She still had hope that she would be able to induce Lady Catherine to leave during the course of the day, or, at least, she could not imagine that after spending one night in the dining room at Longbourn that Lady Catherine's stubborn disposition could continue to hold out against her desire for comfort. In addition, she hated to make any strong demands on the two lovers' time, when she knew that they would prefer to spend at least some of the day in privacy. It could not be helped, however, as they were the most reliable members of the household (counting Mr. Bingley, of course, as one of them already), and also her only allies, the only ones who knew the true state of affairs.

“No, I do not think you should sit with Lady Catherine, I think she should be left alone. And as Mr. Bingley cannot sit with Mama, and I would not wish to separate the two of you, would you both attempt to control Mary, and more especially, Kitty, and keep them in the house - and, of course, make sure that we have no visitors today?”

“Yes, I think we can do that,” Jane said, her face somewhat grimly determined. “But, what about Aunt Phillips? Surely we may allow her -”

“No Jane! She above all others must be kept out, for it is she whom Mama would tell the whole of the account I gave her yesterday, with Mama's own ridiculous embellishments, no doubt, and there is no one in the entire neighborhood who is less to be trusted to keep quiet about Lady Catherine's `visit.' If Aunt Philips comes to call, you must make sure she is sent away without any information at all - she must not talk to Mama, Kitty, Mary... anybody!”

“Yes, I think you must be right,” Jane sighed, and Elizabeth wondered if her gentle sister was up to the task before her.

“Lizzy,” Mr. Bingley said, hesitantly, “Are you sure that it would not be a good idea for me to write to my friend? I think that Darcy is really the best person to -”

“NO!” Elizabeth cried. “I implore you not to write to him! I have told you, I do not wish for him to know about this at all; it must be resolved without his knowledge, and before he returns from London. In fact, if I thought you could do so without offending him or making him suspicious, I would ask you to write to him to delay his return, but as it is, I think the best thing would be to simply keep him in ignorance of his aunt's peculiar siege of our dining room. Believe me, if he knew, it would not reflect well on me or his aunt, so please, do not let him hear about it!”

“Very well, Lizzy. I cannot say I agree with you, but -”

“Thank you Charles. Now, I must check on our `guest.' Please excuse me.”

But before Elizabeth could make her way to the dining room, the breakfast room door opened once again and Mary emerged.

“Where are you going, Mary?” Jane asked, immediately entering into her role of shepherdess of her younger sisters for the day.

“I am going upstairs to practice my instrument for the morning.”

Elizabeth was seized by a wicked impulse. “Would you mind terribly practicing in the parlor this morning, Mary? I think Lady Catherine would enjoy hearing you - she is very fond of music, and may find it soothing - and she would be able to hear you better if you played downstairs rather than in your room.”

Elizabeth was easily able to ignore the horrified looks of Jane and Bingley at such a suggestion, though she did feel a pang of guilt when she saw how pleased Mary looked at the implied compliment. She could never have imagined that her sister was asking her to torture Lady Catherine in an attempt to make the unwanted guest leave the premises, and happily took herself off to her room to fetch her music books.

“Lizzy!” Jane said reproachfully when Mary was gone. “That was unkind!”

“To whom? Mary was pleased, and you cannot imagine that I wish to be kind to Lady Catherine! I am sorry that the two of you will have to suffer her playing all morning, though.”

“We shall not mind it, but I do not know what I am to do to keep Kitty confined! She has no gift for application, and will try to slip away at the earliest possible moment, and I am sure that Papa will eventually grow tired of her petulance and let her go.”

“No, he will not, and really, keeping her amused will be the easiest thing in the world! You, my dear sister, are getting married! Kitty was robbed of the opportunity to be involved in poor Lydia's wedding plans - all you have to do all morning is talk to her about yours! Praise her knowledge of fashion, ask her advice, tell her of your own ideas, you will make her immensely happy to stay indoors, I assure you, and she has the latest fashion publications from Aunt Gardiner to go through with you to choose your wedding clothes. Your bigger worry will be that poor Charles here will be bored and want to flee!”

Jane looked affectionately at her soon-to-be husband, who blushed a little and assured his bride that any morning passed in her company could not fail to be pleasant. Elizabeth left the two of them to their billing and cooing and finally went to face Lady Catherine in her den. She knocked on the door of the dining room firmly but politely, she thought. There was no answer, so she entered the room, a look of defiance firmly in place on her face.

Lady Catherine was seated in the same place she had been when Elizabeth had left her the night before, and her abigail had obviously done what she could to make her look normal after what must have been an uncomfortable night, but the great lady looked decidedly rumpled. The bedding that had been sent in for her to use was not in evidence, and Elizabeth could not help but wonder where, exactly, Lady Catherine had slept; it did not seem possible that she could have spent the entire night sitting up in the chair, but it seemed equally hard to imagine her curled up on the carpet, which would undoubtedly be the most comfortable spot in the room to sleep. Elizabeth had to banish from her mind the picture of Lady Catherine curled up like a cat under the table, lest she begin to laugh and ruin the effect she meant to create, that of determination and strength. Elizabeth had a tendency to laughter at all times, and when she was tired, as she most certainly was that morning, she had a definite tendency towards giddiness that was beginning to set in, and which she knew she must suppress at all costs, particularly when she heard Mary begin to play the pianoforte in the next room. She schooled her features sternly and regarded her adversary; her disheveled appearance aside, Lady Catherine clearly meant to project the same facade of indomitability.

Elizabeth had debated whether to engage in polite pleasantries for the sake of that propriety that had flown right out the window when Lady Catherine had entered the house the previous afternoon, or get right to the point; her impish sense of humor, piqued by her sleepless night, won the day. “I trust you slept well, Lady Catherine?”

“I always sleep well,” Lady Catherine replied with her customary haughteur, clearly expecting Elizabeth to believe such an impossible statement.

“And shall I call for your carriage?”

“Are you ready to promise me that you will never marry my nephew?”

“No indeed, madam.”

Lady Catherine did not vouschafe another answer, but Elizabeth could read in her face and stiffened posture all she needed to know at present, and was about to leave the room without further discussion - she had no interest in arguing with Lady Catherine - when a thought occurred to her.

“I think you should know, Lady Catherine, that last night my father suggested that either the bailiffs or a physician should be called, to remove you either to prison or an asylum. I convinced him to reconsider, for now, but I make no guarantees...”

“You. Would. Not. Dare!” Lady Catherine snarled, and Elizabeth shrugged.

“We shall see,” she said, and left the room, closing the door behind her none too gently.

The interview with Lady Catherine had passed in just the manner that Elizabeth had anticipated; though she hoped the impasse would be ended by the close of the day, she had not expected it so early. She nodded to the footman whom Hill had stationed in the hall, and proceeded to her next, and likely more difficult interview; an explanation to her father was now in order, and he had as much as said so at breakfast. She resolutely approached his library and entered without knocking.

“Ah, there you are, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet said, as Elizabeth closed the door behind her, “I was just on the point of sending for you - I thought you had forgotten that I wished to see you, or had decided to ignore my request.”

Elizabeth noted that her father wore an expression of great amusement held tenuously in check; she noticed also that he still held a letter which looked like the same one that had intrigued and amused him at breakfast.

“I had some things to look after Papa,” was her only reply, which made him chuckle.

“Yes, yes, our illustrious guest. I trust she spent a comfortable night?” Mr. Bennet's amusement was no longer held in check; he laughed.

“She had no complaints. I... I suppose that now you wish for an account of her purpose here?”

“No indeed, for I have had one this morning in the post.” Mr. Bennet waved his letter at her.

Elizabeth was stunned. Who could possibly have written her father to tell him of Lady Catherine's reason for descending upon Longbourn and refusing to leave? She felt a moment's unease at the thought that it might be a letter from Mr. Darcy, but the thought was immediately banished as irrational - Mr. Darcy could not even know that his aunt was in Hertfordshire, and if he had known, he would likely have come himself to confront the situation - he was, after all, the man who had set off for London to find Lydia, and that was an affair in which he was not personally involved. Before Elizabeth could ask her father the name of his correspondent, he took up the line of questioning himself.

“And do you not wish to know who my informant is?”

“I am all curiosity, Papa,” Elizabeth answered with complete truth.

“This letter, which has been most enlightening, is from Mr. Collins.”

“Mr. Collins!” Elizabeth's heart sank. Mr. Collins, of all people, was indeed the very one who might be able to give her father at least a partial account of Lady Catherine's intentions; though Elizabeth had not figured out yet where Lady Catherine might have heard the ridiculous rumour that she and Mr. Darcy were engaged, it did seem likely that with such a piece of information in her grasp, Lady Catherine might speak to Mr. Collins about it. In fact, it seemed highly likely that she would. And did.

“Yes, Mr. Collins. He has given me some hints that I confess at any other time would seem extraordinary, but today make a great deal of sense, and will spare you from accounting for your guest's eccentricities, as the letter chiefly concerns yourself, and my cousin's illustrious patroness. I did not know before, Lizzy, that I had two daughters on the brink of matrimony. Let me congratulate you, on a very important conquest!”

Elizabeth blushed. “Papa -”

Mr. Bennet laughed at her discomfort. “You look conscious, my dear. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters as these; but I think I may defy even your sagacity, to discover the name of your admirer. I will not read you the letter in its entirety, for I know you are a busy young lady, running the household while your mother is indisposed, and looking after our guest, but I will reveal to you the salient bits: Mr. Collins informs me that you are engaged to Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy, of all men! He seems to have heard such a thing from the Lucases, and I must congratulate them - I do not think that they could have pitched on any man, within the circle of our acquaintance, who would have been a more absurd candidate for the position! Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his life! It is admirable! And so, says Mr. Collins, Lady Catherine intends to force you to renounce the match! And this, this is the reason that the lady now occupies my dining room - she hopes to force you to give up your lover! There now, Lizzy, I defy you to provide a more entertaining account than that!”

Elizabeth gave her father a weak smile. “Indeed, I cannot think of anything more incredible.”

“Engaged to Mr. Darcy indeed! Well, Lizzy, I can only hope that the real reason for Lady Catherine's visit will not disappoint too much after such a diverting tale. So, let me have it then, so that I may write to the ill-informed parson about the real reasons for his esteemed patroness's freak of behaviour. I can only hope that he does not take it into his head to come support her! Well Lizzy, out with it - what is Lady Catherine really doing here?”

Elizabeth's throat had gone dry. “As much as it pains me, and for a number of reasons, to admit this, Mr. Collins is not, in this instance, misinformed. Lady Catherine has, in fact, come to Longbourn to forbid me to marry her nephew, and refuses to leave until I give her my promise that I will not marry him.”

Mr. Bennet blinked at his daughter in astonishment for a few moments before breaking into peals of laughter. He was seized by such paroxysms of mirth that tears ran down his cheeks, and he collapsed back in his chair in weakness. His mirth ran long, and Elizabeth waited in unhappy impatience for it to subside. It was only after several minutes that it did so, and Mr. Bennet wiped his streaming eyes with his handkerchief.

“Admirable, Lizzy, admirable! I did not know that you had it in you - to deliver such a line with such a straight face! The very idea that you, out of all the women in Hertfordshire, you, who have hated Mr. Darcy since the very first night you met him, should be engaged to him! As our poor Lydia would say, what a good joke! When you have hated him so since the very beginning!”

“I have become much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy since then, Papa,” Elizabeth said with a cold indignation that her father did not seem to notice. “He is not the man he seemed to be that night at the assembly.”

Mr. Bennet laughed again. “Well, I did always say that he was probably not as much a monster as you had painted him - you were quite vehement in declaring him the worst of men!” Mr. Bennet had to pause to laugh some more. “Of course, you also declared that you would never dance with him, and then you went and did so at the Netherfield ball - never thought I would notice, did you?” Mr. Bennet teased the increasingly mortified Elizabeth, who was now wishing that she had been more moderate in her expressions of dislike for Mr. Darcy. “But you cannot convince me, Lizzy, I know you. What is Lady Catherine really doing in our dining room?”

Elizabeth sighed. She could not think of a plausible excuse, and her father showed no inclination to believe the truth, for which she could not blame him. “That is the truth, Papa.”

“I see you are determined to keep it from me, then. It must have to do with Mr. Collins - I hope that Lady Catherine does not think that she can foist him off on us simply because she is displeased with him; she must know that a living is held for life, and she cannot hope to impose him on this family until I `shuffle off this mortal coil,' which I have no intention of doing for some time yet. And I cannot think why she would speak to you about it instead of me. Well, I have changed my mind, Lizzy; I do not wish to know why Lady Catherine came, nor why she will not depart - ignorance is bliss, they say, so I leave her entirely to your care.” Mr. Bennet chuckled as he picked up his letter again. “Now, go, child, I have a letter to write.”

Elizabeth was astonished at this conclusion to the conference - not only did her father refuse to believe the truth, but he concocted his own equally ridiculous explanation for the event, and then washed his hands of the entire affair! He had always been somewhat indifferent about the goings on under his roof, but such a level of indifference seemed to his daughter to be downright negligent! Still, it removed a small part of the burden from her shoulders - she no longer had to account to him, and as she had actually told him the truth, she need not fear reproach on that head when the truth of the matter revealed itself. Elizabeth tucked away the worry of what her father would say to Mr. Darcy if he should ever come to apply for her hand, and returned her focus to her immediate troubles.

“Papa, would you mind terribly waiting until after I have resolved this crisis before writing to Mr. Collins about it?”

Mr. Bennet was a dilatory correspondent at the best of times, so it took very little to persuade him to put off his reply to the ridiculous parson, and Elizabeth left the room in profound relief.

Elizabeth encountered a footman just outside the door, on his way to post two letters by express on behalf of Lady Catherine, and a quick glance confirmed her suspicion that the dining room boarder had written again to her nephew and her clergyman; Elizabeth took the letters from the servant and sent him back to his post outside Lady Catherine's domain with the instructions that Lady Catherine was to be supplied with no more paper, pen, or ink, and that if she did managed to produce any more letters, they were to be given to Elizabeth straight-away, though Lady Catherine was not to be informed of the fate of her missives.

Elizabeth went next to the drawing room to check on her sisters and Mr. Bingley; Mary's pounding on the pianoforte evidently masked the sound of Elizabeth's footsteps in the hall, for when she opened the door she clearly startled Mr. Bingley, who was seated at the writing desk in the corner, and upon her entrance, quickly shoved some papers into a drawer with a profoundly guilty expression. Elizabeth did not even have to look to know what he was engaged in hiding from her; she confiscated his letter to Mr. Darcy, and, for good measure, removed every piece of paper, and the bottle of ink, from the desk, and from everywhere else in the room that she could find any.

“I cannot think why everyone in this house has suddenly developed such a mania for letter writing,” Elizabeth grumbled as she left the room, ignoring Mr. Bingley's and Jane's apologies for attempting to undermine her plans. She abandoned them to Kitty's enthusiasm for their wedding plans and decided to search the house for other sources of writing paper, and perhaps check on her mother's condition.

On her way up the stairs, Elizabeth encountered Hill, and took the opportunity to ask the housekeeper how the staff were managing; the report was mostly reassuring, although there were a few maids who were apparently distressed at having been scolded by Lady Catherine for some perceived dereliction of duty. Elizabeth instructed Hill that the staff need not concern themselves with Lady Catherine's opinion on the manner in which they carried out their duties, and furthermore, that none of them need oblige Lady Catherine in any way. Inspired to greater flights of wickedness, Elizabeth instructed Hill that henceforth the staff should ignore any summons to the dining room, no matter how forcefully Lady Catherine may ring the bell, and, as a precaution, directed that until Lady Catherine should leave, all meals should be served in the breakfast room. Hill surprised Elizabeth with a ready acquiescence to this proposal, but on reflection it was evident that to be able to avoid the room where Lady Catherine was ensconced would be the easiest thing for all the servants of Longbourn.

Before Elizabeth had a chance to continue her search for writing materials on the second floor she was interrupted in her progress down the hall by a hiss from the direction of her mother's room.

“Psssst! Lizzy! Come here!”

Elizabeth turned to see her mother's door opened a tiny crack, and her mother peering out at her. Her verbal summons was supplemented by a frantic waving of her hand, and Elizabeth obliged her mother by entering her room. No sooner had she entered when Mrs. Bennet shut the door and leaned against it, seemingly out of breath. Elizabeth scrutinized her mother and was troubled by a pang of guilt to see that her mother did truly look ill. Mrs. Bennet's nervous troubles may have been largely imaginary and self-inflicted, but it was obvious that the lady was sincerely distressed.

“Is she gone yet?” Mrs. Bennet hissed in a whisper.

“Not yet, Mama - I would have informed you if she had gone.”

“I cannot believe, Lizzy, that you allowed that woman to spend the night in my house, and that you continue to allow her to remain - and I am shut up alone in my room - in my own house! - simply because that dreadful woman must have her way. I am shockingly ill-used by you all, and it is all your fault, Lizzy!”

“I have done my best to persuade Lady Catherine to go, Mama, but she is, as I have told you, very strong willed -”

“And so are you! And this is all your fault!” Mrs. Bennet had given over whispering, and moved to her bed with a moan. “If you had only married Mr. Collins when he had asked you! But no one listens to me...”

Elizabeth was in no mood to revisit her mother's grievances in the matter of her refusal of her cousin's proposal, particularly with such glaring evidence seated below them in the dining room of how unpleasant life in Hunsford could have been, and launched a brilliant salvo calculated to end that battle for all time - or at least until such time as her mother found out the truth of the matter regarding Lady Catherine's visit. “I fear, Mama, that my marriage to Mr. Collins would not have protected us in this instance from Lady Catherine's unreasonable interference. You see, I have just been speaking to her, and she has informed me that when she urged Mr. Collins to come to Hertfordshire last year to look amongst his cousins for a wife, she also advised him that should he marry one of us, he must not feel responsible for the well being of all of the others in the eventuality that he become master of Longbourn. She told him that as he would likely have any number of children of his own to support, it would be foolish of him to think of providing for any of his wife's sisters, or her mother, should you have survived Papa. In short, she advised him to turn us all out into the hedgerows when Papa passes, allowing only his wife to remain in her childhood home. I could scarcely believe that she would urge him to such cruelty, mad though she may be, but so it was, and you know that Mr. Collins's respect for his patroness is beyond any loyalty he might feel to his wife, much less his wife's family - I have seen it so with poor Charlotte! I can only be grateful that after I refused him, Mr. Collins did not seek to recommend himself to one of my sisters - it must have broken anyone's heart to have to turn off one's own sisters and mother, especially at a time of their grief!”

Mrs. Bennet's gaping mouth and stunned silence attested to the success of Elizabeth's latest falsehood; she felt another moment's guilt, tempered with relief that her mother's reaction was so quiet, and not a bout of her habitual wailing. It was exceedingly mortifying, however, to have such proof of her mother's weak understanding in the ease with which Mrs. Bennet accepted such outlandish tales as truth.

Mrs. Bennet eventually recovered her speech and her querulousness enough to begin to complain at being left alone all day in her own chamber with no one to comfort her. She blamed Elizabeth for her isolation.

“It is too hard, Lizzy, that I must be shut up here, while that odious Lady Catherine enjoys the run of the house! Why, this is my home, after all - for now - and I do not see why I should have to remain in my own room merely because Lady Catherine is mad! And why cannot someone sit with me? Why is everyone kept away? At least Kitty or Mary ought to spend the morning with their poor, suffering mother, you know - I do not expect such attentions from your father, nor even from you, but where is Kitty? Where is Jane?

“Dear Mama, you cannot want Jane to come and sit with you, when she has Mr. Bingley to entertain!”

“What, Mr. Bingley is allowed in the house, but not my sister? If Mr. Bingley is here, then I must write to my sister at once to attend me! I am very ill, you know - no one knows what I suffer, and with that mad woman in the house, threatening to cast us out among the hedgerows at any moment! I shall go mad myself! I have never had such an attack of the nerves, I can tell you! Give me some of that paper, Lizzy, so that I may write to my sister!”

Elizabeth held the papers away from her mother. “Oh no, Mama, you cannot ask Aunt Phillips! If she comes here and finds out what has been occurring at Longbourn, she will waste no time in spreading the news around the entire neighborhood! And you know how she is - she will muddle the story so completely, that soon everyone will have it all wrong, and all of Meryton will be under the misapprehension that you have taken a fit of madness yourself, or some such damaging tale! You do not want Aunt Phillips to ruin our family, do you? Can you think that any man, even Mr. Bingley, would marry any one of your daughters if they believed that there was madness in the family? No, we must not have Aunt Phillips in - she means well, but you know she is a most dreadful gossip! Just think of all she said when poor Lydia had gone away - and in the end that all turned out to be nothing, and Lydia was married!” It took all of Elizabeth's mental fortitude to use such a distressing subject, and presented in such a way, to convince her mother, but she was perfectly aware that her mother now saw Lydia's elopement in that light, and she was at least sincere in feeling that her dear aunt would be the first to spread tales to everyone she might meet.

“Oh, Mr. Bingley surely would not abandon dear Jane!” Mrs. Bennet paled.

“No, I am sure he would not, but we must be sure that he does not hear anything to her detriment, and it is on those grounds that Jane is spending every moment with him, instead of sitting with you. She must make sure to keep his affections, and now would not be the time to abandon him.” Elizabeth was grasping at straws, and she knew it. “And as for Kitty and Mary - surely you do not want to suffer Kitty's peevishness and coughing, and I have sent Mary to practice her instrument downstairs on purpose that she might not disturb you when your health is indifferent. And you know that you do not want Papa's company! He never has any compassion for your poor nerves! I can sit with you, if you like, though, or I could send Hill to attend you...” Elizabeth hoped that her mother would reject both of these options, and was relieved when she did. Having exhausted herself with complaining, and not truly enjoying Elizabeth's company, Mrs. Bennet took herself back to bed with a novel that Lydia had brought back from her travels in the summer, only asking to have something sweet sent up to tide her over until luncheon.

Her mother dealt with, Elizabeth completed her sweep of the upstairs rooms in search of paper (having surreptitiously taken all of her mother's writing materials while Mrs. Bennet was rearranging her pillows) and took them all to her own room. She was surprised at the amount of paper she had found among Mary's things, and wondered what Mary found to do with it - though it did answer the question of what Mary did with all her pocket money, since she obviously spent very little on ribbons, or bonnets, or suchlike ornamentation to her wardrobe.

After she had hidden her bounty away, Elizabeth lay down on her own bed to think for a few moments. There were two subjects preying on her mind: how to convince Lady Catherine to leave, and her own feelings for Mr. Darcy.

When Lady Catherine first announced her decision to remain at Longbourn, Elizabeth was certain that a few hours only would be required for the absurdity her actions to occur to her, and then Lady Catherine would leave of her own accord. By the time darkness set in, and a moonless night that would not allow for a return journey to Kent, Elizabeth had begun to understand that Lady Catherine really meant to keep her word, and not budge from Longbourn until she had received the assurances required. So, obviously something must now be done to convince the unwanted guest to depart.

The obvious solution, to give Lady Catherine her word not to marry Mr. Darcy, was completely out of the question, and Elizabeth refused to even consider it for a moment. Whatever her faults may be, Elizabeth was a woman of her word, and she would not promise something she had no intention of doing. The only trouble was, she could think of nothing else that might induce Lady Catherine to return to her own home. She had tried threatening the bailiff or the asylum, but she would never follow such a course, not wanting to bring more scandal on her own house after the Lydia affair, and not confident that Mr. Darcy might not resent such treatment of his aunt, not to mention that Elizabeth was reluctant to visit such a scandal on Mr. Darcy's family either! And yet, absolutely no idea occurred to Elizabeth to make Lady Catherine go away.

Elizabeth turned her thoughts to the other subject, one that had been on her mind since before Lady Catherine's arrival, Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth had acknowledged to herself (and, somewhat accidentally, Jane and Mr. Bingley) that she loved him, and had decided even before the matter came to a head with Lady Catherine that if he were to return to Hertfordshire and ask her again to be his wife she would accept him with great pleasure. And despite Mr. Bingley's assertions, Elizabeth was convinced that if Mr. Darcy were summoned to Longbourn, and witnessed the current state of affairs, and became aware of the downright rude treatment his aunt has received at her hands, he would not want to marry her at all, if he even harbored any such feeling still.

Elizabeth removed Mr. Bingley's latest attempt at a letter to his friend from her pocket and made an effort to read it. She noted with amusement that Caroline Bingley had not exaggerated overmuch when she had complained one day at Netherfield about her brother's deficiencies as a correspondent. Mr. Bingley's letter, while not as blotchy as Caroline's account had led Elizabeth to expect, was scarcely legible; she suspected that his was a hand one must be accustomed to in order to decipher his meaning. No doubt Mr. Darcy, his close friend and a man of great penetration, would be able to read it, but beyond the salutation, Elizabeth was able to make out but a few words, including “return,” “aunt,” “distress,” “Jane,” and “Elizabeth,” and another word, following close upon her own name, that might have been “love.” As fond as she was of her sister's beloved, Elizabeth could not help but feel irritated that he felt authorized in revealing her affections to Mr. Darcy in such a way, not to mention his glaringly wrongheaded idea that Mr. Darcy should be informed of the situation at Longbourn. Mr. Darcy could not, she was certain, be pleased by such a letter.

Elizabeth sighed deeply. Her entire future, it seemed, depended on discovering some solution to the problem in the dining room without Mr. Darcy ever finding out what had passed over the last two days. Mr. Darcy was to return to Netherfield in two day's time, which left Elizabeth with one more day to resolve the standoff. It was not an encouraging thought, particularly when she factored in her unruly and hard to control family, but it must be done if she were to have any hope of a return of Mr. Darcy's attentions. And with the pleasant thought of Mr. Darcy's attentions on her mind, Elizabeth fell asleep.

Elizabeth had been asleep for several hours when a great commotion in the room below hers awoke her from a very pleasant dream of Mr. Darcy that would later put her to the blush when she happened to recall it. In the present instance, however, she had not leisure for dwelling on pleasant dreams, and she fairly flew down the stairs to find out what was the matter. She saw her father's bemused face looking out from the door of his study when she gained the hall, but the dining room was her object; the noise emanating from that room was considerable and worrisome.

Even when she had gained the room, it took some time for Elizabeth to gain any sense of the calamity; the room was crowded and everyone there seemed to be talking, or shouting, or crying. Jane and Bingley were found comforting a wailing Kitty, Mary was moralizing to anyone who cared to listen, Hill was speaking frantically to a housemaid and the footman who had been standing watch at the door, Lady Catherine was shouting, apparently at Kitty, and Mrs. Parkes was nervously trying to communicate something to her mistress, who took no notice of her. The most expedient path to tranquility seemed to be to separated the warring parties, so Elizabeth speedily ushered her sisters and Mr. Bingley none too gently out the door with an admonishment to Jane to return Kitty to the parlor and quiet her down. Next she requested that Hill take her two charges elsewhere, and the three servants left with alacrity, and not without glowers at the difficult guest. Elizabeth then turned to Lady Catherine, who continued to shout after Kitty even after the sobbing young lady was no longer within hearing.

“Lady Catherine, silence yourself!” Elizabeth cried, without thinking whether it would be politic to speak thus to the great lady, and reverting naturally to her customary method of dealing with her younger sisters when they became quarrelsome. Her rudeness, fortunately, was a surprisingly affective means of silencing her ladyship's tirade, and Lady Catherine matched Elizabeth's glare measure for measure.

“You may do well to remember that this is not Rosings, and you are not a welcome guest in this house. However much you may be displeased with me, you are not entitled to impose your officiousness on any other member of my family, or the household staff - if anything here displeases you, you have only to leave. Do not forget that I can call the bailiffs as any time, and will do so if you persist much longer in this folly. I, Lady Catherine, am not to be trifled with, either!”

Lady Catherine took a slow, deep breath that Elizabeth could not but interpret as a mustering of forces before an attack. She could see Lady Catherine's lady's maid cowering behind her mistress, a look of pleading on her face, though it was not clear to Elizabeth whom the look was meant to implore.

“Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine began, but Elizabeth was in no humor to listen to any more impertinent demands.

“Whatever you would say, I have no desire to hear it,” Elizabeth interrupted. “You have no authority in this house, and henceforth you will be treated as what you are - most unwanted company. Do not expect anyone here to give any consideration to your rank or position; you do not act like a lady, and will not be treated as one. You and I can have nothing further to say to each other except good-bye; you may summon your carriage if you want it, but do not expect any other commands of yours to be attended to. I will not indulge you with further notice.”

Elizabeth turned on her heel, and Lady Catherine's shouted “Miss Bennet!” was cut off by the door Elizabeth slammed when she left the room.

The scene in the parlour had abated somewhat, and Elizabeth never did gain a full understanding of the cause of the disturbance. From Jane she received intelligence that Kitty had left the parlour to go in search of a particular fashion periodical in order to show Jane a dress that she thought would become her; that Kitty had intended to look for it in the dining room did not occur to Jane until she heard the shouting. Kitty resolutely refused to divulge what Lady Catherine had said to her that set off the tempest, but Elizabeth finally surmised, with a peculiar mixture of relief and dread, that Kitty was now prepared to believe whatever evil tale of Lady Catherine that Elizabeth might choose to spin for her. It was with pure relief that Elizabeth heard her younger sister declare that she no longer had any interest in sharing news of Lady Catherine's visit with any of her friends and neighbors. Whatever Lady Catherine had said to her had obviously been grievously mortifying and completely quelling.

Leaving Kitty to her sulks, Elizabeth apologized to Jane and Mr. Bingley for abandoning them for so many hours, and heard Jane's report of what had transpired while she was dreaming away the afternoon. As Elizabeth had requested, luncheon was served in the breakfast parlour, and Hill, who was still feeling very put-upon, had already directed the housemaids to set that table for dinner as well. As far as Jane could tell, the servants were acceding to the usual situation admirably. Aunt Phillips had, as had been expected, come to call, and Jane had gently and tactfully turned her away, not even allowing her to sit in the parlour and have a cup of tea with her nieces. Elizabeth could not but think that Jane was better suited than she to orchestrate the whole family in the current crisis, were it not for her sister's continuing agreement with Mr. Bingley (which Jane mentioned once again in her recital of the afternoon's events), that Mr. Darcy should be summoned to the scene at once. Elizabeth ignored the suggestion, and retired along with her sisters to dress for dinner.

Two things excited Elizabeth's admiration and gratitude at dinner that evening: Mr. Bingley's extraordinary capacity to provide cheerful conversation when no one else seemed much inclined to support it with contributions of their own, and the delicious dinner produced by Longbourn's kitchens during a time of such crisis in the rest of the house. Her enjoyment of the dinner was enhanced by the wicked pleasure she derived from thinking of the supper of bread and water which she had directed to be provided for the solitary diner in the dining room, sans candles or a fire, as Elizabeth had, after the confrontation that had so upset Kitty, adopted some rather draconian methods of both punishing her unruly guest, and perhaps further encouraging her departure (it did not escape Elizabeth's notice that Hill seemed pleased by her requests). Visions of Lady Catherine's indignation sustained her under the amused glances of her father, the tearstained and fearful glances of Kitty, and the gentle concern of Jane. That pleasing image provided her with pleasure all the evening, in fact, until Mr. Bingley returned to his own home at a much earlier hour than was his custom since his engagement, and the Bennets, as of one accord, retired earlier than was their wont.

Once again Elizabeth lay sleepless for a good portion of the night, but she did not spend her wakeful hours listening for trouble from the unpleasant visitor, whom she was coming to regard as a species of vermin, no more welcome than mice in the pantry or fleas in one's bed. That her earlier outburst had made the situation worse, she did not doubt. Her continuing failure to discover a solution to the problem of Lady Catherine's unshakable tenacity was the primary source of her insomnia, and it did not escape her notice that if her fondest wish was answered, she would one day be in the terribly uncomfortable position of having to call her enemy “Aunt.”

The habits of a lifetime are difficult to abandon overnight, and Elizabeth woke at her normal hour despite the scant hours of repose her thoughts had allowed her. A glance out the window disappointed her hope of taking a turn out of doors before breakfast to clear her mind; a steady, heavy rain conspired to confine her indoors more effectively than her troublesome visitor could. The rest of the house remained quiet as she dressed herself and left her room, but as she neared the bottom of the stairs she was startled from a reverie on a pair of deep blue eyes seen in a dream, by a flurry of movement; she looked up just in time to see the swirl of Lady Catherine's skirts disappearing through the dining room doorway only seconds before the door was quietly, but quickly closed. Sweeping her eyes across the hall, her gaze rested on the hapless footman who had been assigned to serve as sentry overnight; he was, instead of standing vigil outside the dining room, standing in the doorway to the parlour with a look of chagrin.

“I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth, but I must have fallen asleep...” his voice trailed off as another person emerged from the parlour, and it took a few moments to recognize her as Mrs. Parkes, her arms loaded with a bundle of bedding. Lady Catherine's woman did not meet Elizabeth's eye, but curtsied hastily and scurried out of sight with her burden of blankets. It was all Elizabeth could do to hold in her laughter as she told the poor young man who had failed in his duty that he would not be discharged for allowing Lady Catherine and her abigail to sneak past him in the night to make up a more comfortable bed for her ladyship on the sofa in the drawing room. Though she could not be pleased to know that Lady Catherine had passed a more comfortable night than she deserved, the great lady's mortification at being caught snoring on a couch by a footman was enough to put Elizabeth in as cheerful a frame of mind as the morning could hope to offer while Lady Catherine remained on the premises at all.

It struck Elizabeth that perhaps she may have Lady Catherine at a disadvantage at the moment, and decided that perhaps one final attempt at a reasonable interview was in order, and so, dismissing the poor footman to his bed, she made her way to the dining room and entered without knocking, leaving the door open to the hall. Lady Catherine, she decided, did not deserve the courtesy of privacy while she continued to intrude herself where she did not belong.

One glance told Elizabeth that she had caught Lady Catherine at a disadvantage, but she graciously looked away for a few moments, though she still did not close the door, while the mortified lady hastily put herself to rights with the help of the poor, beleaguered Mrs. Parkes.

“I congratulate you, Lady Catherine, you have won a round in finding yourself a comfortable bed,” Elizabeth began nonchalantly, ignoring her foe's snort at the notion that she had passed the night in comfort, “I shall be sure to lock all of the doors to other rooms tonight before I retire. Or perhaps it will suffice if I lock this door instead?” Elizabeth casually rested her hand on the door handle. “Unless, of course, you are gone before tonight,” she concluded, finally looking at the now-composed dowager with a carefully neutral countenance. “Shall I call for your carriage? With the weather so indifferent you had best make an early start back to Kent.”

“I see you persist in your delusion that I can be forced to leave without that for which I came.”

“It is you who suffers delusions, your ladyship, if you think that I shall ever make you a promise so absurd. You have no doubt divined that I am not altogether willing to bring in outside forces to remove you, but do not think that my scruples on this head are unwavering. I am reluctant, I admit, to engage in a public scandal, but you would err in imagining it is out of any concern for your reputation. I am concerned for my family, and for Mr. Darcy and his sister - no doubt they would suffer from the public knowledge of their aunt being afflicted with madness. As it is, I would not have your niece or nephew know of this incident, lest it embarrass them, but I will not be able to avoid it for much longer - I think you should be aware, Lady Catherine, that your nephew returns to visit his friend tomorrow, and you will then be unable to avoid his notice of not only your outrageous conduct here, but also your unwarranted and impertinent interference in his affairs.”

“I am glad to hear that he is finally coming here to resolve this matter himself! I have written twice to urge his attendance, and am quite put out that he has chosen to delay. His assistance in putting an end to your pretensions would relieve me of the responsibility, and you may believe that I would be infinitely pleased to leave this place and never return. Never in my life have I been treated so abominably, and you may be sure that not only will my nephew hear in minute detail all the injustices visited upon me in this house, but the world will also be made aware of your disgraceful behavior at every moment since I have come here to reason with you. I need not fear Mr. Darcy's arrival, Miss Bennet, but I can assure you that when he arrives, your upstart pretensions will be at an end. Unless, of course, you are prepared to tell me now that you intend to refuse to accept him if he should make you an offer of marriage. Will you give me your word?”

Another perverse impulse took Elizabeth's mind at that moment, a sudden yearning to exacerbate matters once again, in the event that further aggravating Lady Catherine might force her to abandon her absurd vigil. Affecting a breezy attitude, she answered the steely query, “No indeed, madam, I have told you that I intend to act in the manner that I feel most likely to promote my own happiness - and Mr. Darcy's of course, for I am convinced that his happiness and mine should be secured in the same fashion - and I have now determined that marriage to Mr. Darcy would make me the happiest woman in the world. I am quite decided that I shall marry him if he asks me -” Elizabeth stopped herself before she could add the word `again,' recalling that Lady Catherine did not yet know that Mr. Darcy had already proposed once and been repulsed. There may yet come a time, she felt, when that piece of information should be revealed, but she did not feel that that moment had yet arrived.

“I see what you are thinking, Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine said with a calmness that immediately put Elizabeth on her guard. “You are aware that your chances of finding a husband are severely diminished by the scandalous elopement of your youngest sister. There are not many men, after all, who are so heedless of fortune, position, and, above all, reputation as that ridiculous man who has engaged himself to your elder sister. You must be conscious of the grievous mistake you made in refusing your cousin's offer a year ago, though I am relieved to not have you as my rector's wife. Clearly you are in hopes that my nephew has not heard of the disgrace of your family, and you think you will be able to ensnare him when he returns to the home of his friend. Well I tell you, Miss Bennet, that I shall make him know of it. But in the event that your attractions prove too much for his common sense and knowledge of duty, I am prepared to make you an offer myself, which I think you will find most advantageous.” Lady Catherine calmly and deliberately seated herself in the chair that had been her accustomed perch for the last several days.

“An offer?” Elizabeth was puzzled; this was not what she had expected. She waited for an explanation, absently noting that she could hear voices in the hall: Jane, Mr. Bingley, and her father. She hoped, more than she believed, that they would not take the opportunity offered by the open door to overhear her conference with Lady Catherine. Not knowing what direction her ladyship's odd quirks may lead them in, she was certain that at some point their discussion would lead to subject she would prefer none of her family to hear. She stepped closer to Lady Catherine to hear what she had to say.

“Yes, a very generous offer. In light of your evident intention to secure your fortune through marriage to my nephew, I propose to settle on you an annuity - a very handsome sum, if you will only promise me that you will never marry Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth could not help but laugh at the unexpected offer, insulting though it was. “You have only proved by this that you are as much a fortune hunter as anyone I have ever known, for really, what else can you call your determination to attach Mr. Darcy's estate to your own? But I, no matter what you think, am no fortune hunter. I do not expect you to believe me, or even understand me, but I will never marry for fortune, or position, or even security. I will marry for love. And I love Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth was prepared for a scoffing answer from the sneering woman before her, but it was not Lady Catherine de Bourgh who answered her.

“You do?”

Elizabeth whirled around upon hearing the deep, tender, familiar voice behind her. She could have sworn that her heart stopped beating altogether for just a moment before it resumed, pounding in her chest most alarmingly, for there in the doorway stood Mr. Darcy, dripping wet and bespattered with mud, an unmistakable light of hope in his eyes. Elizabeth found herself unable to speak. Mr. Darcy took a cautious step into the room, his eyes never leaving her face, and spoke again.

“I know you, Elizabeth. I have before observed the great enjoyment you take in occasionally professing opinions that are not in fact your own, particularly if they may discompose someone you think deserves to be defied. But you are, I believe, too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on the subject forever.”

Silence him! Nothing could be further from Elizabeth's desires, but he could not really mean for her to refrain from speaking at such a time! The look of expectation in his eyes told her he did not.

“Oh, they are changed! They are changed utterly, Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth cried with every ounce of feeling in her.

“Well then,” Mr. Darcy said gently, stepping forward to close the remaining distance between them and taking her hands into his, “I must tell you that you have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you - and never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

But a few more words and phrases were then required to establish a perfect understanding between them, and then Elizabeth was gratified to see how well the expression of heartfelt delight diffused over his face became him as he swept her up in his arms and twirled her around, laughing with joy. When he had replaced her on her feet he was prevented from further expressing himself as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do when Lady Catherine, who had remained in a stupefied silence since Mr. Darcy's unexpected entrance, and the greater part of Elizabeth's own family erupted in a great pandemonium of anger and exultation, depending on the feelings of the individual witnesses to the very great happiness of Elizabeth and her Mr. Darcy.

After that, there was no time for love making, as a great deal remained to be accomplished. Mr. Darcy had a contentious and loud discussion with his aunt behind the closed door of the dining room, the result of which was the great lady's hasty and indignant departure, spouting invectives on Elizabeth and all her family as she fled Longbourn for Kent. That onerous duty dispatched, the necessity of finding some dry clothes for Mr. Darcy, who, during the excitement of the events of the morning, had not regarded the dampness and dishevelment that resulted from his having ridden in the rain from London that morning at the very earliest possible hour for setting off, became obvious and urgent to a certain young lady who had recently found herself very concerned for his health and welfare.

As soon as Mr. Darcy could be properly supplied with raiment, which, though dry, did not allow him to present himself with quite his usual dignity, it became time for the lovers to face the father of the prospective bride. Mr. Bennet required a great deal of convincing on the part of Elizabeth and her beloved, both singly and in concert, to accept the match and give his blessing, which he eventually bestowed with a mixture of sadness and elation. Mrs. Bennet had to be informed both of Elizabeth's fortunate alliance and her own newfound liberty within her own home, the former piece of news rendering her uncommonly silent for a good ten minutes together before she was recalled to speech with great professions of joy combined with her sudden remembrance that she had always found Mr. Darcy to be a very handsome, gentlemanlike and agreeable man.

There was Mr. Bingley to be forgiven, on Elizabeth's part, for having defied her wishes and sent his friend an express from Netherfield on his return home the previous evening, imploring Darcy to come at the earliest possible moment to rescue his fair maiden from the dragon who was his aunt. Elizabeth also had to endure a great deal of “I-told-you-so-ing” from her future brother, causing her for the first time in her life to understand her friend Charlotte's frequent pronouncements that she was lucky to have only sisters. Jane had to be forgiven as well, for having sided with her soon-to-be husband over her sister, and encouraging him in his determination to take pen in hand. The mention of letters recalled to several members of the household that they had letters to write, and so Elizabeth released from her custody all of the writing materials she had confiscated so that Mr. Bennet could write an answer Mr. Collins's letter from the previous day (an exercise which gave him evident pleasure if the chuckles emanating from his study were to be believed), and Kitty could write to Mrs. Wickham to tell her the astonishing news that not only was Lizzy to marry Mr. Darcy, but the gentleman himself was suddenly revealed to be a very handsome man indeed, despite the color of his coat. Mary had some writing of her own to do - she intended to bestow upon Elizabeth the same gift she had presented to Jane upon her engagement announcement, a selection of choice extracts on the subject of marriage copied from some very improving books.

Mrs. Bennet had a great number of visits to pay, first and foremost to her sister Phillips, who could be counted to assist her in spreading the news far and wide before the setting of the sun upon Meryton and its environs. She mentioned but little of the surprising visit of her most esteemed guest, and what she did tell her sister and friends bore little resemblance to the true events of the preceding days, but if, over the years, whispers of the truth filtered through the ears of the neighborhood, it was not due to Mrs. Bennet's indiscretions, or at least, not entirely.

Mrs. Bennet's departure was nearly as much of a relief to Hill as Lady Catherine's, as Hill was always more at ease when Mrs. Bennet was neither suffering from an attack of nerves, nor in the house. Though the family, and any attendant beaux, assumed that the splendid dinner served that evening in its proper environment was meant as a celebratory meal honoring the betrothal of the second eldest daughter, in truth it was a testament to Hill's joy in having her house back to normal.

It was not until all of these and more various and sundry matters of business had been dealt with that the newly professed lovers had an opportunity to relieve their feelings and slip away together for a tęte-ŕ-tęte of a tender nature; a turn in the garden, which was newly bathed in the waning sunlight which had chased away the morning's tempest, provided the perfect setting for each to unburden their hearts of the myriad feelings that had been concealed within for so long. Gratitude, admiration, hopes for the future, apologies for the past, probing questions with bashful answers, all were shared between them, with a bit of gentle teasing thrown in for good measure. It was Elizabeth who asked the most salient question of the day, when she asked him to account for his having ever fallen in love with her.

“How could you begin,” Elizabeth asked, with sincere wonder. “I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?”

“I cannot fix the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It was too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun,” answered her equally amazed beloved. But by this time the two had reached the shrubbery, and being no longer in view of prying eyes peering out of windows, the time for talk was temporarily ended, and Mr. Darcy was truly able to express his feelings to Elizabeth as sensibly and as warmly as a man so violently in love can be supposed to do.

The End

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