An Amiable Man

By Judy-Lynne

Beginning, Section II

Chapter 1

Revised, posted on Thursday, 17 January 2002

Author Notes: An Amiable Man is a companion story to Sometimes a Great Notion and it deals with how Bingley finds his way to happiness after spending a miserable winter without his beloved Jane Bennet. If you haven't read the other story (a retelling of P&P that among other things introduces the character of Olivia Crenshaw, who will be recognizable to those who have read my more recent work), you may find yourself a bit confused. Reading it either prior to (or alongside) this one is strongly recommended.

Amiable.

He shrugged into his new green coat and stared at his reflection somberly.

That is how everyone sees me. That is all anyone ever says of me. I am amiable...or pleasant--no worse--pleasing. That is what I am, merely pleasing. "Here lies Charles Bingley, a pleasing, amiable man." A boring epitaph, not really worth dying for, is it? He winced as he lifted his arm and found the fit a bit tight.

I suppose I could be called far worse. But just once I would like to be thought of as handsome Mr. Bingley, or intelligent Mr. Bingley, or dashing, or witty. Witty Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bingley, you are a wit! He smiled at his reflection.. Or erudite, or shrewd, as they call Darcy. His handsome face fell. No, no one would believe that I was shrewd. I am certainly not shrewd where women are concerned. Darcy made that perfectly clear to me last November. Mr. Bingley sighed deeply, then started when he heard a polite cough at his back. He turned around to find the tailor waiting patiently. Mr. Bingley hurriedly removed the coat and replaced it with the grey one he had worn to the tailor's shop.

After a brief discussion with the tailor, Mr. Bingley collected his hat and cane and left the shop. He strolled down _____ Street, halfheartedly peering into shop windows. He briefly considered stopping in at his club, but thought better of it since he had walked out early in the afternoon and it would probably be dark before he headed for home. He decided to walk home through the park. Perhaps the scenery would lift his spirits.

What is wrong with me? There is nothing to be ashamed of in being found amiable. It is not as dire an affliction as being miserly, or slovenly, or a libertine! Then why do I feel as though I have to apologize for merely being "nice"? It seemed that lately everyone called him "amiable," as though it were a euphemism for boring or dull. Mr. Bingley wondered what Jane Bennet thought of him, or if she thought of him at all. As quickly as the notion came to him, he discarded it. It would not do to begin thinking of her again.

It was mid-March and he had not seen Jane Bennet since the previous November. He had thought of her often since then. He thought of little else whenever his mind was not completely occupied with more pressing matters. But now it was spring, and his sister Louisa had just left for the Continent with her husband, Mr. Hurst. He would be alone, save for the company of his sister, Caroline and a few acquaintances who were in town at the moment, barely enough to keep him occupied.

Mr. Bingley briefly considered returning to Hertfordshire. If I could just see her...if I could just see for myself that she does not return my affections...I was a fool to take Darcy's word for it. He and Caroline were dead set against us from the first. I realize that they meant well, but I cannot help but wonder if I did the right thing in accepting their advice. The wind picked up and Mr. Bingley raised his collar against the chill in the late afternoon air. He picked up his pace, beginning to regret his decision to walk in the park when the March wind nearly tore his hat from his head. Mr. Bingley stopped to reposition his beaver. That is when he saw her.

"Miss Bennet?" The slim figure that had just passed him on the path turned around.

"Mr. Bingley!" she cried, and much to his amazement, threw her arms about him in a fierce embrace and burst into tears. Mr. Bingley was taken aback by her effusive greeting. One minute I am wandering the park wallowing in self-pity, the next minute a beautiful woman throws herself into my arms. Just my luck, it is the wrong one. Mr. Bingley sighed and smiled wistfully as Elizabeth Bennet, overcome with emotion, spontaneously embraced him.

Mr. Bingley," she said, stepping back to a more respectable distance, "I am so glad to see you!" She looked as though she might attack him again, so Mr. Bingley quickly grabbed her hands to hold her at bay.

"It is you, Miss Bennet. When you passed me on the path a moment ago, I wasn't sure."

"I passed you?" Elizabeth was stunned. "Oh, my dear Mr. Bingley, I am so glad to see you. I came to the park with a friend and we got separated and now I am completely lost! And my friend..." Elizabeth spoke in an uncharacteristic rush. Her words were intermingled with sobs. All Bingley could gather was that Elizabeth had somehow gotten lost. The rest of it wasn't quite clear, but he decided to bring her to safety first and deal with the rest later.

"If you will come with me, Miss Bennet, I will take you to my townhouse. It is but a short distance from here," he said nodding in the direction from which Elizabeth had come. "I think you could do with a cup of tea and some rest. Then we'll see to getting you back to your friends."

Mr. Bingley offered his arm to Elizabeth, who gratefully accepted it, and resumed his course toward ______ Street. His mind raced with questions, but he sensed that it was not the time to talk. Miss Bennet seemed to have suffered some sort of trauma; better to get her to his townhouse and out of the weather before he broached the subject of how she came to be alone in _____ Park at dusk.

The two therefore walked silently, Elizabeth leaning heavily on his arm. Elizabeth appreciated Mr. Bingley's considerate forbearance, as he slowed his pace to hers and made no effort to engage her in conversation. In a surprisingly short time they were at the park entrance. A carriage sat not fifty feet from Mr. Bingley's home and Elizabeth withdrew her arm from Mr. Bingley's and went over to where the coachmen stood. After a brief exchange, she returned to Mr. Bingley and explained that the carriage belonged to her friend and she sent the footman to where the friend had last been seen. Elizabeth then allowed herself to repair to the comfort of Mr. Bingley's parlor.

As he entered Mr. Bingley's drawing room, it occurred to Mr. Bingley that his sister was not at home and that entertaining an unmarried lady alone his parlor might be construed as improper, particularly at that hour of the evening. Mr. Bingley informed Elizabeth that his sister would not be home for some time, but that his housekeeper, a Mrs. Stewart, could join them as chaperone. Mr. Bingley sought out the lady himself and told her of Elizabeth's plight. Mrs. Stewart immediately set aside her bookkeeping to attend to his request. She ordered tea and sandwiches made and grabbed her workbasket. Mr. Bingley returned to the drawing room and poured a glass of sherry for his unexpected guest. He sent for tea, only to discover that the invaluable Mrs. Stewart had anticipated his request. Mrs. Stewart entered the parlor discretely, and took a seat in a corner with her knitting.

After tea was served and Elizabeth had consumed a sandwich to fortify herself, she looked at Mr. Bingley. Anticipation was etched on his face. It occurred to Mr. Bingley that Elizabeth Bennet probably had not come to London alone. It was inconceivable; she must have come to visit a relation or friend. Perhaps she had traveled to town with a sister....

"I must thank you again for rescuing me, Mr. Bingley." He immediately protested and Elizabeth smiled at his gallantry. She took a deep breath then and began her explanation.

"I am in London visiting my aunt and uncle --and my sister--for a few days. Sir William Lucas and his daughter, Maria are also visiting with the Gardiners. On Friday, I leave for Hunsford to visit my friend, Mrs. Collins. You will remember her, Mr. Bingley: Charlotte Lucas, as was. She married my cousin, Mr. Collins, late December last year." Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up at the word "sister." He smiled at her encouragingly, but Elizabeth paused to sip her tea.

Mr. Bingley found himself growing impatient. He tried not to speculate, did not dare to dream, for all the good it might do him if it were true. Please, Miss Bennet, tell me it is true. Tell me that Jane Bennet is in town...you have had quite enough tea, Miss Bennet. I rescued you from the park; I now require you to rescue me from my torment...please! He could no longer contain his curiosity. He would know the truth without further delay.

"So you and your sister are off to Hunsford on Friday?" Mr. Bingley's attempt to appear casual was at once pathetically obvious and endearing. Elizabeth took pity on him.

"Oh, no, Mr. Bingley. Jane will be staying on in London for another six weeks yet." Mr. Bingley's smile outshone a dozen suns.

"Jane? Uh, Miss Bennet is in London?" Yes! Dear God, yes! Jane is here! Tell me where I can find her, Miss Bennet! No, no, just take me to her....

Elizabeth hid her smile behind her teacup. As she suspected, Mr. Bingley still harbored feelings for Jane. But as quickly as Mr. Bingley's smile appeared, it darkened. The sadness in his eyes moved her deeply. "What is it, Mr. Bingley?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all, Miss Bennet." He stared into his cup as the memories of that bleak morning in November when his best friend and sister broke his heart irreparably swept over him in a relentless tide.

"My sister called here some weeks ago," Elizabeth said, trying to lift his mood. "Did your sisters never tell you?" She knew that they had not mentioned Jane's visits to Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bingley's face registered shock, and then for a moment he became angry. Could it be true? Could Jane have come to this very house? And no one thought it worthy of mention? Mr. Bingley was furious at his sisters' betrayal, but he soon became glum once more.

"No, they did not mention it, Miss Bennet." Maybe his sisters had wanted to spare him the discomfort of seeing her again. Mr. Bingley slowly rose and went to the tray and refilled his cup. Elizabeth refused more tea but accepted a biscuit. She was dismayed by Mr. Bingley's attitude. She had not expected this!

Mr. Bingley smiled when he returned to his seat opposite Elizabeth, but it held none of its usual charm. Mrs. Stewart peered at Mr. Bingley over her knitting and also noted the change in her master. The mention of Jane's name seemed to oppress rather than inspire Mr. Bingley. For months now, he had longed for nothing more than an opportunity to see her again. He had not voiced that wish aloud to a soul, save for Mrs. Stewart, who had a way of seeing beyond his façade and ferreting out the truth. Mrs. Stewart instinctively knew that something terrible had happened that awful day in November. Mr. Bingley had returned from Hertfordshire on the 27th of November the happiest man alive, but two days later his world seemed to fall apart. Mr. Bingley's heart had been broken and, at her gentle prodding, he had revealed to Mrs. Stewart the sad circumstances of his shattered dream.

Mr. Bingley had fallen in love with a lady he met in Hertfordshire the previous autumn. Jane Bennet was beautiful, accomplished, gentle, and sweet--the perfect complement to Mr. Bingley's more ebullient nature. He was instantly smitten, and in the ensuing weeks had fallen deeply in love. After Mr. Bingley's ball at Netherfield, the estate he leased in Hertfordshire, he decided that Jane Bennet was the woman with whom he wanted to share the rest of his life.

Mr. Bingley left Hertfordshire the next morning to attend to some pressing business in London. On his way to town, he had made up his mind to ask for Jane's hand upon his return. But before a day had passed, his sisters Caroline and Louisa had followed him to London, along with Louisa's husband, Mr. Hurst, and his best friend, Mr. Darcy. They had immediately engaged in an effort to convince Mr. Bingley that Jane Bennet did not love him.

Mr. Bingley would not accept their arguments at first, but after a week or two they had worn him down, and he succumbed to their advice. He had not returned to Hertfordshire, and he had not seen nor heard from Jane Bennet again. Until his most unexpected encounter with Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Bingley had not dared to utter Jane Bennet's name. He would not even reveal it to Mrs. Stewart. He had thought of Jane constantly, however, and for the better part of the last four months, Mr. Bingley had quietly nursed the embers of the flame his friends had sought to extinguish. Mr. Bingley's love for Jane lived on, shuttered behind a carefully constructed veneer that only one person had managed to penetrate. The irony was not lost on Mr. Bingley; the woman who had been keeping his house for less than three years better understood his heart--and his pain--than his closest friend and relations.

From the moment he first came upon Miss Bennet he had been filled with a mixture of hope and despair. Her sudden appearance had excited both his curiosity and his doubts. Mr. Bingley had never recovered from his loss, but he half-wished, half-feared that Miss Bennet would tell him that Jane was beyond his reach forever, that some lucky man had been so fortunate as to win her heart and her hand. If so, he would have to learn to live without her. He would have no choice but to let the flame die. Someday the pain might subside and he could find peace again.

Elizabeth heard the clock on Mr. Bingley's mantel chime five times and suddenly became aware of how late it had become. She thought of her aunt and uncle. Neither she nor Olivia had told anyone where they had gone. They would be worried by now. Mr. Bingley, noting her distress, immediately offered to order his carriage for her ride home. Elizabeth was torn between wanting to return to Gracechurch Street and wanting to stay and talk with Mr. Bingley. Something was clearly troubling him, for all that he attempted to deny it, and she wanted to help him if she could.

While they waited for the carriage to be brought around, Mr. Bingley discretely inquired about the circumstances that led to Elizabeth becoming lost in the park. He was very surprised by the lady's reaction. Elizabeth blushed furiously and seemed to be at a loss for words. Mr. Bingley was immediately skeptical of her hastily concocted excuse. Perhaps she had had an assignation with a gentleman. But surely no gentleman would abandon a lady to her own defenses; such behavior would be unconscionable!

"I went to the park with a lady friend," Elizabeth managed. "She stopped to speak with an acquaintance...and we became separated. I...I do not know my way around the park and I am afraid it is all my own fault that I got lost." Bingley instinctively knew that there was more to the story than Miss Bennet was willing to let on. Perhaps it was the other lady who had planned an assignation and abandoned Miss Bennet in the park. If so, she was undeserving of Miss Bennet's loyalty. When Elizabeth expressed a sudden interest in the provenance of the painting above the mantel, Mr. Bingley allowed her to change the subject, and the two chatted for some minutes about meaningless things. But Mr. Bingley observed her carefully. She seemed to be deep in thought. He had never known Miss Bennet to be duplicitous. In fact, Mr. Bingley had come to admire Miss Bennet's forthright honesty during their brief acquaintance, particularly in her dealings with his friend, Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Bingley secretly admired the way Elizabeth conducted herself in Mr. Darcy's imposing presence. She had fearlessly and confidently challenged him and on more than a few occasions she had succeeded in rattling him completely. Mr. Bingley had never known anyone whom Mr. Darcy treated as a complete equal, but Elizabeth Bennet commanded and received his respect. She had humbled him out of his vaunted pride, and Mr. Bingley was envious of her power over him.

Part of Mr. Bingley's lasting resentment over Mr. Darcy's interference in his pursuit of Jane Bennet was his suspicion that Mr. Darcy had been somewhat hypocritical in his objections to a marriage between himself and Jane. Mr. Bingley had long suspected that Mr. Darcy had fallen as much in love with Elizabeth as Mr. Bingley had with Jane, although Mr. Bingley doubted that Elizabeth returned his affections. Mr. Bingley could not help but conclude that Mr. Darcy's interference had had more to do with his own feelings for one sister than any real doubts about the other. Mr. Bingley would not blame his friend, however. If Jane Bennet did not love him, Mr. Darcy had done him a service. But Mr. Bingley could not remove the nagging uncertainty at the back of his mind. If only he could see Jane again. Elizabeth Bennet could prove to be the key to an audience with her. Mr. Bingley reddened slightly when he realized that Elizabeth had addressed him and was awaiting a reply.

"Mr. Bingley, would you do me the honor of escorting me to my uncle's house? I'm sure that my sister, Jane, as well as my aunt and uncle would be happy to see you. And I am sure Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria would also be happy to meet you again."

Mr. Bingley hesitated for a moment then smiled his acceptance, his desire of seeing Jane overwhelming his every apprehension. Earlier today I pleaded for an opportunity to see Jane again. My prayers have been answered; I must see her, for better or worse. Before I lay myself to rest tonight, I will have my answer. I will know if Jane Bennet is lost to me forever, or if there is any hope that I can win her to my suit.

A short while later, Mr. Bingley escorted Elizabeth to his waiting carriage. As he settled into his seat, he knew that what transpired in the next hour might very well seal his fate. Elizabeth and Mr. Bingley rode in companionable silence for a while. Mr. Bingley spared a few minutes to try and unravel the mystery behind Miss Bennet's sudden appearance in _____ Park, but before long he turned his mind to his own concerns. After a time, Elizabeth began to talk of her aunt and uncle, and of her friend, a Miss Olivia Crenshaw, so that before either of them knew it, the carriage pulled into Gracechurch Street, and stopped in front of the Gardiner's residence. Mr. Bingley entered the Gardiner's home with no small amount of trepidation. In just minutes, he could find himself once more in Jane Bennet's company. Almost as soon as the thought entered his mind, a door opened and the lady stood before him.

At the sound of Elizabeth's voice, Jane had sprung from her chair and rushed into the corridor, but when she saw Mr. Bingley all thoughts of her sister fled. Jane was only aware of the man who stood before her, equally transfixed. Mr. Bingley could not move; his earlier scheme of pretending to be a disinterested family friend was abandoned. Mr. Bingley sensed but did not see the people who began to assemble in the corridor to greet Elizabeth. Mr. Bingley suddenly found himself surrounded by children and was propelled down the hall by their momentum.

He was heartily welcomed by all the Gardiners as their Lizzy's savior. He blushed and stammered at all the attention, and was ushered ceremoniously into the parlor. Sir William Lucas and his daughter, Maria, the only two people in the entire household who hadn't bolted into the entry hall, were reacquainted with their Netherfield neighbor. It took several moments for the clamor to die down, and for Mr. Bingley to be seated next to Elizabeth on the settee.

A tumult of emotions churned in Mr. Bingley's heart as Jane, who sat demurely on the seat nearest the settee, returned his earnest gaze. Elizabeth's aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, were well acquainted with Jane and Mr. Bingley's history in Hertfordshire and immediately took note of the attraction between the two. Mr. Gardiner nudged his wife and they shared a satisfied smile.

A maid, who was delighted to see her favorite houseguest safe and sound, served refreshments. Elizabeth was pressed by the Gardiner children to tell her story. Elizabeth knew that she would have to dissemble, as she had done earlier. It would be impossible to reveal to the assembled party that Elizabeth had gone out in search of Mr. Bingley at the insistence of her friend Olivia in hopes of convincing him that he and Jane deserved a second chance at happiness. Olivia's idea had backfired completely. After dodging first Miss Bingley and then Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth had become hopelessly lost in the park and had not seen her friend in over an hour. She knew she could not avoid some sort of explanation, but she did not want to have to answer any questions.

"Miss Crenshaw and I decided to go out for some air," she began slowly. "We went to a park, a very large park, with lots of paths with twists and turns," she continued, gesturing with her hands to make the story more entertaining to the children.

"Bigger than our park across the street?" asked Andrew, aged eight.

"Oh, much bigger!"

"Why did you not just go to the little one?" asked Elizabeth's four-year-old namesake.

Elizabeth hesitated. "Because we were on an adventure!" she said eyes wide. Well, that was not exactly a lie, was it? "Anyway, we started walking through the park and it was so pretty. There were so many things to look at, that when Miss Crenshaw stopped to speak with a friend and I saw something very 'interesting'--."

"Was it a monster?" asked Edward, who at ten, saw monsters everywhere. Elizabeth smirked enigmatically before answering. She continued her tale, being careful to avoid mentioning the presence of Mr. Darcy or her own role in getting lost. Mr. Bingley pretended to listen with interest, as much as his divided attention would allow. He stared at Jane, aching to speak with her, unable to find words with which to express all that he felt.

"It must have been dreadful," Maria breathed. "I should not have been as brave as you, Lizzy." Remembering her near panic of just an hour earlier, Elizabeth blushed and smiled sheepishly. She glanced again at her Aunt Gardiner. The older woman looked somewhat troubled.

"And what became of Miss Crenshaw?" she asked. Mr. Bingley immediately rose to his feet, and Mr. Gardiner started to join him. But Elizabeth stayed them with a hand and quickly explained that in her last glimpse of Miss Crenshaw, she saw her with her gentleman friend. The couple seemed to be looking for her, but Elizabeth somehow lost sight of them.

"Fortunately, Livy's carriage happened to be waiting very near to Mr. Bingley's townhouse. I had a word with her footman and he went to look for Miss Crenshaw with a lamp."

"Do you think he will ever find her?" asked Edward. Elizabeth smiled at the boy, hoping to give a reassurance she herself did not feel. "Yes, Edward. I am sure she's safe at home with her Papa even now."

Elizabeth's smile quickly faded and Mrs. Gardiner shooed the children from the room. They each kissed their cousins Jane and Elizabeth, then bowed and curtseyed to their other guests. Mr. Gardiner began to engage Mr. Bingley in conversation, and Mr. Bingley in turn drew Jane into the discussion. Fairly soon the two were involved in their own conversation, and Mr. Bingley felt the burden of four months of suffering begin to lift from his shoulders.

She remains unattached; dare I presume that...no, it would not do to read too much into anything. Suffice it to say she is still unmarried, she will be in London for the next six weeks at least, and...well, she seems...that is to say, she does not appear to despise me for departing Hertfordshire so abruptly November last. Mr. Bingley's heart swelled with hope. The smile that had faded in his parlor an hour earlier was restored, and it was generously bestowed upon Jane Bennet.

For her part, Jane bore Mr. Bingley no ill will. There was, however, much she wanted him to account for. She heartily wished for an opportunity to speak with him privately. She smiled at Mr. Bingley shyly. She could not believe that he sat within arm's reach of her in her uncle's parlor. He must be some wonderful figment of her imagining! Surely the real Mr. Bingley wanted no more of her; his sister had made that quite clear in her letters. And yet...Jane did not care to speculate. Mr. Bingley truly was there beside her. He was very real, and she was so afraid that she might scare him away again that she could barely bring herself to say more than a few words at a time.

Mr. Bingley gradually became aware that Mrs. Gardiner seemed to be eyeing him strangely. He soon realized that she was actually peering at Elizabeth, who looked very unwell. Mr. Bingley turned to her and clumsily offered his assistance. Elizabeth was crying and he had no idea what he should do, but fortunately Mrs. Gardiner came to Elizabeth's aid. Jane knelt at Elizabeth's knee and whispered something to her sister before Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Gardiner raised Elizabeth to her feet. Elizabeth mumbled an apology and was taken upstairs. Mr. Bingley took Elizabeth's departure as his cue to leave, but Mr. Gardiner wouldn't hear of it. He urged Mr. Bingley to stay for supper, and Mr. Bingley offered little resistance. He was in no hurry to leave Jane's side.

"I hope that your sister has not suffered too much from her ordeal," Mr. Bingley said to Jane.

"She is very fortunate to have found you when she did. I dread to think what might have happened otherwise. We are all in your debt, Mr. Bingley." Jane's cheeks glowed and she averted her eyes as she spoke and Mr. Bingley knew that she was struggling with her emotions. Whether they were for him or her sister, however, he could not discern.

As they waited for Mrs. Gardiner's return, Mr. Gardiner and Sir Lucas discussed politics, and Maria buried her head in a book, while Mr. Bingley and Jane sat together on the settee and carried on a superficial conversation. Neither wanted to discuss the new art exhibit, or the fickle spring weather, but their feelings were too raw and their conversation far too public to allow any real communication. Nonetheless, they were speaking with one another as though no time and no malice had ever divided them. A servant brought in a note and handed it to Mr. Gardiner, who asked that it be taken upstairs to its proper recipient. A short while later, Mrs. Gardiner came downstairs and reported that the note was from Miss Crenshaw and that all was well.

Mr. Bingley left the Gardiners' home a while later with a renewed hope: He had seen his beloved Jane, and if she did not love him, she at least did not hate him. Mr. Bingley resolved to devote the next six weeks to winning her affections. He would and must succeed. His future happiness depended on it.

Mr. Bingley whistled tunelessly as bounded up the stairs to his townhouse. As he entered the vestibule, he heard his sister Caroline bellowing from the top of the stairs. He ducked into the drawing room with a wink to the amused footman as his sister's voice resonated through the house.

"Should my brother deign to return at a reasonable hour and in a reasonable condition, you will kindly inform him that I wish to speak with him," she snarled. A moment later, Mrs. Stewart slipped quietly into the room. She and Mr. Bingley exchanged a smile.

"Do not worry, Mr. B. We will not betray you," she said conspiratorially.

"What is it this time?" Mr. Bingley asked wearily.

""She waited for you an hour before she was forced to dine alone, sir." Mr. Bingley rolled his eyes, and then looked up at Mrs. Stewart curiously.

"Did you not tell her where I had gone?"

"I thought it best not to, sir, given her objection to the lady," was Mrs. Stewart's reply. Mr. Bingley absently scratched his head.

"How on earth did you know that my sister dislikes Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley often playfully accused his retainer of having extraordinary powers of observation, but this was uncanny. She had not even seen the two ladies together.

"I thought...that is, I assumed...is Miss Bennet the lady you told me about? I have often heard Miss Bingley mention the name..." she said sheepishly, fearing that she had overstepped her bounds.

"Miss Bennet is not the lady I spoke of. It is her sister, Jane, that I am in love with. But you are spot-on about Miss Elizabeth Bennet and my sister...they do not get on well. I appreciate your discretion, Mrs. Stewart." The housekeeper almost imperceptibly sighed in relief.

"May I pour you a brandy, Mr. B.?" she asked, reaching for the decanter.

"No, Mrs. Stewart, I want to keep a clear head. I have some serious thinking to do," Mr. Bingley announced as he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

"About a certain lady?" Mrs. Stewart asked as she returned the decanter to the ornate mahogany cabinet.

"Yes, Mrs. Stewart. About a certain lady and how I should go about courting her." Mr. Bingley opened his eyes and sat upright. "I saw her, Mrs. Stewart. Jane Bennet is in town and lodging not three miles from here. Only think of it!" His boyish enthusiasm made Mrs. Stewart smile. She had not seen her usually cheerful employer looking so happy in months.

"I dare say you intend to keep it from your sister and Mr. Darcy." Mr. Bingley abruptly turned to Mrs. Stewart.

"Do I have any choice?"

"I am not sure it would be wise, Mr. B. Your friends are more likely to be critical if you attempt to deceive them." Mr. Bingley's face registered confusion. "I suspect that they will blame Miss Bennet for the deception and be even less likely to approve of her if you do, sir." Mr. Bingley immediately dismissed her argument.

"Miss Jane Bennet is incapable of deceit. She is an angel, Mrs. Stewart, utterly incapable of such thing. In fact," he added, his handsome features hardening, as he stood and pleaded his case, "I suspect that what my sister and Darcy told me was untrue to begin with. I mean...that is...I think they were mistaken about Jane. She may not be in love with me," he admitted with a pang of discomfort, "but if she does not it is only because my sister and Darcy did not allow her sufficient time to form a real attachment. All the more reason for me not to tell them about Jane being in London." Mr. Bingley threw himself into the chair, as the futility of his argument struck him.

"They already know," he said dejectedly as he ran a hand through his curly mane. "Miss Bennet told me that her sister called on us a few weeks ago." Mrs. Stewart came forward and sat in the chair opposite the frustrated man.

"That was your Miss Bennet? I thought the name sounded familiar, although I would not have connected the two ladies. One is raven-haired and animated, and the other was just the opposite."

"They are indeed sisters, Mrs. Stewart. "If you ever saw them together you would never have a doubt. I have never seen such sisterly devotion as I witnessed between the two of them in Hertfordshire," he said wistfully. Mrs. Stewart quietly observed the young man for a few minutes.

"I suggest that you grab the bull by the horns, Mr. B.," she said as she rose to take her leave. She had nearly reached the door when Mr. Bingley called her.

"Exactly what do you mean by that?" Mrs. Stewart turned and looked Mr. Bingley in the eye.

"If you want to win your Jane Bennet, sir--if you do not mind my saying so--you had better be prepared to fight for her." She traced a curtsey and left Mr. Bingley to his ruminations.

He needed a strategy. An opportunity lay before him, if he could just figure out how to keep his sister and best friend from ruining it for him. No matter what it took, Mr. Bingley was determined to win the love of Jane Bennet. He immediately resolved to keep his reunion with her a secret for the time being.

"Blast!" he declared as he abruptly rose from his chair. "The Gardiners are taking the ladies to the theatre tomorrow night, and Darcy has also invited Caroline and me.... we are bound to encounter one another...."

Mr. Bingley stared at the door Mrs. Stewart had lately passed through. "Grab the bull by the horns...very well, Mrs. Stewart. Tomorrow I will go on the offensive. The quiet, passive, 'amiable,' dull Mr. Bingley must give way. I may not be a shrewd as Darcy, or as manipulative as Caroline, but I am just as determined. No...I am more determined. I will do whatever it takes to win Jane's love, and I will stop anyone...anyone...who gets in my way." Satisfied, Mr. Bingley rose and went to the cupboard and drew out the decanter. He poured himself a brandy.

"Elizabeth Bennet, you will be my inspiration. If I can acquire even half your skill in dealing with Darcy and Caroline, Jane and I will have an understanding before the summer solstice." He raised his glass in a silent toast to his muse, downed it in one gulp, and headed for his bed and the best sleep he had enjoyed in some time.

Chapter 2

Mr. Bingley awoke bright and early the next morning and went down to break his fast in an extraordinarily cheerful mood. He bantered with the footmen as he piled his plate with a hearty helping of everything on the sideboard. Even the dour maid who poured his coffee was moved to smile when she saw the twinkle in her master's eye. The sunny mood only lasted a few minutes, however. Caroline swept into the room in a mood as foul as her brother's was cheerful. He carefully shuttered his emotions behind a bland façade.

"Where were you last night? I waited over an hour for you before I decided to dine alone," she declared as she glared her brother. She assumed that he had been to his club and had spent the evening drinking and carousing with his friends. "Really, Charles, if you must go out carousing with your friends, you should at least have the courtesy to inform your poor dear sister."

"You are not at all poor, Caroline, although I do hold you very dear. I apologize for causing any alarm. I was not, however, at my club. I..." Mr. Bingley picked up the newspaper as he remembered his intention of not telling his sister about his encounter with the Bennets. Unsure of how to continue without whetting his sister's curiosity, Mr. Bingley stuck a piece of toast into his mouth as a stalling tactic. His mind raced furiously as he chewed. No, she must not know. Caroline would only run to Mr. Darcy, and that is the last thing I need. No, this time, things are going to turn out differently. I will 'grab the bull by the horns,' but she is not the male of the species. I shall have to deal with Darcy first. Caroline will capitulate to anything Darcy does. His mind made up, Mr. Bingley nonchalantly buttered another slice of toasted bread.

"I went to the aid of a friend in need, an old acquaintance I had not seen in some time. I invited 'him' back here, and then later escorted 'him' home in my carriage and stayed to supper."

"You mean another of your so-called friends took advantage of you," Miss Bingley sneered disdainfully. "Oh, Charles, you are far too nice to people."

That is something you will never be accused of, dear sister, Mr. Bingley thought, as he continued to attack his plate. He turned to his sister and asked aloud the question that had been on his mind since the previous morning.

"What is so wrong with being nice to people?" Miss Bingley rolled her eyes dismissively.

"What good does it accomplish?" she replied with a small shrug of her shoulders.

"A world of good," Mr. Bingley replied, with a smile. "You have no idea."

"Did your friend not have a carriage of his own?" Miss Bingley asked abstractedly with a shrug of her shoulders as she buttered a bit of scone. To her mind, someone who did not own his own carriage wasn't worthy of notice. Mr. Bingley ignored the remark and held his newspaper in such a manner as to barricade him from his sister's scrutiny. That effectively ended the intercourse, and he began to relax a bit and actually read the news. But Miss Bingley was in the mood for conversation.

"Oh, Charles! I saw the most delightful hat at Mme. Depardieu's shop yesterday. It has the most wonderful little beads along its edge, and I am sure that Mister--." Miss Bingley caught herself and looked at her brother. Rather than arouse his suspicions, she had not so much as gained his attention. "Charles," she whined, turning down a corner of the newspaper. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course, dear," he said with a sigh. He lowered the paper and listened as she began to describe the hat. Before she had completed her second sentence, Mr. Bingley interrupted.

"Caroline, surely you do not expect to engage me in a conversation about women's finery?" he said with just a hint of exasperation in his voice. Miss Bingley threw down her napkin with an elegant pout, and then suddenly remembered something.

"You are supposed to dine with Mr. Darcy today, are you not?" Mr. Bingley paled. He had completely forgotten about his plans for luncheon at White's. "Do bring him back here for tea afterwards, Charles," she purred.

"Caroline, we are to see Darcy this evening at the theatre. We cannot monopolize all of the man's time." Miss Bingley's pout returned; she stood regally and swept out of the room.

It was now safe to smile again, but Mr. Bingley was worried. The last thing he needed right now was a few hours in Mr. Darcy's company. If dodging his sister had been difficult, this would be an ordeal. Mr. Darcy's powers of observation were easily twice those of his sister's. Mr. Bingley carefully arranged his features in a mirror. How many times had he heard Mr. Darcy say that he could read his face like a book? Mr. Bingley needed a strategy or the bull would have him cornered before he had a chance to seek Miss Bennet's favor.

Jane entered the dining room to find Mr. Gardiner reading the newspaper. When he noticed Jane, he laid aside his paper and beckoned her to join him.

"Come in, come in, my dear. I am afraid you find me all alone this morning. Your sister and the sweet lady I have the honor and pleasure to call 'wife' have fled the coop with Miss Lucas, apparently before dawn, from the looks of things," he said with a wry smile. Jane stared blankly at him for a moment.

"Lizzy is gone? And my aunt as well...." Jane's disappointment was almost palpable, even as she tried to hide it. Mr. Gardiner observed her closely as she stirred her tea dejectedly.

"I realize that, wizened old man that I am, I am hardly likely to be your first choice as advisor and confidant. But I have at least three more years of experience in life on this earth than your aunt and considerably more than either you or Lizzy," Mr. Gardiner intoned as Jane eyed him quizzically. Mr. Gardiner removed his glasses and placed his hand over Jane's.

"I would like to be of use, if I may." Jane averted her eyes and blushed, unsure if she could bring herself to open her heart and reveal her vulnerability to Mr. Bingley's smile. "You are feeling some ambivalence over Mr. Bingley's appearance are you not?" Jane managed to make eye contact with her uncle, but only for a second. That brief glance, however, spoke volumes. "It is to be expected, after the tumult of emotions you experienced as a result of his sudden disappearance in the fall." Jane's second glance conveyed her shock at her uncle's perceptiveness. He sat back and took a sip from his cup.

"Oh, Fanny told us all about your heartbreak and disappointment during our visit at Christmas. Indeed, it was your mother's constant harping on the whole affair that led Lizzy to ask us to bring you back to town with us when we left Hertfordshire." Jane looked up a third time and was finally able to meet her uncle's eyes and maintain her composure.

"Lizzy was very worried about me. I was in poor spirits to begin with, and Mama only made things worse. Whenever I began to feel resigned and calm she would invariably bring it all up again. I should have gone mad without Lizzy's comfort and support." Jane paused to grasp her uncle's hand and give it a firm squeeze. "I am grateful--very grateful--to both you and Aunt Gardiner. You have shown me every kindness and acted with such discretion that I had no idea that you knew." Jane seemed at a loss to continue. Mr. Gardiner asked how she felt about seeing Mr. Bingley again. Tears immediately began to well up in her eyes.

"Confused, mostly." Jane said softly. "I never expected to see him again after...of all people, who would have imagined that he should come to Lizzy's aid? Miss Bingley led me to understand that her brother was soon to become engaged to Miss Darcy."

"Would such an engagement preclude Mr. Bingley from assisting your sister in her time of crisis?" Mr. Gardiner reasoned.

"No, Uncle!" Jane cried with warmth. "Mr. Bingley is far too good. He is so thoughtful and amiable that... that...." Jane tried to stifle a sob. "I am sorry," she sniffed, as her uncle offered her a handkerchief, "but seeing him again brought back all my...hopes...." Mr. Gardiner patted Jane on her shoulder and waited for her tears to subside.

"From what I could see last evening, Mr. Bingley suffered a similar revival of emotions. I would wager that he loves you as much this morning as he ever did."

"But he is engaged to another!" Jane cried.

"We only have Miss Bingley's word on that, and from what Lizzy has told me of her, I would be very suspicious of her pronouncement. I suspect she rather wishes her brother to be engaged to Miss Darcy, but that does not make it so. No man so in love with one woman would willingly become engaged to another." Jane wanted to believe her uncle but she had read too many romantic novels to be convinced. "Do you love him, Jane?" Mr. Gardiner asked softly. Jane could not dissemble. There was only one possible response. She lowered her eyes and nodded solemnly. "Then do not give up hope. If I am any judge of character--and I pride myself on having some talent in that area--your Mr. Bingley will reappear on our doorstep before week's end." Jane managed a small smile for her uncle, but she could not bring herself to believe him. She would await Elizabeth's return and speak with her at her earliest convenience.

Mr. Gardiner was well aware of Jane's apprehensions and on the off-chance that he had misjudged Mr. Bingley's character he retired to his office and wrote a brief note inviting Mr. Bingley to tea the following day. He soon received a reply signed by Miss Bingley expressing her deepest regret that her brother would be unavailable on the morrow. Mr. Gardiner stared at the note and sighed.

Lizzy was certainly right about her--this may be more difficult than I thought. But Mr. Gardiner was not one to give up so easily. He took up pen and paper and wrote a second note. This one was directed to Mr. Bingley's club. Within hours a liveried messenger would bring Mr. Bingley's enthusiastic acceptance.

Mr. Bingley adjusted his hat and sighed. He could not avoid the appointment. But under no circumstances could Mr. Darcy be told of Miss Bennet's presence in town. Not yet. He had to work on Mr. Darcy a bit first. He had to weaken his defenses somehow, as he had seen Elizabeth Bennet do at Netherfield. Mr. Bingley reached for his walking stick and turned toward the door.

"Grab the bull by the horns," Mr. Bingley mumbled as he made his way to the carriage. To the coachman he ordered, "To Mr. Darcy's townhouse."

As the carriage pulled away from _____ Street, Mr. Bingley withdrew from his pocket a pencil and a small notebook. He flipped through pages of hastily scribbled notes until he reached a blank page. He moistened the tip of the pencil with his tongue and with an uncharacteristically neat hand, he wrote "DARCY" and underlined it for emphasis.

"Let us see," he said as he removed his beaver and tossed it on the seat opposite. "How would Miss Bennet attack this problem? Well, she would not be writing notes to herself, that much is certain. But I am her pupil, so I must chart my course of action." Mr. Bingley thought only for a moment before writing "direct approach." He smiled, momentarily satisfied with his acumen; then he realized that he had no idea what that direct approach should be. Mr. Bingley lay the notebook aside and chewed on his pencil as he considered and discarded a number of options. Then it came to him. He retrieved the notebook and began to write. A few seconds later, he snapped the notebook shut, secreted it in his coat pocket along with the pencil and alit from the carriage in front of Mr. Darcy's townhouse.

"Darcy, you are in for quite a surprise this morning!" Mr. Bingley vowed as he mounted the steps with a smug smile painted across his lips. The smile quickly faded as Mr. Darcy's butler informed him that the master of the house had suffered an accident. Mr. Bingley immediately demanded to know the details of the accident, and Mr. Harris directed him to the drawing room. Although Mr. Harris could hardly be called a gossip he nonetheless did not hesitate to tell Mr. Bingley al that he knew about Mr. Darcy's mishap.

"As I understand it, sir, he and Colonel Fitzwilliam were in the park yesterday afternoon when they went to the assistance of a young lady whom had become separated from her friend." Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up. It was too much of a coincidence.

"Was the lady involved a Miss Crenshaw?" he interrupted.

"The very one...are you acquainted with the lady, sir?" asked Mr. Harris.

"No, no...but I did hear of the incident from a mutual acquaintance. She mentioned nothing of Mr. Darcy's injury, however." It was Mr. Harris' turned to become intrigued, but he suppressed his own curiosity in order to continue his story.

"Apparently, Mr. Darcy saw the young lady he was looking for--." Mr. Bingley could not help himself.

"And what was that lady's name?" he interrupted a second time.

"I believe it was 'Brown,' sir. A Miss Elizabeth Brown, the Colonel said." Mr. Harris looked at Mr. Bingley, awaiting a third interruption, but Mr. Bingley was distracted by this latest revelation.

"Pray continue, Mr. Harris."

"Mr. Darcy spied the lady--Miss Brown--and he and Colonel Fitzwilliam took off after her across a field. Somehow or another," Mr. Harris said, his eyes dancing with amusement, "Mr. Darcy managed to walk into a tree. He suffered a mild concussion."

"A concussion?" Mr. Bingley appeared shocked

"It's not very serious sir, but the doctor did prescribe bed rest," said the butler.

"Is he allowed visitors?" Mr. Bingley asked. His look of worry moved the butler to make inquiries. While he waited, Mr. Bingley tried to take it all in. He himself had been in the park yesterday afternoon. To think that while he was enjoying a pleasant chat with Elizabeth Bennet, his closest friend was lying injured not far away. Furthermore, Mr. Harris' tale of what had happened in the park shed new light on Miss Bennet's reticence the previous evening. Questions loomed before him: Had Miss Bennet seen Mr. Darcy and did that have anything to do with her becoming lost, especially since Miss Crenshaw had apparently lied about the identity of her lost friend? And why should Miss Crenshaw lie to Mr. Darcy and the Colonel? As for Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley could only conclude that he had seen Miss Bennet, for what else could make Fitzwilliam Darcy walk into a tree in an open field?

"He will see you, sir," Mr. Harris said in his distinctive grave tone upon his return. He led Mr. Bingley to his master's chambers and opened the door, at Mr. Darcy's request, without knocking.

"Darcy! This is dreadful news. Most dreadful!" Mr. Bingley said as he swept past the butler and claimed a chair by the bed. He looked into Mr. Darcy's pained eyes. "Good God, man!" he said in a softer tone. "You look awful!" Mr. Darcy winced, a gesture that could as easily have been mistaken for a smile, however brief. Mr. Bingley sat back, a bit relieved. Mr. Darcy did look haggard. His face was wan, his eyes slightly puffy from sleep, his hair in disarray. He turned his face away from his friend.

"How are you, Bingley?" he said quietly. Mr. Bingley patted him on the shoulder.

"Very well, my friend, very well. And so shall you soon be." Mr. Bingley sat quietly by the bed. Within a few minutes, however, Mr. Darcy's spirits began to rally and he and Mr. Bingley made light conversation. "I suppose I will have to tell Caroline about this," Mr. Bingley teased. "When you do not appear at the theatre tonight she will demand an explanation." Mr. Darcy groaned audibly.

"Can you not just tell her that I was unavoidably detained by some matter of business? If you tell her that I am ill, I will never --."

"Are you suggesting that I lie to my sister, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley tried to appear shocked. "Perhaps I should tell her that you were out booking passage for America," he laughed as he began to contrive elaborate excuses to try on Caroline. Mr. Darcy listened and was quite amused. He turned to look at Mr. Bingley. Surprised at what he saw in his face, Mr. Darcy struggled to sit up and confront his friend.

"What has happened to you, Bingley?" You are as giddy as a schoolgirl! What have you been up to, man?" Mr. Bingley's face immediately fell and he cursed himself for letting his guard down.

"I'm sorry, Darcy. I did not mean to be disruptive. You just seemed so depressed when I came in, I thought to try and cheer you." One glance told Mr. Darcy that the story was a falsehood.

"What have you been up to, Bingley?" Mr. Darcy repeated, his own pain forgotten. He thought back to his last meeting with Charles Bingley but a few days ago. The man before him bore little resemblance to the quiet, forlorn creature Mr. Bingley had become since his return to London. He has seen Jane Bennet! It must be so--nothing else could rouse him to this degree. Mr. Darcy ran a hand through his hair. He could not ask Mr. Bingley; to do so would reveal his own duplicity in the scheme to keep Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley apart. Mr. Darcy tried to calm himself. He lay back on the pillows and watched Mr. Bingley closely.

Mr. Bingley, for his part, immediately recognized the danger signs. He knew that Mr. Darcy was onto something and that he would hold onto it with the tenacity of a fish swimming upstream. He decided to take a calculated risk. It could blow up in his face, but it might buy him the time he needed. If Fitzwilliam Darcy knew his weakness, Mr. Bingley certainly knew his. He looked Mr. Darcy in the eye.

"You will never guess whom I met in the park yesterday afternoon," he said, flashing the full radiance of his smile.

"Why are you changing the subject, Bingley?" Mr. Darcy asked smugly. He folded his arms across his chest and peered at the younger man. If he expected Mr. Bingley to crack, however, he was disappointed. Mr. Bingley casually got up and began to stroll around the room. "Quit stalling, Bingley," Mr. Darcy intoned from his bed. Mr. Bingley continued to smile as he scanned a pair of fine hunting prints hung near the large mahogany bureau. Then he stopped at the bureau and began to pick up and examine each object on a silver tray containing Mr. Darcy's personal effects.

"I am not stalling, Darcy," he said as he read To George From Anne, 1775 engraved on a fine gold pocket watch. "I am merely attempting to answer your question." He next picked up and hefted the penknife he himself had given Mr. Darcy as a young man some years ago. "Do you want to know or not?" Mr. Bingley asked as he picked up a small square Sterling silver pillbox that had belonged to Mr. Darcy's mother. Mr. Bingley knew that Mr. Darcy always carried it. He was tempted to shake it; Mr. Darcy might use it to carry snuff but Mr. Bingley had never known Mr. Darcy to indulge in the substance. And since he had never seen Mr. Darcy ill a day in his life, Mr. Bingley sincerely doubted that it contained any pills.

"I am in no mood for games, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said as he rolled his eyes. He immediately felt a wave of dizzying pain. He closed his eyes and lay back. As the pain subsided, Mr. Darcy opened his eyes once more and turned his head toward the bureau. His eyes suddenly grew wide with terror. Mr. Bingley was oblivious, however, as he picked up a small Sterling silver vial. Smelling salts? Darcy? Mr. Bingley instinctively glanced at his friend, who looked stricken, as if he was about to cry out but was too agitated to speak. Mr. Bingley replaced the vial and hurried to the bed.

"Darcy?"

"Out with it, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said tersely, trying to mask his brief panic. Mr. Bingley very nearly lost his resolve. He knew that Mr. Darcy was not well. It might not be fair to do this to him just now. Mr. Darcy, now fully recovered, sat up and silently dared him. Mr. Bingley threw down his trump card.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet." The three words had their desired effect. Jane Bennet was no longer a threat to Mr. Darcy's complacency. He just sat, mouth and eyes agape, his mind and heart reeling at this revelation.

I knew it! He is as besotted with Elizabeth as I am with Jane. The hypocrite! The dirty deed accomplished, Mr. Bingley turned to leave, then thought better of it. Taking pity on his friend, he went to the chair and sat down quietly.

"You saw her in the park," Mr. Darcy said in a monotone. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he should be feigning disinterest but he could only manage to keep his voice steady. He looked at Mr. Bingley. "When--uh, what is she doing in London?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Just passing through, she said. Miss Bennet is on her way to visit friends somewhere in the country," Mr. Bingley replied, carefully choosing his words. He knew that the mention of Elizabeth Bennet's name would arouse Mr. Darcy's interest but he did not want to have to answer too many questions. If his strategy was to work, he would have to maintain Mr. Darcy's curiosity.

"So you did speak with her." Mr. Darcy fought to keep his voice even. He wanted to ask a million questions. What was she wearing? Where did he find her? Was she alone? Where is she now? He swallowed and tried to sound casual. "Was she in good health?"

"Oh, yes," Mr. Bingley declared. "And all her family as well." Mr. Darcy turned to peer at Mr. Bingley.

"All her family?" The image of Jane Bennet crowded into his addled mind, but only her sister mattered to him now.

"Yes. She said that her parents and sisters were all well."

"She is not in town alone? She must be traveling with someone." Mr. Bingley began to feel warm, but he persevered.

"She is traveling with Sir William Lucas and one of his daughters, Miss Maria, I think it was. She is staying with her aunt and uncle in Gracechurch Street. Lovely people." Mr. Darcy leapt upon this bit of information.

"You met them?" His tone was slightly incredulous. He had seen Elizabeth quite alone in the park. Where had Mr. Bingley seen her relatives?

"Oh yes. I offered Miss Bennet a ride home and she invited me in to meet her aunt and uncle and to see my Hertfordshire neighbors," Mr. Bingley said easily, although Mr. Darcy's imperious stare, weakened by his constant headache as it was, continued unchecked.

"She was so far from Gracechurch Street without a carriage?" Mr. Darcy was suspicious.

"Come now, Darcy," Mr. Bingley chided, "You sound like Caroline."

"And did Miss Bingley like being reacquainted with Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy retorted. He waited for Mr. Bingley's response with a small smirk about his lips.

"She was not. Caroline was away from home at the time. I was returning from my tailor's and decided to cut across the park since it was such a lovely afternoon. I saw a familiar-looking woman pass me by as I was walking. It took me a minute to realize who it was. I turned back and caught up with her."

That is a mistake, Bingley, that I would never make. "And she had not recognized you, either?"

"I say, Darcy! You are very full of questions for a sick man! You supposed to be taking it easy!" Mr. Bingley said with a laugh.

"Just making conversation, Bingley," Mr. Darcy lied. He lay back on the pillows. "Do you not think it extraordinary that you should meet Miss Bennet here in London?"

"Why not, Darcy? She managed to meet us in Hertfordshire!" Mr. Bingley was purposefully obtuse and Mr. Darcy surrendered. Mr. Bingley rose to leave.

"Any messages for Caroline?" he asked as he opened the door. He quickly shut it behind him as the pillow came flying at his head. It closed with a resounding thud. Mr. Bingley cringed as he heard Mr. Darcy howl. As he drew on his gloves a few moments later, Mr. Bingley's smile returned. He had dealt with Mr. Darcy, but this was only the first round. In his carriage once more, he pulled out his notebook and pencil. Mr. Bingley turned to his list, and looked at the last line, where he had written, "Fight fire with fire."

"An excellent stratagem, Miss Bennet. I wish I had learned of it earlier," he smiled as he drew an asterisk next to the notation. Now he just had to figure out how to deal with his sister Caroline. She would be in a foul mood when she learned that Mr. Darcy was indisposed and that their planned outing to the theatre had to be postponed.

We could just as well go to the theatre on our own, Mr. Bingley thought, knowing that Caroline would refuse. Let her stay home then, if she will. I have absolutely no intention of missing tonight's performance, Mr. Bingley smiled, as thoughts of a second meeting with Jane danced in his head.

Mr. Bingley relaxed as his carriage sped across town. He was so intrigued by Mr. Harris' intelligence about Mr. Darcy's accident that he nearly forgot his intention to carry out a few errands after his meeting with his friend. He closed his eyes and tried to reconcile what he knew of the incident from Elizabeth Bennet--at least as much as she had told him--with what Mr. Harris had revealed. That, added to Mr. Darcy's reaction to Miss Bennet's name... Mr. Bingley added up the facts.

"Let us see: Miss Crenshaw, who for some reason as yet unknown, tells the gentlemen that the missing lady is a Miss Brown! Darcy spies Miss Brown, goes after her and manages to collide with a tree. Hmmm...Darcy is not the type of man to be easily distracted, and admittedly, few men become so distracted that they walk into things...." Mr. Bingley reddened as he remembered an encounter with a wall at Netherfield some months earlier. Although he was quite alone, he coughed away his embarrassment before turning his mind back to his musings. "Darcy has the eyes of a hawk. If he looked for Miss Brown and found instead Miss Bennet, the resulting confusion could easily... Marsters, where the devil am I?" Mr. Bingley asked as the carriage came to a stop and the footman opened the door.

"We are at _____ Street, sir...your tailor's?" Marsters answered apprehensively. Mr. Bingley quickly recovered himself and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, old chap," he said as he exited the carriage and slapped the older man's shoulder. Marsters glanced at the footman and shook his head as Mr. Bingley entered the tailor's shop.

"I think seeing the Bennet lass again has made the master a bit barmy," Marsters said.

"Nah, she's the wrong one. Master's always had an eye for the golden one," replied Benton. "Still in all, the dark haired one would do very nicely." The coachman snorted derisively.

"Not while Mr. Darcy draws breath. Several of the maids at Netherfield say that they heard him calling out Miss Bennet's Christian name in his sleep the night before they returned to town."

Mr. Bingley soon left the shop carrying a large box. He handed it to Benton and then strolled down the block toward the confectioners.' Mr. Bingley knew that he would need something to divert his sister when she learned of Mr.. Darcy's accident. He figured that a pound of chocolate truffles would be the minimum required to mollify Caroline. For good measure, he added marzipans, peppermint drops and lemon pastilles to his order. The latter two he would take with him to the theatre.

As Mr. Bingley left the confectioner's shop he nearly ran into Colonel Fitzwilliam, or rather, Colonel Fitzwilliam nearly ran into him. The Colonel looked as glum as Mr. Bingley had just twenty-four hours earlier.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam? Are you unwell?" Mr. Bingley said by way of greeting. The Colonel, startled out of his funk, at least momentarily, put on a superficial smile.

"Bingley! I am sorry, I did not see you..." he said distractedly. "My mind is in a bit of a muddle, I am afraid." Mr. Bingley gazed at the Colonel appraisingly and immediately concluded that the Colonel's problem must have had something to do with a lady. He recognized all the signs with which he himself was intimately acquainted. Mr. Bingley wondered whether Colonel Fitzwilliam's state of mind was at all related to the previous day's events.

"I did not know you were back in town, Fitzwilliam. Darcy told me that you were in Scotland," he said.

"I returned a week ago, and am spending some time in town before reassignment." The Colonel suddenly seemed perfectly composed. All signs of his previous mood were gone completely. "Speaking of Darcy, my cousin met with an unfortunate accident yesterday. Nothing too serious, but he has been ordered to rest for a few days."

"Yes, I stopped at _____ Street this morning and Harris told me the news. We were supposed to lunch today at White's," said Mr. Bingley. He was about to invite Colonel Fitzwilliam to join him when the man volunteered himself.

"Would you accept me as a substitute? I am famished, and it has been a while since you and I have had an opportunity to talk." The Colonel was no less delighted than Mr. Bingley for the chance to discuss the strange behavior of his cousin. The men adjourned to the club and settled into a corner table for good food and enlightening conversation. They made small talk at first, neither wanting to broach the subject too soon. However, the Colonel's curiosity began to get the better of him. He had met Elizabeth Bennet just that morning, and based on his interview with her and his earlier discussion with Mr. Darcy, the Colonel was convinced that there was more to his cousin's relationship with Elizabeth Bennet than he had been led to believe. He was about to ask a question when a comment by Mr. Bingley completely disarmed him.

"So you are having lady problems, are you?" Mr. Bingley said casually as he reached for a slice of bread. The Colonel nearly spit his wine across the table.

"How on earth did you surmise that?" he managed, too surprised to dissemble. His meeting that morning with Olivia Crenshaw and Elizabeth Bennet had started out well enough, but had ended rather badly. He and Miss Crenshaw had had words over her determination to make a match between his cousin and Miss Bennet.

"Unfortunately, I have had far too much experience in that quarter," Mr. Bingley said with a wry smile.

"You, Bingley?" the Colonel scoffed. "According to Darcy, you are so charming and amiable among the ladies that you have to beat them off with a stick!" Mr. Bingley bristled at the word "amiable," and silently renewed his resolve to divest himself of that epithet. He stared into his soup and sighed.

"That may have been true at one time, but when I finally found the girl of my dreams--." He shook his head and the flounce of curls made an amusing contrast to his serious expression.

"What happened?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, although he had already learned the truth of Mr. Bingley's situation that morning.

"I...perhaps I should not say. Oh, blast it all, why not? I have nothing to hide." Mr. Bingley pushed away his bowl and began his tale.

"Last autumn I leased an estate in Hertfordshire and invited Darcy to join me there for the hunting season. It is a lovely part of the country...beautiful scenery, pleasant people...I was quite content with my selection, although my sisters and Darcy were less taken with it. We had not been there a week when I met a young lady by the name of Jane Bennet at an assembly. Before the night was over I knew she was the woman with whom I would spend the rest of my life." Mr. Bingley paused, lost in the memory. Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned back and waited patiently.

"It was not long before your cousin and my sisters became aware of my interest in the lady. They did not approve of her. She lacked fortune and connections, you see. When I came to London on business, Darcy and my sisters followed me to town. I am ashamed to say it, but I allowed them to convince me that Jane was not in love with me at all." The Colonel leaned forward and propped his chin on his hand.

"How did they do that?"

"They assured me that Jane was only interested in securing a good marriage, that it was my income that attracted her and not me. I have regretted her ever since. I never went back to Hertfordshire. I spent the entire winter here in town grieving the loss of someone I had given my entire heart to." Mr. Bingley took a swig from his glass. "It eventually occurred to me that I only had Darcy's word to go on. Jane never told me she did not love me. I never gave her a chance to prove him wrong. Maybe she did not love me; maybe she never had the chance to know her own feelings. Had I not left Hertfordshire when I did...I have often thought about going back to Hertfordshire to find out for myself, but...."

"But what?" the Colonel asked quietly. He was deeply moved by Mr. Bingley's story and deep within his breast swelled a righteous anger with his cousin on the poor man's behalf.

"I am a coward, Fitzwilliam. I let them win. Maybe...perhaps, deep down inside I felt unworthy of her. Perhaps I was afraid that if I returned I would find out that they were right about her and that she never felt anything more for me than friendship. Who knows," he went on," she might have loved me after all, but when I abandoned her--." Mr. Bingley brightened suddenly.

"And then the most amazing thing happened yesterday. I was walking home through the park and I found Elizabeth Bennet, Jane's younger sister. She was lost in the park...I suppose you know all about that.... Anyway, I saw her back to her family in Gracechurch Street and was reacquainted with Jane Bennet. She has been in town these past two months without my knowledge, Fitzwilliam!" Mr. Bingley's voice had risen as he spoke. He stopped abruptly and recovered himself before continuing with menacing quiet. "They knew she was here. They kept it from me. My sister and your cousin--." Mr. Bingley arrested the harsh words that were on the tip of his tongue. But rather than taking offense, the Colonel took up his cause.

"They bullied you out of your chance for happiness," he said plainly. Mr. Bingley nodded. He was about to speak when a servant approached bearing a note. Mr. Bingley opened the note and read it, a look of delighted surprise spreading across his handsome features.

"It is from Mr. Gardiner. He is the uncle of the Bennet sisters. He has invited me to tea tomorrow!" Mr. Bingley's smile lit up the room. He asked the servant for pen and paper and hastily scribbled a response. The Colonel could not help but smile at Mr. Bingley's good fortune. His anger at his cousin abated slightly as Mr. Bingley declared his determination to win Jane Bennet's hand.

The Colonel thought back to his earlier argument with Olivia Crenshaw. She had solicited the Colonel's assistance in her plan to match Elizabeth Bennet with Mr. Darcy as a means of smoothing the path for Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennet to be reunited. The Colonel had thought Miss Crenshaw's plan foolhardy at best. He wondered how she would react if she knew that her plan would not be necessary? Mr. Bingley sent the note off and reclaimed the Colonel's attention.

"I am sorry, Fitzwilliam. I have been ranting on and on about my own love life and ignoring your problems. If there is anything I can do...well, I am probably the last person from whom you should take such advice...."

"As a matter of fact, old boy, you can be of use," the Colonel said, seizing the opening. "But it is not my love life I am interested in. What can you tell me about Darcy's dealings with Elizabeth Bennet in Hertfordshire?"

"Lizzy!" Jane poked her head into the room where Elizabeth sat on a small bench having her hair done. "Oh, Lizzy, you look beautiful!" That color is perfect on you!" Jane went to the dressing table and began looking for something.

"Lizzy, I've run out of lavender water. May I borrow some of yours?" Once again, Jane got no response from her sister, who sat as still as a statue while the maid wove gold ribbons through her hair. "Lizzy? Are you all right?" Elizabeth continued to stare, unseeing, at her reflection. The maid completed her work and departed. Jane sat on the edge of the bed, her quest for lavender water forgotten. Elizabeth slowly turned her head and looked at her sister.

"Yes, Jane," she said in a strained voice. Jane wasn't completely convinced, but there was no time to pursue the matter.

"Here," she said, handing Elizabeth a black velvet cloak. "Aunt Gardiner said that since you are more endowed than me you should wear this. I'm wearing her burgundy coat. It's so stylish!" she gushed. "Oh, Lizzy! Tonight is going to be wonderful!"

"Your enthusiasm wouldn't have anything at all to do with the strong likelihood of encountering a certain Mr. Bingley at the theatre, would it?" Elizabeth, now fully recovered, asked over an arched brow. Jane's smile was sufficient reply, but Jane had been eager for an opportunity to confide in her sister.

"Until yesterday, I never thought I'd see him again, but when I did it was as if we were never apart!"

"Did he explain his sudden departure from Hertfordshire last year?" Elizabeth queried.

"I would not dare ask such a thing! We barely spoke of Hertfordshire at all. Oh, Lizzy, I can hardly believe that Mr. Bingley walked through that door yesterday! It was like a dream!

"A dream," repeated Elizabeth, dully. "Be careful, Jane," she cautioned. Ever since her chat with Colonel Fitzwilliam earlier she'd felt a sense of dread. It wasn't his teasing about Mr. Darcy that bothered her; rather, it was his suggestion that Mr. Darcy had seen Elizabeth in the park that haunted her. If, as she strongly suspected, he had played a role in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane, her sister might be rushing toward a second heartbreak.

"I will be fine, Lizzy." Jane paused to watch Elizabeth don the cloak over her new gown, a gift from her aunt and uncle. "You do look lovely, Lizzy. I am sure even Mr. Darcy would approve!" she cried, and whisked out of the room. Elizabeth whirled to glare at her retreating figure.

Chapter 3

Posted on Thursday, 17 January 2002

Mr. Bingley whistled tunelessly as he carefully brushed his hair. He was in an extremely good mood. He was looking forward to an evening at the theatre and another opportunity to see Jane Bennet. He had learned at supper the previous evening that Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were to attend the theatre with the Crenshaws tonight and Mr. Bingley happened to know that the Crenshaw box was directly opposite Mr. Darcy's. And since he would be attending the theatre at Mr. Darcy's invitation, he would be in a perfect position to observe his ladylove throughout the performance. That is, unless he was able to manage an invitation to join the Crenshaws for an act or two. It would be a most pleasant evening, indeed.

It was a pity Mr. Darcy was unable to attend. He too, might have enjoyed the evening, since Elizabeth Bennet would be perfectly situated for Mr. Darcy's enjoyment of the evening as well. But Mr. Bingley wasn't about to let Mr. Darcy's being indisposed put a damper on his plans. He put down the brush and adjusted his cravat for the third time. He thought back to this morning's visit with his friend. The expression on Mr. Darcy's face was priceless! The poor boy must have it very bad. But Mr. Bingley could not bring himself to feel any remorse for what he'd done. All's fair in love and war, my friend!

Mr. Bingley strode from his dressing room over to the small desk in his bedroom to consult his notebook. He had made additions to his list since his meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam. So, Darcy did see Miss Bennet. And Miss Crenshaw seems to think that Miss Bennet is in love with Darcy as well. Hmmm...I wonder if I can use that to my advantage?

Mr. Bingley began to whistle again as he thought about his sister Caroline. She would not be pleased to see Jane Bennet this evening. He thought about how he would deal with her disapproval. Mr. Bingley was now certain that his sister and Mr. Darcy had conspired to separate him from Jane Bennet, but however valid their reasoning may have been, he was not about to allow them to interfere again. Mr. Darcy might be a formidable obstacle to his plans, but Mr. Bingley knew that if he stood his ground, Mr. Darcy would respect his decision and let him have his way. He would have to live with Caroline, however, at least until the Hursts returned from the Continent. There was a banging at the door. Startled into silence, Mr. Bingley opened it to find his sister, resplendent in pumpkin-colored silk, glaring at him.

"Will you cease that infernal whistling! It is enough to drive a person mad!" Caroline cried, sweeping into the room.

"I am sorry, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said insincerely. He went to take a last look in the mirror. His sister followed him.

"What are you so happy about?" she demanded, crossing her arms and continuing to glare at him.

"Why should I not be happy?" he challenged, and as Caroline could think of no plausible response, she didn't answer. She picked a mote of dust off his shoulder.

"Charles," she asked suddenly, as she turned him around and fidgeted with his cravat. "Did you have a nice luncheon with Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Bingley's face dropped.

"We did not go to lunch. I am afraid I have some distressing news, Caroline." She looked at her brother expectantly as he cast about for the box of chocolates. "I'm afraid Darcy has had a little accident. He will be unable to join us at the theatre this evening."

"An accident? What manner of accident?" Caroline cried, gripping her brother's arm.

"Nothing too serious, do not worry yourself. But he has to stay in bed for a few days."

"Do you think I should call on him?"

"You! Of course not! It would be highly improper for you to enter a bachelor's house unattended." Miss Bingley was too exasperated to blush at her brother's suggestion.

"I meant in your company, Charles, of course! I would not dream of compromising myself by appearing on Mr. Darcy's doorstep alone." Mr. Bingley eyed his sister suspiciously for a moment.

"I have just received a note from Darcy saying that he is sending Colonel Fitzwilliam in his place. He will pick us up in the carriage at the top of the hour." Charles felt a little guilty. He knew he should have told his sister about Mr. Darcy earlier, but she had been out shopping all afternoon and this was his first opportunity. Caroline plopped ungraciously on Mr. Bingley's bed.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam!" she spat. Her displeasure was evident. "That impertinent little pup."

"I thought you liked the Colonel, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said, sitting next to her.

"I only tolerate him for Mr. Darcy's sake. I detest the man...always about Mr. Darcy's heels, chattering nonsense. The man is a complete fool!" Mr. Bingley laughed at this depiction of the Colonel, knowing that its primary motivation was his sister's frustration at being denied an evening in Mr. Darcy's company.

"Caroline, the man is a colonel in His Majesty's army. He would hardly have achieved that rank if he was a fool!"

"And if he were not the son of an earl, I daresay he would only be fit to carry the boots of a Colonel. The man thinks he is God's gift to womanhood in his regimentals!" Caroline declared.

"Well, the 'pup' will be here shortly," Mr. Bingley said, laughing. "You had better go and get ready."

Caroline slowly rose and dejectedly quitted the room. Mr. Bingley chuckled at her and went downstairs to await his host. When the Darcy carriage arrived, Mr. Bingley sent word up to his sister, who immediately came down and begged to be excused, complaining of a sudden headache. Mr. Bingley was not surprised by her defection. He was, however, surprised when he entered the carriage to see both the Colonel and Mr. Darcy awaiting him.

"Darcy! I thought you were staying in bed this evening," Mr. Bingley exclaimed.

"I have had a change of heart. Fitzwilliam, here, has convinced me that unless my head is gushing blood I may as well go about my regular business," Mr. Darcy replied dryly. The Colonel winked at Mr. Bingley. They had each surmised the real reason for Mr. Darcy's decision to come out this evening.

"Speaking of blood," quipped the Colonel, "Where is Miss Bingley?" Mr. Darcy was a bit taken aback by the remark and suppressed a smile, but Bingley was amused and let it show.

"I am afraid my sister developed a severe headache, no doubt in empathy with yours, Darcy." The three men enjoyed a laugh as the carriage pulled off.

Shortly after the Darcy carriage pulled up outside the theatre, the three men ascended the stairs to the ornately decorated lobby and were immediately engaged in conversation with several of their London acquaintances. Mr. Darcy's eyes swept the room as he let Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley do all of the talking. Naturally, the presence of three handsome and eligible men caused quite a stir among every female in the house without a man in tow, not to mention the scheming relations of every single young lady of a marriageable age. None of the men were terribly worried about the scrutiny. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were concerned only with gaining the earliest intelligence of the arrival of the Bennet sisters, while the Colonel was anticipating a chilly reception from Miss Crenshaw and wondering if his conversation with Mr. Bingley could provide the means of restoring him to that lady's good graces. When the crowd around the trio abated, Mr. Bingley turned away from his companions to consult his notebook.

"Disarm the opposition," he murmured aloud. "Well, that does not work if you forget to have the chocolate ready." Mr. Darcy and the Colonel turned around.

"What did you say?" Mr. Bingley looked up and froze as Mr. Darcy pointed to the object in his hand. "What is that you have there, Bingley?"

"Uh, uh...ahhh!" Mr. Bingley replied, looking beyond the two gentlemen. The ruse worked better than Mr. Bingley expected. He whisked the notebook into hiding as the two men whirled expectantly. But instead of finding the respective objects of the unspoken affections, they unfortunately captured the attention of Lady McBride, one of the most influential and tedious members of the ton. Not only did she have three very young granddaughters to bestow upon the flower of England's manhood, she was reputed to collect handsome younger men for her own amusement. She was somewhat infamous for her dalliances with penniless men from wealthy and titled families (she preferred her men dependent) and wore them as proudly as the jewels with which she lavishly draped herself.

Lady McBride left some young man not five years out of Eton to approach the new arrivals. Colonel Fitzwilliam had been an elusive target of hers for some time. Mr. Darcy quickly extricated himself from the ensuing conversation, but the Colonel was not so fortunate, and he gained his revenge on Mr. Bingley by introducing him to the attractive dowager whose interest in the Colonel was so obvious that both men blanched at her forward manner. Mr. Darcy wandered away and turned to watch his friends squirm. As the Colonel and Mr. Bingley bowed and excused themselves, Mr. Darcy spotted Elizabeth Bennet standing alone not twenty feet away.

Elizabeth had wandered a small distance away from her friends to better survey the scene. She loved going to the theatre and was as entertained by the crowds in the lobby as she was by the actors on the stage. She glanced back at Jane, who seemed to be looking out for Mr. Bingley, and sighed. Elizabeth wished she had never let Olivia talk her into going to that park. If she hadn't seen Mr. Darcy she wouldn't have run off, she would not have met Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy would not have gotten hurt...and Jane would not be looking so radiant and happy. Maybe it was for the best. No matter, there was no way to undo things now.

"'Miss Brown,' I presume," said a voice behind Elizabeth. Although he apparently was not addressing her, the identity of the speaker was unmistakable. She turned and confirmed that it was indeed Mr. Darcy who had spoken.

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I should not have expected to see you here this evening. Colonel Fitzwilliam," and here she blushed as the Colonel and Mr. Bingley joined Mr. Darcy, "Told me of your accident yesterday. Should you not be in your bed, sir?" Mr. Darcy shot a quick glance at his cousin, who smiled benignly, before he answered. Mr. Bingley closely observed the interaction between the pair as he scanned the lobby for Jane Bennet. He made eye contact with her, but she was far away and heading in his direction. Mr. Bingley found himself torn between rushing to Jane's side and staying to hear the lively discussion before him.

"I thank you for your concern, madam, but I assure you I am well enough for an evening of Shakespeare." Mr. Darcy furrowed his brows. "You have met my cousin?"

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, blushing even more. Mr. Darcy wondered why. "We met this morning at Miss Crenshaw's house."

"Of course. Miss Crenshaw and 'Miss Brown' are dear friends," Mr. Darcy replied, invoking once again the name he now knew to be the invention of Miss Crenshaw. Why, he wondered, did she lie about Miss Bennet's identity? Elizabeth peered into each of Mr. Darcy's eyes. He enjoyed the examination, a smile playing about his lips.

"Are you sure you should be out of bed, Mr. Darcy? That is the second time you called me 'Miss Brown.' I am afraid his memory may be affected, Colonel Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth spoke out of genuine concern, but the Colonel could not resist the opportunity to tease his cousin.

"Darcy?" the Colonel said in a parental tone. "This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said, emphasizing the last name. He was rewarded with an imperious glare from his cousin.

"I am well aware of whom I am addressing, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy growled. Mr. Bingley chuckled to himself as he went to meet Jane halfway across the hall.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet. It is delightful to see you again, and so soon," he said with a bow.

"Good evening, Mr. Bingley," Jane replied with a demure smile that belied her excitement. "Please allow me to introduce my friends Mr. Crenshaw and his daughter, Miss Olivia Crenshaw." Olivia's eyes lit up as she was introduced to the man she had heretofore only knew as the lost love in Jane's tragic romance. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Crenshaw had been previously acquainted. The group chatted for a moment before joining the others.

"Mr. Darcy!" Olivia Crenshaw, Mr. Crenshaw, Jane Bennet, and Mr. Bingley now enlarged the group. "Mr. Darcy," Olivia said, extending a hand, "I am very glad to see you so well recovered. You gave us all a scare yesterday."

"Thank you, Miss Crenshaw," Mr. Darcy replied, shaking hands with Mr. Crenshaw and bowing to Jane Bennet in turn. He shot a glance at Mr. Bingley, who calmly returned his gaze. "I was just on the point of telling 'Miss Brown' how relieved I am to see that she is none the worse for her adventure yesterday," he said with a knowing smirk.

Miss Crenshaw dropped her head and blushed and the Colonel suppressed a laugh, but Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and said to no one in particular, "Why does this man insist upon calling me 'Miss Brown'?" Olivia gave Elizabeth a guilty look. Elizabeth immediately closed her mouth, her confusion evident. Mr. Crenshaw suggested that his party make its way to the Crenshaw box. Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy before taking Mr. Crenshaw's offered arm. Mr. Bingley offered to escort Jane, and Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were left to themselves. As soon as they were out of earshot, Colonel Fitzwilliam began to laugh out loud.

"And what is so funny?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"You, cousin! Poor Miss Crenshaw. Poor Miss Bennet!" The Colonel looked back at the two ladies walking on the arms of Mr. Crenshaw. "I wish I could be there to hear her explanation," he managed to say before Mr. Darcy grabbed his arm and led him away.

"Explain yourself, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy demanded as soon as they had entered the Darcy box. The Colonel sobered and sat down beside his cousin.

"I am sorry, Darcy, but you were making such a fool of yourself just now, calling Miss Bennet by a strange name. She had no idea what you were talking about." The Colonel was momentarily silenced by iciness of the Darcy glare. "I do not know why Miss Crenshaw decided to call her friend 'Miss Brown' but I am certain that Miss Bennet knew nothing of it. She probably thinks you should be in Bedlam!" he said before he began to laugh again. But Mr. Darcy was no longer interested in what the Colonel was saying. Elizabeth Bennet was sitting directly opposite him, her eyes down as she listened to something Miss Crenshaw was saying. She suddenly looked up and blushed as her eyes met Mr. Darcy's. He expected her to divert her gaze immediately, but instead she held his gaze and it was Mr. Darcy who felt compelled to look away.

So now I have become the object of her pity. He ran his fingers through his hair as he turned his eyes to the stage. He squirmed in his seat throughout the first act, occasionally stealing a glance at Elizabeth. Each time he looked in her direction, she seemed to be looking at him. She never looked away; on each occasion, it was Mr. Darcy who was discomfited. As soon as the first act was over, Mr. Darcy rose and declared his intention to return home.

In the Crenshaw box, Mr. Bingley found himself observing his friend's behavior. He had never seen Mr. Darcy look so uncomfortable. Mr. Bingley stole a glance at Elizabeth, half suspecting that she was overtly trying to discompose him, but her eyes were on the stage. Mr. Bingley sighed and returned his gaze to Mr. Darcy. Beside him, Jane also sighed in frustration. After months of speculating about what it would be like to be in Mr. Bingley's company again, she finally found herself sitting beside him in a darkened theatre. Rather than making polite comments on the play before them, rather than secretly holding her hand or whispering sweet nothings in her ear, Mr. Bingley had merely offered her a lemon pastille and then completely ignored her! He seemed to be staring at Mr. Darcy.

Perhaps Lizzy was correct in thinking that it was Mr. Darcy's disapproval that prevented Mr. Bingley from returning to Hertfordshire. Mr. Bingley seems to be afraid that Mr. Darcy does not approve of his sitting in our box. Jane stole a look at Mr. Darcy. Oh, my! He does seem dreadfully out of sorts! Jane had wrung the program in her lap nearly to shreds before she felt a warm hand upon her own. But it was not Mr. Bingley's hand that offered comfort. From Jane's other side, Mr. Crenshaw had reached over and patted her hand. He asked Jane if she was all right. Jane managed a nod, and Mr. Crenshaw returned his attention to the stage.

Jane sighed again. If Mr. Darcy was indeed an obstacle to her continued acquaintance with Mr. Bingley, she was doomed to return to Hertfordshire brokenhearted once more. She tried to remember her uncle's advice, but it provided no comfort. What good would it do to reveal my feelings to Mr. Bingley if it will all be for naught? Just then Jane felt a warm hand on hers. She looked up at Mr. Bingley hopefully, and he offered her another pastille.

Meanwhile, Caroline Bingley was no one's fool. She was not about to spend an evening in the company of her brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam, not while Mr. Darcy lay injured in his bed. She would go to him, in spite of her brother's admonition against it. She had no doubt that she would not be admitted into his company; propriety forbade it, and the man was ill, after all. But she would go in person and leave her card and perhaps a brief note. She would show Mr. Darcy how concerned she was for his welfare.

Miss Bingley changed out of her evening attire into a more appropriate gown for visiting the sick. As the carriage made its way to Mr. Darcy's townhouse, Miss Bingley tried to compose a suitable message to leave for Mr. Darcy. Moments later, she alit from the carriage with a smug expression on her face and mounted the steps. Mr. Harris met her at the door with a look of surprise.

"Miss Bingley!" he said, "I thought you would be at the theatre with Mr. Darcy this evening."

"What! Mr. Darcy went to the theatre! But I was told that he was very ill and had to keep to his bed," Miss Bingley cried, eyes darting about suspiciously.

"The master apparently rallied himself for this evening's theatre party, madam," Mr. Harris droned sarcastically. Miss Bingley glared at him, but Mr. Harris was unperturbed. Feeling foolish and ill-used by her brother, Miss Bingley stormed out of the house. In the carriage once more, she let loose her fury.

"I will wager that Mr. Darcy is not ill at all. This is just some ruse of my brother's to get rid of me. Well, I shall have the last laugh," she shouted, and rapped on the roof of the carriage to get the coachman's attention.

Colonel Fitzwilliam found himself torn between his duty to his cousin and his desire to make amends with Miss Crenshaw. He had stared at her through the entire first act and she had returned his smile on one occasion when she had caught him in the act. He had been looking forward to the intermission, when he would attempt to speak with her. Now Mr. Darcy wanted to go home, and the Colonel knew that he must accompany him.

"What about Bingley?" the Colonel asked, as Mr. Darcy led the way out of the box.

"He looks as though he will have no trouble finding a ride home," Mr. Darcy intoned. The thought of Mr. Bingley enjoying himself in Jane Bennet's company only added to his foul mood. He wanted no more than to see his own bed and sorely regretted having been talked into leaving the house.

"But you have invited him to dinner," the Colonel reasoned. "Look, he is coming back," he said, and Mr. Darcy turned and saw Mr. Bingley approaching, with Jane and Elizabeth Bennet on his arms. Mr. Darcy wanted to turn away and leave but curiosity affixed him to the spot. Elizabeth detached herself from Mr. Bingley's arm and addressed Mr. Darcy.

"I...I owe you an apology, sir. Miss Crenshaw explained why you kept referring to me as 'Miss Brown.'" She blushed slightly as she spoke, and Mr. Darcy saw something of the familiar sparkle in her eyes. Mr. Darcy smiled, and Elizabeth fought against the tiny tug at her heartstrings. The Colonel quietly slipped away and went to the Crenshaw's box.

"I am the one who should apologize, Miss Bennet. Fitzwilliam here," he said looking around for his absent cousin, "Rightly pointed out that I made quite a fool of myself." Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"I am very glad to find out that your head wound was not as severe as I feared," she said with a laugh. Mr. Darcy stared at her, marveling at the circumstances that had brought her back into his company. As they were obviously being ignored, Mr. Bingley and Jane wandered away.

"I should dearly like to know why Miss Crenshaw thought it necessary to keep your identity a secret, Miss Bennet."

"I am afraid you will have to apply to Miss Crenshaw for the answer to that question, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said boldly.

"You will not tell me, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth simply smiled her defiance. "Well, suppose we ask her together," he said and offered his arm. A surprised Elizabeth took his arm and thought that an interview with Mr. Darcy was apt revenge for her earlier interrogation by Olivia and the Colonel. Jane and Mr. Bingley watched this interchange from a short distance away.

"I think Miss Elizabeth's company does much for Darcy's headache," smiled Mr. Bingley.

"Yes. I think his company does her some good, too, though she will never admit it," Jane commented. Mr. Bingley looked at her with surprise.

"Really! Better and better." Jane averted her eyes.

"You seem to take a great interest in your friend's affairs," Jane murmured, mostly to herself.

"Yes," Mr. Bingley blundered. "I seem to have become something of a student of human behavior lately."

"Really?" Jane asked with growing frustration. She declined a third pastille and asked to be returned to her box. Mr. Bingley was alarmed by the tone of her request, and wondered what was amiss. He thought to ask her, but her rapid pace and determined expression was not conducive to polite inquiry. By the time Mr. Bingley and Jane returned to the box, it was nearly time for the second act to begin. Mr. Darcy, the Colonel, and Mr. Bingley left reluctantly, but not before Mr. Darcy extended an invitation to everyone for dinner a few evenings hence. Mr. Crenshaw immediately accepted for Olivia and himself, and Jane was eager to accept the invitation, but Elizabeth was forced to decline.

"I am afraid I am to leave London tomorrow morning to visit friends in the country," she said with a tinge of regret. Mr. Darcy had aroused her curiosity, if not her sympathy, and she would have liked the opportunity to see him in his own environment and among people he considered his equal in society. Mr. Darcy was crestfallen at the news, although he did his best not to show it. He bowed and left the box behind the others.

"Well, Darcy, do we return to our box or do we go home?" asked the Colonel.

"It does not matter," murmured the dejected man, but he returned to his seat in the box followed by a satisfied Colonel and the confused Mr. Bingley. As the curtain was raised for the beginning of the second act, Caroline Bingley swept into the box, a flurry of silk and feathers. The three men, each of whom was consumed by his own thoughts, perfunctorily acknowledged her. Miss Bingley naturally took a seat by Mr. Darcy and proceeded to explain about how her headache had suddenly come on and then just as swiftly abated. He did not hear a single word she spoke, nor did the other men.

Charles Bingley's eyes were locked with Jane Bennet's; Colonel Fitzwilliam pretended to watch the play but his mind was also upon an occupant of the Crenshaw box. Miss Bingley followed her brother's line of vision and was shocked by what she saw across the hall. She elbowed Mr. Darcy to inform him of her brother's danger, but he did not respond. Miss Bingley turned to speak to Mr. Darcy and found that he, too, was focused on the same spot and was satisfied. She would speak to Mr. Darcy at the first opportunity and the two of them would figure out a way to keep Jane from entrapping her vulnerable brother.

If Miss Bingley had looked more closely at the Crenshaw box she would have known that Mr. Darcy's eyes were not on Jane Bennet, but her sister, who sat behind her. Miss Bingley sat back and enjoyed the play, not realizing that Mr. Darcy did not take his eyes off of Elizabeth for the rest of the performance. Jane was too consumed with her own negative thoughts to notice that she had finally captured all of Mr. Bingley's attention. She nodded at Mr. Crenshaw's frequent comments and spent the rest of the evening wondering if she should just go home to Hertfordshire and forget that Mr. Bingley had ever reappeared in her life.

Chapter 3 (continued)

At the close of the play, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam repaired to the Darcy carriage for the trip to his townhouse, while Mr. Bingley was forced to accompany his sister Caroline. Mr. Bingley bore a strange expression throughout the quiet ride, which his sister observed with some satisfaction. She believed that his countenance reflected his frustration at seeing Jane Bennet across the theatre and not being able to approach her. Erroneously convinced that the danger to her brother could be averted with the assistance of Mr. Darcy, Caroline relaxed against the leather upholstery.

"I grow weary of town, Charles. Why do we not go to the country next week?" she cooed. Mr. Bingley barely heard his sister, as he replayed over and over again his last conversation with Jane. Caroline watched him for a while, then, suppressing a smile, she repeated her remark.

"Leave town, Caroline? In March? No one goes to the country in March. As soon as we had arrived, you would be pleading with me to return to London. The whole notion is ridiculous." Having said his piece, Mr. Bingley slid closer to the window furthest away from his sister, effectively signaling the end to all conversation. Caroline was quite put out by his response to her suggestion, and decided to speak with Mr. Darcy as soon as she reached _____ Street.

In the Darcy carriage, the two cousins sat opposite each other, their emotions equally divided. Colonel Fitzwilliam nurtured in his breast a ray of hope that Olivia had forgiven him for whatever he had said that so vexed her that morning. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, was slowly relinquishing all hope. He struggled to accept the harsh reality that he might never see Elizabeth Bennet again. When the carriage drew to a stop outside his home, Mr. Darcy bolted from the carriage like a caged beast set free. He sprang up the steps and strode purposefully into the drawing room, a concerned Colonel Fitzwilliam at his heels.

"Are you all right, Darcy?" the Colonel asked, as his cousin paced before the fireplace.

"I am fine," Mr. Darcy growled. "I just have very little inclination for spending the next three hours in the company of... ah, Miss Bingley...where is your brother?" Mr. Darcy asked as Caroline entered the room unannounced.

"He stopped to speak with Mr. Harris, which gives me the opportunity to have a word with you Mr. Darcy," she replied, gripping his arm dramatically. Colonel Fitzwilliam furrowed his eyebrows suspiciously, but before Caroline could speak, Mr. Bingley entered the room and Caroline retreated.

Due to the late hour, the small party immediately went into the dining room and sat down to a light informal supper. Caroline placed herself, not unexpectedly, on Mr. Darcy's right, much to the Colonel's amusement. He took a seat opposite her, as her brother claimed a chair to Caroline's right. The meal was consumed with a minimum of conversation, each member of the party occupied with his or her own thoughts. As the table was cleared, Caroline brought up the subject of Mr. Darcy's accident.

"Mr. Darcy, my brother told me of your accident, but he did not tell me how it came about. Pray tell me how you came to injure your head," she smiled sweetly, placing a hand on his and effectively arresting his progress with his pudding. Mr. Darcy's jaw tightened visibly as he carefully extricated his hand, laid down his spoon and placed the clenched fist in his lap. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was Colonel Fitzwilliam who provided an answer.

"He was injured in pursuit of a lady," the Colonel said innocently, before taking a slow sip of wine to allow his words to take their effect. Mr. Darcy glared dangerously at him, and Caroline's mouth fell open. Again, Mr. Darcy began to open his mouth, but the Colonel continued his narrative.

"You see, Darcy and I were in the park with a lady friend--."

"A lady friend of yours?" Caroline asked a bit too eagerly.

"I would say she was a good friend to both of us, although I think her connection to the Darcy family is much stronger than it is to the Fitzwilliams." Colonel Fitzwilliam paused again, and smiled benignly at his cousin's eloquent body language. The Colonel glanced at Mr. Bingley, who was carefully averting his eyes toward the far end of the long table.

"As I was saying, we were speaking with Mr. Darcy's lady friend, when she suddenly realized that she had become separated from her companion. Naturally, we offered our assistance in finding Miss Brown." Mr. Darcy's face spoke volumes, but he could not bring himself to interrupt. It had occurred to him that he while had no desire for Miss Bingley's good opinion, no possible good could come from his cousin's teasing.

"Do you mean Miss Hinckley-Brown of Sussex?" asked Caroline. The Colonel's smile was irresistible as Caroline swallowed his bait.

"No, it was simply a Miss Brown. Perhaps you are acquainted with her. I understand that Darcy met her last year in Hertfordshire." Mr. Bingley shoved a spoonful of trifle into his mouth and then fought to keep it there as his sister whirled on Mr. Darcy accusingly. She did not utter a word, but returned her attention to the Colonel. Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes, and then clamped his hand over them to stop the searing pain that welled up there.

"Anyway," the Colonel went on, "you know, Darcy. He has the eyes of a hawk. He spotted Miss Brown right off and in his eagerness to...uh, secure her, he walked right into a tree." The Colonel shrugged his shoulders as if the end of his tale was the most logical thing in the world. He picked up his glass and took a sip as he caught Mr. Bingley's wink. Even Mr. Darcy had to admire the Colonel's bravado, although he fully intended to avenge himself on his cousin at his earliest convenience. Caroline turned to Mr. Darcy with a look that bespoke betrayal and anger. Mr. Darcy simply rose and suggested that the party adjourn to the drawing room.

"Since Miss Bingley is the only lady present, I suggest we forgo the usual rituals and have our brandy in the drawing room." Caroline immediately rose to take his arm, but Mr. Bingley claimed that privilege, much to her displeasure. As the Colonel rose to follow the others, he turned to his cousin and admitted his guilt.

"I cannot remember the last time I had so much fun at your expense," he sighed. Mr. Darcy slapped the Colonel on the back and pushed him toward the door.

"As soon as I have sufficiently recovered. I will make sure you never forget it," he intoned. The Colonel laughed as Mr. Darcy cradled his aching head. In the drawing room, Caroline could not resist pursuing the matter.

"Whatever became of Miss Brown, Mr. Darcy?" she asked politely. "I take it you did find her eventually."

"Oh, I am afraid she got away. We were so intent on helping Darcy we completely lost track of her," the Colonel said helpfully. But Caroline was not satisfied.

"You do not mean that she is still out there roaming the park?" she laughed, hoping that such was the case.

"Oh, do not worry, Caroline, she is quite well," Mr. Bingley said, determined to have his share of the fun. "In fact, Miss Brown was in the theatre tonight, in the box with Miss Bennet." Caroline spun on Mr. Darcy again, suddenly cognizant of the fact that he had spent the majority of the evening staring into that box.

"Well, perhaps," she said, with an edge of bitterness to her voice, "I hope I shall have an opportunity to meet this Miss Brown, who somehow escaped my notice in Hertfordshire. I should like to know how she survived her ordeal in the park."

"I am afraid she is leaving town tomorrow," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Perhaps she is traveling with Miss Bennet!" the Colonel added brightly, as if suddenly struck by the idea. Mr. Darcy threw himself on the nearest settee helplessly.

"Oh, is dear Jane leaving town? And we have not had a chance to visit with her," she pouted unconvincingly. Mr. Bingley glared darkly at his sister's back as the Colonel delivered the coup de grace that restored Mr. Bingley's pleasant countenance.

"Oh, it is not Jane Bennet who is leaving town tomorrow. It is Miss Elizabeth Bennet who is going to the country to stay with friends," said the Colonel smoothly, unaware of the extent of the pain he was inflicting on Mr. Darcy.

The Bennet sisters arrived at Gracechurch Street united in their ambivalence about the men who had captured their attention that evening. Elizabeth quickly shook off her concerns as she regaled her Aunt Gardiner with a description of the performance. Jane, however, remained quiet and pensive, eliciting the concern of her uncle.

"And you, Jane...did you enjoy the play?" her Uncle Gardiner asked as he carefully observed his favorite niece.

"The play was very good, uncle," was all she ventured.

"And did you see Mr. Bingley?" he prodded gently. At Jane's nod, he asked how things went.

"Not very well, Uncle. He...he seemed distracted...as though his mind was somewhere else," Jane said dejectedly. "I think it had something to do with Mr. Darcy's presence."

"Mr. Darcy was there?" Mr. Gardiner asked. His comment momentarily drew Elizabeth's attention, but she quickly returned to her discussion with her aunt.

"I do not think that Mr. Darcy approves of our...friendship. And to make matters worse, Miss Bingley arrived during the second act, and I am certain she prevented him from speaking with me again...at least...." Jane's voice drifted off, and Mr. Gardiner eyed her sadly.

"Well," he said. "Mr. Bingley is coming to tea tomorrow and neither Mr. Darcy nor Miss Bingley will be present to interfere." Jane raised her head.

"Mr. Bingley is coming here?" Jane looked at her uncle meaningfully, then threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Uncle Gardiner," she whispered in his ear. Jane bade a hasty good night and dashed upstairs to bed.

Elizabeth felt compelled to spend a little more time with her relations on her last evening in town. She discussed Jane's situation with her uncle and aunt, and all were agreed that all must be done to spare Jane a second heartbreak.

"Do not fear, Lizzy," assured Mr. Gardiner. "I shall make it my personal responsibility to see that Jane is protected from harm. You can go to your cousins, Mr. and Mrs. Collins, safe in the knowledge that I shant allow Miss Bingley or Mr. Darcy to abuse our dear girl again."

Elizabeth felt a surge of emotion at the mention of Mr. Darcy's name. He had been so pleasant at the theatre that this reminder of his perfidy regarding Jane was nearly forgotten. Her uncle's comment sobered her, and whatever inclination she had had to think better of Mr. Darcy quickly faded. Elizabeth went up to her bed concerned about Jane. She knew that the Gardiners would do everything in their power to protect her sister, but she lay awake for hours nonetheless.

Chapter 4

In Mr. Bingley's extremely biased opinion, his visit with the Gardiners the following day was an unqualified disaster. Nothing went as he had hoped. His plan to reveal his intentions toward Jane Bennet was thwarted almost as soon as he crossed the Gardiners' threshold. Before Mr. Bingley could utter a single syllable, Caroline accosted the Gardiners with an impressive display of insincere charm and began her takeover of the afternoon's event.

"Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Gardiner, dear, dear Jane," Caroline gushed at her bewildered hosts as Mr. Bingley rolled his eyes. "When my brother told me that Jane was still in town and that he was to visit you this afternoon, I simply had to insist on attending him. It has been ages since I have seen you, Jane." No one was fooled by Caroline's performance. Even Jane saw through her charade. Her color rose as she realized for the first time just how much she had been taken in by Caroline's false protestations of friendship in the past. She made a brief curtsey and kept her civilities to a minimum.

"You are very welcome, Miss Bingley," Mrs. Gardiner managed, with a glance to her spouse. Mr. Gardiner returned her gaze grimly. He bowed to Caroline in silence, in marked contrast to his warm greeting to her brother. Caroline's blood ran cold as she realized her error in choosing to appear before Mr. Gardiner after her subterfuge of the previous day. It was plainly obvious that she had lied and that Mr. Gardiner had resorted to other means to reach her brother. Caroline did not insult Mr. Gardiner's intelligence by feigning some misunderstanding to cover her attempted sabotage. She merely smiled at the gentleman and followed the others to the parlor. Mr. Bingley observed the exchange between the two and was confused by it, but he dismissed that thought in favor of an opportunity to converse with Jane. But he had no sooner turned in her direction than Caroline literally pulled Jane from within his grasp.

"Oh, Jane, do sit by me. We have so much to catch up on," Caroline said sweetly. She sat Jane beside herself on the settee and proceeded to monopolize her attention for the better part of a half hour.

"How much longer do you intend to be in town? Charles and I are planning to leave in a week or two," she added hastily, much to her brother's consternation. "We have decided between us that there is nothing of interest to keep us here."

"I for one," Mr. Bingley declared from across the room, "Have no intention of leaving town for two months at least, in spite of what my sister says."

"But Charles," she countered through gritted teeth, "We discussed this just last night."

"Yes, and I told you then that it was a ridiculous idea. I am staying in town, Caroline. There is plenty here to engage my attention. If you wish to go the country, you may please yourself." He smiled meaningfully at Jane, who blushed becomingly. A furious Caroline, however, asserted herself to forestall any further interaction between them.

"But Charles, I distinctly heard you speaking Mr. Darcy last night about going to the country--."

"You heard Mr. Darcy saying that HE was going to the country. He leaves for Kent at the end of next week," Mr. Bingley said with no small amount of satisfaction at his sister's look of surprise.

"Kent?" said Jane. "That is where Lizzy will be. Perhaps they will see something of each other there." Caroline was momentarily alarmed, but she suppressed her instinct to indulge her obsession to pursue her current object.

"I doubt it, Jane. Mr. Darcy and Eliza will travel in very different circles. They will probably have no opportunity or reason to meet at all." Caroline quickly regained her composure. "You must forgive my brother, Jane. He is so changeable. Last night he seemed quite eager for the country; today he despises the notion. I daresay he will change his mind again before the day is out and we will be off to Sussex by week's end. You recall how suddenly he decided to abandon Netherfield?" Caroline spoke in a voice just low enough to elude her brother's hearing. Jane shifted uneasily in her chair, and Caroline barely suppressed a triumphant sneer, before turning the subject to the latest fashions from the Continent.

Jane could only look to her uncle and Mr. Bingley helplessly. Mrs. Gardiner tried to distract Caroline away from Jane, but Miss Bingley clung tenaciously to her prey. Oddly enough, Mr. Gardiner seemed equally intent on keeping Mr. Bingley from his niece. Mrs. Gardiner occasionally made a silent appeal to her husband, but rather than intervene on behalf of the young would-be lovers, he persisted in his dogged pursuit of Mr. Bingley's opinions on art, politics, and his taste in nearly everything under the sun. Jane sighed in despair. Mr. Bingley grew quite frustrated, but at the precise moment that his patience failed him and the perverse tug of war between Mr. Gardiner and Caroline was about to give way, that lady abruptly rose and declared her intention to leave.

"Look at the time! We must depart. I have a pressing engagement with Miss Lucinda Courtney and if we leave now," she said with a decided emphasis on the word "we," "I will only be a bit late." Caroline made a show of comparing the hour on the elegant timepiece on the mantel against the tiny delicate one affixed to her bodice. "Oh dear, Charles! We must leave immediately!" Mr. Bingley swallowed his anger in deference to his hosts and after a long wistful look at Jane he made his goodbyes and sullenly followed his sister to his carriage. He paused, one foot on the step as the truth dawned upon him.

"Lucinda Courtney!" Mr. Bingley fairly shouted. "Lucinda Courtney has been on the Continent since that nasty business with Henry Crawford six months ago. I daresay you would not be caught dead with her even if she was in town," Mr. Bingley hissed. Caroline reached for her brother's lapel and dragged him into the carriage. She slapped at the ceiling to start the carriage before slumping back in her seat and engaging her brother.

"Well, I had to say something to get us out of there! Such tedious people, those Gardiners...and putting on such airs of gentility...." Mr. Bingley was fit to burst.

"Us? Us!?! I was in no hurry to leave, Caroline, and as I distinctly recall, you were not invited yet insisted on coming with. Then you complain of boredom so that we have to leave?" Caroline was shocked by the vehemence in her brother's tone.

"Lower your voice, Charles. The servants will hear you," she said in a low voice with a meaningful glance upward.

"What difference does it make?" Mr. Bingley bellowed. "They are already well aware that you are an insufferable, meddlesome busybody!" The words escaped Mr. Bingley's lips before he could prevent them. He was immediately contrite. Mr. Bingley took a deep breath and apologized. "Caroline...I am sorry. I did not mean to say that." His sister, who had blanched at his words, simply gaped at him in shock. "Please, Caroline, you know I would never--." The look in Caroline's eyes stilled his tongue and pair rode the rest of the way home in silence, save for Marsters' smug laughter, of which neither sibling was cognizant.

"Well, I never!" huffed Mrs. Gardiner. "The nerve of that insufferable, meddlesome--."

"There, there, my love," Mr. Gardiner said soothingly, "Calm yourself. Miss Bingley is not worthy of your anger or your contempt." Mrs. Gardiner was incredulous.

"You deign to defend that, that...feather-crested busybody?" Mrs. Gardiner's eyes fairly bulged with rage, while Jane's looked sad and forlorn. It was his niece that Mr. Gardiner was concerned about and he eyed her closely. "She would not allow Jane more than a dozen words with Mr. Bingley!"

"Uncle..."Jane said so softly that Mr. Gardiner had to step forward to hear her. Jane started to say something, but instead only looked her question.

"Do not fret, my dear. You must trust me." Mrs. Gardiner furrowed her brows.

"Trust you...why? What are you about? Why did you not say or do something? You were nearly as bad a she was, keeping Mr. Bingley all to yourself!" Mrs. Gardiner's anger threatened to spread to her spouse. "I thought you wanted to help them--." Mr. Gardiner silenced his wife with a finger to her lips. His smile annoyed her even further, but she waited for his explanation.

"It would have done no good to leave Mr. Bingley to his own devices. It would simply have provoked Miss Bingley further. No, it was better that they be kept apart in her presence. If she thinks us eager to further the match she will guard him like a mother hen." Jane opened her mouth to protest. "There is a method to my madness, my dear. Trust me."

"I trusted you before, and you promised...." Jane found and lost her voice in one breath. She nodded in resignation and turned left the room. Mrs. Gardiner took up her cause.

"I do not see how you intend to help them by keeping them apart, Edward."

"I have no intention of keeping them apart, my love. In the next two weeks, Jane and Mr. Bingley will see more of each other than either of them imagined possible," Mr. Gardiner smiled.

"And how do intend to pull that off?" said his doubting wife.

"With Mr. Bingley's unwitting assistance," Mr. Gardiner replied enigmatically. He kissed his wife on the forward and left her to her ruminations on the machinations of a woman she detested and a man she adored.

The Bingleys entered their house and went their separate ways. Caroline fled to her chambers while Mr. Bingley repaired to his study, where he threw himself into a chair. In the next instant he rose and went to the cabinet in search of a large brandy. A familiar knock on the door distracted him, and he went to admit his housekeeper. He closed the door behind her, retrieved his brandy and returned to the chair. Gesturing for Mrs. Stewart to sit, he took a large gulp from his glass. Like a child confessing to his nanny, Mr. Bingley told Mrs. Stewart all that had happened since he and Caroline had left the house. When he had purged himself, the glass was empty and Mr. Bingley looked emotionally drained.

"I would never do anything to hurt her intentionally, Mrs. Stewart. It is just that...well..." Mr. Bingley shrugged and slid down in the roomy chair.

"She deserved every word of your reproach." Mr. Bingley began to protest, but Mrs. Stewart went on. "Your sister had no right to say the things she did or to interfere in your affairs." Mr. Bingley rose.

"I should go up and speak with her." Mrs. Stewart gently caught him by the arm as he rose to leave.

"I do not think that is a good idea, Mr. B. I know you love your sister, and that you feel badly because you hurt her feelings, but going to her now would be the worst mistake you could possibly make. If she sees any sign of weakness in you now, she will use it to her advantage, mark my words." Mr. Bingley looked at his housekeeper quizzically.

"How so?"

"She will use your guilt to persuade you to do something...such as leave town?"

"I am not leaving town under any circumstances! And I will not give up Jane Bennet, either," Mr. Bingley declared stonily. Mrs. Stewart smiled.

"There you are, sir. Hold firmly to your resolve and your sister will learn to accept it." She patted Mr. Bingley on the shoulder and left him alone to think.

Mr. Bingley poured another brandy and went to his desk. He pulled out his notebook and wrote down, "Hold firmly to your resolve." Then he read through the notes he had been compiling. He decided that they were disorderly and rambling, too much like the Mr. Bingley of old. He went through his desk drawers until he found a new notebook. He carefully sharpened the tip of his new pencil and began to transcribe his notes. After a few seconds, however, he stopped, threw down his pencil and went to the window. Like his friend, Mr. Darcy, he stared out at nothing in particular as he thought.

Exactly what was Mr. Gardiner about, holding him hostage for an hour and plying him with questions? On his first meeting with the Gardiners, Mr. Bingley had thought them very encouraging and supportive of his attentions toward their niece. Had something changed their opinion? Mr. Bingley feared that Caroline's performance would put them off Bingleys entirely, but he soon abandoned that thought to worry about Jane's impression after the afternoon's fiasco.

Caroline entered the dining room cautiously a while later, and found her brother waiting for her. The two exchanged an awkward glance before retreating to opposite ends of the table. After the meal was served and the servants had left the room, Caroline looked purposefully at her brother, who tucked into his soup with more than his usual gusto.

"Well, Charles?" Mr. Bingley laid down his spoon.

"Yes, Caroline?"

"Have you nothing to say to me?" she said with an affected sadness.

"After what I said this afternoon, I am not sure I should trust myself to speak."

"You might apologize, Charles." Mr. Bingley picked up his spoon.

"I did apologize--this afternoon."

"That hardly suffices, Charles. You did not mean it." The spoon was again abandoned.

"I did mean it...Look, Caroline, no matter how much I apologized, I could not undo the pain I inflicted upon you."

"Will you not even try?" Mr. Bingley abandoned his soup entirely.

"What is the point?" he said with a tinge of exasperation in his voice in spite of his sincerity. "I have grievously injured my dearest relation and I am heartily sorry for it. What else is there for me to say?" Caroline smiled coyly.

"You might try to make up for it." Mr. Bingley cringed inwardly, knowing what would follow. Arguments with Caroline over the years had already cost him his weight in silk and lace.

"Let us go to Sussex this weekend." Mr. Bingley felt himself grow angry again. He tried to control his ire as much as two large brandies would allow.

"I am not leaving London, Caroline," he growled. Her pout was met with an uncharacteristically steely blue-eyed gaze. Caroline almost laughed at it, until she realized that he was in earnest.

"But Charles..." she persisted. "I know how you love Mr. Hurst's grounds. We could invite Mr. Darcy and the two of you could hunt and fish, or even ride, if he is sufficiently recovered. The change would do both of you a world of good. I know that Mr. Darcy--."

"Mr. Darcy goes to Kent next week to visit his aunt, Caroline, as I have already told you. And, as I have already told you, I am staying in London. I have no craving for Mr. Hurst's trout." His tone was mild, but inside he was furious. Mrs. Stewart's warning had proved true, and he was very displeased. Caroline signaled for a servant to come and remove her soup.

"It is Jane Bennet that keeps you here, is it not?" Caroline accused. "Good God, Charles, you seem determined to be made a fool of by that woman!"

"On the contrary, Caroline," growled Mr. Bingley as he rose and threw down his napkin. "I am determined that no woman shall make a fool of me!" With that he strode from the room, stopping only to bark an order to a footman to bring the remainder of his supper to his study. Mortified, Caroline remained where she sat. Her appetite gone, she toyed with her meal as she pondered the sudden change in her brother's usually tractable demeanor. Finally, she withdrew to her sitting room, where she took up pen and paper and wrote a note. Moments later, a footman carried the note to the home of Mr. Darcy.

"Edward?" Mr. Gardiner looked up and saw his wife standing in the doorway. Mrs. Gardiner made it a point to never violate her husband's "inner sanctum" without his permission. Mr. Gardiner smiled and rose to meet her as she stepped into the study. The couple repaired to a window seat and Mr. Gardiner sighed as he awaited the inevitable interrogation.

"How do you intend to bring those two together, Edward? I am very concerned that Miss Bingley will do something rash and Jane's heart will be broken again." Mr. Gardiner placed an arm about his wife's shoulders and spoke reassuringly.

"She will not succeed. Trust me, my love. All will work out in the end."

"But how...what are you about, Edward?" Mr. Gardiner laughed softly.

"I see, you persist in doubting me. But I assure you, there is a method to my madness."

"You said that before...well, I certainly do not understand what you intend to do. Will you not reveal your plan to me?" Mrs. Gardiner asked.

"And spoil the surprise?" Mr. Gardiner teased. Before Mrs. Gardiner could form an answer, a soft knock was heard at the door. Mr. Gardiner gave permission for the visitor to enter, and Jane stepped into the room.

"Here you are, both of you," she said. "I have been looking for you, Aunt. I am glad I found you both together. It," and here she paused, to avert her eyes, "will make it easier. I have given the matter some thought and I...Uncle, I wish to return home to Hertfordshire." The Gardiners were stunned.

"Return home?" Mrs. Gardiner managed.

"Yes, immediately, if possible. I do not want to be any more of a burden than--."

"Nonsense, child! You could never be a burden to Madeline or to me. We love you as much as any of our own children, and we insist that you stay," asserted Mr. Gardiner.

"But, Uncle...." Mr. Gardiner would brook no refusal.

"I know what this is about, and I think you are acting too hastily."

"But, Uncle, I do not think--."

"I will do the thinking, Jane. All I ask is that you give me a little time. Two weeks...yes, give me two weeks to try and straighten things out. If nothing improves by then, I will transport you home myself." Mr. Gardiner kissed Jane on her forehead, and she hugged him tightly, unable to suppress her tears. Mrs. Gardiner gently pulled Jane from her husband's arms and led her to her room, where the ladies had a long talk.

"I will take them, Harris," Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he scooped up the small pile of letters and cards from the butler's tray.

"You will find Mr. Darcy in the--," he began unnecessarily, as the Colonel was halfway through the door to the morning room before he could finish.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Darcy said as Colonel Fitzwilliam dropped the mail on the table before him and went to the sideboard in search of sustenance.

"Am I not allowed to pay my respects to my dear, injured cousin?" he asked with a smile. "I have come to deliver a message. Write a letter to Mama. She says that she has not heard from you in months," the Colonel replied as he piled his plate. Mr. Darcy meticulously refolded his newspaper and laid it aside as the Colonel came to the table. He waited while the Colonel gaped incredulously at the young maid who shamelessly batted her eyelashes at him while she poured his coffee.

"Where did she come from?" the Colonel asked as he dug into his eggs. Mr. Darcy sipped his coffee as he sifted through the mail before him.

"Hmmm? Oh, she is the cook's younger daughter. She will not be here for very long," he replied.

"You will not dismiss her for flirting with me, surely," said the Colonel with his mouth full. Mr. Darcy smirked.

"If I were to fire every servant girl who flirted with you, this would be a houseful of men only!" Mr. Darcy murmured as he opened Caroline's note. He furrowed his brow as he read.

"Something serious?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked when he noticed his cousin's expression.

"No...nothing of import," Mr. Darcy replied absently, although the Colonel noticed that Mr. Darcy stuffed the note into his pocket. The Colonel smiled knowingly.

"Who is she?"

"What?" The Colonel nodded toward Mr. Darcy's pocket. "Oh. Caroline Bingley. And before you get the wrong idea," he added hastily, "She wrote to me only out of concern for her brother."

"Do tell," said the Colonel as she sipped his coffee. He wanted to know exactly what Caroline was up to.

"It is nothing...some girl he is involved with." Colonel Fitzwilliam felt a pang of righteous anger.

"Jane Bennet?"

"How did you know? Yes, it is Jane Bennet. Caroline seems to think that she has set her cap at him again," Mr. Darcy said as he looked over his other mail.

"You mean that Bingley has set his sights on Jane Bennet again and his sister does not approve," the Colonel spat, earning a surprised look from his cousin.

"What do you know of it?"

"Only that you and Miss Bingley very nearly ruined Bingley's best chance of happiness and that you had absolutely no right to do so."

"You know nothing of the matter, Fitz," Mr. Darcy declared, rising from his chair and striding to the window. "Jane Bennet is unsuitable."

"By your criteria...who are you to decide how your friend is to be made happy? Of all the arrogant...never mind." The Colonel rose to take his leave. "Forgive me, cousin, I misspoke. I have no more right to interfere in this matter than either you or Miss Bingley." With that, the Colonel made a curt bow and departed, leaving a stunned Mr. Darcy and a very disappointed young maid with a plate of sweet rolls. He stared after Colonel Fitzwilliam for some time, before shrugging his shoulders dismissively. What was that about? He pulled out Caroline's note and read it again. He sent a footman to collect his hat and coat and headed for the door.

"I am going out for a while, Mr. Harris." He paused at the top of the steps and thought about the Colonel's comments once more, before he went down to the carriage and headed for Mr. Bingley's house.

Caroline was quite vexed to find that Mr. Bingley had already left the house before she came down to breakfast. She strongly suspected that he had gone to the Gardiners' and had half a mind to follow him. But Mrs. Stewart insisted that Mr. Bingley had gone shopping. Caroline needled Mrs. Stewart for details, but Mrs. Stewart could offer no information. Caroline suspected the housekeeper of lying, but lacking proof, she could do nothing but await his return. As it turned out, Caroline was at home when Mr. Darcy arrived, and she considered his appearance something of a reward for her forbearance.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, how good of you to come to me so promptly. Charles has gone out, so we may speak privately." She took him by the arm and led the reluctant man into the parlor.

"Miss Bingley...perhaps...it would not be proper for us to meet--."

"You are too good, Mr. Darcy. To be concerned for my honor at a time such as this. But there is no need, I assure you. We are old friends. Surely we can bend the rules of propriety just a bit?" she smiled slyly. Mr. Darcy flinched.

"I make it a habit to never bend the rules of propriety where a lady is concerned. Perhaps your housekeeper--."

"No, Mr. Darcy!" Caroline declared, closing the door behind them. "Mrs. Stewart is absolutely not to be trusted. I suspect she is in league with Charles, or perhaps even with the Bennets." Mr. Darcy sighed impatiently.

"I sincerely doubt it, Miss Bingley. Why would Mrs. Stewart--?" Caroline, still clamped to Mr. Darcy's arm, answered in conspiratorial tones.

"Charles closets himself in his study with her for hours at a time...."

"She is his housekeeper, Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy intoned. "Perhaps they are simply going over accounts, or ordering supplies, or...."

"And he tells her everything, things he does not wish his own sister to know."

"Everyone needs a confidant, Miss Bingley. His is a fifty year-old woman," Mr. Darcy said lamely, unwilling to concede any of Caroline's argument.

"Surely you do not think that Charles should confide in a servant. They are all notorious gossips. And why should he not trust his own sister, or his closest friend?"

Why not, indeed? thought Mr. Darcy. Perhaps because he feels he can no longer trust us after what we did to him last fall. Fitzwilliam said that we had no right to interfere. Perhaps he has said as much to Bingley...no. There is no reason for Bingley to have spoken to Fitzwilliam about this. What was he so upset about? Miss Crenshaw...she is a friend of the Bennets. Perhaps...no, how should Miss Crenshaw come to discuss such a thing with Fitzwilliam, even if ...impossible!

"Mr. Darcy?" Caroline was staring into his eyes and when he realized it he blinked and abruptly stood up. "Where are you going, Mr. Darcy? We have not yet formulated a strategy!" Mr. Darcy had instinctively summoned his flight response and was at the door before he was even aware of it. He turned to address Miss Bingley.

"I...I do not think that...Miss Bingley, allow me to make a few inquiries on your behalf. I want to understand your brother's...danger before proceeding."

"Danger?" Caroline repeated, rising and advancing on Mr. Darcy. "He is in grave danger, Mr. Darcy I assure you. You need make no inquiries to see that. The Bennets are determined to have him as a son in law and have marshaled the Gardiners as their allies. You are my only ally, Mr. Darcy." Caroline stroked his lapel gently. "I am depending on you." Mr. Darcy felt his spine make contact with the mahogany paneled door.

"I...I am not sure that there is much I can do. I am leaving town very soon. I will in all likelihood only see Bingley once before I leave--at dinner tomorrow night. I can try to speak with him then," Mr. Darcy said uneasily. His conscience suddenly plagued him, as though his cousin's words had pierced his soul and the realization of what he had done came pouring out. Mr. Darcy bid a hasty farewell and fled to the security of his carriage. He gave his coachman a direction, and sat back to consider his sins.

Mr. Bingley entered the establishment and was impressed by the fine items on display. The scent of cardamom, mace, and allspice wafted its way to his senses. He breathed it in deeply and was instantly transported to the exotic lands he had only read about in books. China, furnishings, textiles, and objets d'art from all the British Isles and the Orient were displayed all around him in beautiful cases. A fine woolen shawl from the Aran Islands was draped over a mahogany chest from the West Indies. Chinese porcelain sat amid carvings of ivory and jade. Shelves containing silks, laces, and ribbons beckoned the eye. The sight of so many exotic trinkets and treasures always enchanted Mr. Bingley. He peered into a large case at the back of the warehouse and was instantly drawn to a small bowl of fine crystal. As he closely examined its faceted design, a clerk quietly approached.

"Good day to you, sir. I am Mr. Pierce. May I be of service?" Mr. Bingley turned to face the man and smiled. The clerk nodded toward the bowl. "Beautiful, is it not? The finest Irish crystal. They arrived only days ago and already they are nearly all spoken for."

"Then I shall not hesitate. I will take one." The clerk bowed, and called for an assistant to wrap up the prize.

"May I show you something else, Mr.--?"

"Bingley. Yes, actually. I would like to speak with the proprietor." If the clerk was surprised by this request, he did not show it.

"There are two, Mr. Bingley. May I summon Mr. Finch or Mr. Gardiner?"

"This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Darcy. Do have a seat."

"Thank you, Mr. Crenshaw." Mr. Darcy suddenly felt silly. Why had he come here? What could Miss Crenshaw possibly tell him? Mr. Crenshaw, as garrulous as ever, carried most of the conversation while Mr. Darcy squirmed uncomfortably, occasionally offering a brief comment. After a few minutes, the doors opened, and Olivia Crenshaw entered, followed by Jane Bennet.

"Mr. Darcy! I did not expect to find you here. I believe you know Miss Bennet," Olivia said in an arch manner reminiscent of Elizabeth Bennet, a point that was not lost on the recipient of her comment.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said automatically, his mind instantly on the absent sister rather than the one before him.

"Good morning to you, Mr. Darcy," replied Jane demurely. She took a seat some distance away from him and he found himself momentarily staring after her.

"What brings you to _____ Street, Mr. Darcy?" Olivia asked, continuing to provoke Mr. Darcy's interest. It was little wonder to him that she and Elizabeth should be good friends. They seemed so alike in manner and temperament. He wondered whether one of the ladies had influenced the other, or if their similar natures were mutually attractive.

"I was visiting the Bingleys and thought that I should stop in while I was in the neighborhood to remind you of my invitation for the day after tomorrow." Olivia's teasing laughter tormented him. It held that same mocking tone...the sound of Elizabeth's laughter one night at Netherfield came to mind, and he tried to suppress the memory.

"We have not forgotten. Jane and I have spent the entire morning planning our attire for the event," she said in a manner that told Mr. Darcy that they had done no such thing. He wondered if they had spent the morning plotting a strategy for securing Mr. Bingley's affections, then discarded the notion. Elizabeth would never resort to such arts, nor would her friend. Mr. Darcy glanced at Jane once more and knew that she was above such behavior as well. Miss Bingley had been completely wrong in her assumptions about Jane Bennet.

"You need not go to too much trouble. It is only a small affair...your family, Miss Bennet, my cousin Fitzwilliam...oh, and the Bingleys," he said with a surreptitious glance toward Jane. Jane's reaction, however, surprised him. She did not appear too eager to see the Bingleys. Mr. Darcy began to fear that Caroline was making up the whole story about her brother simply to get her clutches on him. After all, Jane had spent nearly an hour in Mr. Bingley's company at the theatre and had shown no apparent interest in the man.

"I understand that you are soon to go to Kent, Mr. Darcy," Jane was saying. Mr. Darcy looked his surprise. Jane laughed shyly. "Mr. Bingley mentioned it." Mr. Darcy nodded slowly. "You may encounter Lizzy there. She is visiting our relation in Hunsford." Mr. Darcy was all attention.

"Hunsford?" he said with a slight cough, as he resisted every urge to beg Jane for details. "I will not be far from Hunsford. My aunt's estate is a short distance from the town." Jane smiled politely and turned her attention elsewhere. Mr. Darcy eyed her curiously. She had obviously not meant to rouse him. She was just making conversation. Mr. Darcy silently cursed Miss Bingley's paranoia. Shortly thereafter, Mr. Darcy rose to take his leave. He had not learned anything of use to Caroline Bingley, but he had heard something to give his heart wings. As his carriage drove off Mr. Darcy smiled self-indulgently. Well, perhaps this has not been a total waste of time, after all. So, Elizabeth Bennet is in Hunsford....

"Mr. Bingley, do come in," said Edward Gardiner, extending his hand in greeting as the young man was shown into the finely appointed office. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected call?" he asked as he steered his visitor to a chair. Actually, Mr. Gardiner was not at all surprised to see Mr. Bingley. He simply had not expected to see him so soon or in his place of business.

"This is quite a lovely emporium, Mr. Gardiner. My family has been shopping here for years. I had no idea that you were the proprietor," he said ingenuously.

"Well, until this week, I doubt that such knowledge would have been of much interest to you. May I offer you some tea? I often take 'elevenses" as my staff do." Mr. Gardiner reached behind his desk for a velvet pull, and summoned a servant. In minutes the men were sipping tea and chatting easily.

"I now know that you prefer shortbread to ginger biscuits, Mr. Bingley," said Mr. Gardiner after a while, "But you still have not told me what brings you to Finch and Gardiner." Mr. Gardiner's smile showed no evidence of suspicion, merely curiosity. Nonetheless, Mr. Bingley grew nervous.

"I...I came about yesterday, Mr. Gardiner. I wanted to...apologize...for my sister's behavior," Mr. Bingley began.

"I assure you, there is no need, sir. We had a splendid time yesterday. I do hope that we can persuade you to join us again sometime soon." Mr. Bingley eyed Mr. Gardiner doubtingly.

"Yes...yes, I should like that. I should like that very much. I do wish to see more of you...." Mr. Bingley's throat went dry and his mind went blank. What was it he had planned to say?

"You mean you wish to see more of my niece," Mr. Gardiner offered helpfully. Mr. Bingley blushed and smiled.

"Yes. Yes, I do wish to see more of Jane...uh, Miss Bennet." Mr. Bingley's cheeks were in a fair way to become redder than the burgundy upholstery on which he sat. Mr. Gardiner could not help but smile at the hapless lover.

"Mr. Gardiner, I realize that you are only her uncle...I mean...that is...I wish to--."

"You are in love with Jane and would like to court her."

"Yes!" Mr. Bingley's face fell. "Am I that transparent?" he asked in awe. Mr. Gardiner could not help laughing aloud as he nodded.

"Any fool with eyes can see that, Mr. Bingley." Mr. Bingley lowered is eyes to his lap. "Forgive me, sir. I meant no offense. But it is patently plain to me that you are very much in love with my niece and that she is in love with you. I cannot for the--."

"She is?" Once again, Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up and a smile beamed across the large rosewood desk.

"I should have thought that you realized that in Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley," Mr. Gardiner said seriously.

"I did. At least I thought I did, but I was persuaded otherwise." Mr. Gardiner leaned forward in his seat.

"What are you saying, sir?" He wanted to hear the truth from Mr. Bingley's own lips. Elizabeth had told him of her suspicions, but Mr. Gardiner wanted the facts. He wanted to know exactly what he would be going up against. So, for the second time in a matter of days, Mr. Bingley told the tale he had kept a dark secret for five months.

"I allowed my friend...and my own sisters...to talk me out of asking for her hand. I have regretted it ever since." Mr. Bingley looked up determinedly. "But I am determined to make up for my mistake, if she will still have me."

"Your sister remains opposed to the match," Mr. Gardiner stated. Mr. Bingley nodded. "How do intend to deal with her objections?" Mr. Bingley smiled and pulled out his new notebook.

Chapter 5

Posted on Thursday, 17 January 2002

Shortly after Mr. Darcy's departure, Olivia and Jane took their leave of Mr. Crenshaw and headed for an exhibition of Italian sculpture at the Royal Academy. They alit from the carriage and plunged into the throng of patrons who had also come for the opening. The ladies struggled through the crowded hall until they were well away from the entrance and the crowd thinned considerably.

"I daresay the ton is more concerned about being seen here than seeing anything of the art," Olivia sniped as she adjusted her hat. Jane seemed unperturbed by the crush of people.

"It was good of you to invite me out today, Livy. I do believe I was driving my dear aunt and uncle insane hanging about the house," she confessed.

"Actually, your Uncle Gardiner should have the credit. It was he who suggested that I get you out of the house. He even provided the tickets to the exhibition." Jane smiled at Olivia's revelation. It was just like her uncle to be so thoughtful. He knew that Jane had been depressed of late, and he knew that Jane would have refused an outing if he or Mrs. Gardiner had suggested it. So he had discretely enlisted Olivia's help in coaxing Jane out of her lethargy. The pair strolled through the halls of the gallery and admired the art, stopping on occasion to read about one or another of the works from the exhibition catalogue. Their progress was slow and leisurely, and both ladies were enjoying themselves.

"Livy," asked Jane after a while. "Do you think Mr. Darcy is handsome?" Olivia was completely caught off guard by Jane's wholly unexpected question.

"Jane?" was all the reply Olivia could manage as Jane stopped before an imposing sculpture modeled on Michelangelo's David.

"I think he is very handsome," Jane said with a slight blush of her cheeks. "I must confess that there are times when he looks at me that I feel a chill run up my spine," she giggled. Jane walked on to the next statue, while Olivia remained riveted where she stood, not quite knowing what to make of what she had heard. Had Jane transferred her affections from one man to another? Olivia recovered from her reverie and closed the distance between herself and Jane, who was still speaking.

"Admit it, Olivia Crenshaw, you think him very handsome as well."

"Yes...very handsome," Olivia said obligingly. "Of course, I prefer the looks of a man like Colonel Fitzwilliam...that is, I prefer smiling, lively men to the somber, brooding variety," Olivia revealed with a blush of her own.

"Oh, the Colonel is very handsome, especially when he smiles--which he seems to do a great deal in your company. He obviously thinks very well of you. I could tell by the way he looked at you that night at the theatre," Jane sighed. "If Mr. Darcy ever looked at me the way the Colonel looked at you, I think I should melt away entirely!" Jane giggled again as Olivia gaped at her. "It would be wonderful to be so admired...dare I say, loved?" Never in all their acquaintance had she heard Jane speak so boldly. And rather than understand that Jane was attempting to tease more of a confession from Olivia about her feelings for the Colonel, Olivia could only hear Jane profess her love for Mr. Darcy.

"Jane, what are you saying?" she gasped. "You cannot be..." Olivia paused and grabbed Jane by the wrist and drew her to a relatively secluded spot. "You cannot mean that you are falling for Mr. Darcy!" she whispered. Jane's eyes opened wide, and she burst into laughter, which led Olivia to shake her impatiently. "Jane!"

"No, Livy, no! Really, Olivia, the idea is too absurd! Anyone can plainly see that he is in love with Lizzy." Olivia exhaled. "I was just trying to imagine what it would be like to be admired by such a man." Jane's expression clouded over, all signs of laughter gone. "I should not wish to be in love with someone who did not love me in return. I just wish...I would wish...for someone to love me-." Jane averted her eyes as tears welled up and threatened to spill over. Olivia offered her a handkerchief. "I have been trying not to think about it," Jane began. "But I have been so wretched ever since-."

"Jane? Is this about Mr. Bingley?" Olivia asked gently. Jane nodded and a tear stained her cheek.

"Put this somewhere secure, Marsters," Mr. Bingley ordered, handing a small box to the footman as he entered the carriage. "Carefully, man!" he called out. "It is very fragile."

"Home, sir?" asked Marsters.

"Not just yet, old man. I have another stop to make." He gave the direction to the coachman and the carriage sped off, Mr. Bingley humming contentedly to himself.

"I suppose I was wrong to think that he would still harbor a fond regard for me after all this time. I thought it was so when he appeared at my uncle's door with Lizzy. He stayed to supper that night and was very attentive." Jane seemed to find courage and lifted her head. "And then at the theatre I realized my error."

"What are you talking about? Mr. Bingley paid you particular attention that night. He even sat with you in our box through the whole first act."

"During which he spoke barely a word and studied Mr. Darcy's countenance for the space of an hour. His 'particular attention'," Jane said bitterly, "Extended to escorting me to our box and occasionally offering me lemon drops."

"Oh, dear," said Olivia, trying to reconcile this account of Mr. Bingley with that of the lovesick swain portrayed by Elizabeth just a week earlier.

"And then yesterday," Jane said, as she began to walk toward a small bronze on a pedestal, "Mr. Bingley came to tea and again barely addressed me, although his sister is probably to blame for that."

"His sister?" Jane studied the bronze as she spoke.

"Caroline Bingley forced herself on our company and proceeded to ruin the entire afternoon. Livy, it was so awful and I am sure that it was done deliberately. By the time they left I was ready to pack my things and return to Hertfordshire. I might have left this morning had not my uncle begged me to remain another two weeks."

"I am very glad that he did, and you should too, Jane," Olivia said with a sudden smile. Jane looked at her quizzically.

"Why?" For an answer, Olivia grasped her by the shoulders and turned her around. A short distance away, admiring the statue of David, stood Mr. Bingley. Jane gasped and turned back to Olivia, but she had disappeared into another gallery. At that moment, Mr. Bingley noticed Jane and swiftly made his way to her. Jane took a deep breath and awaited his address.

"Miss Bennet," he smiled and bowed formally. "I am delighted to see you here. Are you an aficionado of the Italians, as well?" Jane's heart was beating wildly; she nodded more out of instinct than conscious thought. She opened her mouth and closed it again, before she found words.

"I am equally happy to see you, Mr. Bingley. You must have been put on this earth to come to the rescue of the Bennet sisters." Now it was Mr. Bingley's turn to be confused. He raised his eyebrows in question.

"I believe I am lost, sir," Jane said, her cheeks glowing.

"Are you here all alone, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked, looking about for any sign of Mrs. Gardiner.

"Well, to own the truth, I was with Miss Crenshaw, but she appears to have abandoned me." A wry smile played about Mr. Bingley's lips as he offered his arm.

"Shall we try and find her?" The couple strolled away, and within minutes--after Mr. Bingley observed: "Very elusive, your Miss Crenshaw"--the object of their search was completely forgotten. So it came to pass that through the careful maneuvers of Olivia to stay just out of sight (not to mention Mr. Gardiner's excellent foresight in procuring a pair of tickets to an exhibition that he knew Mr. Bingley was wild to see that very afternoon) Jane and Mr. Bingley toured the exhibit together. They made pleasant conversation, renewed their unspoken understanding, and on occasion, saw a bit of the art. They spent twenty minutes amid the throng in pure bliss. Mr. Bingley stared into Jane's eyes with but one thought: She loves me! Jane's heart made no such assumptions of her companion, but her own love for Mr. Bingley ruled her emotions.

When Olivia grew weary of dodging the couple and felt assured that Jane no longer coveted the welcoming arms of Hertfordshire, she reappeared before the pair and exclaimed dramatically about how long she had been scouring the halls. Mr. Bingley was frankly unconvinced by her performance but he was nonetheless extremely grateful for her presence of mind. He invited the ladies to tea and, as he sipped, decided that if Jane was an angel, Miss Crenshaw must be some sort of saint.

Mr. Bingley handed his butler his hat, coat, gloves, and walking stick before accepting the parcel from Marsters' hands. Mr. Bingley gingerly carried his precious cargo to his study, where he placed the box on his mantel.

"Is that for me?"

"I am afraid not, Caroline," Mr. Bingley replied as he turned to his sister. "This is a gift for a friend."

"A 'friend'? Anyone I know?" she asked sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact, Caroline, you do know the lady," Mr. Bingley responded as he went to his desk and began to sort through the stack of mail Mrs. Stewart had left for him. Caroline glowered at him.

"Really, Charles! You go too far! I beg you to leave off this crazy notion of yours...." Caroline paused to take in Mr. Bingley's surprised expression. "I am saying this for your own good. And Mr. Darcy agrees with me on this," she added pleadingly.

"Darcy! He does not even know her!" Mr. Bingley laughed, realizing his sister's mistake. He decided to keep it to himself for the time being.

"Not know her? Charles, I am beginning to worry about you."

"I assure you, dear sister, I am quite well." Mr. Bingley sat down and broke the seal on a letter from his solicitor. "What I want to know..." he said as her perused the letter, "Is why... you and Darcy...should have cause to discuss ...Miss Wheldon." He threw down the letter and awaited Caroline's reply.

"Miss Wheldon? I am not talking about that dotty old nurse! I am speaking of Jane Bennet!"

"What of Jane Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked mildly.

"You are buying her gifts!" Caroline launched into a diatribe about the scheming Bennets, flailing her arms about as she ranted on for several minutes. Mr. Bingley showed great calm in the face of her storm. In fact, he did not hear a word of her speech as he read his mail. Caroline stopped mid-sentence when she realized that she was being ignored. When the room fell silent, Mr. Bingley looked up.

"So Darcy came by while I was out? I am very sorry to have missed him," he said as he rang for a servant. Caroline gaped at him as he drew out pen and paper and wrote a brief note. In a few moments, he looked up again at the sound of a familiar knock and bade Mrs. Stewart to enter.

"Ah, Mrs. Stewart. Any chance of an early dinner? I am famished." Mrs. Stewart assured him that a hot meal could be on the table in minutes. Satisfied, Mr. Bingley dismissed the housekeeper, only to call her back as soon as she closed the door. Mr. Bingley rose and retrieved the box.

"Would you be so kind, Mrs. Stewart, as to see to this?" Mr. Bingley handed her his note. "The direction is on the letter."

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Stewart curtseyed and would have left, but Mr. Bingley hailed her yet again.

"Perhaps you should send it express. Miss Wheldon's birthday is in just two days' time." Mr. Bingley stole a glance at Caroline. He straightened his collar before offering his arm to his red-faced and irate sister.

"Shall we go in to dinner? Caroline glared at him and stomped out of the room. Mr. Bingley followed her, chuckling softly all the way to the table.

Mr. Gardiner had been absolutely charmed by his visitor, although hours later he was still unable to make very much of Mr. Bingley's animated discussion about "strategies," nor could he grasp exactly how his niece Elizabeth--who was some thirty miles away in Kent--could possibly be of any use to Mr. Bingley's cause. Mr. Gardiner was nonetheless impressed by Mr. Bingley's determination and enthusiasm. He obviously loved Jane very much and was willing to do whatever was necessary to win her. Even so, Mr. Gardiner decided not to tip his hand and offer his assistance directly. He would rather not intervene at all, if he could help it, and if he did he would rather that the couple believed that fate--and not a meddling uncle--had played a role in bringing them together.

So Mr. Gardiner allowed Mr. Bingley to rant on for several minutes about his intentions towards Jane, until the clock struck two. Mr. Bingley quickly ended his audience then, claiming that he was scheduled to attend a reception to mark the opening of a new exhibit at the Royal Academy. Mr. Gardiner smiled to himself as Mr. Bingley left his office, and when he arrived home that evening and learned that Jane had met Mr. Bingley at the exhibition, he was very pleased with his own strategy. Jane fairly floated for the next twenty-four hours, her spirits buoyed by her "chance meeting" with Mr. Bingley. She smiled radiantly as she darned her cousins' socks. She smiled as she assisted Mrs. Gardiner with her charity work, and she smiled herself to sleep, looking forward to seeing Mr. Bingley the next day.

Caroline was shocked the following evening to find that Mr. Darcy had not only invited her brother and herself to dinner but Jane Bennet as well, accompanied by Mr. Crenshaw and his daughter. Caroline was quite put out, even after Mr. Bingley explained to her that the dinner invitation had originally been extended to the Crenshaws and Miss Bennet and that he and Caroline were later additions to the party. She would not accept the notion that Mr. Darcy would actually invite a Bennet into his own house. She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least Eliza Bennet was not part of the party.

Mr. Darcy, his concussion now a distant memory, didn't bat an eyelash when Mr. Bingley took a seat at the dinner table next to Jane, but Caroline was visibly upset. Mr. Crenshaw was given the place of honor at the table, and Olivia was at Mr. Darcy's other side. Caroline did not deign to perceive Olivia as a threat, but she fumed at being separated from her dearest object and took out her frustration on her nearest neighbor, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He, on the other hand, was oblivious to her rudeness. The Colonel had spoken to Miss Crenshaw, not to any more significant purpose than to exchange greetings, but her reception had been more than civil. It was balm to his bruised heart and he was in too good a mood to let Miss Bingley spoil it. The Colonel repeatedly attempted to engage Miss Bingley in conversation, which she either responded to tersely or not at all, to the secret amusement of Mr. Darcy and Olivia.

"So, Mr. Bingley: Did you make your selection?" Jane asked as the dishes were cleared.

"Yes. I went back to the Royal Academy this morning and was able to speak with the artist himself. I am to meet with him next week to look at more of his work," Mr. Bingley replied proudly, drawing Caroline's attention.

"What are you speaking of, Charles?" she inquired suspiciously.

"Oh," Mr. Bingley returned casually, "I saw a small figure yesterday that I thought would make a nice addition to my collection." Caroline practically snorted.

"Collection? Whatever do you mean, Charles? Do not be so pretentious," Caroline sneered. "The few pieces you have managed to find on your own are not very good, and could scarcely be called a 'collection'. Perhaps you should consult Mr. Darcy before you acquire anything more. His taste is impeccable." There was momentary silence as everyone at the table was taken aback by Caroline's vicious and unnecessary put down of her brother. Caroline grew uncomfortable. "Mr. Darcy, have you been to the exhibition?" she assayed.

"No, Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy answered tightly. "But I would be very interested in what Bingley found there, however. Your earlier acquisitions in Milan proved to be very good investments," he added, turning toward Mr. Bingley. The conversation quickly turned to art, and soon all were engaged in a lively discussion save for the Colonel, whose interest in art had long ago been subsumed by his fascination with military history. If a painting or a sculpture did not depict a famous general or commemorate a significant battle, Colonel Fitzwilliam's interest extended only as far as its colors held his attention.

Caroline only feigned interest in the conversation, having only pretended to pay attention to her art master during his boring lectures. Art collecting was fashionable and Caroline was never one to ignore fashion, but that did not mean that she actually cared about art. In fact, she had no idea that her brother's collection was small but quite impressive until Mr. Darcy had corrected her opinion. Now she sought to interject a comment here and there in the conversation to convince Mr. Darcy that she, too, was a connoisseur of art. She found herself, however, unable to capture Mr. Darcy's attention, so she turned her attention to Jane.

"Jane, you should try and go to the exhibition at the Royal Academy. A new exhibit of French sculpture just opened a few days ago. You would be exposed to whole new level of artistic experience, dear," she said smugly. Olivia rolled her eyes and hoped that Jane would say something, but that lady just smiled politely and tucked into her pudding. Olivia started to speak up, but was distracted by a question from Mr. Darcy. All too soon, Olivia lost her chance to turn the tables on Caroline.

Oblivious to Olivia's frustration, Mr. Darcy enjoyed his dinner conversation with the Crenshaws, and although he could still not condone his friend's budding romance with Jane Bennet, he was able to appreciate the dramatic improvement in Mr. Bingley's spirits. Chastened by his cousin's set down a few days earlier, Mr. Darcy chose to ignore the apparent renewal of affections between the pair as he observed Miss Bennet carefully, looking for traces of the younger sister in her manners. Caroline caught him staring and took it as a sign of Mr. Darcy's disapproval. A smug smile suffused her features and she was sufficiently mollified as to answer one of the Colonel's questions with a complete sentence.

When dinner was over, the ladies retired to the music room while the four men remained behind for cigars and port. Caroline led the way down the hall with a proprietary air, pointing out minute and intimate details about the portraits on the walls and relating the history of some object or another. She clearly meant to convince her companions of her intimacy with Mr. Darcy, but neither Olivia nor Jane was terribly impressed. Upon entering the drawing room, Caroline remarked that she would change the décor of the room at her earliest opportunity. "I do despise pale blue, you know. It is so...juvenile," she said, cognizant of the fact that both Jane and Olivia were dressed in that shade. "I would do something far more dramatic in here, perhaps in red, with dark mahogany furniture-"

"I should think that Miss Darcy should prefer the room to stay as it is, Miss Bingley. After all, I believe that Mr. Darcy recently had this room especially redone according to her taste." Olivia's smile was innocence itself, as she watched Caroline's artificial smile freeze.

"Have you met Miss Darcy, Jane?" Olivia asked.

"I have not had that pleasure," Jane replied, taking a seat near the fire.

"Oh, Miss Darcy is a lovely girl," Caroline chimed in. "You would adore her. So pretty, so charming. She's quite a favorite of Charles' you know. And, unless I am mistaken, she is excessively fond of him as well. I have high hopes of--but I speak prematurely," cooed Miss Bingley, taking a seat opposite Jane to observe the effect of her words. Jane had gone pale, but she held her head high and refused to give Caroline the satisfaction of a greater display.

So that is to be your game, is it, Miss Bingley? Olivia had never met Caroline Bingley before, although she had seen her numerous times at various gatherings. She certainly knew of her; Olivia had spent that very morning gathering intelligence from a mutual acquaintance and had learned of Caroline's ambitious plans to ensnare Mr. Darcy. Olivia had been instantly disposed to dislike the woman from the moment Miss Bingley had looked down her arrogant little nose and condescendingly greeted her upon her arrival. She was not about to let Caroline ruin Jane's evening. An appropriate retort was forming in Olivia's mind when the door opened and the men entered the room, led by Mr. Darcy. Olivia immediately shifted her strategy.

"Jane, have you heard from Lizzy?" she asked as soon as Mr. Darcy was within her hearing. Like a moth to a flame, Mr. Darcy was immediately drawn in.

"Oh, yes, Livy. I received a letter from her just this morning. She has arrived safely and sends her love," Jane said, "She also asked me to tell you that you should be receiving your own letter shortly."

"I trust, then, that she had a pleasant journey?" Mr. Darcy said, coming to stand near Jane's chair. Caroline's senses were aroused; why should Mr. Darcy be asking about Eliza Bennet?

"Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy wrote that she had a lovely trip into the country and she seems to be enjoying her stay with our cousin," Jane replied. Mr. Bingley drew near to Jane and she ducked her head to avoid his eyes. Olivia noticed the movement, and her resentment of Miss Bingley increased. Mr. Bingley stood nearby and tried without success to catch Jane's eye.

"It is a pity she could not spend more time in London," Mr. Darcy said. "But then, as you said, she is enjoying herself among her relations." Olivia rejoiced inwardly. Good, show, Mr. Darcy! Banish that smug smile from Miss Bingley's face. She looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam significantly, but the Colonel was observing Caroline, his expression unreadable.

"Oh! Was Miss Eliza Bennet in town?" asked Caroline. "How delightful it must have been for you to see her again, Jane, dear. Was she in town long?" she asked, her eyes fixed on Mr. Darcy.

"She was here but three days. She only stopped in town to visit with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner before going on to--"

"Oh, but it is such a shame that you had so little time with her here. Dear Eliza! I am sure she would have loved to have had time to go to all the shops, to attend balls, go to the theatre--all the little things a girl cannot do in the country."

You are all kindness, madam, Olivia glowered and crossed her arms. Across the room, Colonel Fitzwilliam could see the sour expression on Olivia's face. He furrowed his brows and drew closer to the conversation. Mr. Bingley left Jane and went to join Mr. Crenshaw at the table where a servant was pouring coffee. Jane looked after him, and with a pang of longing, lowered her head once more.

"It is a pity I did not have a chance to see her. It has been an age since we have spoken," Caroline continued, voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you saw her, Mr. Darcy. I know that must have been a treat for you, being such an admirer of her fine eyes." Mr. Darcy walked away from Jane and went to set his coffee cup down on a table just behind the settee where Caroline sat. He wasn't about to make himself an easy target.

"Oh, but you must have seen her as well, Miss Bingley," the Colonel offered, beginning to understand Olivia's anger. "She was at the theatre last week when we saw 'Twelfth Night.'" Caroline's mouth fell open.

"Miss Eliza Bennet was at the theatre? Why did you not tell me, Mr. Darcy?" she asked, twisting around in an effort to catch his eye.

"I should not have thought it necessary to inform you, Miss Bingley," the Colonel said. "She was sitting directly opposite you the whole evening." Caroline glanced at Mr. Darcy and instantly understood the Colonel's meaning. She blanched, and was virtually silent for the remainder of the evening. When Mr. Bingley approached Jane, Caroline glowered at her brother but did not interfere. Jane, however, had taken Caroline's hint about Miss Darcy just seriously enough to become insecure. As soon as it was possible to do so, Olivia went to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Her smile told him that he was back in her good graces.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I could kiss you," she whispered. His eyebrows shot up and he did not trust himself to speak. She laughed at his sheepish expression and explained. "You silenced Miss Bingley better than I ever could have done." She quickly retreated, leaving the confused Colonel to wonder if it would be proper to claim his reward.

The Crenshaws, along with Jane, were the first to leave, and Mr. Darcy saw his guests to the door. When he returned to the drawing room, he found Caroline waiting for him just outside the door. She hissed with exasperation, "Is this how you plan to keep my brother from losing his head over that girl? You invite her into your house?"

"Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy replied tightly, "I could no more stop your brother from 'losing his head' over a girl than you could stop me." Caroline paled, and a knot formed in her stomach. "I am not pleased with this development, but I am in no position to do anything about it. I will be leaving town at the end of the week. I am afraid you will have to deal with the matter by yourself," Mr. Darcy said as he strode into the room.

Chapter 6

Mr. Bingley was rather pleased with himself the following morning as he took a walk through the park across from his home. He had spent the previous afternoon and evening in the company of his beloved Jane and his discussion with her uncle earlier in the day had reassured him that Jane did--and still did--love him.

"Months of anguish and suffering, all for naught!" he grumbled. "Jane did love me, I am sure of that now. Why did I ever listen to any of them?" Mr. Bingley fondly recalled his conversation with Jane at the gallery, where she had made as much of an admission of her feelings as she dared. Mr. Bingley had offered her a somewhat cryptic explanation for his long absence from Hertfordshire, stating that he had gone to London on business and was detained there by a mysterious "conspiracy of circumstances."

"By the time I was able to free myself from the clutches of my captors," he said playfully so that Jane had no idea of his double meaning, "I feared that I would no longer find a welcome in Hertfordshire."

"Oh, Mr. Bingley, friends such as yourself would always be welcome," Jane replied with a glowing smile, "Although had you returned there I might have missed you entirely. I have been in London since January."

"So I have recently learned. I cannot forgive my sisters for keeping that information from me. I would have liked to have been able to call upon you much sooner." Jane's heart was fit to burst at his declaration, to which he added, "Can you ever forgive me for such neglectful behavior?"

"I cannot hold you accountable for circumstances of which you were completely unaware. Suffice to say I am very grateful for your current attentions," Jane said with a becoming blush of her cheek.

"We have much lost time to make up for."

"Let us not worry about time lost and simply start afresh," Jane suggested as she hazarded a glance at Mr. Bingley and saw his frown.

"I should like that," he said, brightening. "I should like to start afresh, and this time, if you will allow me, I will court you properly, Miss Bennet." Jane was too modest to answer him with words, but her smile was all the encouragement he needed.

Mr. Bingley reached his house and breezed past Mrs. Stewart on his way to his study. He greeted her cheerfully and requested that tea be brought to him there.

"Sir," Mrs. Stewart replied. Mr. Bingley turned to look at her. Her response was a question rather than an acknowledgment of his request.

"Miss Bingley asked me to tell you that she is entertaining guests this morning. She asked me to have you join her in the parlor as soon as you returned, sir." Mr. Bingley sighed and redirected his steps toward the parlor. When he entered the room he found himself adrift in a sea of females. There were at least five present, not counting his sister, who rose to greet him effusively.

"Dear Charles, do come in. You remember my dear friends, do you not?" Charles smiled weakly at the assemblage, but he could only put a name to two of the women. The first was Louisa Appleton, a woman whose elegant bearing, exquisite taste and 80,000 pounds did nothing to dispel her reputation as the dullest women in the British Empire. She was sitting beside Clarissa Simpson, who could best be described as a giggling bit of insignificance from Sussex. Caroline made introductions to all her guests, and Charles murmured whatever was expected of him, highly suspicious of Caroline's little circle of "friends." Caroline rarely took pains to say a decent word about either Miss Simpson or Miss Appleton, although she actively courted the favor of the latter, whose wealth and connections rendered her important among the ton. Mr. Bingley had once had a mild flirtation with Miss Simpson in his youth, but Mr. Darcy had declared the girl a simpleton and that was the end of it.

"Do sit down and join us, Mr. Bingley," Miss Northam cooed. Mr. Bingley reluctantly complied, only to rise again a moment later when the butler announced two more arrivals. The parlor was quickly becoming rather crowded. It was obvious to Mr. Bingley that his sister intended to divert his attentions away from Jane Bennet and toward what she considered to be more suitable marriage candidates. He sighed and looked at the door expectantly as another of Caroline's "dear friends" entered the room.

"I hope you do not mind," Amelia Parsons said as she breezed into the room. "I was already on my way out with a friend when I received your note. I am afraid we can stay but a few minutes," the prettiest and most socially accomplished of Caroline's guests continued. Caroline was about to step forward and insist that Amelia and her friend stay for a while (the more girls to distract her brother the better, she concluded) when she looked up and saw Amelia's companion. "Allow me to introduce my friend, Olivia Crenshaw."

"We have met," Olivia said with an arch look. Caroline paled, as Mr. Bingley stepped forward eagerly.

"Miss Parsons," he said with a cursory bow, "And Miss Crenshaw, how delightful to see you again," he said with genuine enthusiasm. "Do sit down. Foster, bring in a few more chairs, will you?"

"Mr. Bingley," Olivia said as she and Amelia took seats on a settee near Mr. Bingley, "Amelia did not tell me that we were coming to see you this morning. Perhaps we might postpone our business today after all." And with that she gave Caroline a triumphant smile and made herself comfortable.

Olivia was well aware of the fact that her friend Amelia had more than a passing interest in Mr. Bingley. She had confessed as much when she ran into Olivia at the gallery the previous afternoon. Olivia was confident that Amelia posed no obstacle for Jane, but when she arrived at Olivia's house the next morning waving an invitation from Caroline Bingley, Olivia became very curious, especially when Amelia confided that she'd never received such an invitation before. Hence Olivia--who had little inclination to be in Caroline's company again--had insisted on accompanying her friend and convinced Amelia that she had an errand to run which could not be long delayed. The call at Mr. Bingley's house was to be a brief one. Upon her arrival, however, Olivia assessed the situation and decided that Caroline was up to something and she was determined not to leave until she knew exactly what it was. For her part, Caroline was not at all pleased to see Olivia Crenshaw again, although she knew nothing of Olivia's interest in promoting a match between Jane and Mr. Bingley. However, anyone who was not Jane Bennet was welcome, as far as she was concerned.

"Jane and I so enjoyed our visit to the gallery yesterday, Mr. Bingley," Olivia said. "And of course we were so fortunate as to meet with you again at Mr. Darcy's home last evening." Mr. Bingley smiled radiantly.

"It was a most pleasant day all around," he concurred. "I cannot remember ever spending a more pleasant afternoon at a gallery," he replied. Olivia understood his meaning and smiled broadly.

"I spent a very pleasant afternoon at the gallery, myself," Amelia offered.

"Oh, do you mean the new exhibit at the National Gallery?" Miss Appleton asked. "Mother and I attended the preview the night before last. I must confess I have little interest in Italian sculpture, but..." Caroline ceased to listen, her mind on Olivia's earlier statement that she and Jane had encountered her brother at the gallery. She resolved to guard him more closely in future. She flinched when Miss Appleton touched her arm and forced herself to listen to her drone on for several minutes about the decline of Italian sculpture since the era of Michelangelo.

"I think..." Mr. Bingley assayed, but aborted his effort to comment when he realized that Miss Appleton had only paused to draw breath. She prattled on for another two minutes, by which time everyone in the room had forgotten whatever it was he or she wished to say.

"So, Mr. Darcy is safely off to Kent this morning," Olivia said to Mr. Bingley, confident of having chosen a new topic about which Miss Appleton could have no opinion.

"Yes," Caroline replied, happy to see her neighbor silenced at last. "London society lost one of its brightest ornaments to Kent for the next few weeks."

"I daresay it lost two, Miss Bingley," Olivia said with a sigh that betrayed her affection for one of the men in question.

"I am surprised that you do not accompany him, sir," Amelia said, turning to Mr. Bingley. "Do you not often travel together?"

"Yes," Mr. Bingley replied. "Yes, we do often travel together, but Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, are only making a brief visit to Kent to spend time with their relations." Olivia scanned the room and noticed a flutter of interest in this new topic of discussion, ranging from sighs of admiration to looks of disappointment at London society's loss of the two gentlemen.

"Kent is lovely," Miss Simpson ventured with a slight giggle. "But its beauties cannot compare with those of Sussex." Being a native of Kent, Miss Appleton could not allow the slight to go unanswered and she immediately set out to defend the honor of her home county. Miss Appleton's rapturous treatise on the superiority of the Kent countryside in spring led even the affable Mr. Bingley to roll his eyes after three minutes of monotone recitation.

Olivia found herself torn between a desire to flee the tedium of Miss Appleton and a desire to stay and talk to Mr. Bingley so that she could keep an eye on Caroline. However, she lucked into a third alternative, when she could stand it no longer and announced her intention to depart. Mr. Bingley, pleading an appointment of his own, rose to leave with her, much to his sister's displeasure. Furthermore, upon seeing that Amelia and Olivia had walked to his house from _____ Street, he offered them a lift in his carriage. Olivia was happy to accept. Amelia--assuming that his gesture was meant as a compliment to herself--smiled coquettishly as he handed her into the carriage. Mr. Bingley looked back at the house, where Caroline glared at him from the window before her stepped into his carriage and signaled the driver. It was then that he confessed to having no appointment at all.

"Why, Mr. Bingley, you sly thing," Amelia giggled. Olivia rolled her eyes, but then inspiration struck.

"Perhaps, then, you might accompany us on our errand to Gracechurch Street. I have something to deliver to a friend there," she said meaningfully. Mr. Bingley beamed.

"I should be delighted."

Caroline, meanwhile, was furious at her brother for slipping away and angry at herself for having no ready excuse with which to detain him. As soon as she was able to dispose of her company she summoned Mrs. Stewart and demanded to see her brother's schedule for the day.

"He does not give me a schedule, ma'am," Mrs. Stewart said. "Mr. Bingley only tells me his plans when there is some special reason to." It wasn't a total lie, but enough to put Caroline off the scent, at least temporarily. In truth, she had no idea where the master had gone. He had spoken with her before his morning walk and told her that he would be at home all day.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the Gardiner residence and Mr. Bingley emerged to hand out the ladies even before his footman had dismounted. Olivia was amused by his eagerness. She decidedly liked Mr. Bingley and she was as eager to see him succeed with Jane as he was. She watched him march smartly up the steps and rap on the door with the head of his walking stick. In moments the threesome were being greeted by the lady of the house.

"Hello, Olivia. And Mr. Bingley! What an unexpected pleasure to see you again. You are most welcome," she said. Olivia looked around for Jane, but saw no sign of her. "And Amelia Parsons, you grow lovelier each time I see you." Mrs. Gardiner saw Olivia's questioning glance. "Olivia, my dear, do go upstairs and let Jane know we have visitors."

Olivia smiled and rushed up the stairs as quickly as her skirts would allow. She knocked lightly on Jane's door and peered into the room in time to see Jane hastily close a book, most likely a diary, and slip it into a drawer. She rose from her seat and straightened her gown before she turned to welcome her friend.

"Well, this is a fine way to show your gratitude! I manage to drag Mr. Bingley all the way over here to see you and you are not even downstairs to greet him!" Olivia said with a grin. "At the very least you might have been poised dramatically at the top of the stairs when we came through the door," she teased.

"Mr. Bingley!" Jane's face registered surprise, pleasure and doubt, which Olivia read with concern.

"What is the matter?" Jane turned away.

"Miss Bingley said--. You heard her last night, Livy."

"I heard Mr. Bingley yesterday afternoon," Olivia confessed. "If I recall correctly, he said something about wanting to court you."

"Olivia Crenshaw, you are shameless!" Jane cried.

"Perhaps I am. But I am glad I did eavesdrop if it spares you any further needless worrying. Miss Bingley is as reliable a source of information regarding her brother's emotions as a Gypsy soothsayer. Now, get downstairs before he grows bored and leaves!" Jane smiled and, pausing to catch her breath, descended the stairs. She entered the parlor and smiled radiantly when she saw her Mr. Bingley. But the visit did not go as smoothly as Olivia had hoped. Within a few minutes of Jane's arrival in the parlor she realized her error in bringing Amelia Parsons along to Gracechurch Street. Olivia had grossly underestimated the strength of Amelia's infatuation with Mr. Bingley, and she and Mrs. Gardiner were witness to a verbal tug of war for the unfortunate man. Every time he uttered a word to Jane, Amelia sought to gain his attention by commenting before Jane could answer. Jane, undaunted, waited her turn before speaking, but Amelia relentlessly intercepted her responses before they could be answered by Mr. Bingley. To Jane's credit, she did not show her frustration, but it was writ plain upon Mr. Bingley's handsome face. He looked to Olivia and Mrs. Gardiner helplessly.

"Amelia, now that I have dispensed with my errand, perhaps we should go on to our shopping trip," Olivia said, rising to her feet and pulling her gloves out of her reticule. "We bid you good day, Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, Mr. Bingley." She tried to ignore the look that came over Amelia's face.

"But we have only arrived," Amelia managed, frowning.

"Yes, yes, but as I told you earlier, I must be back home by two. Truly, Amelia, we must go. We cannot impose on our hostess any further. I am sure we already interrupted her plans for this morning," Olivia said with a look to Mrs. Gardiner.

"Will you join us, Mr. Bingley?" Amelia asked desperately, reaching for his arm as if to drag him from his chair. Olivia gave him a look that froze him in his place.

"I...I would like to have a word with Mr. Gardiner first, I think. Yes, I have a...matter of business I wish to discuss with him before I go." He smiled satisfactorily at this bit of cleverness. Being deceitful was getting easier with practice. It was no wonder that his sister was so accomplished at it.

"My husband--." Mrs. Gardiner paused as Olivia clamped her hand on her arm. Mrs. Gardiner understood. "My husband will be delighted to see you again, Mr. Bingley. Shall I direct you to the study?" She rose from her seat and led Mr. Bingley out of the room. Olivia sighed in relief and said her goodbye to Jane before she headed toward the door.

"Should we not wait for Mr. Bingley?" Amelia asked plaintively.

"Why? He may be some time with Mr. Gardiner," Olivia said as she walked out of the house with Amelia at her heels. "And besides, he was kind enough to give us a ride here. We cannot impose further on his kindness. Come, Amelia," Olivia commanded. The pair walked the few blocks to the shopping district, Amelia with visions of Mr. Bingley dancing in her head and Olivia with plans to erase them.

"Forgive me, Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Gardiner said as she paused in the hall. "I just remembered; my husband went out early this morning. I am afraid your matter of business must wait for another time." She smiled sweetly as she suggested that they return to the parlor. Jane was sitting where everyone left her, working on a piece of embroidery. She looked up in surprise when the pair returned.

"Done already?"

"Uh..."

"He is not at home," Mrs. Gardiner said calmly as she resumed her seat and pulled out her knitting. Jane smiled and Mr. Bingley was drawn to her like moth to flame. He stayed and visited with her for another half hour.

"How does Mr. Bingley come to know the Gardiners?" Amelia asked conversationally as she casually examined a pair of kid gloves.

"Mr. Bingley is the Bennets' neighbor in Hertfordshire. They continued the acquaintance when Lizzy and Jane came to town," Olivia answered simply.

"Then they know each other well," Amelia continued.

"Look at these gloves, Amelia," Olivia said with feigned enthusiasm. "They are a perfect complement to your new hat!" Amelia was thus distracted from her inquiry, but Olivia could not be complacent. And she was soon to learn that her fears were well founded.

"You should have seen her, Edward! The girl all but pushed Jane out of the room!"

"Amelia Parsons?"

"Yes, little Amelia Parsons, only she is not so little anymore and not so sweet as she used to be."

"And how did our Jane react to all of this?" Mr. Gardiner asked.

"She was rather stoic about it. And, of course, whatever she may have felt at the time, her spirits were restored after Olivia took Amelia away and she was able to have a little time with Mr. Bingley. But I am afraid that if Amelia views Jane as her rival--."

"It would be to no avail, my dear. Mr. Bingley clearly loves Jane."

"I wish I could be as sure as you seem to be, Edward." Mr. Gardiner patted his beloved wife's hand.

"He loves her, Madeline. The man told me so himself." Mrs. Gardiner's mouth fell open and she covered it to contain her surprise.

"I saw him yesterday. He came by the shop to see me."

"I did not know he was even aware that you owned a shop."

"Well," Mr. Gardiner smiled, "I may have mentioned it during one of his visits." Mrs. Gardiner smiled back at him.

"Why, Edward, I am surprised at you. There is more going in that devious mind of yours than you've let on."

"Yes, I am afraid there is. I am determined to see our Jane happily married to that man, and I readily admit that I am not averse to lowering myself to Caroline Bingley's level to do it."

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Gardiner asked, slightly alarmed at her husband's declaration.

"Do not worry, my love. I have done nothing more than encourage Mr. Bingley's friendship. It should come in very handy."

"I am not sure I understand."

"His sister is bound to interfere again if he attempts to visit Jane here. But if he were to meet me at the club, or at my establishment--."

"That is well and good for you, but how does that help Jane?" Mr. Gardiner looked up at his wife.

"You will just have to trust me, my love. Trust me."

The next morning, Mr. Bingley retreated to his study after breakfast and asked not to be disturbed. Mrs. Stewart was the only person permitted to enter, as he was going over household accounts. Caroline took comfort in the knowledge that her brother was safely sequestered down the hall. She worried that he might slip out again for some planned liaison with Jane Bennet. The butler entered the sitting room where she was embroidering a pillow, and announced Amelia Parsons. Caroline was not interested in having any company that morning, but she pasted on a smile and greeted her guest with false humility.

"How kind of you to come to see me again so soon after your last visit," she scolded the younger woman, who was completely oblivious to her annoyance. "I am afraid you find me all alone this morning. My brother locked himself away to take care of business and I am quite desolate."

"I just came to apologize for my abrupt departure yesterday. I would not have left so soon had it not been for Miss Crenshaw's errand. She had something to deliver to Gracechurch Street, she said."

"Gracechurch Street," Caroline repeatedly dully.

"Of course, I have known the Gardiners for years so the visit was no trial. But I had no idea that you and your brother were friends with that family."

"We are not," Caroline declared.

"Oh? Well, Mr. Bingley is certainly friendly with the Gardiners," Amelia said.

"Charles? What? Did he say something about them?" Caroline demanded, her suspicions aroused.

"No, no, it was not anything he said. It is just that he was welcomed by the Gardiners like an old friend--." Caroline leapt to her feet, her needlework falling to the floor.

"He went with you to the Gardiners' house yesterday?" Amelia nodded. Then she gasped and covered her mouth.

"Oh, forgive me. Perhaps I should not have--."

"What should you not have said, Miss Parsons? That my brother went with you to the Gardiners' house?"

"Well, no," Amelia blushed. "It is just that, well, he told you he had an appointment..."

"With the Gardiners," Caroline angrily surmised.

"No, no. He offered us a ride in his carriage yesterday and then admitted that he had only said that he had an appointment to get away...from Miss Appleton, I think. And then Miss Crenshaw invited him to accompany us to the Gardiners'--."

"How very convenient!" Caroline fumed. Amelia tried to understand why she was so upset.

"Am I to understand that you disapprove of his friendship with the Gardiners?"

"I do most certainly disapprove! He is nothing more than a tradesman, and his plain little wife goes around putting on airs of being fashionable."

"The Gardiners are not at all like that!" Amelia laughed. "I have known that family since--." Caroline's look silenced her.

"And they mean to have their niece, Jane, marry my brother to assure them entrée into proper society." Amelia gasped again. She could hardly believe Caroline's accusations. Her familiarity with the Gardiners told her that it was a blatant lie. But another part of her saw an opportunity and she stifled her conscience to take advantage of it.

"Well, now that you mention it, Mrs. Gardiner did rather push Jane forward every chance she could. I was barely able to say a word to your brother for all her interference in the conversation." Caroline nodded.

"You see? That is precisely what I want to protect my brother from. I am very glad you came to see me today, Amelia. You understand my concern; my brother is an innocent creature. He has no idea what danger the Gardiners pose to him. They will entrap him into a marriage with Jane Bennet. It is only a matter of time before they trick him into something he will regret the rest of his days." Amelia nodded. "I implore you, Amelia. You must help me."

"What can I do?" she asked.

"You are friends with Olivia Crenshaw. She obviously is on the Gardiners' side. You must keep an eye on her. I am certain she will try to manipulate things again to get my brother and Jane Bennet together. You must not let it happen."

"Me?" Caroline nodded solemnly.

"I want to see my brother happy, of course. But Charles will only be happy with the right sort of girl," Caroline said with a smile meant to encourage Amelia's hopes in that direction. "But he must be protected from those grasping Gardiners." Amelia smiled.

"You may rely upon me, Caroline," she said. "I will see to it that Jane Bennet does not win your brother's heart."

"Mrs. Stewart, Jane Bennet is the most beautiful, wonderful, incredible--." He sighed as words failed to capture the swell of emotions that surged inside his heart.

"You love her, Mr. Bingley?" Mrs. Stewart summarized. Mr. Bingley nodded.

"I love her with all my heart."

Chapter 7

Posted on Thursday, 24 January 2002

Lizzy strolled through the grounds of Rosings Park, a large estate that neighbored the cottage where she was spending six weeks with her cousin, Mr. Collins and his wife, Lizzy's longtime friend the former Charlotte Lucas. She found herself in a small copse that, like everything within the grasp of the estate's domineering and self-absorbed owner--Lady Catherine DeBourgh--had been forced to submit to her will so that what was once a natural stand of trees had become a rather artificial looking tract of landscape. Lizzy was content, however, for the wood afforded her a bit of privacy and some little means of protection against the prying eyes of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Much to her astonishment, Lizzy had recently learned that Mr. Darcy was Lady Catherine's nephew and that he and Colonel Fitzwilliam would be visiting with her for several weeks. She had been delighted to make Colonel Fitzwilliam's acquaintance again for although he had teased and taunted her at their first meeting Lizzy had left London with a favorable impression of the man. This was due in no small part to Olivia Crenshaw's partiality to him, although Lizzy would have readily admitted that she liked the man in spite of himself. About Mr. Darcy, however, she could make no such claim. She still could not forgive him for his interference in Jane and Mr. Bingley's budding romance, though she had not as yet found proof of his involvement in any such plot. He clearly did not approve of the pair; of that she was certain. In fact, Mr. Darcy seemed to hold the entire Bennet family in contempt. Why then, Lizzy wondered, did the infernal man seem bent on following her into every path, lane, and garden that Kent afforded?

Lizzy shook her head as if to clear all thoughts of Mr. Darcy from her mind when she heard a sound up ahead that indicated that she was no longer alone. She was about to sigh and surrender herself to enduring another walk with the taciturn, brooding Mr. Darcy when to her surprise his cousin appeared before her.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet," Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a polite bow and ingratiating smile. "This is a most pleasant surprise."

"A most pleasant surprise, indeed, sir," she concurred. The Colonel turned to join her and they walked for a short while in silence before a thought occurred to Lizzy. "You have been here nearly a week, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I have yet to ask after my sister. I believe you saw her just before leaving town." The colonel smiled.

"Yes, I had the pleasure of dining with her at my cousin's house before we left London. I am happy to report that she was in excellent looks, but then I believe that being in love always does that for a lady." Lizzy looked at the Colonel in surprise. She thought she was being teased again, but the Colonel was quite in earnest. "Surely you know that she and Mr. Bingley have feelings for one another?" he asked in response to Lizzy's stare.

"Yes...yes, but I did not realize that you were aware of it, sir." The Colonel shrugged as they continued their walk.

"Anyone with eyes would be aware of it, Miss Bennet. But as it happens, Bingley told me about his feelings for the lady some time before I witnessed it for myself." Lizzy was doubly surprised.

"Mr. Bingley admitted his love for my sister Jane...to you?"

"I was under the impression that you favored the match, Miss Bennet," the Colonel said worriedly.

"Oh, I do, but--," Lizzy paused, unable to say aloud the words that sprang to her tongue.

"But you know that my cousin disapproves and you feared I would feel the same?" Colonel Fitzwilliam finished for her. Lizzy could only nod. The Colonel, it turned out, was full of surprises. "I will have you know, Miss Bennet, that I find my cousin's interference in their relationship reprehensible," he said with warmth.

"You know about that as well?" The Colonel averted his eyes sheepishly.

"I only know what Bingley has told me, and that is that he was a very happy bachelor at Netherfield and well on his way to becoming a happily married man there as well when he went away to London on a matter of business. It was to be a two-day trip, but the morning after he arrived in London his sisters and my cousin descended upon him and convinced him to stay there."

"How did they manage that?" Lizzy asked as righteous anger welled in her breast.

"According to Bingley, they took it upon themselves to persuade him that your sister did not return his affections. They eventually succeeded in making him believe that your sister was only interested in an advantageous marriage." The Colonel paused, his own anger rising as he spoke. "Bingley finally came to realize that he had made a huge mistake in not returning to Hertfordshire, and that he had unjustly allowed others to judge your sister, but he feared that after so long an absence his return would not be welcome."

"Oh, poor Jane! Poor Mr. Bingley! I had feared as much...but until now I had no proof!" Lizzy cried.

"And you still do not. We only have Bingley's impression of things. I confronted Darcy about it, but--." The Colonel fell silent and shook his head. Lizzy pressed him to continue. "I decided that I had no more right to intervene in his business than he did to come between Mr. Bingley and your sister."

"You had every right to intervene! Someone has to! It is not right that two people so much in love should fall victim to the machinations of those...those--." The Colonel laughed lightly.

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I do not mean to make light of your declaration. In fact, I heartily agree. But your speech just now was very reminiscent of a lecture I received from Miss Crenshaw a few weeks ago."

"Livy?" Lizzy looked confused. "I do not understand, Colonel. Why should Livy...Miss Crenshaw...speak to you of this?"

"That's how I became aware of the matter in the first place. After our little adventure in the park that day Miss Crenshaw confessed the real reason why the two of you had gone there and why you had run off at the sight of my cousin." The Colonel laughed again as he imagined the look on Darcy's face if he learned the truth. "She told me all about your sister and Mr. Bingley and solicited my assistance, Miss Bennet."

"Oh."

"I am afraid I refused her, on the grounds I mentioned earlier. And it seems as though my help wasn't required after all. The last time I saw them they were getting on quite well. Of course, Miss Bingley was being difficult..." Lizzy sighed.

"She is the worst of them. And I'm sure she's being very difficult."

"Lizzy has seen Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy," Olivia revealed to her father as she continued to peruse the letter she had just received. "They are not only in the immediate vicinity; she has already dined with them twice at the home of their aunt, Lady Catherine DeBourgh."

"Well, she has my sympathies, then," Mr. Crenshaw replied. "Two meals in the company of Lady Catherine DeBourgh would test the sanity of any rational human being." Olivia giggled. It was unlike her father to speak ill of anyone, so when he did it was always very surprising to Olivia. She looked at the paper in her hand once more and felt a pang of envy. Lizzy was in the country with Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Olivia had nothing to look forward to but another week of thwarting Caroline Bingley's efforts to detach her brother from Jane Bennet. At week's end, however, Olivia was bound for Bath to visit an aunt of her own. It would be a welcome relief from managing the affairs of two people she was determined to see united. In the past two weeks she had managed to orchestrate, with the welcome assistance of Mr. Gardiner, no less than four meetings between Jane and Mr. Bingley. She looked up as the butler entered and announced Miss Parsons.

"Amelia, do come in," Olivia said graciously, although she was a bit surprised to see the young woman, who had made a point of calling upon her every morning since the day they paid their visit to Miss Bingley.

"Well, well," Mr. Crenshaw observed. "You are becoming quite a regular caller. If you were a man I'd be asking your intentions toward my only daughter." Olivia smiled, as did Amelia--a bit awkwardly--but Olivia was curious and more than a little suspicious at the sudden increase in the number of visits she paid to the Crenshaws' townhouse. She had called a day earlier minutes after Jane arrived for a visit along with Mrs. Gardiner and had made a point of staying until the others left. Olivia strongly suspected that she had determined that Jane was a rival for Mr. Bingley's affections and was searching for evidence of his regard in Jane's conversation. But that could hardly account for all the other visits. No, there was something afoot, and Olivia was determined to learn what it was. But she had another task to perform that morning, and Amelia's presence posed a huge impediment.

Olivia had planned to meet Jane for a walk in the park where she was certain to encounter Mr. Bingley. In fact, Olivia had already made certain that he would appear by hinting rather strongly to Mr. Bingley that the flowers about to burst into bloom were as lovely as those she had seen in Hertfordshire previously and that she intended to bring Jane to see them the next day to confirm her belief. Mr. Bingley had smiled broadly to signify his understanding. And now Amelia Parsons had rooted herself in the Crenshaw's parlor.

Why couldn't she have fallen in love with Edward? Olivia asked herself as she tried to think of a way to rid herself of Amelia's unwanted company. She hinted that she was going to be going out shortly, and rather than leaving to allow Olivia to prepare for her outing, Amelia merely asked where she was headed. Olivia wracked her brain for an answer that would get rid of the girl.

"I have been invited to the Gardiners' house this morning," Olivia said, hoping that Amelia would take the hint that she was not welcome to accompany her.

"Oh, dear Jane. I wonder how she is," Amelia replied. Mr. Crenshaw looked up from his book.

"You saw her here yesterday," he said matter-of-factly. "Surely she cannot have changed very much in the last few hours."

"I should wonder, then, that Olivia wants to see her again so soon," Amelia pouted, slightly stung by Mr. Crenshaw's remark.

"The Gardiners are my godparents, Amelia," Olivia said evenly, trying to mask her exasperation. "I hardly need a reason to call upon them. But as it happens I am going to Bath next week and I offered to acquire some things for Mrs. Gardiner while I am there. She...asked me to come by today so that I might get her list."

"Well, that should not take you very long," Amelia said, brightening. "What are your plans for the remainder of the day?" Olivia rolled her eyes and Mr. Crenshaw looked over his glasses at the girl.

"Oh, I hardly know... I shall probably take some work and spend the rest of the morning there. Would that suit you, Papa? I shall return in time for tea." Mr. Crenshaw nodded. Amelia's face fell.

"I did not bring any work with me...unless you would not mind making a stop along the way so that I may retrieve my bag." Olivia's mouth fell open, but Mr. Crenshaw put down his paper and intervened before she could think of a response.

"Do you mean to impose yourself on the Gardiners' company? In my day young ladies were not so forward," he said with a look that conveyed the full brunt of his disapproval. Amelia cowered under his glare and with a weak smile suggested that she ought to leave so that Olivia might keep her appointment. Olivia smiled politely as she left the room and as soon as the door closed she heaved a huge sigh. "Inconceivable! I have never seen a more blatant display of--." Olivia quickly went to her father and patted his arm.

"Thank you for helping, Papa. She was rather forward, wasn't she?"

"What on earth is the girl about?"

"I wish I knew," Olivia replied. But I strongly suspect...

Amelia wasted no time in making her way to the home of the Bingley's. Caroline was no happier to see her than Olivia had been, although her visits to that house had been less frequent. Caroline tried to keep Amelia from her brother's company. She did not want to give her any encouragement in that quarter. Amelia swept into the sitting room where Caroline received her with false grace.

"I believe Miss Crenshaw is up to something," she announced as soon as she sat down.

"Up to something?" Mr. Bingley asked as he looked up from his book. In her eagerness to convey her report to Caroline, Amelia had failed to notice that he was sitting near the window reading his newspaper when she entered. He had not noticed Amelia's arrival until he heard her voice. Caroline's face made plain her annoyance at Amelia's blunder.

"Whatever do you mean?" she said, challenging the young chit to dig herself out of the hole she'd unwittingly thrown herself into.

"Oh, I...I hear she is to go to Bath at the end of the week," Amelia said sheepishly. "And I believe that she is planning to take a particular friend with her," she smiled. Mr. Bingley could not resist the opportunity.

"Do you mean Miss Bennet?" he blurted out, much to Caroline's annoyance. Amelia nodded, and Caroline began to smile.

"I should think Jane Bennet would like Bath very much," Caroline purred as she watched her brother's face register surprise and disappointment.

"Yes," Amelia said, "I think she plans to surprise Miss Bennet with her invitation this morning."

"How delightful a scheme!" Caroline gloated. "And such a nice surprise to spring upon her friend, do you not think so, Charles?" But Mr. Bingley was far more interested in checking his watch. He did not want to miss his chance of seeing Jane and Olivia in the park, especially having gained intelligence of their planned removal to Bath.

"Uh...yes, yes. If you will excuse me, ladies..." He set aside the paper and bowed.

"But where are you going, Charles?" Caroline asked.

"I am going out for a while, Caroline," he said with a tone sufficient to forestall further questions. He bowed again and made good his escape.

"I dread to think of what that woman is capable of, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Lizzy said with warmth, "Even without Mr. Darcy's--." Lizzy averted her eyes. "Please forgive me, sir. I should not speak so of your relation." The Colonel ignored the intended remark.

"For what it's worth, Miss Bennet, I firmly believe that my cousin did not act maliciously. I believe that he thought himself to be acting in Bingley's best interests."

"Who is he to decide what Mr. Bingley's best interests should be?" Lizzy cried, pouncing on his words. "Mr. Bingley is a grown man and should be allowed to make his own decisions."

"I agree, but so it has always been between the two of them. Bingley has always relied on Darcy's advice...this time to his own detriment, I am afraid."

"What manner of friend--." Lizzy caught herself again and the Colonel smiled at her frustration.

"May I ask a question, Miss Bennet?" Lizzy looked up into his clear blue eyes. "The Bingley debacle aside, what is your opinion of my cousin?" Lizzy visibly paled, much to the Colonel's surprise. Previously she had blushed at the mention of Darcy. Now she seemed unequal to the task of evening considering the question. "Forgive me," Colonel Fitzwilliam said gallantly, "If my question is too forward, I will gladly withdraw it."

"I...I thank you, Colonel, but I think...I think I can answer it. Your cousin, Mr. Darcy, is a most...unusual man." Lizzy paused as the Colonel burst into laughter, albeit very briefly. "Does that amuse you, sir?"

"I think that never was a euphemism put to better use," he replied, his smile widening. "Darcy is, indeed, an unusual man--although to be fair, we really ought to compare our individual conceptions of the word." Lizzy smiled archly.

"Are you mocking me, Colonel?"

"Madam, I believe we are both mocking...my cousin. But I have interrupted your answer; pray continue."

"I am hardly certain that I should, under the circumstances, if you think that my answer is mocking." Colonel Fitzwilliam grew serious.

"I would truly like to know your opinion, Miss Bennet."

"And I would like to know the reason for your curiosity, sir." The pair was at a stalemate. Blue eyes met brown and for a moment, neither blinked until a third party arrived on the scene.

"There you are, cousin... Miss Bennet!" Mr. Darcy exclaimed in surprise. He gazed at the pair awkwardly. They turned to him with self-conscious expressions, further arousing his curiosity. He was very curious to know what they were doing that they should both be so guilty about. But they both recovered very quickly and Mr. Darcy joined them on their walk back to the parsonage where Lizzy was staying. On their way back to Rosings, Mr. Darcy wasted no time in inquiring as to what he had interrupted.

"I understood you to be enamored of Miss Crenshaw," Mr. Darcy began gruffly.

"Enamored?" repeated the Colonel, tasting the word and concluding that it was true. He was, indeed, enamored of Miss Crenshaw, and a smile creased his face as her image appeared to him.

"Then I suppose there must be some other explanation for your private interview with Miss Bennet just now." The Colonel gaped at his cousin.

"Private interview? We met up on the path quite by accident, Darcy, and fell into conversation, nothing more. It was hardly a tete a tete, and there was certainly nothing clandestine or personal about it," the Colonel replied defensively, hoping that his tone did not imply to Darcy that he was lying. He was, in fact, incensed at Mr. Darcy's suggestion that he had been making love to Miss Bennet after declaring his intentions to Miss Crenshaw.

"In that case, why did the two of you look so surprised to see me?"

"We were surprised to see you, Darcy. You cannot make anything of that. I am sure you did not expect to see us, either."

"...Not together, anyway," Darcy murmured.

"Here, Darcy! What are you accusing me of?" the Colonel said, his temper beginning to flare.

"What were the two of you speaking of?" Darcy asked in a conversational tone, ignoring his cousin's anger.

"We were speaking of you, as a matter of fact," the Colonel replied, neatly turning the tables on his cousin.

"Me? What about me?" Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled.

"Well, we were speaking of Bingley at first--."

"Bingley?" Alarms went off in Mr. Darcy's head and he looked at his cousin expectantly.

"Yes; we were assessing the extent of damage you and his sisters had done to the poor man," the Colonel replied and continued to walk on as Darcy stopped to sputter. "And then the conversation turned to you."

"What about me?" Mr. Darcy repeated angrily.

"Well, I asked Miss Bennet her impression of you, but she never got a chance to answer."

"Do you realize what you have done, man? How could you have told Miss Bennet such a thing?"

"She already knew, Darce. She has known for months that you and Bingley's sisters were responsible for breaking up the budding romance between Bingley and Jane." Mr. Darcy did not respond directly to his cousin's revelation.

"There was no romance," Mr. Darcy insisted angrily. "The girl is nothing but an adventuress out to make a good marriage." The Colonel was taken aback by the vehemence with which Mr. Darcy had spoken, and realized, sadly, that his cousin was doing his best to justify his own actions--to himself if not the world.

"Are we speaking of the same Jane Bennet? The one I met was demure and shy, not at all the pushy, clutching kind of woman you describe. But, no matter," he sighed. "What is done is done." Mr. Darcy looked at his cousin briefly before averting his eyes and charging up the path. The Colonel followed behind him, curious to know what was going on in Mr. Darcy's head.

"So you see, I had to dissemble," Olivia explained to Mr. Gardiner. And because Amelia lives so near the park I am afraid to take Jane anywhere near there now." Mr. Gardiner patted Olivia on her shoulder.

"Do not trouble yourself dear. You did your best."

"But if Mr. Bingley should go to the park and we do not appear--. It is worse than hopeless," Olivia pouted.

"I think not. In fact, I think you should take Jane to the park."

"But Mr. Bingley's house is across from the park and I'm sure--."

"You must have faith, my dear," Mr. Gardiner said reassuringly. "Go and fetch Jane. Leave everything else to me." And hour later, Jane and Olivia encountered Mr. Bingley in the park, and as Olivia feared, they were very shortly joined by Amelia and Caroline.

"I thought you were going to stay at Gracechurch Street until tea," Amelia said accusingly.

"We were, but the air is so fine today. And since Jane is coming to my house for tea we decided to come to the park for a while before going indoors." Amelia wasn't fooled for a minute and Olivia knew it. But Mr. Gardiner had been insistent. Caroline eyed her brother suspiciously.

"Well, this is most convenient," she said sarcastically. "Happily met, are you?"

"Yes," Jane smiled innocently, for she was the only one in the party who was unaware of the arranged meeting. Mr. Bingley clung to her side as if he had been affixed there permanently, even after Caroline suggested that she was tired and needed his arm. He merely offered his free one, much to Amelia's dismay. She was forced to walk with Olivia.

"If I did not know better I would think that you had purposely gotten rid of me so that you might meet up with Mr. Bingley." Olivia looked askance at her. She gave a moment's thought to the idea of confessing an interest in the man behind her, but her own heart was too far gone elsewhere to make a creditable show of it. She simply looked at Amelia as though she was insane.

"Why should I want to meet up with Mr. Bingley?" she asked.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Livy. You mean to help Jane Bennet secure him." Olivia glanced back at the trio behind her. Jane and Mr. Bingley were enjoying a pleasant conversation and Caroline looked as if she'd just swallowed something intensely sour.

"I believe Mr. Bingley is in no need of such encouragement." Amelia looked back and paled at the obvious affection between the two.

"Well, she is not a suitable match for him, is she? She has no money, no connections, her family is in trade..."

"Not very much unlike the Bingleys twenty years ago," Olivia finished for her. "You're right of course; as a gentleman's daughter, Jane should probably aim higher." Having successfully silenced her unwanted companion, the walk continued in silence, save for the animated discussion between the two lovers.

"What are you reading, Darcy?" his imperious aunt, Lady Catherine DeBourgh demanded to know. She seemed intent upon insinuating herself into every conversation, scheme, and thought within her sphere. And now she was going after her nephew's personal correspondence. Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes, something he did often in his aunt's company.

"I have had a letter from my steward, ma'am," he answered curtly.

"Is it still Mr. Reynolds who runs your estates? He is a very good manager, your Mr. Reynolds, but he ought to pay more attention to the grounds. On my last visit the shrubbery was an awful mess." She continued her tirade as Mr. Darcy and the Colonel exchanged a wary glance.

"Mr. Reynolds died some five years ago, ma'am," Mr. Darcy informed her when she finally ran out of opinions.

"You have a new man, have you? Well, then you should be home more; a new man needs strict supervision until he learns his job properly. I never left Rosings until I was certain that Mr. Leek was capable of handling things to my exact specifications."

"I daresay Mr. Carpenter has acquired all the knowledge he needs in the five years he's been managing my estate, Aunt Catherine. And prior to taking that position he served under Mr. Reynolds for ten years."

"Yes, Darcy, I think it probably is safe for you to be abroad now," the Colonel remarked. Mr. Darcy shot him a look.

"And there is no need for your impertinence, Fitzwilliam!" Aunt Catherine scolded. "You think it appropriate that you make light of Darcy's responsibilities when you have none of your own?" With that she rose and swept out of the room.

"Yes, I rather think that this is the ideal time to make light of your responsibilities. I doubt I shall be in any humor to make jokes when I find myself saddled with my own," the Colonel murmured as he turned the page of the book before him.

"That should be fairly soon, if your Miss Crenshaw is willing," Mr. Darcy observed. The Colonel looked up in surprise but did not reply. "Ah, here is a letter from Bingley," Mr. Darcy said. Then, recalling that the subject of Charles Bingley was the source of contention between the cousins, he read the letter to himself. Mr. Bingley had answered his inquiry as to his and Miss Bingley's health with the standard reply, and enumerated a few of the activities he'd taken part in since Mr. Darcy's departure from London weeks earlier. He never made any mention of Jane Bennet, naturally, but Mr. Darcy knew that he'd been in her company all the same. There was a renewed spirit in his old friend, evident even in his letter, which told Mr. Darcy that Mr. Bingley was no longer brooding and keeping to himself. He'd been to the National Gallery again, and had gone to numerous social events. It wasn't likely that he'd seen Jane Bennet at many of them, but the fact that she had once again become a part of his life had made Mr. Bingley a changed man. Mr. Darcy sighed and threw down the letter to stare out of the window overlooking the garden.

"Perhaps it is for the best," he murmured. Colonel Fitzwilliam looked up.

"Well, that was certainly a waste of my time," Olivia spat as she pulled at the ribbons on her hat and removed it. "I am sure that Amelia ran straight to Miss Bingley and told her that I was seeing Jane, and as a result Miss Bingley decided to follow her brother to the park." She sighed as she peered into her mirror and rearranged the curls that framed her face. "Well, at least Jane got a chance to spend a little time with her Mr. Bingley. Alas, I suspect that they will not be so fortunate again, now that Amelia and Miss Bingley are onto me."

But Olivia was greatly mistaken for, anticipating just such an eventuality, Mr. Gardiner had made other arrangements. One morning a man appeared on the doorstep of Mr. Bingley's abode and asked for the master of the house.

"I believe he is expecting me," he said. Indeed, Mr. Bingley was expecting the gentleman and welcomed him into the parlor.

"Mr. Pierce, delighted to see you again," he said graciously as he shook his hand. "My dear, this is Mr. Pierce." Caroline was not as eager to make the gentleman's acquaintance, and even less so when she learned that he was a tradesman there on a matter of business. Since her brother seemed unwilling to take Mr. Pierce into his study, Caroline decided to abandon them for her own rooms above stairs, chased away by their tedious discussion.

"I will leave you two to discuss business," she said distastefully. Mr. Bingley smiled at his guest, who had ostensibly come to discuss the lucrative opportunities to be had in investments overseas.

"No, no, Caroline," her brother finally took her hint. "Perhaps this is a matter better discussed elsewhere."

"Perhaps you would like to come to my office," Mr. Pierce suggested. "I have maps of our trade routes there and can give you a far better sense of what I am describing." Mr. Bingley readily assented to the notion and Caroline was only too glad to see the two men leave. The entered Mr. Bingley's carriage laughing.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Pierce," Mr. Bingley said as he pulled out his notebook. Under a note on "decisive action"--which he'd made a few days earlier in the park--he wrote the word "subterfuge." Not that he saw that as a trait in his role model, Elizabeth Bennet. But all's fair in love and war, someone had told him, and he was not above subterfuge to get what he wanted. He generously gave Caroline credit for his inspiration, for had her deceit not taught him much over the past several months?

Mr. Pierce simply smiled as he watched the man write a note to himself. He was not at all sure what he'd accomplished, other than getting the man out of his own house. But if Mr. Bingley was glad of it, he was content. He knew his employer would also be pleased with his success. The carriage came to a halt outside of Finch and Gardiner's Emporium, and Mr. Pierce showed his companion into Mr. Gardiner's office directly. Mr. Gardiner was not alone, but he didn't seem to mind the intrusion at all.

"Ah, Mr. Pierce, I see you have collected Mr. Bingley. Delighted to see you again, sir! You are just in time for elevenses again, Mr. Bingley. I say, you do have a knack for scenting out your favorite biscuits. Please sir, sit down and join us! Pour the tea, Jane."

Olivia finally hit upon an idea for dealing with Amelia Parsons that was at once so brilliant and so underhanded she could hardly contain her glee. She had written a note to her aunt in Bath and sent it to her by express. The reply came a day later and it was very much to her satisfaction. She rose from the breakfast table and kissed her father's cheek before she rushed upstairs for her hat and reticule. In order for her plan to work she had to reach Amelia at her home. She arrived at the Parson's house at a scandalously early hour for visiting, but no earlier than Amelia had arrived at her own home on previous occasions. Olivia was very pleased; she was shown into the morning room where Mrs. Parsons sat with her three daughters. The scene could not be more perfect.

"Forgive me for arriving so early, Mrs. Parsons. Amelia has been calling on me almost daily and I thought it would be very rude if I did not return the compliment and call upon you," Olivia said with a smile worthy of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Amelia regarded her guest with suspicion. The two women had been rather cool toward each other since the scene in the park a day or two earlier. "I am also here with some very good news, I think." Mrs. Parsons smiled.

"Yes, my dear?"

"My aunt, Lady Amanda Crawford, has written to me about my forthcoming visit. I am going to visit her in Bath, you see," Olivia replied. "In her letter she says that I may bring along a friend. She believes it would help me to pass the time more pleasantly if I had a companion of my own age."

"Oh, that is most generous of her," Mrs. Parsons said right on cue. She smiled broadly, aware that an honor was about to bestowed upon her eldest.

"I realize it is very short notice; I am due to leave on Saturday, but I would be willing to put off the journey for a day or two longer," Olivia said as she laid on the charm. "I would be delighted if you would allow me to take Amelia along as my particular guest." Mrs. Parsons beamed. Amelia was stunned.

"But I thought you were taking Jane Bennet?" Olivia laughed sincerely.

"Where did you ever get that idea? I only received my aunt's letter this morning, see?" She handed the letter to Mrs. Parsons, who read the letter and smiled at the list of things Olivia aunt had planned for her niece. She was very impressed by the obvious wealth of Olivia's relation; Olivia had counted on that. She wanted to impress upon the well-connected widow of somewhat modest means (the girls had no more than 5,000 pounds each, while Olivia had a dowry several times that size) that Amelia would be moving within the first circles of society and thus be exposed to all manner of wealthy potential husbands. Mrs. Parsons would see her daughter leave for Bath by whatever means necessary.

Olivia left the house a short while later with a firm commitment to call for Amelia at first light Saturday morning. Mrs. Parsons would manage everything in the allotted time. She would not have Olivia give up one day of her time in Bath. Olivia went straight to the park and found Mr. Bingley. She knew that he was being watched, but that was all part of Mr. Gardiner's plan. As long as Caroline thought that she had succeeded in keeping the pair apart, Mr. Bingley was free to go where he pleased. So Mr. Bingley made a show of strolling the park glumly, disappointed at not meeting Jane. He then saw her at his chess club, his haberdasher (he recommended him to Mr. Gardiner), bookshops, and various other places his sister never thought to look for the Hertfordshire maiden.

"I have good news, Mr. Bingley," Olivia said excitedly as she took his arm.

"Good news?" He smiled and awaited enlightenment.

"I am going to Bath." Mr. Bingley frowned.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Miss Crenshaw, but I cannot see that as good news," he said impishly. His smile reminded her of the Colonel and she smiled wistfully.

"I am taking Amelia Parsons with me."

"Ah. Now that is good news."

"I suggest you do not tarry, Mr. Bingley. I know you promised Jane a proper courtship, but you will not be able to deceive your sister for much longer. I strongly suggest that you get on with it."

"Get on with it?"

"Propose, Mr. Bingley," Olivia said exasperatedly, as a gust of wind tried to grab hold of her hat. "And soon!" With that she went hurrying back to her carriage. Caroline Bingley had watched the scene from her bedroom window and was extremely curious as to what had transpired between the two.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was headed to his room late one evening two weeks later when he decided to stop in to check on his cousin. Mr. Darcy had come back from a walk earlier in the afternoon clearly agitated about something. He'd gone down to dinner but barely said a word, even in response to his aunt's rather blatant and intrusive questions, after which he'd returned to his room pleading headache. The Colonel was convinced that there was another explanation, and that it concerned Miss Bennet. He didn't want to pry into his cousin's affairs, but he wanted to be of use to him if he could. He approached the door and heard his cousin swear. He seemed to be at war with himself, and against his better judgment, the Colonel knocked lightly. The room went immediately quiet. At first the Colonel thought that Mr. Darcy would not answer, but the door suddenly opened and the Colonel found himself face to face with a haunted man.

"What do you want, Fitzwilliam?" he asked dully.

"Are you all right, Darcy?" It was apparent that his cousin was far from all right, but he didn't know how else to begin. Mr. Darcy glared at him indecisively, but he opened the door and let his cousin through. He had something to say to the Colonel and preferred to say it privately.

"My life is in shambles and I have you to thank for it," he said with deceptive calm. The Colonel was tempted to accuse Mr. Darcy of being melodramatic but one look prevented him. Mr. Darcy had removed his coat and was in his shirt sleeves, which were rolled up with uncharacteristic sloppiness. But what really gave the Colonel pause was his cousin's haggard expression and flat affect.

"Darcy?"

"I went to see Miss Bennet this afternoon. I proposed marriage to her and was flatly rejected. And do you know why? She refused me on the grounds that I had come between Bingley and her sister! She called me arrogant, presumptuous, and conceited, Fitzwilliam! She said that I had a selfish disdain for the feelings of others! That I was uncivil and ungentlemanlike! And why does she think these things of me, Fitzwilliam? Because you filled her head with nonsense about--."

"Because it is all true," the Colonel calmly interjected. Mr. Darcy looked as though he was about to explode. He closed the distance between himself and his cousin in two steps. The Colonel did not flinch, but braced himself for an attack that never came. Instead his cousin opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he abruptly turned away.

"How dare you--?"

"No, Darcy, how dare you? Every ill opinion Miss Bennet has of you has been justified by your own actions. You are the one who held yourself above her family and friends..."

"You have not met them, Fitzwilliam. Had you done so--," Mr. Darcy cried, jumping to his own defense.

"You presumed to determine the course of a relationship between two people perfectly capable of sorting things out for themselves. And for what other reason than the fact that you deemed Miss Bennet unworthy of your friend? Did your friend deserve to spend the winter suffering the loss of the woman he loved? Is that what you consider friendship? Is that what you consider being civil and gentlemanlike?" The Colonel's anger rose with each word. "Stand there and blame me if it makes you feel better, Darcy, but the truth of the matter is that you can blame your misfortunes on no one but yourself." Mr. Darcy fumed as his cousin spoke, but now he turned on the Colonel once more.

"If you hadn't opened your big mouth--."

"If you hadn't opened yours--," the Colonel countered. His ran a hand through his hair and sat on the bed. "Look, Darcy, I am very sorry to see this happen to you. You know I would never wish such a thing on you. Your happiness means as much to me as my own. But you brought this on yourself, man! You are angry because of Miss Bennet's refusal. Think for a minute, Darce," he said as he rose and walked over to his cousin, who was standing at the window. "If Miss Bennet had accepted your proposal tonight she could only be guilty of what you accused her sister of." Mr. Darcy spun around to regard his cousin in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Knowing what she does about you, about how you view her family and connections, if she had agreed to marry you it could only have been for the basest of motives." Mr. Darcy staggered back a step as the import of the Colonel's words struck him forcefully. The Colonel did not relent. "It pains me to say it, cousin, but you are arrogant and you are a hypocrite if you think that Miss Bennet is worthy of you when her sister is unworthy of a man with only a fraction of your wealth."

"You have said enough."

"I did not poison Miss Bennet's mind against you, Darcy. You did." With that the Colonel went to the door. "And I am heartily sorry for it. I think you might have been very happy together, under other circumstances." With that he left and repaired to his own room.

He barely slept that night, concerns for his cousin leading him to occasionally go out into the hall and listen at Mr. Darcy's door. On his fifth trip he saw that the light had been put out and the room had gone completely silent where earlier he had heard mutterings and the rustling of various items. The Colonel had concluded that Mr. Darcy had been packing. He called a footman at first light to pack his own luggage, and when Mr. Darcy announced his intention to depart Rosings as soon as possible after breakfast, Colonel Fitzwilliam was able to say that he was already packed. Mr. Darcy was grateful. His anger at the Colonel had abated somewhat, but it had only begun to be turned upon himself. So, with a heart full of self-loathing and disappointment, Mr. Darcy left Rosings for London and a future without Elizabeth Bennet.

Chapter 8

Posted on Tuesday, 5 February 2002

While Mr. Darcy's fate was being determined by that series of events in Kent, Mr. Bingley was busy contemplating his future with Jane Bennet. He was aware that he only had a week's time, at most, to make his declaration. Mr. Darcy was due back in London soon and Mr. Bingley deemed it best to confront his friend with a fait accompli. He mulled over Olivia Crenshaw's parting words for a week, while he got up his nerve to propose. He had not seen Jane in several days; Caroline's interference had assured it, but Mr. Bingley was undeterred.

Caroline, on the other hand, was determined to prevent an attachment between her brother and Miss Bennet at all costs and was very relieved to learn of Olivia Crenshaw's imminent departure from town. Caroline held her accountable for her brother's renewed interest in Jane Bennet. With Miss Crenshaw out of the way, Caroline surmised, dealing with Jane ought to be child's play. Moreover, she would redouble her efforts to find her brother a more suitable bride and get him engaged before Jane Bennet could wangle a proposal out of him. Thus she'd attached herself to her brother's side for the entire week, letting him out of her sight only when propriety forced a separation. She insisted on accompanying him everywhere, much to Mr. Bingley's annoyance. But Mr. Bingley, of course, was undaunted his sister's machinations. He was, in fact, too busy planning his own future with Jane Bennet to give much thought to his sister's plot. He corresponded regularly with Mr. Gardiner and after consulting the latest entry in his little notebook he decided to extend an invitation for the Gardiners to join them at the theatre. Mr. Bingley was delighted when he received a positive reply from Mrs. Gardiner. He rose from his desk and went in search of his sister.

"Caroline?" Mr. Bingley asked as he peered into the music room. He saw his sister at the pianoforte, looking over a sheet of music.

"Yes, Charles," she replied absently as she haltingly began to pick out the melody.

"I have news. We are going to the theatre tomorrow night." Caroline looked up.

"That is wonderful! I shall wear my new peach-colored dress," she said, clapping her hands together. "You know, we should invite the Appletons. I haven't seen dear Miss Appleton in weeks!"

"You know as well as I do that they have their own box reserved for the season, Caroline," Mr. Bingley replied. "And besides, I--."

"Oh, yes, yes, you are correct I am sure. Why should invite the Pontiflets, then. Mr. and Mrs. Pontiflet have only just returned to town with their daughter Emma. Such a dear girl; we haven't seen very much of her." Mr. Bingley smiled knowingly.

"You may invite whomever you please, Caroline," he replied good-naturedly, "As long as you reserve three seats for my guests." Caroline looked up sharply.

"What do you mean, Charles?"

"I have invited a few guests of my own. Why don't you call on the Pontiflets and ask them to join us tomorrow. The more the merrier, I always say," Mr. Bingley said as he took his hat and cane from the butler and headed for the door. Caroline didn't have to ask who his guests were, but she was determined to thwart Charles's plan. She rushed to her desk and pulled out a sheet of paper to hastily write a note. She called for a footman and had the note delivered to Jane Bennet at Gracechurch Street. She smiled to herself as she awaited Jane's reply, but as the morning wore on she was rather surprised that Jane's expected note never came.

Mr. Bingley had taken the carriage and gone straight to the Gardiners' home, confident that Caroline was too absorbed in planning her theatre party to think of encumbering him with her company. He arrived at the townhouse with a smile for Jane and a bag of sweets for the children. It had been some time since he was at Gracechurch Street. After a few awkward visits accompanied by Caroline, Mr. Bingley had decided against further exposing the Gardiners to his sister's rude and condescending behavior. He had been forced to settle for the occasional visit with Mrs. Gardiner at her husband's emporium, where he often saw Jane and her uncle, or an occasional "chance" meeting with Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, and the children at a small park near the Gardiners' townhouse. Frankly, Mr. Bingley was growing weary of having to sneak around to see his beloved Jane. But it had been well worth it. Once he and Jane had reached an understanding that day at the gallery, Mr. Bingley had worked assiduously to secure Jane's affection and remove all doubts as to his constancy. But now it was time to act and Mr. Bingley had arrived at Gracechurch Street ready to declare himself and ask for Jane Bennet's hand.

He was admitted to the parlor where he met not only Jane, but Elizabeth Bennet as well. Neither woman looked to be in good spirits, a fact that concerned Mr. Bingley. He prudently decided to delay his proposal in favor of cheering up both women.

"Miss Bennet," he said with a radiant smile for Jane, "And Miss Elizabeth. I am delighted to see you again." Lizzy looked up and welcomed Mr. Bingley with a smile.

"Indeed, sir, it is a pleasure to see you again. Jane didn't tell me she was expecting company this morning," Lizzy said with a sly glance at Jane.

"Indeed, Lizzy, Mr. Bingley's appearance is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. It has been nearly a week since we have seen you, Mr. Bingley," Jane said.

"I am afraid that was unavoidable, Miss Bennet," Mr. Bingley said with sincere regret. "But we will see each other tomorrow night at the theatre. You will join us, of course, Miss Elizabeth." Lizzy looked up from her needlework.

"Mr. Bingley has invited Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and me to the theatre tomorrow night, Lizzy. You must come as well."

"And Miss Lucas, if she is with you," Mr. Bingley added.

"Miss Lucas went straight on to Hertfordshire with her mother, who met her here in town," Lizzy said. "But I should happy to join your party, Mr. Bingley."

"Excellent! The weather is exceptionally fine today; perhaps you would both like to walk out with me. Then you can tell me all about your time in Kent, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Bingley said, hoping to raise a smile But Lizzy paled, even as she laid aside her needlework and rose to fetch her bonnet. Mr. Bingley looked at Mrs. Gardiner for an explanation.

"She's been in poor spirits since she arrived yesterday afternoon. Perhaps an outing will lift her mood," she said encouragingly. Mr. Bingley nodded and stepped out into the hall to meet Lizzy and Jane as they descended the stairs. He offered each woman an arm and escorted them across the street to the park.

"I understand that you something of Darcy while you were in Kent, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Bingley assayed.

"He mentioned me in his letters?" Lizzy asked, genuinely surprised.

"As a matter of fact, he did. He seems to have spent a great deal of time in your company." Lizzy colored.

"His aunt invited us to Rosings quite frequently while he and Colonel Fitzwilliam were in residence." Jane cast Mr. Bingley a warning look, but he did not notice.

"How was he last time you saw him? He never says much about himself in his letters." Lizzy smiled at the irony of his question and said that both Mr. Darcy and the Colonel were in excellent health. Jane quickly changed the topic to something safer, for which she received a grateful look from her sister. The rest of the walk continued without incident, and Mr. Bingley returned the sisters to the house. As they entered, the footman informed Miss Bennet that a note had just arrived from Miss Bingley.

"May I?" Mr. Bingley asked as he intercepted the note on its path toward Jane's outstretched hand. He quickly read it and tore it up. "Forgive me," he said as Jane gasped, "But my sister sometimes shows all the social graces of a charwoman." With that he bowed and was about to take his leave when he saw the expression on Lizzy's face. "Ah, Miss Elizabeth. I see I have managed to earn one of your precious smiles at last." He gave her a wink and bowed once more before heading for his carriage.

The following afternoon, Caroline entered Mr. Bingley's study and frowned when she found him deep in conversation with Mrs. Stewart. She didn't attempt to mask her displeasure as she informed her brother that she wished to have a word with him privately. Mrs. Stewart rose and left the room.

"You need not be so rude, Caroline. I will not have you treating my servants--."

"...Like servants, Charles? Really, you treat that woman as though she was a friend and not an employee, Charles. It is most improper." Mr. Bingley merely sighed.

"You wanted to tell me something?" he said in a tone that made plain his annoyance. Caroline sat in the chair recently vacated by Mrs. Stewart.

"Oh, yes! I have spoken with Mrs. Pontiflet, and she is delighted to be able to accept our invitation. She will be bringing not only Evangeline, but her niece, Muriel. I believe we met her last year at Almack's. A lovely girl; I understand that she has twenty thousand pounds."

"And what is that to us?" Mr. Bingley asked. Caroline pouted.

"Oh, don't be so obtuse, Charles. You know as well as I do that a girl with a handsome fortune to her name is quite a prize. But a pretty girl with a large fortune is--."

"I distinctly recall you remarking that Miss Boyer was as graceful as a cow in need of milking," Mr. Bingley deadpanned as he scanned a piece of correspondence on his desk.

"Oh, Charles, I was only teasing. Miss Boyer and Miss Pontiflet are both such pretty girls. Oh, and Mr. Pontiflet's son from his previous marriage will also be joining us."

"Then I daresay that our box will be quite cozy with all your guests," Mr. Bingley said innocently.

"So I thought; in fact, once I realized our numbers I took the liberty of writing to Jane Bennet and asking her to postpone our theatre outing to next week." Mr. Bingley tried to look apoplectic, but he didn't know how to pull off such an expression, so instead he merely smiled.

"You need not have bothered, Caroline. I did reserve a large box that could easily accommodate our party. And it is a good thing, too, for I also invited another guest myself."

"Oh, is Mr. Darcy back in town?" Caroline asked anxiously, immediately regretting having invited two ladies who could distract that man's attention from herself.

"Not to my knowledge. But perhaps Miss Elizabeth will be able to tell us when he plans to return to town. I understand that she and Darcy spent a great deal of time in each other's company in Kent." His words had the desired effect. Caroline paled and then reddened as she rose from her seat. "I gave her a personal invitation today and assured the Gardiners and both Miss Bennets that your letter had been written in error and that they would all be most welcome tonight." Mr. Bingley smiled and shook his head. He rang for a footman and summoned Mrs. Stewart back to his study.

"Well, sir?"

"It promises to be a most interesting evening, Mrs. Stewart. Now let us return to our accounts, shall we?"

"Are you sure you are all right, Lizzy?" Jane asked for the second time.

"Jane, please!" Lizzy said in a brittle voice. Jane sighed and left the room. Both of the sisters were well aware of the fact that Lizzy was far from all right, but Lizzy was determined not to let Jane know that she was having second thoughts about accepting Mr. Bingley's invitation. Lizzy realized that her attendance at the theatre meant having to spend several hours in the company of Caroline Bingley, Mr. Darcy's co-conspirator in his plot to ruin Jane and Mr. Bingley's happiness. So she fussed with an errant curl and then picked up her reticule and made her way downstairs with a false smile pasted on her face. Her assembled relations were not fooled. Lizzy had confided to her aunt and uncle the details of Mr. Darcy's disastrous proposal. Jane knew only that he had proposed and been rejected. Mr. Gardiner had offered to stay home with Lizzy if she didn't feel up to going out, but she refused to deny him an opportunity to see one of his favorite plays. Thus, the Gardiners' carriage was brought around and the foursome made its way across town to theatre where Mr. Bingley and his party awaited.

Caroline, anticipating that Mr. Bingley would seek Jane's company as soon as she appeared, had asked the Pontiflets and their niece to arrive at the theatre a bit early so that she might endeavor to occupy her brother with one or both of the ladies before Jane's arrival. But her efforts were pointless. Mr. Bingley made polite conversation with all of his guests until the Gardiners appeared, at which point not only he but the young Mr. Pontiflet all but forgot the others in their desire to talk with the Bennet ladies. Caroline found Robert Pontiflet's interest to be a useful thing, and so when the group was about ready to go up to their box, she eagerly volunteered him to escort Jane and Lizzy. Mr. Bingley rolled his eyes and gamely escorted the other ladies while the married couples linked arms. It was only then that Caroline noticed her mistake; she was left without accompaniment. Mr. Gardiner gallantly offered his arm and she was forced to accept it. Gratitude and mortification battled with each other in her breast as she crossed the theatre lobby on the arm of a man she deemed her inferior.

"So, Eliza, Charles tells me that you spent some time with Mr. Darcy in Kent," Caroline offered as soon as she reached the box. She noted to her satisfaction that all four young ladies were offered seats in the front row of the box and although Mr. Bingley sat immediately behind Jane, Robert Pontiflet was equally accessible to her. Lizzy tried to answer evenly; although she would have liked to ignore Caroline, she was in fact, her hostess for the evening's event.

"I was a guest in the home of Lady Catherine DeBourgh and I saw both Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam there."

"Oh? To hear Charles tell it, you and Mr. Darcy spent a great deal of time together," Caroline accused.

"I would have to say that I spent far more time in the Colonel's company," Lizzy replied, fully aware that in doing so she was giving Caroline a satisfaction she did not deserve. Lizzy cruelly wondered how Caroline would feel if she knew of Mr. Darcy's proposal. She would undoubtedly be doubly shocked to learn of my refusal. "I saw Mr. Darcy but rarely in Kent, Miss Bingley." Caroline was pleased by this information. She took her seat and smiled to herself.

"Where exactly were you in Kent, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Pontiflet asked.

"I was visiting my relations in Hunsford, Mr. Pontiflet."

"That's a lovely little town," Miss Pontiflet contributed. "We have an aunt there, Miss Bennet. Perhaps you happened to meet her while you were there. Her name is Price and her estate is not far from Rosings." Lizzy smiled. She had heard the name many times.

"I was not so fortunate as to meet the lady herself, but I often heard Lady Catherine speak of her."

"I believe that my aunt and Lady Catherine DeBourgh are great friends," Mr. Pontiflet said. Lizzy smiled again, imagining what sort of woman his aunt must be to consider herself a great friend of Lady Catherine DeBourgh. Caroline listened to the conversation and was pleased. But she noticed that Jane and her brother were engaged in a more private conversation. She rose to her feet, causing every man in the box to rise also.

"I wish to sit beside you, Charles. You know I prefer to be in the corner of a theatre box," she declared. Mr. Bingley knew nothing of the sort, and even if he did, he thought it odd that she should want to make such a fuss in front of her guests. He saw through her excuse and glowered as Caroline forced a rearrangement of seats.

"Why don't you sit here?" Jane offered. "It's in the corner and closer to the stage." Caroline shot the young woman a look. Her offer, so kindly made, could hardly be refused. Mr. Bingley smiled at Jane's ingenuity. She would move to the second row and naturally opt for the now empty seat beside him.

"I couldn't possibly deprive you, Jane, although you are such a dear to offer," Caroline said.

"Oh, please do join us," Miss Pontiflet pleaded. "I should dearly like to have your opinion on the evening's proceedings. Caroline sighed, caught and dangling on her own petard. Jane rose and stepped aside to allow Caroline to sit. Lizzy looked up and met Caroline's horrified gaze. Neither woman was pleased at the thought of spending hours in each other's close proximity.

"Why don't you sit here, Miss Bingley?" Lizzy said as she rose. If Caroline took her seat she would be closer to her friends and perhaps she would leave Lizzy in peace. Caroline smiled politely and slipped past Lizzy.

"Oh, do sit between us!" Miss Boyer exclaimed. Caroline was only too happy to move over one seat further to evade Lizzy, who smiled in satisfaction as she sat down. Both she and Caroline glanced back and saw Jane and Mr. Bingley smiling serenely.

"Would anyone else care to resettle or may we relax and enjoy the performance now?" Mr. Bingley asked calmly. Caroline gave him a withering look and turned back to the stage. Lizzy smiled to herself. Mr. Pontiflet engaged her in conversation once again and they chatted amiably until the performance began. At the intermission, everyone rose to step out of the box for a breath of air. Lizzy was the last to rise; her seat being the farthest from the exit, she had to wait for the others to evacuate their seats before she could move. Mr. Pontiflet waited for her near the exit, for which she was grateful. He was a pleasant man and his conversation was an agreeable diversion from thoughts of what had transpired between Mr. Darcy and herself in Kent. Caroline also waited near the exit. Lizzy noticed and wondered what she was about.

"You do look very dull this evening, Miss Bennet!" Caroline clucked as soon as Lizzy was within her hearing. "Have you been ill?"

"I thank you for your concern, Miss Bingley," Lizzy replied evenly. "But I assure you I am quite well."

"You look to be in excellent health to me," Robert Pontiflet said gallantly. Lizzy rewarded him with a smile.

"Oh, but you do not know her as I do, sir," Caroline insisted. "She is not at all herself."

"Really? In that case I am sorry I did not meet you earlier. If this is how you look when you are not yourself I should dearly love to see you when you are." With that, Mr. Pontiflet offered Lizzy his arm and she gratefully accepted it. Caroline seethed as Mr. Pontiflet escorted Lizzy out into the lobby where they joined the others. Caroline followed, wringing her hands at the mess the evening had become. Of all things she had not expected Mr. Pontiflet to favor Lizzy Bennet over her sister. She had rather counted on him to provide a distraction for Jane. But not only was Jane not distracted, Mr. Pontiflet's sister and cousin had apparently accepted the fact that Mr. Bingley was Jane's suitor and thus had made no effort to vie for his attention. Caroline clenched her fists as she approached the assembled group. Mr. Bingley sidled over to her and spoke so that only she could hear.

"Where have you been, sister? You have practically abandoned your company. Why you've barely said a word to Mr. and Mrs. Pontiflet all evening." Caroline sighed, humiliated by her brother censure, and pasted on a smile. She walked over to the Pontiflets and engaged them in conversation as Mr. Bingley and the Gardiners watched in amusement. Mr. Bingley turned to them and resumed the conversation that had been temporarily suspended.

When the party returned to the box, Lizzy sat between Mr. Bingley and Mr. Pontiflet in the second row. Caroline smiled at this; if Lizzy and Robert Pontiflet had taken an interest in each other, so much the better. It would clear the field for Caroline. Lizzy Bennet had been an obstacle, but Caroline reasoned that Lizzy should be satisfied to win the affections of Mr. Pontiflet, a man with an income of four thousand pounds a year--not that she had any real expectation that Mr. Pontiflet would offer for a woman of such meager fortune and connections. That would leave Mr. Darcy to herself, Caroline smiled.

"Eliza," she drawled, "Did Mr. Darcy give you any indication as to when he might be returning to town?" Lizzy blanched, although Caroline failed to notice.

"No, Miss Bingley. As I said earlier, we rarely had occasion to speak." And when we did... Lizzy felt a lump rise in her throat and she coughed uneasily, drawing the concern of the men on either side of her.

"Oh, yes, so you said. But I should have thought that the two of you would be great friends by now. Mr. Darcy was always an admirer of your fine eyes, I believe," Caroline said slyly, hoping to arouse Mr. Pontiflet's interest.

"It is easy to see why," Mr. Pontiflet said on cue. "Miss Bennet's eyes are quite lovely." Lizzy blushed and averted the objects of his praise.

"I fear Miss Bennet's fine eyes attract admirers wherever she goes, Mr. Pontiflet. If you wish to praise them you had better do so before the competition becomes too fierce." At that Lizzy looked up. What on earth was Caroline up to?

"Yes, Pontiflet," Bingley smiled. "Darcy should be back in town any day now. His last letter to me said that I should expect him in town on Friday." Lizzy paled and stole a glance at Jane. Caroline was also displeased by this development. As eager as she was to see Mr. Darcy again, she didn't want to see him in competing with Mr. Pontiflet for Lizzy Bennet. The very notion incensed her.

"There, Miss Bennet! You shall have your choice of beaus," Miss Pontiflet smiled.

"On the contrary," Lizzy said in a slightly strained voice, "I shall be far from London by Friday," she said with a beseeching look at her uncle. He nodded slightly and Lizzy sighed in relief.

"Where are you going?" Mr. Pontiflet asked.

"I am returning to my home in Hertfordshire, sir." Lizzy said. Mr. Bingley turned to Jane with a beseeching look of his own. Jane's expression was unreadable, and Mr. Bingley knew that his time had run out.

"Oh, but that would be such a pity, Eliza!" Caroline said dramatically. "Can we not convince you to delay your departure?" Lizzy knew exactly what Caroline meant, and other different circumstances she would gladly have thwarted her plans. But her fear of confronting Mr. Darcy far outweighed her desire to overthrow Caroline's scheme.

"I cannot, Miss Bingley. I am afraid you will have to content yourself with watching Mr. Darcy and Mr. Pontiflet compete over another lady's assets." Caroline turned crimson and she turned away. Jane, Lizzy and Mr. Bingley each smiled wryly, but Lizzy could not enjoy the rest of the evening. She would not be happy until she was back in Hertfordshire and as far away from Mr. Darcy as possible.

"Miss Bennet...Jane," Mr. Bingley said softly as he slowed his pace so as to put a little distance between himself and the rest of the party descending the steps in front of him. "Would you allow me to call on you tomorrow morning? I would beg a private conference," he said, imparting as much meaning as he could into the statement without declaring himself on the spot. Jane's eyes widened and she turned to him with a smile.

"I shall look forward to seeing you...Charles." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but to Mr. Bingley it was loud and clear. He helped Jane into the carriage and gave her hand a little squeeze before releasing it. He bade a good night to the rest of his guests and watched as the carriage rolled away. Then he turned to his own carriage, where Caroline had already been seated.

"Really, Charles! You need not make such a fool of yourself over that woman!" Mr. Bingley declined to answer her as he stepped into the carriage and signaled the coachman. He ignored his sister's commentary on the evening, especially her insults directed at the Bennet sisters. If she had hoped to get a rise out of Mr. Bingley she failed miserably. He hadn't heard a word she said; his mind was on Jane and the proposal he would make to her the following day.

The following morning, Mr. Bingley dressed with special care. He went down to breakfast and was pleased to find the morning room empty. He sat down to his meal and learned from a servant that Caroline had already eaten and left the house. No one knew where she had gone, but Mr. Bingley was not really concerned about his sister. His only interest was in enjoying his meal and then getting to Gracechurch Street as soon as possible.

Mr. Bingley had called for the carriage to be prepared to leave as soon as he had finished his breakfast. He wasted no time in departing for his date with destiny, ignoring the worried look of the servants who attended to him. When he arrived at Gracechurch Street he was shown into the parlor. Mr. Bingley paled when he saw his sister sitting beside Jane on the settee and the meaning behind the looks on his servants faces became clear.

"Charles! I am surprised to see you here; I had no idea that you planned to visit this morning," Caroline said to the disbelief of the others in the room. Mr. Bingley swallowed his anger and tried to answer civilly.

"Had you taken the time this morning to apprise me of your plans I might have been able to share mine with you," he said as he claimed a seat beside Mrs. Gardiner.

"It is a pity that you arrived so late. You missed dear Eliza's departure. But do not despair; I made sure that she will carry our best wishes to all our friends in Hertfordshire," Caroline continued, deflecting her brother's reproach.

"That should be no great burden since one of us did not bother to make any," he muttered. "Miss Elizabeth will be missed," he told Mrs. Gardiner, who read in his eyes relief that Jane did not accompany her sister as he feared she might.

"Yes, Mr. Bingley," she replied. "Lizzy has always been a favorite in this house and no visit with us here is ever long enough."

"It must please you to be able to say that about your company, Mrs. Gardiner. I imagine that not all of your guests are so universally welcome," Mr. Bingley said with a pointed look at his sibling. Mrs. Gardiner was too shocked by his bold comment to respond. Even Jane was taken aback by Mr. Bingley's uncharacteristically harsh tone. But Caroline let his words wash over her, preferring to concentrate on her goal of keeping Jane Bennet away from her brother. She went on chatting with Jane as though her brother had spoken of someone unknown to her.

Mr. Bingley gave Mrs. Gardiner a look full of self-reproach and she surreptitiously gave his hand a reassuring pat. He turned his gaze toward Jane, who looked back at him with such love in her eyes that all his fears immediately dissipated. His anger remained unabated, however, and a short while later he rose to leave.

"Come, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said as he rose to his feet. "I have a number of errands to run and will have need of my carriage. You had better accompany me now, if you want a ride home." Caroline smiled and rose. She bade her Jane and her host a good day and allowed Charles to escort her to the carriage. Mr. Bingley noticed the expressions of the two waiting servants as he approached the carriage. They were clearly enjoying his sister's look of discomfort. But Mr. Bingley had not even begun to unleash the anger welling in his breast. He waited until the carriage was underway to speak.

"As long as you have errands to run, would you drop me at _____ Street? I saw a lovely pair of--."

"You are going directly home, Caroline! I will not drop you at _____ Street, nor will my carriage be put at your disposal again in the foreseeable future," Mr. Bingley growled.

"Charles! What on earth has gotten into you?"

"You know exactly what has gotten into me, Caroline! You need not try to play the innocent. It will no longer work with me!"

"Charles!"

"And do not 'Charles' me!"

"But I have no idea what you are so upset about! Is it that I took your carriage without asking? I had no idea that you were planning to go out this morning."

"I am certain that Marsters told you that I ordered the carriage for first thing in the morning," Mr. Bingley replied tersely. "But it is not so much the fact that you used my carriage, but where you took it that angers me?"

"But why should you be angry that I visited Jane? After our little chat at the theatre last evening I thought I should pay a call on her." Mr. Bingley seethed in silence. He could hardly gainsay his sister's reasoning, even if he knew that her motives were suspect. Caroline smiled. The pair rode for a while in silence, until Caroline spoke again. "I do not see why I am to be denied the power to leave the house--."

"You may leave the house whenever you wish. If you would like the use of a carriage, however, buy one of your own." Mr. Bingley said firmly.

"Really, Charles! You behave as though Jane Bennet was yours exclusively, when as you recall, she was my particular friend in Hertfordshire."

"She has never been your 'particular friend,' Caroline. I doubt that you even understand the meaning of the word 'friend.' You seem to think that people are merely pawns to be moved about for your amusement. I am your favorite, apparently, for you have been dragging me about by the nose for as long as I can remember. Well, I am done playing your games, Caroline. You are to stop interfering in my life and you are to leave Jane Bennet alone."

"I will if you will," Caroline said slyly. Mr. Bingley very nearly exploded with rage, but he managed to contain himself as the carriage slowed to a stop and the footman hopped down to open the door. Mr. Bingley glared at his sister and she colored as she stepped from the carriage. Without a word to her, Mr. Bingley signaled for the carriage to move on. He wasted no time in returning to Gracechurch Street. He found Jane where he had left her, sitting on the settee near the window looking like an angel. Mrs. Gardiner smiled at Mr. Bingley and closed the door behind him.

"Miss Bennet--."

"I rather liked it when you called me 'Jane' last night," she said demurely. That was sufficient encouragement for Mr. Bingley. He strode to the settee and sat down.

"Jane," he said with a radiant smile. "You have no idea how long I have been waiting for the day I would be able to call you that. Now, I only look forward to calling you by another name." Jane blushed.

"Mr. Bingley?"

"Mrs. Bingley, rather," he replied impishly, "If you will have me. Please say you'll marry me, Jane. I know I have been a rather careless suitor, but although I have been absent I have never been inconstant. I have loved you since the moment I first laid eyes upon you and I will love you until the day I die." Jane smiled and squeezed the hand Mr. Bingley clutched to his heart.

"I can think of nothing that would make me happier than to spend the rest of my days being loved by you, Charles. I, too, have been constant in my devotion and have loved you all these many months." Mr. Bingley felt his heart leap for joy. He reached into this pocket.

"Had it not been for unfortunate circumstances, I might have put this on your finger months ago," he said as he slipped the engagement ring onto the ring finger of Jane's hand. She put that same finger to his lips.

"What's past is the past. Let us only concern ourselves with the future, henceforth."

"Agreed," Mr. Bingley replied, and they sealed the bargain with a brief, chaste kiss.

Chapter 9

Posted on Friday, 29 March 2002

Mr. Bingley returned home in plenty of time to dress for supper with his sullen sister. Caroline would not soon forgive her brother for his set down that morning, and his happy mood did nothing to placate her. A servant brought in a note just as the pair sat down to eat. Mr. Bingley opened it with a smile on his lips.

"Ah! Darcy is back in town," he said as he scanned the note. "Would you excuse me for a moment, Caroline? I would like to invite Darcy to come to see us tomorrow." Caroline was only too pleased at the prospect of seeing Mr. Darcy again, so she waited for the five minutes it took her brother to write a note and see it sent off. Mr. Bingley returned to the dining room and found his sister with a smile on his face. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had caused the change in her demeanor.

"I am glad that Mr. Darcy has returned to town," Caroline said as soon as the soup had been served. "It has been some time since we have had some decent company."

"Why Caroline, how can you say such a thing one night after our evening with the Pontiflets?" Mr. Bingley replied with a hint of a smile. He decided not to provoke her by naming the other guests with whom they'd enjoyed the evening. But Caroline didn't spare the Bennet sisters or the Pontiflets a moment's thought.

"You know what I mean, Charles. There is no one else quite of Mr. Darcy's personality or breeding. His return will greatly improve our society."

"Well, not for long. He intends to be in town only for a few days." Caroline's face fell.

"Why?"

"He plans on going on to Pemberley by week's end." Caroline frowned, but quickly brightened.

"Does he intend to have us go to the country with him?"

"Not to my knowledge." Caroline smiled.

"Well, perhaps he will extend an invitation when he comes tomorrow."

"If he comes, you mean."

"Of course, he will come, Charles? Why should he not?" Mr. Bingley had to agree with his sister. In all likelihood Mr. Darcy would come. But it seemed unlikely that, after his visit with the Bingleys, Mr. Darcy would be extending an invitation to Pemberley. Not after Mr. Bingley revealed his news. He had decided on the way back from Gracechurch Street that he would tell both Caroline and Mr. Darcy of his engagement right away. By taking the initiative he would hopefully forestall any attempts on their part to interfere in his affairs.

Mr. Darcy read Mr. Bingley's note and was sorely tempted to refuse the invitation. But he saw an opportunity to speak with his old friend and confess his misdeed. It was not one to be squandered, not after all that had happened in the preceding days. Mr. Darcy had lost the love of his life, but perhaps it was not too late to salvage his friendship with Mr. Bingley. He penned a reply and sent it off before he retired to his library to sit and think.

As he had done for the four hours it took to reach London from Kent, Mr. Darcy played and replayed Lizzy's rejection of his suit in his head. Contrary to what he had long believed, Elizabeth Bennet despised him. And while he wanted to blame his cousin for his interference, Mr. Darcy had had to concede that both Lizzy and the Colonel were correct in their scathing assessment of his character. So Mr. Darcy was determined to set things right with Mr. Bingley, even if he could do nothing for his own situation. He owed him that much.

Mr. Darcy took a large gulp from his snifter, determined to blur his painful memories of the preceding days. But Elizabeth Bennet persisted in tormenting him, so Mr. Darcy surrendered to his fate and retired to his rooms without the benefit of sufficient alcohol to assure him of dreamless sleep. He lay awake for hours, hearing over and over the words that had broken his heart and dashed all of his hopes for happiness. He ran frustrated hands through his hair and cursed his arrogance. Had he listened to the Colonel he might have spared himself his current pain. But he could not absolve himself for stubbornly insisting on proposing to Elizabeth in spite of his cousin's warnings, and his guilt over the pain and anguish he had caused her haunted him as much as the pain she had inflicted on him.

Mr. Bingley paced back and forth in his study while the clock solemnly counted the minutes toward the hour when Mr. Darcy was scheduled to make his appearance. Mr. Bingley was nervous. The joy that had buoyed his courage the previous day had not waned, but he had awoken with the certain knowledge that his longtime friendship with the older man might be changed irrevocably by the meeting that was about to take place.

He and Mr. Darcy had been friends since their days together at school. While young Bingley had assumed that someone of Darcy's social standing might rightly snub him, the older lad had taken Bingley under his wing and they had been inseparable ever since. Now, however, Mr. Bingley was prepared to sever all ties with Mr. Darcy if need be. Nothing, not even friendship, was going to prevent Mr. Bingley from marrying Jane Bennet.

Mr. Darcy, meanwhile, made his way to Mr. Bingley's house on foot, worrying as he neared _____ Street that his longstanding friendship with the affable young man was on the verge of dissolution. He hoped that Mr. Bingley would eventually find it in his heart to forgive him for his sins, but he felt undeserving of such a kindness. Mr. Darcy was a haunted, wretched creature as he turned the corner and approached Mr. Bingley's house. If he lost Mr. Bingley's friendship he would have lost the two most important people in his life, outside of his family. Lizzy was already lost to him forever, but perhaps something of his friendship with Mr. Bingley might be salvaged if there was still time for him to make reparations. Mr. Darcy knew that Mr. Bingley had restored his acquaintance with Jane. Mr. Darcy was resolved to do all in his power to assure their happiness. He would no longer allow his accursed pride and arrogance to hurt others. He had learned the hard was how much pain such a mistake could cost.

Mr. Darcy paused at the foot of the steps leading to Mr. Bingley's door, where an alert footman was already holding it open and awaiting his entrance. Mr. Darcy took a deep breath and ascended the stairs. He handed his hat, gloves and walking stick to the servant and after taking a moment to gather his courage, he headed for Mr. Bingley's study. Mr. Darcy approached the door and paused again, nervous and penitent. The door opened before he could knock and he stepped back as Caroline came bustling out of the room.

"I do not see why we should entertain Mr. Darcy in your study. I will await him in the--oh! Mr. Darcy! I did not realize that you had already arrived," Caroline said awkwardly. Behind her, Mr. Bingley rose to his feet and bade Mr. Darcy welcome.

"Come in, come in, old friend," he said as he offered Mr. Darcy a warm handshake. "Do make yourself comfortable," Mr. Bingley chattered on, a bundle of nervous energy. He spent a moment fussing over arrangements for tea while Caroline apologized to Mr. Darcy for not receiving him in the parlor as was the norm.

"I do not know why Charles insists on receiving you here," Caroline complained. "This is a hideous room, full of male things and leather; hardly the proper place to receive guests." Mr. Darcy smiled in spite of himself.

"Even male guests? I find this room quite comfortable, Miss Bingley. In fact," he said as his eyes surveyed the space, "I have one very much like it." Caroline fell silent and stared at her shoes as she blushed at the gentle tease. Mr. Darcy's eyes continued their circuit of the room until they met Mr. Bingley's. He appeared to be somewhat uneasy. Mr. Darcy swallowed hard and wondered if Lizzy had told Jane the truth about his interference. Perhaps then, Mr. Bingley already knew something of what Mr. Darcy had come to say. But if that was the case, Mr. Darcy surmised, Mr. Bingley would hardly have greeted him with such effusive warmth. Mr. Darcy's curiosity grew as he observed Mr. Bingley, who stood before the mantelpiece, eyes averted and deep in thought.

"Caroline, Darcy, sit down," Mr. Bingley said. "I have something I want to tell you both." He stood with his back to an imposing mantle piece looking slightly nervous but determined. Mr. Darcy looked at him curiously, then took a seat. Miss Bingley stood her ground.

"What is this about, Charles?" she demanded.

"Sit down and I will tell you," he commanded. Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy exchanged glances as she obeyed. Mr. Bingley cleared his throat.

"You may as well be the first to know...I have asked Jane Bennet for her hand in marriage and she has done me the honor of accepting me." Mr. Bingley squared his shoulders and prepared for the inevitable onslaught. But it did not come as he had expected. His announcement was met with silence. Mr. Darcy blinked, looked down at his boots, and said nothing. Miss Bingley, who had relied on Mr. Darcy to speak on her behalf, was left to confront her brother alone.

"Charles!" she cried. "You cannot be serious!"

"I am," was his firm reply.

"Mr. Darcy, say something! You cannot, you must not allow my brother to throw himself away on that insignificant chit of a --."

"Caroline, I am going to marry Jane Bennet and there's an end of it. If you do not approve of my choice of a marriage partner, I would be more than happy to send you to your sister in Lisbon!" Mr. Bingley spoke calmly but his eyes were aflame. His sister's mouth fell open. She turned to Mr. Darcy once more, but to her amazement, he rose and extended his hand in congratulations.

"I wish both you and Miss Bennet every happiness, Charles," he said simply. "I am rather pleased to find that I was mistaken in my belief that Miss Bennet did not return your affections. It was an arrogant presumption on my part and I heartily apologize for the pain and suffering my unwanted interference must have caused you both." Miss Bingley was shocked by this speech, as was Mr. Bingley, but he graciously accepted both the admission and the apology and wasted no time in asking Mr. Darcy to stand up with him at the altar.

"If you would still have me after what I have done to you both, I would be honored." Mr. Darcy felt unequal to the protestations he knew his friend would make, and so he turned to leave, saying, "Just let me know the date and I will be at your side. You may contact me at Pemberley. I leave later this morning." With that, he bid his friends goodbye and left, a tumult of emotions beating in his heart.

That much I could do for her, Mr. Darcy thought hours later as he sat at his father's massive desk in Pemberley's study. It was well past midnight, and Mr. Darcy, still plagued by the demons that had driven him from Kent, was unable to sleep. Elizabeth had refused his love and rightfully so. He had lost her forever and with it every chance of happiness. Mr. Darcy resigned himself to his fate. I have admitted my guilt in wrongfully separating Bingley and Jane Bennet, and have given their marriage my blessing. At least she will see her beloved sister happy...I pray that one day my Elizabeth... and here Mr. Darcy's eyes clouded over and he was forced to swallow the lump rising in his throat, "...That she will find someone with whom she can be equally happy. It is no more than she deserves. I am unworthy of her. As the words formed in his mind, tears began to flow. He lowered his head to the desk and sobbed pathetically.

Things proceeded rather quietly in the Bingley household after Mr. Darcy's departure. Mr. Bingley refused to discuss his decision with Caroline and when she made it plain that she would not wish him joy, he accepted her position with equanimity and did not entreat his sister to reconsider. Caroline was at first surprised and then angered by his calm demeanor. She swept out of the room in a huff, determined to find a way to make him see reason before her brother went into Hertfordshire to seek Mr. Bennet's blessing.

There was absolutely no doubt in Caroline's mind that he would get it. As far as she was concerned the Bennets were nothing more than grasping self-interested social climbers who would stop at nothing to secure a better place in society. She was convinced that the Bennets would stop at nothing to achieve their goal; Jane's marriage was only the beginning. Once they'd gotten their claws into her brother, the Bennets would settle for no less than seeing their four other girls equally situated. Caroline was certain that Eliza Bennet had already set her sights on Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"Well, my dear," she sneered. "I shall have something to say about that. You had better go ahead and latch onto some well-heeled nobody. Mr. Darcy will never attach himself to such a family as yours. And if I have anything to say about it--and I shall--neither will my brother."

It was more than a week later when Olivia Crenshaw returned to town. She was sick to death of Amelia Parson's company, for all that the girl had made a decent companion once removed from the influence of Caroline Bingley. But Olivia was not one to suffer fools lightly and Amelia was a young girl devoid of wit or insight beyond the latest fashions. When she arrived at her home she spent a half-hour with her father before going up to her room to see to her unpacking and rest before supper. The maid brought in a handful of correspondence and she sat down to read it. Amid the calling cards and a letter from her older brother was a note from Jane. Olivia eagerly opened it and read the good news. She let out a whoop and fairly dove across the bed to retrieve the hat she'd thrown there earlier. In minutes she was on her way to Gracechurch Street.

"Oh, Jane!" Olivia hugged her tightly again. "I am so very happy for you! You must tell me everything! I knew the moment I left town something important would happen!" Mrs. Gardiner urged both ladies to sit as she rang for tea. Olivia was eager to get caught up on the latest gossip, none more important than Jane's engagement to Mr. Bingley.

"Have you written to Lizzy? I am sure she will be ecstatic!" Olivia's joy did not afford Jane much opportunity to tell her tale, so it was some time before all the details had been revealed.

"Of course, Mr. Bingley has yet to ask for my father's permission, but he plans to return to Hertfordshire in a week to see him," Jane concluded.

"Oh, Jane," Olivia gushed. "This is so wonderful! I am so glad that things finally worked out for the two of you. I cannot think of two more deserving people." Mrs. Gardiner looked up from her knitting and smiled, remembering Olivia and Elizabeth's role in bringing the union about. Eventually the conversation came back around to the subject of Elizabeth's response to the news.

"I have not received her reply, but I expect one at any time. I was so excited I sent her the news by express!" Jane said with a laugh.

"I have not heard from Lizzy since she was in Kent," Olivia said, "And that was more than two weeks ago. I supposed it to be because I was traveling myself, but I had expected a letter to be awaiting me here when I arrived home yesterday and there was none. It is unlike Lizzy not to respond to my letters promptly." Jane exchanged a glance with Mrs. Gardiner. She was uncertain what to say; she was not sure that Elizabeth would want her to tell Olivia about Mr. Darcy's proposal.

"I am sure you will receive a letter soon." Jane dissembled. "Knowing Mama, she has kept Lizzy busy since her return to Longbourn and it will take her a while before she's back to her normal routine." Olivia knew that Jane was being evasive, but she didn't pursue the mater. Instead she launched into a conversation about wedding plans, and soon Elizabeth's tardy letter was no more than a nagging thought at the back of her mind.

Chapter 9 (cont.)

"Darcy," Colonel Fitzwilliam said archly as he entered his cousin's study.

"Fitzwilliam! This is an unexpected pleasure," Mr. Darcy replied with genuine surprise as he rose to welcome the new arrival.

"No more unexpected than your failure to show up at my solicitor's office last week," the Colonel said dryly. Mr. Darcy blanched.

"Oh! Oh, I am sorry, Fitzwilliam. In my eagerness to leave town I completely forgot about the appointment."

"So Harris and I surmised. Really, Darcy, you're a bit young for senility, aren't you?" the Colonel replied wryly. "Tell me, what was so important that you had to leave town three days ahead of schedule?" The Colonel regretted the question as soon as it left his lips. He saw Mr. Darcy's pained expression and opened his mouth to apologize. But Mr. Darcy's next words threw him completely.

"It was good news, actually," he said with a smile. "Such good news, in fact, that it seemed too good to be true."

"Pray tell! I'd dearly like to hear such news," the Colonel prompted.

"Bingley and Jane Bennet are to be married."

"Married! When did that happen?" asked a surprised Colonel Fitzwilliam as he took a seat.

"Just a few days ago. I had it from Bingley himself. He asked me to call upon him when I returned to London and gave me the news." Mr. Darcy poured out two glasses of port and offered one to his cousin.

"This is good news, indeed," the Colonel replied, thinking of how Miss Crenshaw would react. It had been months since he'd seen her, although he had been able to hear news of her now and again through her brother. The Colonel intended to remedy that as soon as he returned to London. "When is the happy event to take place?"

"I do not know yet. Bingley--or rather Miss Bennet--has yet to decide on a date. I expect they will send out invitations when they have decided," Mr. Darcy said, somewhat absently. His mind appeared to be elsewhere.

"And do you approve of the match?" the Colonel asked, trying to divine the source of his distraction.

"Why should I disapprove? Jane Bennet is a lovely girl, and she and Bingley should make each other very happy." Mr. Darcy seemed a bit affronted by the question, and he felt a twinge of guilt as the Colonel pursued his point.

"I heard it said somewhere that you had objections to the lady," he said mildly, recalling the day he blew up at his cousin when he learned of his interference in his friend's romance.

"Perhaps I did at one point, but I was wrong about Miss Bennet and I was wrong to try to influence Bingley's opinion of her." The Colonel's shock at this declaration barely registered on the outside, but the Colonel tried to decipher a curious mix of clues in his mind that did not quite add up. Not yet.

"Speaking of happy events, when are you going to propose to Miss Crenshaw?" Mr. Darcy said, abruptly turning the tables on his cousin.

"Propose?" the Colonel managed to choke out. "What makes you think I was considering proposing?" It was Mr. Darcy's turn to consider the evidence. He came out from behind his desk to sit in a chair opposite Colonel Fitzwilliam's.

"Oh, come, man! You spoke of little else in Kent!" Mr. Darcy laughed.

"I may have spoken of Miss Crenshaw, but I do not recall saying anything about marriage."

"Well, why else does a man unceasingly bring up the name of a woman in every conversation, day, evening, over tea, out walking..."

"Speaking of unceasing devotion, have you given any thought to what you are going to do about Miss Bennet?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, as he rose and went to tend the fire. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he knew, in spite of his cousin's superficially cheerful demeanor, that the matter still weighed heavily on his heart. The Colonel, for one, believed that the issue was far from resolved. His cousin and Miss Bennet were far from being through with one another.

"Do about it? There is nothing to be done about it! I have lost her forever, Fitzwilliam. There is nothing left to do," Mr. Darcy replied dejectedly. He rose and began to pace impatiently. "I made a complete ass of myself, Fitzwilliam. I went to her with every confidence that she was expecting my advances, that she wanted me as much as I did her." He stopped mid-stride, recalling his confrontation with Elizabeth. "I declared my love for her in a manner that no sensible woman would have accepted. I made plain my disdain for her relations, I reminded her of her social inferiority, and told her that I loved her in spite of these faults. In short, I did everything possible to make it perfectly reasonable that she would not only refuse my offer of marriage but never admit me into her presence again!" Drained by the effort of his confession, Mr. Darcy threw himself into the nearest chair and drained his glass. The Colonel stood and turned to his cousin; the façade that Mr. Darcy had so carefully constructed to greet him on his arrival had crumbled to dust. Mr. Darcy was a pitiable creature and the Colonel bit back the words that had come unbidden to his tongue. He knew that his cousin was penitent; his own rebuke was superfluous.

"You will attend Bingley's wedding?" he asked gently.

"Of course! I am to be his--." Mr. Darcy covered his face with his hands. "Good lord! I had not thought about that."

"Meeting Miss Bennet again is inevitable, Darcy. I daresay that as long as you and Bingley are friends and the Miss Bennets are sisters, it will be impossible to avoid seeing her."

"We shall be in Hertfordshire well before evening," Jane said to her companion. "It is a shame, though; I should like to sneak in under cover of darkness and avoid all the calamity my return is sure to excite." Olivia laughed at the remark.

"Well, it would be even more of a surprise if we did, I grant you. But I suspect that your father would not appreciate our being on these roads after dark."

"Indeed, neither would I, come to think of it," Jane said with a mild shudder. "Oh, I am glad to be going home," she said, visibly brightening. "I cannot wait to see Mama and Papa and all my sisters." Olivia smiled benignly. In truth she was only interested in a reunion with one of Jane's sisters. She was very eager to know why Elizabeth had suddenly become a poor correspondent and worried that her something had gone terribly wrong.

Olivia was not blind to the looks exchanged between Jane and the Gardiners whenever Elizabeth's name was mentioned. Each time she saw it, her blood ran cold. Something very bad had happened; she was certain of it. Olivia did not pry. Instead she decided to go straight to the source. After a few days spent restlessly awaiting a letter that never came, Olivia convinced her father to let her take Jane back into Hertfordshire. She promised to make it a very short trip--just overnight, long enough for Olivia to ascertain for herself that her dearest friend was all right. The following day, the two women set off for Hertfordshire with a double surprise; Jane would arrive home unexpectedly and with Olivia as her company.

"I shall be returning to Hertfordshire myself, shortly," Mr. Bingley said evenly, ignoring his sister's caustic comment to his announcement that Jane had left town. Caroline looked up sharply.

"Oh, Charles! Please promise me that you will not rush into anything foolish! Remain here in town for a while, reconsider this wild notion you have of--."

"That is quite enough, Caroline!" Mr. Bingley said crisply. "I am going to marry Jane Bennet and neither you nor anyone else is going to convince me otherwise." Mr. Bingley rose from his seat and left the breakfast room. He walked to his study with fond memories of his last visit with Jane playing in his mind.

"I will be leaving London tomorrow," she announced out of the blue. The couple was walking a short distance ahead of the Gardiners in the park. Mr. Bingley stopped and looked at Jane in complete shock. "I'll be returning to Hertfordshire with Olivia Crenshaw, who has kindly offered to take me home. I realize it is rather sudden," Jane said with a slight blush, "But I have to go home sooner or later, my love. I have been postponing my return home for weeks." It was Mr. Bingley's turn to blush as he realized that he was responsible for Jane's decision to tarry in London.

"Perhaps Miss Crenshaw was correct. I should have proposed sooner," he said with a smile. "Instead, I took my time about it and turned you into a malingerer." Jane laughed. "But it is probably for the best. The sooner I speak with your father the sooner we can be married."

"When do you plan to speak with him?"

"I think...well, I think I shall follow you into Hertfordshire by a few days. I have some business to attend to, but I think I shall be able to make my appearance by Friday. Yes, I shall be there on Friday." The slight squeeze Jane gave his arm was all the encouragement his smile needed. He beamed back at Jane, whose radiant smile lifted his heart. Before he left Gracechurch Street, the Gardiners had discretely left the couple alone so that they might say their goodbyes in private. The kiss they had shared still warmed his heart like the last embers of a roaring fire.

"Excuse me, sir," Mrs. Stewart said as she entered the study. Mr. Bingley looked up and gestured for the elderly woman to take a seat.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Stewart?" Mr. Bingley smiled at his servant and confidant. She had been the first to hear his good news and had been thus far the only person to unconditionally wish him joy.

"I have been working on your schedule for next week, sir," the lady began as she pulled a small notebook from under her apron.

"Cancel everything." Mrs. Stewart looked up sharply. "I am going into Hertfordshire on Friday, Mrs. Stewart. I don not know yet how long I will be there, but I imagine that if all goes well it shall be for some time." Mrs. Stewart nodded her understanding. She rose to her feet. "Is there anything that cannot wait?" Mr. Bingley asked as his conscience nudged him. But Mrs. Stewart shook her head.

"There is nothing we cannot manage on our own, sir. Don't you worry about a thing. You go into Hertfordshire and secure your lady's hand and I will deal with things here." Mr. Bingley endorsed her suggestion with a curt nod and Mrs. Stewart left the room. He pulled out his little notebook and his pencil. At some point over the last several weeks, the book had changed from a strategic planning tool to a chronicle of his personal affairs. It had happened so gradually that Mr. Bingley never seemed to notice that he'd made the change from recording his actions to capturing his feelings. He was nonetheless glad of it as he was able to read his thoughts on that fateful day when Jane Bennet had agreed to become his wife. Perhaps that was the day everything had changed. No matter; Mr. Bingley was not in a mood to worry about such things. He applied his pencil to a clean page and wrote a few lines about Caroline's stubbornness and how he was determined not to rise to her bait.

For too long have I allowed willfulness and tantrums to dictate my actions, but those days are over. Henceforth, if I am to be led by a woman, let her be Jane Bingley.

Mr. Bingley sat back and smiled at what he had written. Jane Bingley, the love of his life, would soon become the mistress of his household, the mother of his children the key to his future happiness. Mr. Bingley allowed his thoughts to wander as he absently wrote her name over and over again on the page.

"Charles." Mr. Bingley looked up and met his sister's exasperated gaze. "Mrs. Stewart has just informed me that you plan on leaving town on Friday."

"Yes," Mr. Bingley said as he sat back. "I am sorry, Caroline, I should have told you that myself." Caroline took the opportunity to play the slighted party, although Mr. Bingley was not impressed by her display.

"When you said you would be going into Hertfordshire soon, I--."

"Can you be ready by then?" Mr. Bingley interjected. Caroline's eyes opened wide.

"Do you wish for me to accompany you?" Mr. Bingley stifled a laugh. His sister had spent the previous month forcing her company on him and now she was prepared to be deferential?

"But of course, Caroline," he said with a straight face. "Until my marriage you will remain the mistress of Netherfield. I assume you will want to return with me and play hostess at the social events that will inevitably ensue after our engagement is announced. It will also, of course, give you an opportunity to visit with all your friends in Hertfordshire again." At this, a hint of a smirk briefly touched Mr. Bingley's lips. But his words had had their proper effect; Caroline was sufficiently mollified to rush off to speak with her maid and begin making plans for her departure. Mr. Bingley sat back in his chair for a moment and smiled.

"I wonder that this talent of mine for deception did not reveal itself sooner," he muttered as he looked at the notebook. "Good lord, I am behaving like a schoolboy," he laughed. Mr. Bingley turned the page and grew serious. "Now I have to figure out what to do about Darcy. I can easily forgive him for his transgression. Nothing he did in the past means anything in light of my current happiness. But I know him far too well. He will not soon forgive himself. Arrogant man; he is so convinced of his own superior judgment that even admitting that he was wrong to interfere must have cost him greatly." Mr. Bingley rose from his desk and went to the window to stand before it, much as he had often seen Mr. Darcy do in that very room.

"He was a haunted man when he came to see me. Was it worth it, Darcy? Was your determination to save me from myself so great that you--no wait. There had to be something more to it. Miss Elizabeth; yes, surely! You are envious, dear boy! You have seen how I have succeeded with the sister and in spite of your earlier stance you find that you still covet her. Well, it is high time you came down from that lofty pedestal of yours, my friend and admitted defeat. If you found courage enough to make your confession to me you must have the heart to pursue Miss Elizabeth. You must! And I shall make it easier for you." Mr. Bingley returned to his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. He dipped his pen into ink and began to write a letter to his friend.

Chapter 10

Posted on Thursday, 4 April 2002

Elizabeth was more than a little surprised to receive not one, but two expresses on the same morning. The first was from Jane, and she opened it with no small amount of trepidation. The news it contained made her weep with joy. She immediately grabbed her hat and pelisse and took a walk, the better to avoid her mother's curiosity. Fortunately for Elizabeth, her mother had gone into Meryton to see her sister, Mrs. Philips, but Elizabeth knew that she was due to return shortly. Her mother would be informed by one of the maids that a post had come for Elizabeth, and Mrs. Bennet would not rest until she had perused the missive for herself.

Elizabeth sought the isolation of a sunlit meadow a short distance from Longbourn. Once she was alone, she sat down beneath a tree to savor every detail of Jane's letter. When she had read it through twice, she put it down and turned her attention to the small parcel in her lap. It bore no distinctive markings, but she recognized the hand immediately. Elizabeth hesitated. A lump rose in her throat and she found herself fighting tears. She could not imagine what the parcel held, but she was overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding.

She picked up the parcel and Jane's letter and began to wander the meadow aimlessly, willing her heart to slow down. Finally, when she could bear the suspense no longer, Elizabeth sat on a cropping of rocks near a stream and tore open the package. Inside, carefully wrapped in a man's linen handkerchief, Elizabeth found her grandmother's Sterling silver vial that she thought she had lost months ago in London. How had it come into Mr. Darcy's possession? With trembling hands she unfolded the letter that accompanied it and began to read its contents. The first paragraph was written in Mr. Darcy's impeccable hand, as was the letter she had received from him in Hunsford.

Dear Miss Bennet,

I can only imagine that given the circumstances of our last two meetings you would wish never to see or hear of me again. I must beg your indulgence as I perform this one last service on your behalf. The enclosed item, I believe, belongs to you. It has a patina of age, which suggests that it must be an object of great sentimental value to you. My dear mother carried such a vial, a legacy of her own mother. She was rarely without it. I hope that its absence did not cause you much anguish and I hope its safe return gives you comfort.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Elizabeth sighed deeply and read on, for the letter continued. From this point, however, the penmanship was careless, written in a manner that bespoke great agitation. Elizabeth could only wonder what was going through his mind as he wrote his next words. She was halfway through the missive, her hands trembling, her heart in her throat, when she was interrupted by the shrill cry of her youngest sister.

"Lizzy!" Elizabeth started, then hastily refolded the letter and stuffed it into her pelisse as her sister Lydia approached. Elizabeth rose to her feet, secreted the parcel in her pocket and reached for her bonnet as Lydia arrived at her side.

"Lord, Lizzy! I have been calling for you these last five minutes. Did you not hear me?"

"I am sorry, Lydia. No, I am afraid I was quite distracted," Elizabeth replied, trying to compose herself. Her emotions were in a jumble and she wanted nothing more than for Lydia to disappear so that she could return to her reading of Mr. Darcy's letter.

"I have been sent to look for you. I have the most wonderful surprise!" Lydia giggled in that manner that so often infuriated her elder sister. Elizabeth was not interested in surprises and her impatience showed.

"Well? What is it?" she snapped. Lydia's smile immediately disappeared.

"If you are going to take that tone, Lizzy, I may decide not to tell you about it after all," she said coyly. Elizabeth grew more perverse.

"Do not tell me then," she said, plopping back down upon the rock. "I am sure that I can endure the loss." Elizabeth looked away from Lydia, hoping the girl would take the hint and leave.

"Very well, then, Miss Lizzy," Lydia said sweetly, knowing that she held the upper hand. "I will simply tell Jane and Olivia that you do not want to see them." She turned and started back toward the house. But Elizabeth immediately rose, silently mouthed the names, and much to her sister's surprise, took off toward Longbourn as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Lizzy!" Olivia and Jane shouted in unison, as the breathless lady made her appearance. A flurry of greetings, hugs, and exclamations of surprise ensued, and it was nearly five minutes before things settled. Mrs. Bennet bustled about, greeting her daughter and making preparations for her unexpected houseguest. Elizabeth wanted to ask a million questions but she thought it best to wait until her mother had left the room.

"Jane! I only received your express this morning! You made no mention of planning to return to Hertfordshire," she said, as soon as her mother had gone to the kitchen to order a special dinner.

"Did you really expect me to allow Mr. Bingley to face Mama all alone?" Jane laughed, as she took a seat next to her dearest sibling.

"Mr. Bingley is coming?" gushed Lydia, whose presence had been temporarily forgotten.

Elizabeth cast her sister a worried glance.

"Yes, Lydia. Mr. Bingley is returning to Netherfield," Jane said calmly. She knew she would have to speak with her mother before Lydia spread this intelligence across the county. Mrs. Bennet reentered the room, and before Jane could open her mouth, Lydia cried out the news.

"Mr. Bingley returning to Longbourn!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "This is a complement to you, Jane, I am sure. Did you see him in town? You never mentioned him in your letters, you sly thing, but I know you must have seen him. And now he is determined to follow you back to Hertfordshire and claim you as his bride. Oooh! I am certain of it. Mark my words he will be at your father's door begging for your hand within a fortnight." Elizabeth looked at Jane and sighed. Olivia, who had been watching the proceedings with great interest, attempted to suppress an urge to laugh.

"Mama, Mr. Bingley will be here on Friday to ask for my hand. He has already proposed and I have already accepted him," Jane said patiently.

"On Friday, you say? Oh, but you should have told me before, Jane! There's so much to be done. I will have to see to the meal and have Cook prepare all of Mr. Bingley's favorite dishes. I must have Hill go up to the attic and find my best linens, for you know, I had them put away for the summer since we do not entertain so very often in warm weather at Longbourn. Oh! Lady Lucas will be quite put out! And I must tell Mrs. Phillips," she said wandering out of the room, her brain awhirl with plans and schemes. "And you must have a special license! Five thousand a year..." Mrs. Bennet's voice trailed off as she mounted the stairs. Olivia burst out laughing. Mrs. Bennet's outburst was even more entertaining than Jane had predicted to her. Elizabeth just shook her head.

"Jane, are you sure that was wise? By the time poor Mr. Bingley arrives--."

"By the time he arrives, she will have calmed down a bit," Jane said. But Elizabeth, rolling her eyes, feared that by the time Mr. Bingley arrived, her mother would be even more excited than she was at present. She told Jane so, but Jane shrugged her shoulders.

"I did warn him, Lizzy. He will have to put up with her after we are married, so he shall have to get used to it sometime," she replied with a laugh.

Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice pierced the air with cries of "Jane! Jane!" and the eldest Bennet sister reluctantly rose and left the room. Olivia moved to the spot Jane had vacated and took Elizabeth's hands.

"Dear Livy," Elizabeth said, "It is so good to see you again." Olivia looked deep into Elizabeth's eyes, and although she wanted to turn away, Elizabeth knew that Olivia was not to be evaded. She wasted no time in getting to the point.

"I persuaded Jane to come home a few days early because I was worried about you. You did not respond to my last two letters. Is there something wrong?" Elizabeth knew that the conversation that must ensue could not take place inside the house, and certainly not while Lydia was still lurking about.

"I am fine, Livy," she said with a look in her eye that forestalled Olivia's inevitable rebuttal. "But I want to hear about you. How was your time in Bath?" Elizabeth asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Oh, Bath was tedious. A Mr. Eliot pursued me without cease, but --."

"Really? Was he very handsome?" Lydia had thrown aside her pretense of trimming a hat to cross the room and join the conversation. Olivia looked askance at the interloper.

"...But," Olivia continued, "He seemed to be far more interested in the size of my dowry and my grandmother's inheritance gift than in my person," Olivia said with a sidelong glance at Lydia, who became even more interested.

"And you were far more interested in a certain Colonel than in a penniless rake," Elizabeth laughed. Lydia's eyes grew wide.

"A colonel! Oh, I do love a man in uniform! I hope your colonel is young and handsome, not stodgy and old like that Colonel Forster." Elizabeth could not resist a smirk.

"You had better act fast to secure your Colonel Fitzwilliam before Lydia gets hold of him," she said. Her mother's voice cried out for Lydia upstairs and she responded to the summons even more reluctantly than Jane did. "Let us make our escape," said Elizabeth, and the two ladies made their way into the garden furthest away from the house. They linked arms and strolled to a bench beneath a tree, where they sat down to talk.

"Now that I have you to myself," Olivia began, "Tell me the truth, Lizzy, how are you?"

"I am well, Livy," Elizabeth replied unconvincingly.

"You have dark circles under your eyes, your face is pale and your eyes have lost their sparkle." Olivia's critique was ruthless and unstinting. "You have been biting your nails, and unless I am greatly mistaken, you have been crying recently." Actually she did not know this to be fact, but it seemed to fit with Elizabeth's overall appearance. Elizabeth looked a way, a silently acknowledging all of which she had been accused. "Lizzy, what has happened?" Elizabeth remained mute, unable to begin. "Has this anything to do with that letter I saw you pull from your breast and crumble into your pocket when you came into the house?" Olivia said mildly, but there was a glint of triumph in her eyes. Elizabeth had to laugh at her friend's accurate assessment. She rose and paced in front of the bench.

"I knew I would not be able to hide anything from you. That is why I hesitated to write earlier. I needed time..." her voice drifted off. Elizabeth was overwhelmed by a burning desire to finish Mr. Darcy's letter. Until she knew what he'd had to say she could not put her own feelings into perspective.

"What do you have to hide?" Olivia asked gently. Elizabeth grew silent again, and Olivia sympathetically allowed her a moment to compose her thoughts. Elizabeth sat down and began her tale.

"He wrote to me," she said when the worst of it was over, pulling the handkerchief from her pocket. "He found my grandmother's perfume vial and wanted to return it to me." Olivia stood and took the tiny vial from Elizabeth's outstretched hand.

"I thought you had lost this in London. How did he come to be in possession of it?" she asked.

"I do not know. Perhaps I was mistaken. I could not find it the night we went to the theatre but maybe it was among my things and I just could not locate it. I must have lost it in Hunsford."

"I wonder why he sent it back," Olivia said as she took a whiff of the lavender water. "I should have thought that he would keep it as a remembrance of you."

"He returned it because he sensed that it would be something important to me," Elizabeth said, as she took the vial from Olivia and carefully folded it back into Mr. Darcy's handkerchief. For just a second, she ran her thumb across the fine linen and smiled. She had her own trophy to cherish. Olivia watched as Elizabeth carefully returned the treasure to her pocket and shook her head. One minute she berates him for doing something heinous, the next she calls him honorable. She certainly does not know her own mind. She wondered what had actually passed between them that day, and how two people so obviously suited to one another could have come to their present circumstances. She went to Elizabeth and hugged her tightly.

Olivia came forward and hugged Elizabeth tightly. "Oh, Lizzy," she sighed. "I am sorry. I thought the two of you were meant for each other." Elizabeth pulled away and looked at her friend.

"Why do you say so?" she was curious to know. The two ladies began to walk, but not toward the house. "I thought you did not know Mr. Darcy very well."

"Oh, it has nothing to do with knowing him. It has more to do with--well for lack of a better explanation--the way he looks at you." Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and squinted at Olivia.

"How does he...did he look at me?"

"Like no man I ever saw look at woman," she replied cryptically, her eye fixed on the memory. "The first time I noticed it was in the park that afternoon. He saw you and knew you from a hundred yards away. I am certain of it." Olivia recalled the look in his eyes before he and Colonel took off across the great lawn and the look in his eyes after he'd hit his head and was fixated on Elizabeth. Olivia was convinced at that moment that, had the Colonel let him, Mr. Darcy would have tracked Lizzy all the way to Mr. Bingley's house. "I also remember how he looked at you in the theatre that night. He barely looked at anything else after you smiled at him. If a man looked at me the way he looked at you..."

"As I recall, you were also closely observed that night," Elizabeth said slyly, a hint of her old spirit returning.

"A lot of good that did me. I did not see the Colonel again for a week and the next thing I knew he had gone to see his aunt with Mr. Darcy. You have seen more of him these last few months than I have," Olivia pouted.

"You are in love with him, are you not?" Elizabeth didn't wait for an answer. "You have my sympathies. 'The course of true love never did run smooth,' to quote the 'Bard of Avon.' At least you did not have to bear the..." Elizabeth covered her mouth suddenly as tears welled up in her eyes and began to cloud her vision.

"Lizzy!" Elizabeth looked up and saw Lydia beckoning her to come inside the house.

"I cannot go in like this," she said, turning away.

"I will make your apologies, but you had better come in quickly or Lydia is likely to come out after you again." Elizabeth nodded and with a last squeeze of hands, Olivia made her way back to the house. Elizabeth judged it best to wait until another time to continue the letter. She dried her tears and pinched her cheeks and then, putting on a brave face, went into the house.

Mr. Bingley stepped out of his townhouse barely an hour after sunrise and inhaled deeply. It was a lovely morning in his estimation. The sky was clear, the air crisp and cool, and Mr. Bingley was on his way to meet his destiny in Hertfordshire. The day could not be more perfect as far as he was concerned. His sister Caroline was far less enthusiastic. She had arrived in the breakfast room complaining about the early hour and what she saw as an unnecessary rush to return to the country. Mr. Bingley had only further infuriated her by pointing out that she had only recently expressed an interest in returning to the country. She now sat in the carriage impatiently awaiting her brother.

"Come on, if we are to go, then." Mr. Bingley smiled and entered the carriage, only too happy to accommodate her.

Jane was sitting with Elizabeth in the parlor at Longbourn putting ungainly stitches in the handkerchief she intended to present to her new fiancé. She pricked her finger and looked down at her work as though seeing it for the first time.

"Jane! Take care or that fine piece of linen will become a bandage instead of a betrothal gift," Elizabeth teased. "I do believe that is the third time you have pricked your finger in this hour."

"It is no use. I am too nervous to do this," Jane admitted as she examined the tiny wound. "And the stitch work is so clumsy Mr. Bingley will probably throw it back in my face."

"Your Mr. Bingley? He would cherish what you gave him, even if it was spattered with your blood." Jane blushed slightly and reached for a tiny pair of scissors. She painstakingly began to cut away the uneven stitches.

"At the risk of causing you to do further injury to your hand," Elizabeth said after watching Jane for a few minutes, "I would like to know how your proposal came about."

"I told you and Livy all about it days ago, Lizzy," Jane said as she laid aside the scissors and carefully examined the square of cloth.

"You told me about the proposal, yes. I want to know what came before. When I received your last letter in Kent you wrote that Mr. Bingley had been courting you in a most extraordinary manner. I should dearly like to know what you meant by that." Jane smiled.

"You should be asking Livy about this, or Uncle Gardiner. Between them they contrived to bring Mr. Bingley and myself together in the strangest places. We met at the shop, at our uncle's chess club, the library--we even met one morning at Harley's, where Mr. Bingley insisted on buying his sister a most atrocious hat." Jane laughed. "Moreover, he reported the next day that Miss Bingley adored it!" Lizzy arched an eyebrow and smiled.

"And what did you do? What was it like?" Jane shrugged, curious as to why her sister wanted to know. It suddenly occurred to her that in spite of the fact that Elizabeth had received and rejected a marriage proposal, she had yet to be properly courted by a suitor and attempted to give her an answer.

"I cannot say, exactly. It was not so much a matter of what we did or what we said; the important thing was that we were together. I think that at that point we were beyond words and deeds. We wanted to focus on feeling."

"Feeling?"

"Yes, Lizzy. It is difficult to explain. All we needed was to be together, to see each other. I wanted to be by his side and feel his presence. I lived for the moments when I could be in his company. Even on those days when his sister insisted on intruding on our visits, just knowing that he was nearby was enough. I was content." Elizabeth stared at her sister for a moment and then burst into laughter.

"Dear Jane, that does not make any sense!"

"I know, but it is true, Lizzy. Mr. Bingley and I had reached an understanding; there was no need for dramatic protestations of love. We simply needed to be together. We needed time. Some day you will--." Jane caught herself and blushed self-consciously. "Oh, Lizzy, I am sorry."

"No, Jane, it is all right. I know you did not mean to cause me pain. And you are right. Perhaps one day I shall understand what you mean." Jane gave her a small, wistful smile but she did not attempt to gainsay her sister as she took up needle and thread once more.

"Lizzy, you do realize that as Mr. Bingley's particular friend, you are very likely to see him again." It wasn't necessary to say more. Elizabeth knew exactly whom she meant. She sighed heavily and laid aside her own needlework.

"I am aware of it, Jane, and I shall have to deal with it when the time comes. I am hoping that by the time you and Mr. Bingley are married all this will be forgotten and...Mr. Darcy...and I will be able to meet as...disinterested acquaintances." Elizabeth did not dare look at her sister. Jane arched an eyebrow that betrayed her opinion. She seriously doubted that any stretch of time would undo the emotions she had witnessed at the theatre that night in London. She had seen the passion in Mr. Darcy's ardent gaze. It was not the fleeting sort of admiration with which Jane was all too familiar. Mr. Darcy truly loved Elizabeth, of that Jane was certain, and she very seriously doubted that his feelings would soon be altered in spite of his disappointment.

Of course he would very likely deny his continued obsession with Elizabeth Bennet, Jane supposed. His pride and self-esteem would demand it. Jane idly wondered what lies Mr. Bingley had told himself once his friends convinced him that she didn't love him. For her effort, she pricked her finger yet again, earning a hearty laugh from her sister.

"I am very glad to see you in good humor, even if it must be at my expense," Jane said as she attended to her finger. Elizabeth rose to go to the window, drawn by the sound of a carriage.

"You shall be in good humor very soon, Jane. Your Mr. Bingley has come." She turned to Jane and the sisters shared a smile. Jane set aside her sewing kit and took a deep breath to compose herself. Elizabeth observed her serene smile with satisfaction. Her moment of quiet contemplation on Jane's happiness was brief. Mrs. Bennet, alerted to the imminent arrival of her future son-in-law, burst into the room calling for Jane to prepare herself, for Elizabeth and her sisters to assemble to greet Mr. Bingley and for the servants to bring refreshments. Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a wary look, but smiled on their mother tolerantly as she wondered aloud whether Mr. Bingley's "elegant sisters" would also be visiting. Mrs. Bennet barely had time to collapse into a chair, her heart aflutter with ill-concealed excitement, before Mr. Bingley entered the room.

"Good morning, ma'am," he said with a smart bow to the lady of the house. "Ladies."

"You are very welcome, Mr. Bingley. Very welcome, indeed! It has been far too long that you have been out of our company. Please, have a seat," Mrs. Bennet cried effusively. "Lydia! Go and tell your father that Mr. Bingley is here. Perhaps Mr. Bingley would like to have a word with him," she said with a sly look at Jane. Elizabeth covered her mouth to hide her smile as Mrs. Bennet practically impelled Mr. Bingley across the room toward her eldest. "Lizzy, you come and sit by me. The light is better for your needlework." Elizabeth sighed and rose to her feet. Mr. Bingley scarcely had time to acknowledge Elizabeth's curtsey before Mrs. Bennet tugged her arm and led her away from the settee. Jane blushed as Mr. Bingley took the vacated seat beside her.

"Hello, Miss Bennet."

"It is very good to see you again, Mr. Bingley," Jane replied with a shy gaze at her beloved. Across the room, Lydia and Kitty giggled. Mr. Bingley tore his eyes away from Jane and saw three pairs of eyes watching the couple with eager anticipation. Only Elizabeth and Mary kept their eyes averted; Elizabeth was sewing and Mary had her face buried in a book.

"Well, well, Mr. Bingley," said the voluble Mrs. Bennet. "You have been away from our country for so very long we thought we might never see you again. Pray tell, sir, what has kept you away?" Jane turned crimson and Elizabeth opened her mouth in protest of her mother's bluntness.

"Stupidity," Mr. Bingley replied simply. Absolute silence ensued; even Mary was diverted by the remark. "I was an absolute fool to stay away for so long. I shall not repeat the mistake," he said with a smile for Jane.

"I admire a man who knows his limitations," Mr. Bennet said as he entered the room. "We are well met, sir," he added. "Am I too late to offer a civil greeting on behalf of the family?" Elizabeth ducked her head to hide her smile as Mr. Bingley rose to take Mr. Bennet's offered hand. "Probably so; my dear wife moves surprisingly fast for a woman of her years. Well, when you have sated your curiosity about the latest fashions in Meryton and the litany of who has done what to whom over the past half year in your absence, come into my library for a glass of port and a bit of male companionship." With that, Mr. Bennet withdrew, leaving Elizabeth in a struggle to maintain a straight face. Mrs. Bennet wore a look of confusion, as did her youngest. But Jane was oblivious to it all. Her heart was full; Mr. Bingley was at her side and he was about to be given her father's formal consent to make Jane the happiest woman in the world. Her eyes welled up with tears, which Elizabeth noticed with alarm. She prayed that Mrs. Bennet didn't notice and create a fuss. Mr. Bingley, however, feeling the strain of his own heart, suggested that he and Jane take a walk in the garden. Elizabeth leapt to her feet in an effort to rush block her mother's view of Jane and rush the couple out of the room.

"He did not invite you, Lizzy. Do sit down," Mrs. Bennet said as Elizabeth escorted Jane to the door.

"No, do join us, Lizzy," Jane said in a small voice. "I am sure Mr. Bingley would not mind." She pulled her sister out of the room before Mrs. Bennet could speak. Elizabeth was hesitant, but Mr. Bingley smiled. The trio stepped into the hall and Mr. Bingley closed the door behind them.

"That is an excellent idea. Would you be so kind as to escort your sister into the garden? I will join you both presently," he said with a nod toward the library. Elizabeth nodded and reached for Jane's hand. The two sisters escaped into the garden, not stopping until they had gone a good distance from the house.

"Dear Jane, are you all right? You looked as though you were about to cry just now!" an anxious Elizabeth said. Jane shook her head.

"I am fine, Lizzy. I am only too happy to contain my joy! For so many months I believed this day would never come and now it has! I cannot help but weep for joy." She embraced her sister and Elizabeth found that she, too, was shedding tears. "Father has already promised to give his consent. He thinks Mr. Bingley very worthy of me."

"Oh, he is, he is, Jane. There is no man more worthy of your love!" Elizabeth said fiercely. "And no two people are more deserving of such happiness." The pair linked arms and walked over to a bench under a large shade tree.

"I should like to see you equally happy one day, Lizzy," Jane said soberly. Elizabeth's face fell, but she quickly rallied, unwilling to let her own broken heart ruin her sister's joy.

"Perhaps I shall. Perhaps another young man of five thousand pounds a year will come into the neighborhood, spy me from across a crowded assembly and fall hopelessly in love with me," she said archly. "And perhaps he will have Mr. Bingley's charm and amiability. He may even have--." Elizabeth could no longer keep up the pretense. She felt tears begin to sting her eyes anew. She would not be able to cajole Jane into thinking that those new tears were for her engagement. Elizabeth bent as if to remove an imaginary speck of something from her shoe. "Dear me, I should really consider buying a new pair," she muttered in an effort to change the subject. Jane watched Elizabeth carefully and could sense her sister's heart aching for the man she lost and could not admit she loved. Jane was not blind to Mr. Darcy's attentions to Elizabeth. Nor was she blind to her sister's distraction with the man she claimed to despise. Jane silently vowed to do something about the situation. Perhaps she would speak about it with Mr. Bingley after the engagement was announced. Then he might persuade Mr. Bingley to invite Mr. Darcy back to Netherfield; perhaps--. Jane's line of thinking faltered. Her younger sister's stubbornness was legendary. But perhaps with Mr. Bingley's help, perhaps... Elizabeth abruptly rose to her feet and Jane came out of her reverie. She followed Elizabeth's line of vision and saw that Mr. Bingley was approaching. Jane grabbed her sister's arm for support. Mr. Bingley was smiling broadly as he closed the distance.

"What would you say to a wedding next month?" Jane had no voice with which to reply to her fiancé's inquiry. She squeezed Elizabeth's arm.

"I think she says yes," Elizabeth beamed.

Chapter 11

Posted on Friday, 12 April 2002

Do come to Hertfordshire soon, Darcy! Mr. Bingley repeated the thought for the third time as he watched his future sister-in-law listlessly pushing a piece of fish around her plate. Although he knew in his heart that Elizabeth was truly happy for the newly engaged couple, Mr. Bingley could not help noticing that she seemed uncharacteristically quiet and dull since his return to the country. She had never struck him as quiet or dull in the past. He thought of Elizabeth Bennet as spirited and lively, and she could not be less spirited and lively than she was at that moment. Mr. Bingley could not help but wonder what had happened to change her demeanor so. He would have given anything to see her smile again. Mr. Darcy would be a help. Miss Elizabeth was never dull when in his company. Mr. Darcy would provide a good distraction for whatever ailed the girl, and perhaps...perhaps he could be more than a cure for what ailed her; far more, if Mr. Bingley had his way. Yes, Darcy! Get thee to Hertfordshire. There is a maiden here in need of you, and you need her more than you can say as well.

"I have been considering his invitation," Mr. Darcy said as his eyes surveyed the herb garden below the window of his study. "What do you think, Fitzwilliam?"

"What I think does not matter, Darcy," the Colonel said, joining him at the window. "Do you want to go to Hertfordshire? Are you ready to meet Miss Bennet again? We had spoken about it as a distant possibility, but this is far sooner than you might have hoped for. Are you ready to face her?" Colonel Fitzwilliam searched Mr. Darcy's eyes, hoping that he would agree to go. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he would be able to get on with his life. Mr. Darcy turned away from the view, still leaning on the frame.

"There is something I have not told you, Fitz," he said in a low voice. He closed his eyes and sighed as the Colonel waited. "I have written to Miss Bennet." The Colonel looked at his cousin a moment, confused.

"You mean you have written to her again?"

"Yes. A few days ago; in fact, I sent her an express." Even as Colonel Fitzwilliam tried to form a question, Mr. Darcy continued. "I had something I had to return to her, you see," he said with a hint of a smile on his lips. "A debt of honor, you might say." Mr. Darcy straightened up and headed for the door. "It is a long story, Fitzwilliam. Let us get cleaned up and I will explain it over dinner."

"Why did you wait so long?" the Colonel asked as the servants departed with the last of the dinner dishes. "You might have returned it to her at the theatre." The swirling dark red wine at the bottom of his glass momentarily mesmerized Mr. Darcy.

"I did not know that I would see her there," he said, then he smiled. "I confess I did have a fantasy about returning it to her after she accepted my proposal." Mr. Darcy blushed at his boyish romanticism, and Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled.

"So you carried that vial with you the whole time you were in Kent?" he asked. Mr. Darcy nodded, and put down the glass.

"Whenever I held it, or looked upon it, or opened it and breathed its scent...her scent..." Mr. Darcy caught himself and flushed again.

"So what did you say in the letter?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked as he dug into his trifle.

"Surely you did not attempt to renew your advances to the lady."

"No, no, of course not. I wrote at first simply to tell Miss Bennet that I had found the vial and was returning it to her."

"And then?"

"And then...I realized that I had an opportunity, perhaps my last opportunity to tell her how I felt about her." Mr. Darcy stabbed at his trifle with his spoon. "If...when I see her again, I will not be able to speak what is and will always be in my heart. I wanted her to know that although I went about things badly, I truly..." he ran a hand over the lower half of his face, feeling his emotions begin to well up in his throat. The sentence remained unfinished. Colonel Fitzwilliam rose, patted Mr. Darcy on the shoulder, and left him to his sorrow. A few minutes later, Mr. Darcy joined the Colonel in the library and accepted a glass of brandy. The Colonel poked at the fire in the grate as Mr. Darcy went to look out the window.

"I am going to Hertfordshire," he declared. The Colonel paused at his task for a second and smiled to himself. Good show, Darcy. Good show.

"So, Eliza, my brother's...future wife tells me that you spent some time in Kent this spring," Caroline said as her brother absently toyed with a theory at the far end of Longbourn's dining table.

"Yes," Elizabeth said quietly. "I went to visit our cousins Mr. and Mrs. Collins in Hunsford." Elizabeth was in no humor to be fodder for Caroline's thinly veiled insults, so she said no more.

"Mr. Darcy was also in Kent these past several weeks. I do not suppose you saw anything of each other?" Caroline smiled, confident that Elizabeth would reply in the negative.

"Actually, we saw a good deal of each other. As you are no doubt aware, Mr. Darcy's aunt is my cousin's patron, and so we were frequently thrown into each other's company," Elizabeth replied, but she had merely spoken the truth and could take no satisfaction in the shocked expression on her inquisitor's face.

"Really? I am surprised that Mr. Darcy said nothing of you then, when we saw him in London last week," Caroline smiled, concluding that the interaction between the pair must have been trivial.

"I am not surprised at all," Elizabeth replied softly. Beside her, Jane frowned and took hold of her sister's hand under the table.

"Oh, he mentioned Miss Elizabeth in his correspondence," Mr. Bingley offered, earning a look from the lady under discussion. "In his first letter he said she was in remarkably good looks." Mr. Bingley had exaggerated a bit, but if he was to get his friend a wife, he ought not waste any opportunity to plead his suit.

"Mr. Darcy said that of Eliza Bennet?" All eyes turned to Caroline, whose shrill tone had disrupted all talk at the table. Only Elizabeth could not meet her eyes, although her reaction had been much the same.

"In another letter he mentioned he mentioned your being a frequent guest at his aunt's estate," Mr. Bingley said significantly. Elizabeth found herself blushing, and Mr. Bingley saw that as sufficient encouragement. "He said he also encountered you frequently on the grounds of his aunt's park during his morning exercise."

"Yes, yes that is true. We seemed incapable of venturing out onto those expansive grounds without encountering one another," Elizabeth said with some asperity. Mr. Bingley was amused by the outburst and by Elizabeth's subsequent blush. It was her first display of emotion that evening, and though she seemed less than pleased at the recollection she was nonetheless animated and for that Mr. Bingley was grateful. Unfortunately, Jane was equally aware of her sister's state and chose that moment to turn the conversation in another direction. Mr. Bingley noticed that Elizabeth smiled at her sister gratefully and was confused. He wanted to better understand what the look between them signified.

Later, when the Bennets' guests moved into the parlor and tables had been set up for the evening's entertainments, Mr. Bingley drew Jane over to a small settee. No one would object to the newly engaged couple stealing a moment to themselves, would they?

"Tell me about your sister," Mr. Bingley said without overture. If Jane was surprised by the question she did not say so. Instead, she fumbled for words that would satisfy Mr. Bingley's curiosity and not betray her sister's confidence.

"She has been rather quiet of late."

"Since her return from Kent, I take it." Jane could only nod and pray that her fiancé did not ask questions she could not answer. "Has something happened? Was she ill?"

"I do not think so," Jane said hesitantly.

"Perhaps she has suffered some disappointment. I cannot imagine it was easy for her, seeing her friend married and settled..." Jane raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"You believe her to be jealous of Charlotte Collins?" she asked, too stunned for the moment to recall the true reason for her sister's misery.

"No, no...envious, perhaps. I am certain that after seeing her friend so comfortably situated, and now her beloved sister equally destined to be happy, she would naturally feel some desire to be settled herself."

"That would not...make her unhappy," Jane said uneasily.

"Then why does she...forgive me, my dear. I do not mean to pry, but I am concerned for Miss Elizabeth's well being." Jane smiled at her Mr. Bingley.

"I understand, and I am touched by your concern. In truth, she is unhappy, although I am not at liberty to explain the reason for it." Mr. Bingley nodded.

"Do you think...is there any chance that I am correct in my assumption?" Jane averted her eyes and Mr. Bingley had his answer. "I have invited Mr. Darcy to join us at Netherfield. If all goes well he will be here by month's end." Jane turned her face back to Mr. Bingley. Her mouth opened to speak, but her words were forestalled by Mrs. Bennet's summons.

"Do join us at whist, Mr. Bingley. Your sister tells us that you are an excellent player and we would not see our guest deprived of an opportunity," she tittered. Mr. Bingley reluctantly rose to his feet. He shot his sister a venomous look, forcing the smile of triumph from her face and causing Caroline to blanch as drew near.

"I thank you for your kindness, ma'am," Mr. Bingley said as he took a seat opposite his sister and continued to glare at her. He finally withdrew his eyes as Mr. Philips dealt the cards. Elizabeth took the opportunity to leave the table from which she was serving coffee to her parents' guests and joined her sister on the settee.

"I see Miss Bingley is up to her usual tricks," she said sotto voce.

"What do you mean?" Jane said, still affected by her fiancé's revelation. She looked at Elizabeth and wondered if she should tell her his news.

"Are you all right Jane? You look pale." Jane blushed and tried to compose herself.

"Forgive me...it is something Mr. Bingley said just now." Elizabeth smiled knowingly and Jane grew redder. But she did not attempt to correct her sister's mistaken assumption about the nature of their private interview.

"Jane! You do look the part of the blushing bride," Elizabeth teased. Jane quickly changed the subject and the sisters engaged in light-hearted conversation about Lydia's attire until both the subjects of Jane's engagement and the imminent arrival of Mr. Darcy were forgotten.

"Ah!" Mr. Bingley said with satisfaction. "Darcy is to come after all." Mr. Bingley had been a week at Netherfield before he received a reply to his friend's letter. Mr. Bingley's confidence in his erudition had paid off. "Like a bee to honey, he said. "Darcy could no more stay away from Miss Elizabeth than I could bear to be parted from Jane."

Mr. Bingley frowned then, as he recalled that he had indeed avoided Jane for the better part of four months due to his friend's intervention. But he quickly shrugged that off. Jane was his; all could be forgiven and forgotten. All he could look forward to now was making his dear friend equally happy.

Olivia sat at her desk pondering the wisdom of her actions. She had returned to town after seeing Jane safely in the arms of her family, but her thoughts were with her closest friend. Olivia had done her best to convince Elizabeth to join her, but Elizabeth declined, claiming that the quietude and serenity of Hertfordshire was far more conducive to recovering from a broken heart than London. That Elizabeth feared the possibility of encountering Mr. Darcy in town, she kept to herself. Olivia was reluctantly forced to leave her friend behind, and thought about Elizabeth all the way back to town. When she arrived she encountered Colonel Fitzwilliam on her doorstep. But what had begun as a happy reunion had somehow gone awry. She set aside the letter she was writing to her aunt and recalled the events of that day.

As her carriage drew to a stop, she spied Colonel Fitzwilliam coming down the steps of the Crenshaw townhouse. The Colonel opened the carriage door and handed out the greatly surprised and delighted Olivia.

"Why Colonel Fitzwilliam! This is a most unexpected pleasure. Have you been visiting with my father, or have you been posted here as a sentry?" she asked with her most beguiling smile. The Colonel looked down at his uniform and frowned.

"Madam," he said, in a condescending tone, "Colonels do not stand sentry!" Olivia could not suppress her laughter and the Colonel could not maintain a straight face for very long.

"Forgive me, Colonel! Would you care to remain here and debate military protocol or can I persuade you to return with me into the house?" The Colonel needed no persuasion. He offered Miss Crenshaw his arm and escorted her into the parlor.

Olivia's father received her warmly and she delivered greetings from all of his friends in Hertfordshire. After a very few minutes, Mr. Crenshaw excused himself and retired to his study. Olivia looked after her father suspiciously. It was unlike her father to leave her alone with a visitor and especially, as in this case, with a young man. She looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam and wondered what exactly had occasioned his visit to Olivia's father. She tried not to jump to the obvious conclusion, and asked with just a hint of nervousness in her voice if the Colonel would care for tea.

"Thank you, no. I had tea with your father a short while ago, and besides I cannot stay for very long." The Colonel sat beside Olivia on the settee and her heart began to flutter wildly. The Colonel smiled at her and said, "I understand you were lately in Hertfordshire." Olivia nodded. The Colonel moved a wee bit closer to her. "Excellent. I would like to speak to you about Elizabeth Bennet." Olivia didn't quite understand.

"Lizzy? Wh...what about her?" she said, perplexed by his line of questioning.

"I would like to know if she is as in love with my cousin Darcy as he is with her." Olivia stared at the Colonel for a second, then looked away and bit back her disappointment. She berated herself for expecting a proposal from the Colonel. After all, it had been nearly three months since she had seen him and it was highly unlikely that he would seek permission to ask for her hand while she was out of town. She tried to focus on the Colonel's question and put all other thoughts out of her mind. But she found it difficult to do so. She wished--but wishes would not do.

"I am not sure I can answer that question, Colonel," she said reluctantly.

"Surely, Miss Bennet confided in you..."

"Yes, she did. But I cannot betray a confidence," Olivia declared. The Colonel was a bit taken back by Miss Crenshaw's reluctance. After all, it was she who had inspired the plot he had been hatching since he left his cousin Darcy in Derbyshire.

"Miss Crenshaw," he said rising and walking to the window. He always thought more clearly when Miss Crenshaw was not quite so close. "Three months ago you were determined to bring Miss Bennet and Darcy together. Are you going to tell me now that you have changed your mind?"

"Much has happened since we last spoke, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Olivia said quietly.

"You are aware, then, that Darcy proposed to Miss Bennet and was rejected."

"Yes," Olivia said, unable to meet the Colonel's eyes. Her own sense of disappointment mingled with memories of that afternoon when Elizabeth had cried in her arms. The Colonel looked out of the window at a passing carriage, unaware of the turbulence of Olivia's thoughts.

"I have spent the last week in Darcy's company. He confessed that he made a terrible blunder in proposing to Miss Bennet in the manner that he did--" The Colonel paused briefly, as memories of Mr. Darcy's anguished confession flashed through his mind. "He regrets it terribly and has no hope of ever being able to undo the damage he has caused Miss Bennet." The Colonel turned to face Olivia, but she kept her face averted from him. "I came here today, on his behalf, to try and find out if there is any chance that this sad state of affairs can somehow be put right and that there can be a happy ending to all this." Olivia glanced at the Colonel then, and quickly turned away. She could not trust herself to look into his eyes. She rose and wandered about the room, trying to focus on her dear Lizzy. She wanted to act as Elizabeth would wish her to under the circumstances. But she could not completely swallow her bitterness, and replied a bit harshly.

"Did Mr. Darcy send you, then? For I recall that you refused once before to intervene where that man was concerned." Colonel Fitzwilliam ran a hand through his hair, and was forced to confess that he had changed his mind.

"When last we spoke on this matter, Miss Crenshaw, I was not convinced--as you were--that there was anything serious between my cousin and Miss Bennet." The Colonel began to pace in front of the window. "I knew that he admired her, as any man might admire an attractive and charming woman. It was not until we left London that I became convinced that Darcy was truly in love. I had an opportunity to see them together in Kent. I now agree with you that Darcy loves Elizabeth Bennet and that she has feelings for him, although she seemed unwilling to admit them at the time. I need to know that she--." The Colonel stopped in his tracks, for he noticed that tears were running down Olivia's cheeks. Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately went to her side.

"Miss Crenshaw, what is wrong?" He gently took hold of her arms and looked into her eyes, silently pleading, but Olivia did not speak. The Colonel led her back to the settee and sat her down. Olivia sighed heavily and finally began to speak, but her message reflected a combination of anguish over Elizabeth's plight and her own frustration and anger at Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"What Mr. Darcy did to Lizzy was unconscionable! How can he claim to love her and do such things as he did to her sister? And now he would wish to make things right! The arrogance of men, believing that they can do one thing one day and have a change of heart the next. Three months ago I begged for your assistance and you refused to give it--on principle, you said. You come to me today and ask me to betray a friend's confidence because you now deem them worthy of aid. Now that you see things clearly you suddenly have no scruples about interfering in the lives of your dearest relations, and yet three months ago, I was silly and manipulative to consider trying to make two deserving people happy. But now that you have had a change of heart..." The Colonel squinted at Miss Crenshaw, trying to untangle her message, which came out in a rush, punctuated by sobs. She looked up at him and he smiled. She glowered.

"Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel said, "I am guilty on all counts--at least I think I am," he said with a frown, "Save one. I have had no change of heart where you are concerned." Olivia looked into his eyes then, and held her breath. "But I am afraid we will have to discuss that at another time. I am overdue back at my office and the general will have my head if I do not return to our encampment immediately."

But he made no move to leave. The Colonel drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and as he had done once before, he gently and carefully wiped away Olivia's tears. He put away the handkerchief, kissed Olivia on the mouth ever so gently, and disappeared before her heart dared to beat again. Olivia did not move for a brief eternity.

Olivia put her fingers to her lips as she recalled that brief kiss. The Colonel was once again far from London, having been sent on an inspection tour. But as always he was in her heart and thoughts, even as she tried to think of ways to help her friend. After the Colonel had left her that day she had written to Elizabeth to renew her invitation. Only time would tell if she would come to town.

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Do come along, child. I cannot wait to get to the shops. Mrs. Tarrant informs me that a new shipment of lace has arrived and I do intend to get a hold of some very fine lace for Jane's gown." Elizabeth sighed and said a silent prayer for patience with her all too excitable mother. She stepped out of the house and joined her sisters, who, save for Lydia, seemed to be calmly awaiting her. As the six women walked purposefully toward Meryton, Jane drew close to her sister.

"Do you suppose mother would allow you to go with me to London to choose my wedding clothes?" Elizabeth shrugged.

"I do not see why she should not. But why do you want my company? Lydia is so much better at such things," Elizabeth said flippantly. Jane nudged her arm in response to the tease. "When do you plan to go?"

"I do not know, Lizzy," Jane said, quickly sobering and wondering if she should plan the trip to coincide with Mr. Darcy's arrival in Hertfordshire or wait and see what happened once he arrived. "I have yet to receive Aunt Gardiner's reply to my last letter."

"Lizzy! Jane! Do walk on! We will be the last to arrive at the shops and will get nothing for Jane's party dress!" The two sisters sighed and obeyed their mother.

"We are to have a guest in a few weeks," Mr. Bingley informed Netherfield's housekeeper, a stern woman whose manners and personality bore no resemblance to those of Mrs. Stewart. "Please see to it that the best guest accommodations are prepared."

"Can you tell me exactly when we are to expect your visitor, sir?"

"No," Mr. Bingley replied gravely. "But I want all to be in readiness whenever he does appear."

"Very good, sir," the housekeeper replied and departed with a small curtsey. Mr. Bingley sighed. He missed Mrs. Stewart. She would never have asked such a silly question. Indeed, he would not have had to ask that a room be made ready. His townhouse was always ready to receive guests. More than that, Mr. Bingley found himself missing her quiet competence. She was not haughty as some servants were. Mr. Bingley had always found such behavior peculiar; they seemed to put on airs that rivaled their masters. Mrs. Stewart went about her business with dignity and humility, with wisdom and foresight that he'd come to rely upon. Mr. Bingley could have used a bit of her wisdom at that moment. He'd been having second thoughts about his scheme to bring Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy together. After all, it was the meddling of one person in another's affairs that had overturned his plan for happiness, if only temporarily. Perhaps it would be best if he left things as they were.

Oh, but for a chance to bring two dear friends he thought so very well of together...if there was one chance in a thousand that they could find the same happiness he now enjoyed. A chance at such happiness, however slight, was worth that risk. He would not interfere. He would merely bring the two of them together. Yes; Mr. Bingley would simply provide them with an opportunity. He would leave it to Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth to do the rest. That much he could do for his friends. Mr. Bingley sighed at the prospect and hoped.

"Guests, Charles?" Mr. Bingley looked up and saw his sister descending the stairs. "Mrs. Worth tells me we are to have guests?" Mr. Bingley sighed once more. There was no point in withholding the truth.

"I have invited Darcy to join us here." Caroline lit up at the news.

"Why did you not tell me? Must I learn everything from the servants?"

"I have not told you as yet because as yet I have had no reply from him. I expect that he will reply and that he will come, but I thought it best to wait until I had his answer."

"Of course he will come! Why should he not come?" Caroline demanded. "It is true that Hertfordshire is a dull place with but little to recommend it, but he would come to see his friends, would he not?" Mr. Bingley shrugged and Caroline's face fell as she considered the possibility that the invitation would be refused. "He must come."

It was a beautiful clear late June morning when Mr. Darcy arrived at Netherfield. He had spent another week at Pemberley putting his affairs in order, and he had also spent a week at the home of Colonel Fitzwilliam's parents, the Earl of Matlock and his lady, where he visited with his sister Georgiana, who was spending her summer there. When he stepped from his carriage all the memories of the past autumn came flooding back and with them the knowledge that Elizabeth was near, very near to him once more.

Mr. Bingley and his sister Caroline greeted Mr. Darcy and saw to it that he was properly settled. When Mr. Darcy came downstairs, a servant informed him that Mr. Bingley was in the parlor with his fiancée and her sister. Mr. Darcy panicked momentarily. He had not expected his reunion to come so soon, but no sooner did he enter the room than he realized that the sister in question was not his Elizabeth, but Catherine. She greeted Mr. Darcy with an air of formality that fairly proclaimed her dislike of him. He was slightly taken aback by her aloofness, but he was more concerned about how Jane Bennet might receive him. Mr. Darcy had given considerable thought to how she might react upon meeting him again. Undoubtedly, Elizabeth had told Jane all about Mr. Darcy's interference and he had decided that if Jane Bennet had any misgivings or objections to his presence in the wedding party, he would withdraw. He had cost Jane and his friend a great deal of pain and would trouble them no more. To his surprise, however, Jane greeted Mr. Darcy like an old friend, leaving Mr. Darcy to conclude that Elizabeth had not spoken of his interference as he had assumed. At first he could not believe it, but he gradually accepted that Elizabeth had decided not to pain her sister or Mr. Bingley with what was now to be relegated to the past.

"You are most welcome back to Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy. It is a very long time since your last visit," Jane said with a sincere and unaffected smile that embarrassed Mr. Darcy. Even if Elizabeth had spared Jane the details of his involvement in Jane and Mr. Bingley's travails, he could not forget the injuries he had done to her and Bingley, and he could not imagine that Jane was unaware of Mr. Darcy's own involvement with Elizabeth. But he made an effort to respond in kind and soon felt more at ease.

Miss Bingley exploited her earliest opportunity to ingratiate herself with Mr. Darcy. She had been observing him closely since his arrival, and sensing his discomfort, ascribed it to his distaste for Hertfordshire and in particular, Jane Bennet.

"I do wish," she said conspiratorially, "That you would say something to Charles. He is determined to throw himself away on this nobody of a girl. There is still time--." Mr. Darcy withdrew his arm, which she had wrapped herself around, and turned to confront Miss Bingley.

"And why should I wish to do that, Miss Bingley? My feelings about Bingley's marriage are the same as they were last month in London."

"You do not mean to say you really approve of this match? I thought you only said that to placate him! Oh, do reconsider, Mr. Darcy. I am quite desperate for your assistance." She gripped his arm as she entreated him, and Mr. Darcy became quite disgusted. Barely restraining his temper, he wrested his arm away once more.

"Miss Bingley! I have made my feelings on this matter quite clear and I will brook no further interference in Bingley and Miss Bennet's affairs!" His tone was menacing. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?" Miss Bingley blanched and stepped back. Mr. Darcy stormed out of the house. He strolled the grounds for some time, until he encountered Mr. Bingley, Jane, and Catherine at the edge of the wood. The ladies were picking flowers and all three were engaged in pleasant conversation. When Catherine saw Mr. Darcy, she changed her direction to give him wide berth. Mr. Bingley sauntered after her, leaving Jane to greet Mr. Darcy. He offered her his arm and they followed the others.

"You must forgive Kitty, Mr. Darcy. She is somewhat in awe of you," she said with an apologetic smile. Mr. Darcy looked a bit surprised, but Jane did not comment on it.

"And you, Miss Bennet, I cannot imagine that you can be very glad to see me either," he said somewhat sheepishly. It was Jane's turn to be surprised.

"Why Mr. Darcy, why do you say so? I cannot imagine why I should not be glad to see the closest friend of my future husband."

"I have not always been a good friend to your future husband," Mr. Darcy replied, his head lowered in shame. "In fact, both you and he have every right to consider me an enemy."

"Mr. Darcy!" Jane cried, her eyes wide. "What terrible crime are you guilty of that would make us no longer friends?" Mr. Darcy looked at Jane and realized that he had been right in concluding that neither Elizabeth nor Bingley had betrayed him. They started walking again and when they reached the main garden Mr. Darcy invited her to sit on a teak bench a short distance from the rest of the party. Mr. Bingley looked over at them and saw that they were engaged in a serious discussion, and understanding his friend's need to deal with the past, did not intrude.

"Miss Bennet, I have a confession to make. What I am about to tell you may rightfully make you hate me, and if after you have heard what I am about to say you do not want me to be further connected with your wedding--or for that matter with Bingley--I will understand." Jane immediately began to protest, but he silenced her with a hand. "Please hear me out, Miss Bennet."

"I know about you and Lizzy," she said simply. Mr. Darcy's head jerked up. He would have to tell Jane about that as well.

"What I have to speak about goes beyond my dealings with your sister, Miss Bennet." He paused to gather his thoughts, and then clearing his throat, he began his tale.

"I had not been two weeks in Hertfordshire before I became aware of Bingley's feelings for you. In fact," he said with a chuckle, "I would be very surprised if I was the only one who noticed it. I have known Bingley since we were boys, and I have seen him lose his head over a pretty girl more times than I can count." Mr. Darcy smiled at the memories of his Cambridge days, and Jane smiled as well. When Mr. Darcy saw this, his face abruptly fell. He knew that what came next would be painful for both of them. "But I knew that what he felt for you was different. It was serious, and I grew very concerned that he might be making a big mistake."

"Mistake, Mr. Darcy?" Jane's question carried no anger or malice, simply an inquiry.

"I thought that--I was afraid that although you seemed to enjoy his company, that you did not share his feelings. I was afraid that you wanted him for his money," he said in a rush, no longer able to look Jane in the eye. "You would not have been the first girl to encourage a man she did not love in order to secure a home and a position in society." He drew a heavy sigh. Beside him, Jane sat quietly, patiently listening. Mr. Darcy almost wished for her to lash out at him. Her composure made him uncomfortable; he remembered Lizzy saying to him in Hunsford that Jane was not a person to let her feelings show. He tried not to think of Jane's sister as he continued. "I mistook your quiet nature, Miss Bennet. I observed you closely and saw no particular signs of regard for my friend, and I took it upon myself to inform him of my suspicions that you did not love him and were seeking to marry him only for his money." Jane turned to look at him now, but her face bespoke understanding rather than rage.

"Then it was your doing. It was your advice that led him to suddenly quit Netherfield and return to town."

"It was my unasked for interference that unnecessarily separated you from Bingley all that time. If it had not been for me you and Bingley might have been married months ago. He had planned a short trip to London, expecting to return in but a few days' time. Miss Bingley, her brother, sister, and I followed after him, and convinced him to remain in town and to forget you. I convinced him that you were no more than an adventuress." Jane bowed her head, and Mr. Darcy, who had risen and begun pacing as his agitation grew, sat beside Jane, took her hand in his, and said softly, "I believe that Bingley went to London to purchase this very ring. He would have returned to Hertfordshire and asked for your hand before the year was out." He let her hand go and rubbed his hands over his face. "I have offered my apologies to Bingley, and good man that he is, he has forgiven me. I hope that someday I may be worthy to be called your friend again, Miss Bennet."

"You did what you thought was in the best interest of your friend," Jane countered, "and while you erred in your judgment--."

"I had absolutely no right to pass judgment," Mr. Darcy blurted out, causing Jane to shudder and his friends across the lawn to turn in his direction. It was Jane's turn to be agitated, but unlike Mr. Darcy, no evidence of her inner turmoil was visible to the naked eye. Lizzy would have known Jane's heart at that moment, but Lizzy was not there. After a moment of pained silence, Jane turned to Mr. Darcy and asked about her sister.

"Did Lizzy know of this?" The simple question pierced Mr. Darcy's soul. He could only nod in reply. "And that is why she refused your proposal?" Mr. Darcy heaved another sigh and told her everything that had transpired between himself and Elizabeth in Hunsford.

"Even as I thought you unworthy of my friend's regard, I could not help falling in love with your sister. I fought it every way I could, but to no avail. I accused Bingley of contemplating a marriage to someone of little fortune, no connections, and--forgive me for saying so--an unsuitable family." Jane bowed her head, but made no protest. Mr. Darcy rose and began to pace again, aware that Miss Bingley and her brother were watching his every move. "I was arrogant, self-righteous, and conceited, Miss Bennet. I felt that in marrying you, Bingley would be marrying beneath himself. Yet even as I persuaded Bingley to leave off his romance with you, I found myself falling hopelessly in love with Eliz--Miss Elizabeth. I grew more wretched every time I saw her. I could not will myself to forget her. Every time I looked upon Bingley's miserable face in London, I felt like a complete hypocrite.

"Finally, when I encountered your sister again in Kent I could no longer deny what I felt, and I went to Miss Elizabeth and proposed." He stopped pacing and stared at a patch of verdant grass. "I botched it terribly. I fancied myself to be desired by her. I loved her so much--we seemed so alike in heart and mind, I assumed that she felt for me what I felt for her. I had no idea how much she despised me..." Jane began to protest but Mr. Darcy spoke on. "In my blindness, I could not see that I destroyed every chance of succeeding with her when I separated you from Bingley. Nor did I understand that she saw me very differently than I saw her. My proposal was a travesty. I insulted her, your family...I gave her every reason to never want to see or hear from me again. She told me that I was the last man she could ever wish to marry." Mr. Darcy paused, his breathing ragged, he looked pale, spent, and dejected. Jane rose, took hold of his arm and tried to comfort him.

"Mr. Darcy, I am so very sorry for you. I had such hopes that you and Lizzy..." Mr. Darcy looked at Jane, his eyes almost feral. He laughed bitterly.

"No, Miss Bennet. Do not attempt to deprive me of my due. I do not deserve your sympathy. I do not deserve your saintly kindness. And I most certainly do not deserve your sister." He gently pulled away from her, and went indoors. Mr. Bingley went to Jane and she laid her head on his arm, tears welling up in her eyes.

Miss Bingley swept past the footman who held the door open for her and ran after Mr. Darcy calling out his name. He stopped, but did not turn to face her.

"Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy! A word, sir, if you please." Miss Bingley's appeal was met with silence, as Mr. Darcy focused on the stairs that lay before him.

"Mr. Darcy, I could not help but see your confrontation with Miss Bennet just now." Miss Bingley paused, and Mr. Darcy turned his head slightly to listen. When she remained silent he said, "Yes?"

"I do not know what you said to her, but she seems very upset. I want to apologize for speaking to you as I did before..." Mr. Darcy was confused by the juxtaposition of these two statements. He turned and faced her fully.

"Madam, I do not grasp your meaning." Miss Bingley looked at Mr. Darcy's face and was astonished by what she saw there. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face was drawn and he was pale. For a moment she could not speak, and Mr. Darcy made as if to turn away.

"Mr. Darcy, I was wrong to ask you to lie to my brother. How much more clever, not to mention effective," she said slyly, "To speak to the prospective 'bride' directly?" Mr. Darcy's face turned beet red and his lethargic demeanor was replaced by rage. But instead of lashing out at the frightened woman, he abruptly turned and sought the solitude of his room, where he stayed until it was time for dinner.

For a while, Jane and Mr. Bingley simply stood there in the garden, Jane too emotional to speak and Mr. Bingley unwilling to further upset his fiancée. Jane grew restless, however, and so they began to wander aimlessly about the grounds. Mr. Bingley was extremely curious as to what had transpired between his future bride and his dearest friend and could only surmise that it had something to do with Mr. Darcy's revelation in London. But he refused to pry--he simply waited to be of use, ready to support Jane in any way he could. After a few minutes, Mr. Bingley noticed that Jane was crying. He offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully, but she continued to let her tears flow freely.

"I wish there was a way to turn back the clock and undo all of this," Jane said finally, with a sigh. Mr. Bingley did not quite know what to make of her comment, but he was prepared to listen patiently. "Mr. Darcy," she continued, wiping at her eyes and cheeks, "Lizzy, you, me...I wish there was someway to put things right."

"Things are quite 'right' between us, I should say," Mr. Bingley offered. Jane smiled at him indulgently.

"Yes, they are my love," she said, stroking his cheek. "But your friendship with Mr. Darcy must have suffered for this...and Lizzy..." Mr. Bingley frowned.

"What of Miss Elizabeth," he began to ask, but Jane suddenly froze. She glanced at Mr. Bingley and her eyes grew wide.

"Forgive me, Charles. I must leave at once. I know I was supposed to dine with you this evening, but believe me, I have an urgent matter to attend to and I must go at once." Jane turned and would have run back toward the house, but Mr. Bingley caught her arm. Jane turned back.

"Please, Charles. You must assure Mr. Darcy that I bear him no malice for what has occurred and that I am not leaving Netherfield to avoid his company. He will probably not believe you, but you must convince him because it is true." She looked Mr. Bingley in the eye and exacted a silent promise. He wanted to speak, but instead kissed her and let her go. Jane ran off, stopping only to turn back once more and assure Mr. Bingley that she loved him and would return on the morrow.

Chapter 12

Posted on Monday, 22 April 2002

Olivia was absorbed in practicing a difficult piece on the pianoforte when the parlor door opened to admit Colonel Fitzwilliam. She blushed furiously, for she had resorted to the instrument to distract herself from the almost constant temptation to fantasize about her reunion with the man who now stood before her, resplendent in his red coat, with the improbable addition of a large basket over his arm. Olivia rose and went to greet him, suddenly unsure of herself. The Colonel, however, putting the basket aside, grasped Olivia's hands and drew her very close. Then he flushed, slightly and stepped back with an embarrassed laugh in which Olivia joined him. Mr. Crenshaw came into the room and greeted the Colonel warmly.

"How are you, my boy? None the worst for your travels, I gather," he said. He made small talk for a few minutes, as Mr. Crenshaw was wont to do, then he pointedly suggested that the Colonel take Olivia for a walk. Colonel Fitzwilliam obeyed immediately.

"How was your trip, Colonel?" Olivia asked, as she and the Colonel strolled arm in arm.

"It was mercifully tedious and uneventful," the Colonel replied with a smile. Olivia squinted at him quizzically. "Had it been interesting and eventful, I might still be in Brighton, rather than here in the presence of far pleasanter company," the Colonel explained with that smile that made Olivia's knees grow weak. "What have you been up to in my absence?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, since Olivia seemed unequal to keeping up her end of the conversation. But she suddenly came out of her trance and spoke up excitedly.

"I have convinced Lizzy to come to town. She is to arrive tomorrow, and if you would now do your part--"

"You did what?" the Colonel cried, stopping in his tracks to turn on the bewildered lady. Around them, people stared as they walked by.

"I convinced Lizzy to come to town," Olivia replied reasonably. "You asked for my help in reuniting her with your cousin. I have invited Lizzy to stay with me until the wedding. I reckoned that you could persuade Mr. Darcy to come to London--." Before she was able to complete her sentence, the Colonel had rolled his eyes and walked off. He abruptly came back and erupted.

"You fool! You silly, scheming little... Why on earth did you do that? Do you have any idea what you just did?" Olivia's eyes were wide and beginning to brim with tears and Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately regretted his outburst. "I am sorry, Miss Crenshaw," he said, reaching for his handkerchief. "I seem to have a penchant for making you cry..." Olivia snatched the handkerchief from him and turned away. The Colonel sighed.

"Miss Crenshaw...Olivia...I am sorry. It is just that you have ruined--." Olivia spun around.

"Ruined what?" she demanded. She looked into the Colonel's eyes and he felt awful. He took her arm and led her to a bench where they could speak more privately. "Well? What have I done that is so terrible? You did ask for my help," Olivia reminded the Colonel. He shook his head.

"So I did. But I did not ask you to invite Miss Bennet to town!"

"So I was to help you, but I was not permitted to show any initiative," Olivia replied. "Forgive me, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I am unused to following orders," she said sarcastically. The Colonel smiled.

"Well, you had better get used to it, young lady." Olivia's eyebrows shot up.

"What is that supposed to mean? And what is it that I am supposed to have ruined?" The Colonel ran a hand through his hair.

"I just had a letter from my cousin Georgiana telling me that Darcy went into Hertfordshire a few days ago to visit Bingley." Olivia's mouth formed a small "O." "I knew that he had an invitation from Bingley before I left Derbyshire and that he planned on accepting it, but I did not know when he would be going. When I last spoke with Darcy, he said something about getting some major piece of estate business taken care of before leaving Pemberley." Olivia looked at the Colonel with a smirk.

"Perhaps," she said, "You are not as good an officer as you think. I may be a civilian-- and a girl civilian at that--but it seems to me that the officer in charge should inform his troops of his strategy if he expects them to carry out his commands." The Colonel stared at Olivia for a moment, lost in the beauty of her smile. Then he gathered his wits about him and suggested that they go back to the house and map a new strategy--together.

Mr. Darcy lay prostrate on the huge four poster bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt wretched, physically spent by the afternoon's exertions. He considered summoning his valet to pack his things, but he thought better of it. He would give his host the satisfaction of throwing him out of Netherfield, if Mr. Bingley chose to do so. Mr. Darcy slowly realized that he actually felt better about himself than he had in some weeks. He had atoned for his sins and while his heart was still mourning the loss of his beloved Elizabeth, he was able to find some comfort in knowing that she now knew that he truly loved her. Mr. Darcy knew that Elizabeth would give his letter a fair hearing, even if she chose to never speak to him again. He turned over on his stomach and tried to nap, but just as his eyes closed there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened to admit Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy sat up and braced himself for an ugly scene.

"Are you all right, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley asked mildly, coming to sit beside him on the bed. The question disarmed Mr. Darcy, who was unprepared for such an inquiry.

"I feel better knowing that the truth is out, for all the good it will do any of us. I am sorry, Bingley. I know my confession must have hurt Miss Bennet deeply but I could not allow her to go on believing--." Mr. Darcy stopped and bowed his head. Mr. Bingley put a fraternal hand on his shoulder. Mr. Darcy stiffened momentarily, then relaxed.

"Jane would not say what you spoke of, but I believe she was more concerned for you than herself," Mr. Bingley said. He hesitated a moment before adding, "What did you tell her?"

"I told her the plain, unvarnished truth about how I had separated you two." Mr. Darcy threw his head back and glanced at the ceiling before squeezing his eyes shut. "I am sorry, Bingley, heartily sorry for all the trouble I have--"

"We have been through this before. What is done is done. I am only concerned now about the future." Mr. Darcy's bitter, ironic smile made Mr. Bingley cock his head to one side in question.

"You, at least, have a future to look forward to," Mr. Darcy said softly. He stood and strode to the window. "As for myself..."

"Does this concern another Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked, rising to join him at the window.

"Yes, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said with an edge of exasperation. "Elizabeth Bennet learned of my interference between you and her sister, and I have paid the ultimate price for it. I have lost her forever."

"How did she learn of it?"

"Who knows--sometimes I think that woman knows more about me than I do," Mr. Darcy answered abstractedly, more to himself than his friend. Mr. Bingley interposed himself between Mr. Darcy and the window, grabbing the man by the shoulders.

"Are you in love with her?" Mr. Darcy knew he didn't need to reply. "Well, what are you going to do about it, man? Go to Longbourn; talk to her! Beg her forgiveness!" He shook Mr. Darcy's shoulders for emphasis. Mr. Darcy was slightly amused by this sudden display of passion, but he pulled away from Mr. Bingley and walked away.

"I cannot!" He shouted. "Not yet," he said in a much softer tone.

...My dear friend, you simply must come to town. My dear Colonel Fitzwilliam (I now feel that I may rightly refer to him as "my Colonel," but you must come to London if you would know why!) has gone off to Brighton or some other dreadful place for a few weeks and I am desolate...

Elizabeth smiled and refolded Olivia's letter, placing it on the bureau before returning to her chore. She and the maid had laid out a number of dresses and she was trying to decide which to take with her to London. It was now late June, and Elizabeth would have to make alterations to a few of the gowns she was considering if they were to be worn in the hot weather. She sat on the bed and picked up the first gown and using a tiny pair of scissors, began to clip the threads that attached the long sleeves to its bodice. Elizabeth was some time at her task, and as she finished the second sleeve, she heard the sounds of someone running up the stairs.

"Lizzy?" cried Jane as she burst into the room. Elizabeth, alarmed, jumped up, scattering the contents of her sewing box on the floor. "Oh, I am so sorry," Jane said, stooping to pick up the fallen items.

"Jane! Whatever is the matter?" Elizabeth said, looking at her sister quizzically. Jane seemed abnormally agitated, even nervous. Elizabeth stooped to help Jane pick up the pins and spools of thread then took the box from her and led her to the bed. "What is it, Jane? Has Mr. Bingley--"

"Oh, no! It is not Mr. Bingley," she said with a blush. Jane had ridden home from Netherfield intent on preventing Elizabeth from leaving Hertfordshire, but now that she had Elizabeth before her, she knew not how to proceed. It was quite possible that Elizabeth would have no wish to speak with Mr. Darcy, or that she knew of his coming and had purposefully planned to leave. Elizabeth, for her part, grew more worried with each second of silence. Finally she blurted out her frustration and bade Jane to speak.

"What is it, then? Jane! Tell me something! You have me half scared out of my wits," Elizabeth cried.

"It is Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth was surprised by Jane's mention of his name, but was still in the dark. Jane took Elizabeth's hands and looked into her eyes meaningfully. "He is here, Lizzy. At Netherfield." Elizabeth paled. She withdrew her hands from her sister's and sat numbly.

"You must leave off your plans of going to London tomorrow, Lizzy," Jane asserted in her quiet yet insistent tone. Elizabeth glanced at her, then rose slowly and went to the window that faced west, toward Netherfield.

"Why should I, Jane?" Elizabeth said with a voice that betrayed her emotions. "He is here to see his friend, Mr. Bingley. Why should that concern me?" Jane rose and went to her sister. She once again took hold of Elizabeth's hands.

"He told me everything, Lizzy." Elizabeth began to pull away, but Jane held fast. "He told me of how he had felt contempt for our family, how he separated Charles and me, how much he loved you...and how you refused his proposal because of what he had done. Oh, Lizzy, why did you not tell me before?"

"To what end?" she replied, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "It could do nothing but add to your pain." Jane squeezed Elizabeth's hands tightly as confronted the frustration she had felt since she had spoken with Mr. Darcy.

"Do you think it would have given me no comfort to know that Charles loved me, even if I never saw him again? Do you think I can stand by now and watch you suffer a broken heart because of me?" Elizabeth tried to pull away, but Jane doggedly persisted. "It broke my own heart to see Mr. Darcy so bereaved and inconsolable. Lizzy you must speak with him. The two of you have to resolve your feelings for each other, one way or another, for both your sakes." Elizabeth turned away and collapsed on the bed in tears.

Chapter 12 (cont.)

"I cannot just send her an express and tell her not to come! I am sending my own carriage for her. It will be at Longbourn tomorrow morning," said Olivia as she paced up and down the rug of her father's parlor.

"I was not going to suggest that," the Colonel replied with a smirk.

"Well, what were you going to suggest, sir? You are the professional strategist here. Think of something!" Colonel Fitzwilliam disarmed her with a smile, then threw himself on the settee and tried to accommodate the lady's demand. Olivia continued to pace the Aubusson rug. Turning back toward the Colonel, she caught a glimpse of the basket he had deposited on a chair earlier. She kept her eyes on the basket as she sidled over to the Colonel, who was deep in thought. She tapped him on the shoulder.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam?" The Colonel looked up. "What is in that basket?"

"Huh?" he replied. He had completely forgotten the gift he had planned to present to Olivia an hour earlier.

"Colonel? It is moving!" Olivia backed away a step or two, while the Colonel gaped at her. Then he caught her meaning and laughed. He got up, retrieved the basket, and drew back the cloth that concealed its contents. Immediately, a small head popped up and two big brown eyes fixed on Olivia's beaming face.

"I acquired him on my way south. I--." The Colonel paused and cleared his throat. "I thought that you might like a companion." Olivia stared at him blankly for a moment. Then she picked up the puppy and clutched it to her heart. The puppy nuzzled against her and she smiled.

"Whatever possessed you, Colonel?" she asked, charmed by his gift.

"Well, I have always wanted a Labrador, and besides, it reminded me of..." he replied sheepishly. Olivia held up the puppy and peered into its face. For her trouble, she received several licks upon her nose.

"Colonel, what is this?" Olivia held up the end of a well-chewed ribbon attached to the puppy's collar. Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes bulged as he swore softly and grabbed the puppy from Olivia and stared at it.

"Oh, dear lord," he cried, holding the puppy aloft and examining its nether end. Olivia smiled as she calmly reached into the basket and pulled out a small round box, slightly damp and chewed but intact.

"Is this what you are looking for?" The frantic Colonel looked at the box, sighed his relief, then absent-mindedly shoved the puppy under one arm as he reached for it and tried to make it more presentable. Olivia clucked at the Colonel and took the puppy from him. She sat on the settee and scratched the puppy behind his ears. She looked up at the Colonel expectantly. He stood frozen for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and laughed. He had completely forgotten about his gift to Olivia when he first saw her, and the speech he had so carefully rehearsed had now fled his mind as well. He sat next to Olivia and blushed as he tried to piece together his proposal.

"Miss Crenshaw, I do not have to tell you how much I have come to admire you over the past few months...." Sensing that the moment had come, Olivia was not about to be denied every detail.

"Do you not?" she replied archly. The Colonel was thrown by her comment.

"Do I not what?"

"Do you not have to tell me how much you have come to admire me over the past few months?"

"Miss Crenshaw..."

"Actually, I would be very interested to know," she said with a flutter of eyelashes that kept pace with the fluttering in his stomach.

"Well, I--."

"Every agonizing detail," she grinned, as the puppy slipped from her grasp and dove into the Colonel's lap. "I think he is rather fond of you."

"Well, we have had some good times together these past few weeks," the Colonel replied as the puppy curled up in his lap and promptly fell asleep.

"Perhaps you should keep him then," Olivia said as the Colonel absently stroked the puppy's soft fur. "I would not want to be the cause of a division between you two."

"I thought we might share him, Miss Crenshaw." Olivia blushed becomingly and had to force herself to speak.

"So, you have had him two weeks? Have you given him a name as yet?"

"I thought that you might like to name him, but my staff has taken to calling him the 'Little Colonel.'" Olivia found the name very funny, and the Colonel folded his arms and waited for her laughter to subside. Olivia's demeanor suddenly grew serious, but there was amusement in her tone.

"Now, Colonel, if we are going to share this dog, might I make so bold as to beg permission to call you by your Christian name? I cannot go around referring to both of you as 'Colonel.'"

"You might just rename the dog, Miss Crenshaw," the Colonel retorted with equal humor as Olivia raised her brows, but he quickly added, "But I would be honored to have you call me Richard."

"Well, Richard," Olivia said, sliding closer to him on the settee and drawing her arm through his, "You were saying something about coming to admire me?" Colonel Fitzwilliam ducked his head sheepishly, then took her hand and looked into her eyes.

"I found the Little Colonel my first night on the road," Olivia started to interrupt, but the earnest look in the Colonel's eye stilled her tongue. "He had been abandoned, or lost, and he was cold, wet, and frightened. I took him in. He sort of reminded me of you...Not that you look anything like a sorry, wet, frightened puppy," he amended. Olivia laughed at the Colonel's discomposure. "But you do both have lovely brown eyes and an irresistible appeal," Colonel Fitzwilliam continued with a wink, and Olivia felt her heart melt. "As we traveled together, the Colonel and I, I decided that he might make a good companion for you while I was away from...I know that a Labrador retriever is hardly a fashionable lady's dog, but you are not a lady of fashion--I mean--. Miss Crenshaw, you have an amazing capacity to distort every reasonable thought in my head," he said, as he deposited the Little Colonel in Olivia's lap and retreated to the relative safety of the window. He took a deep breath and began anew.

"I actually had this silly, romantic notion of offering you two companions today," the Colonel continued, his eyes on the rug before him. "The Little Colonel and...." There was a knock on the door which both Olivia and the Colonel ignored as it opened to admit an unannounced visitor.

"...And the big Colonel?" Olivia quipped. But the Colonel did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the lady who stood in the doorway. Olivia followed his gaze.

"Lizzy!" she exclaimed, rising abruptly and depositing the sleeping dog on the floor. "You were not expected until tomorrow!"

"Then when?" Mr. Darcy turned and regarded his friend.

"I do not know. I--. You have no idea of what I have done, Charles," Mr. Darcy said somberly. He sat on the edge of the bed and, moved by his tone and the expression of defeat in his eye, Mr. Bingley sat beside him and waited patiently. "I have told your Miss Bennet everything. It is only fair that I tell you as well." Mr. Darcy repeated the details he had recently shared with Jane in the garden. He didn't flinch from describing his disastrous proposal and Elizabeth's response. Mr. Bingley winced at the description of that awful scene.

"Darcy--Fitzwilliam, I had no idea things had gone so far between you," Mr. Bingley said compassionately.

"Between us?" Mr. Darcy laughed at the irony of the word. "There has never been anything 'between' us, Charles. It was an overconfident assumption that there was something between us that led me to act as I did. I should have never gone to her. Fitzwilliam tried to warn me, but I was too stubborn to hear him. All I wanted...all I ever wanted--." Mr. Darcy shook his head, a haunted look in his eye. Mr. Bingley placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and the pair sat in silence for some time.

"You must try, Darcy." Mr. Bingley waited, but his friend did not answer him. "You have to. It all makes sense now. Miss Elizabeth--." He stopped himself, deciding a moment too late to keep his thoughts to himself.

"What of her? You have seen her, Bingley. You have spoken to her," Mr. Darcy said desperately. "How is she?" Mr. Bingley took a deep breath.

"She has not been herself since her return from Kent, Darcy. Jane--Miss Bennet--would not tell me why." He laughed, and Mr. Darcy frowned at the noise blatantly incongruous with the mood of the room. "I was foolish enough to believe that she had returned from Kent envious of her friend's good fortune."

"Good fortune? Being married to that sycophantic buffoon?" Mr. Darcy cried. Mr. Bingley shook his head.

"I meant it more generally. To see a good friend married and comfortably situated...what young girl does not wish for that herself? And then to see her sister advantageously engaged..." Mr. Darcy shook his head.

"When she herself had just rejected another...when she herself might have been more advantageously engaged had I been a better man." Mr. Darcy sighed. "I have lost her, Bingley."

"You cannot be certain of that! You have not even ventured to speak with her, to make amends--. Darcy, you must not give up! Your future happiness depends upon it! Your common sense ought to demand that you try again!"

"My pride demands that I--."

"It is that pride of yours that got you into this mess!" Mr. Bingley exploded. "It was your pride that made you try to decide for me whom I should or should not marry. It was your pride that made you ignore good sense when your cousin Fitzwilliam tried to spare you. And it was that damnable pride of yours that has cost you the one thing you want most in the world. Darcy, you cannot afford to let your pride rule you now." Mr. Darcy looked at his friend. Mr. Bingley wore a very determined expression. Something had changed him while he was in town. Or perhaps, Mr. Darcy thought bitterly, it was being left on his own that allowed his true self to emerge. Ignoring the stab of guilt at his chest, Mr. Darcy gazed at Mr. Bingley with new admiration and liked very much what he saw. "I know what of I speak. I had to make a similar sacrifice to win Jane." Mr. Darcy could not help smiling at the remark.

"You, Bingley; what did you sacrifice?" Mr. Bingley smiled again.

"My humility. Do not look at me like that, Darcy; it is true. I should have done it years ago, but instead I was easygoing and good-natured where I should have been strong and independent. You could not have cowered me into giving up Jane had I stood up to you and my sisters." Mr. Bingley saw his friend flinch. "Yes, Darcy, I am aware of their duplicity now, their empty assurances that they were acting on behalf of my future well being when all they really wanted was for me to marry someone they deemed more suitable. It was all there for me to see once you revealed your meddling. I cannot believe what a fool I have been!" Mr. Bingley said, rising from the bed to pace the floor.

"No, Bingley; I am the fool. I was utterly wrong to try and decide your life for you."

"I allowed you to do so; which of us is the worse of the pair?" Mr. Darcy smiled and for the first time was able to take some comfort from his friend.

"How did you overcome your...humility?"

"It was not easy I assure you. It took some careful planning, determination, and--."

"And the love of a good woman," Mr. Darcy finished for him. "My father always insisted that with the love of a good woman a man might accomplish anything." He patted Mr. Bingley's shoulder. "You had an advantage I do not, my friend," he said sadly.

"You have hope," Mr. Bingley said. "That can move mountains." He rested his hand on the one on his shoulder. "You must never give up hope, Darcy. I did not. I think, in the end, it saved me." With that, Mr. Bingley left the room and Mr. Darcy to his thoughts.

Mr. Darcy went down to dinner that night reluctantly. He was not eager to be in company, but having brought his discomfort upon himself, he knew that he must ride it out. As Mr. Darcy entered the dining room he immediately noted the absence of the Miss Bennets, and the import of that fact only added to his guilt. Mr. Bingley, who had gone to Mr. Darcy's room with the express purpose of delivering Jane's message, had completely forgotten about it when he saw his friend's dejected face. As they talked, Mr. Bingley began to understand why Jane had rushed away, but he had never mentioned it aloud to Mr. Darcy.

"It seems that we a few short this evening, Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley said with a smug smile. "Our dear Jane found something terribly important to attend to at Longbourn," she added with a significant look. Mr. Darcy glared at her stonily, then took his seat next to his friend.

"Oh, I must apologize, Darcy. I completely forgot to mention it to you earlier." Mr. Bingley said, casting his own glare at his sibling. "Jane wanted me to tell you that she could not stay to dinner; there was an important matter at Longbourn that demanded her immediate attention," he added, with his own significant look. "She...." Mr. Bingley thought better of revealing Jane's entire message before his sister Caroline, so he quickly amended his statement. "She looks forward to seeing you tomorrow."

Mr. Darcy bowed his head in acknowledgment, but rather than taking his friend's message literally, he concluded that Jane planned on bringing Elizabeth to Netherfield. He sighed heavily and began to disturb the neat pile of chives floating on his consommé.

So, it is to be tomorrow, is it? I had hoped for a few more days. But Elizabeth will already know that I am in the neighborhood. I suppose there is no reason to delay the inevitable....

Miss Bingley observed Mr. Darcy carefully. She could not be as at ease with him as she had thought herself previously. Mr. Darcy had been acting strangely since his return to London the past month. Now he appeared to be out of sorts with everyone, save her brother, Charles. Miss Bingley concluded that something must have happened in Kent to cause his sour mood. Whatever it was, she couldn't wait to see Miss Eliza Bennet become the object of Mr. Darcy's wrath. Yes, that would serve my purposes very well, she thought.

"I wonder if Miss Eliza Bennet will grace us with an appearance soon," she baited her brooding dinner companion. Her comment had the desired effect; she ignored her brother's apoplectic sputter and basked in Mr. Darcy's glower. Yes, she thought, as she delicately cut into her veal chop, I daresay Miss Bennet will no longer be an impediment when he gets through with her.

Elizabeth stood frozen in the doorway. It was obvious to her that she had interrupted a tete a tete between Olivia and Colonel Fitzwilliam, although he was standing some eight feet away from her, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Elizabeth blushed and would have withdrawn, but Olivia spoke again.

"Do come in Lizzy... You remember the Colonel, of course?" Olivia said awkwardly. Elizabeth curtseyed and the Colonel managed a curt bow. He wondered whether Elizabeth's apparent flight from Hertfordshire was the result of, or precluded, an interview with his cousin. Olivia bade her friend to sit down and joined Elizabeth on the settee.

"How do you come to be here early, Lizzy? I have not even sent the carriage off," Olivia asked, concern evident in her voice. Elizabeth opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead she glanced at the Colonel, who immediately took the hint and started to take his leave. Olivia met the Colonel at the door. She reached out and touched his arm. Elizabeth walked to the place recently vacated by the Colonel and looked out the window to give the couple a moment's privacy.

"I am sorry, Richard," Olivia said in a low voice, her eyes communicating all the love she felt for him at that moment. She started to say more, but Colonel Fitzwilliam put a finger to her lips. He kissed the tip of her nose and pressed the little box into her hand. The door closed behind him, and as if to echo Olivia's sadness, the Little Colonel sat by the door and whimpered.

"And who might this be?" asked Elizabeth, who had turned around as soon as she heard the door close. She scooped up the puppy, which immediately applied his tongue to her face.

"That," smiled Olivia, "Is a young protégé of the Colonel's." Olivia walked over to the settee and threw herself into it. Elizabeth put the dog down and joined her.

"I am sorry for bursting in unannounced like that," Elizabeth said. "Your father assured me that--."

"Oh, it is all right, Lizzy," Olivia said in a tone that made it obvious to her that it was not.

"Did I interrupt something important?"

"Only the most important moment of my life thus far," Olivia replied airily. She placed the box on the table and sighed. Elizabeth, curious, picked it up.

"What is this?"

"I do not know, and I will not know until the Colonel returns. It was his gift to me, along with the Little Colonel there, and him--."

"The Little Colonel? That is a strange name for a dog," laughed Elizabeth. Olivia, however, was in poor humor. She was both concerned for her friend and frustrated that the Colonel had left again without proposing. She tried not to take it out on Elizabeth, but there was an edge to her voice as she repeated her original question.

"What are you doing here a day early? And just how did you get here?" Elizabeth bowed her head, and smiled mischievously.

"I ran away from home, Livy."

"You did what?" Olivia stared at her friend incredulously.

"I ran away. I packed a few things in a bag, casually walked into Meryton and caught the post. I had a little money saved up, and father had given me a sum to tide me over while I am in town. I just left a day earlier than I planned." Olivia, who had been slumped rather ungraciously on the settee, sat up.

"Whatever for?" Tomorrow you could have ridden in comfort and safety and in my own carriage at no cost!" She looked her friend in the eye. "What has happened, Lizzy?"

"Nothing has happened," she replied, slightly averting her gaze. "I just meant to see to it that nothing did."

"You are trying to avoid Mr. Darcy!" Olivia accused.

"How did you know that--of course, your Colonel told you of his visit to Mr. Bingley." Elizabeth sighed. "Yes. I am afraid I am not ready to face him just yet."

"Why not? You have had several weeks to prepare for this...."

"I was preparing myself to face him at Jane's wedding, not before."

"What difference does it make?" Olivia grew impatient; she could now empathize with the Colonel's frustration at the muddled state of things. Elizabeth raised her hands to her face, and Olivia grew ashamed of herself. She stood and picked up the box.

"I do apologize, Lizzy. It is not every day that a man is on the verge of proposing marriage to me." Elizabeth rose and hugged her friend.

"...And someone bursts in and ruins it? I am so sorry, Livy." The two ladies hugged for a moment, their eyes moist with tears. They pulled away and began laughing at themselves.

"Well, we are a fine pair," Elizabeth said, wiping the corner of an eye. "One desperately awaiting a proposal of marriage and one desperately running from one." Olivia looked deeply into Elizabeth's eyes.

"Do you think Mr. Darcy will propose again?"

"I...I hope he will. I am just not certain that I will be able to accept him. That is why I came away from Hertfordshire. I cannot face him until I know."

Elizabeth's parents were not left frantic and wondering. Elizabeth had left a note on her father's desk in his library, and Mr. Bennet knew his Lizzy well enough not to panic. He sent an express to Mr. Crenshaw begging for a confirmation of her safe arrival. Mr. Bennet was worried about his favorite daughter. She had not been herself since the spring, when she returned home from her visit to the Collins'. He had attributed her mood to the unpleasant experience of living for six weeks under the same roof with Mr. Collins, and the revelations of a girl who had seen her close friend married and comfortably settled with no similar prospects for herself. But it was unlike Elizabeth to behave irresponsibly, especially since she had already planned to leave for London not twenty four hours later than the time she had run off. He had asked Mr. Crenshaw to have Elizabeth write to him, but Mr. Bennet felt certain that she would write to him as soon as she reached London, even without Mr. Crenshaw's prodding.

Mrs. Bennet saw Elizabeth's disappearance as nothing short of a scandal. Her sisters Catherine and Lydia were rather inclined to see it as an adventure. Lydia began to spin plans of her own flight from the tedium of Hertfordshire until her parents, in a rare display of similar thought, effectively communicated to her that she would be disowned outright at the first sign of any such attempt.

"It is bad enough that I shall have one daughter ruined; how shall I be able to show my face if I lose two daughters?" Her eldest daughter Jane and Mary, her third born, reminded their mother that Elizabeth was not on the path to ruin, but on the path to the home of a well-bred and fairly wealthy gentleman. "Well then, perhaps he will give a ball in Lizzy's honor, and he will introduce her to a wealthy young man of four or five thousand a year. I would not be displeased if she were to come home engaged, like you, Jane dear."

Jane knew that her sister's best prospect for marriage was currently residing three miles away in Hertfordshire. She retired to her chambers early and lay awake half the night worrying about both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. As early as possible the next morning, she made her way to Netherfield. She reached the great house as everyone was enjoying breakfast. Jane was shown into the morning room. The men rose to welcome her and Mr. Bingley invited Jane to partake of the meal. She declined, saying that she would not be staying and asked to speak with Mr. Bingley privately. He escorted her to the library to talk.

"What is it, my love?" he asked, drawing her to a chair. "You look pale. Is something wrong?"

"It is Lizzy. I am afraid--," she paused, realizing that she had begun in the middle. "When I left you yesterday afternoon, I went home to see Lizzy. You see, she had been invited to visit a friend in London. I wanted to persuade her to stay, or at least to postpone her departure." Jane rose and fidgeted with a small East Indian artifact as she spoke. "After speaking with both Mr. Darcy and Lizzy yesterday I knew that they still loved each other. They just do not realize it--or at least Lizzy does not, Charles. I thought that, perhaps, if I could bring the two of them together...." Mr. Bingley nodded.

"I admit I tried to convince Darcy to go to Longbourn, myself. He said he was not ready."

"Lizzy said pretty much the same thing. Oh, Charles! I am afraid that I have ruined everything. Instead of bringing them together I have scared Lizzy away. She was meant to leave this morning. Olivia Crenshaw had arranged for her carriage to come for her, but instead Lizzy fled to London on the afternoon post chaise." Mr. Bingley was slightly shocked, but he was more concerned for his future sister's safety than her degrading mode of travel.

"And are you certain that she has gone to the Crenshaws?" Jane shot him a look, but realized that it was a reasonable question.

"Yes. Lizzy left a note. Father sent an express to Mr. Crenshaw and has already received word of her safe arrival." Mr. Bingley sighed in relief, and Jane sought the comfort of his embrace.

"Well, at least she is safe. Now the only thing is: what do we tell Darcy?" Mr. Bingley murmured into Jane's hair. Jane looked into his eyes.

"You will have to do that alone, I am afraid. Miss Crenshaw's coach will be arriving at Longbourn any minute now, and I mean to go to Lizzy in London."

Chapter 13

Posted on Sunday, 28 April 2002

Miss Bingley sat in the morning room and buttered her toast with an artful smile on her face. She looked at Mr. Darcy, who seemed to be lost in thought.

"It looks as though there is not going to be a wedding after all," Miss Bingley said, satisfied by the certain knowledge that should Jane Bennet break her engagement to her brother, Mr. Darcy would have nothing to do with any other Bennet sister.

"Why do you say so?" Mr. Darcy asked, his reverie broken.

"Jane did not look at all happy when she came in just now." Miss Bingley smiled cunningly. "Whatever you said to her yesterday must have upset her a great deal."

"What I said to her yesterday was that I was responsible for four of the most miserable months of her life. I confessed to having separated her and Bingley, and I humbly begged her forgiveness for it," Mr. Darcy stated evenly, although his voice tightened as he spoke. "Consider yourself fortunate, Miss Bingley, that I did not include your name in my confession to Miss Bennet or your brother."

"Well, perhaps she thought better of marrying Charles, anyway," Miss Bingley countered, ignoring his implied threat. "After all, if his best friend disapproves--." Mr. Darcy rose to his feet and threw down his napkin.

"Miss Bingley, I do approve of your brother and Miss Bennet's marriage. Nothing would please me more than to stand at Charles' side as they take their vows, if only to see the look on your face afterward." This was said with a deadly calm that made Miss Bingley's blood run cold. Mr. Darcy strode from the room, where he could not prevent overhearing Jane and Mr. Bingley as they came his way from the opposite wing.

"But Jane, do you have to go to London today? I am sure that Miss Elizabeth is quite safe...." Jane froze in her tracks as her eyes met Mr. Darcy's. Mr. Bingley bumped into Jane and he, too, froze. Mr. Darcy looked at each of them in turn.

"Mr. Darcy," Jane said with a curtsey. "I am afraid that I must leave for London immediately," she glanced at Mr. Bingley, "To see to my sister. I am sorry that we will not be able to spend time together today, but I hope," Jane paused for effect, "I hope to be able to return shortly." Jane curtseyed once more and headed for the door, a tiny smile on her face. Mr. Bingley made as if to follow her, but Mr. Darcy grabbed his arm.

"What has happened to Elizabeth?" Mr. Bingley, taking Jane's cue, played his role to the hilt.

"I do not know. Neither of us will know until Jane arrives in London. Jane has promised to send word...." But Mr. Darcy had already run after Jane, who was being helped onto the back of her mare.

"Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!" cried the breathless man. "You must tell me. What has happened to your sister?" Jane tried to look troubled.

"I cannot say exactly. She was supposed to leave for London this morning for a planned visit to Olivia Crenshaw, but she disappeared from Longbourn yesterday afternoon."

Mr. Darcy went pale. He turned and ran into the house. Jane worried that she had gone too far, then decided it was for the best. Mr. Darcy abruptly bolted out of the house again. He shouted something to a stable hand and then approached Jane once more, who sat on her mount, confused by Mr. Darcy's erratic behavior. Mr. Bingley had followed Mr. Darcy out of the house and was equally perplexed.

"Miss Bennet, if you wish to go to London, may I offer you the use of my carriage?" Mr. Darcy asked excitedly.

"You are very kind, sir, but I am going to London in the carriage that Miss Crenshaw sent to transport Lizzy." Mr. Darcy nodded absentmindedly. Then he bowed and rushed back into the house, very nearly colliding with Miss Bingley.

"I think I will go and visit my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner this morning, Elizabeth said over breakfast. "That way if your Colonel Fitzwilliam returns," she smiled at Olivia, who blushed and made a face that her father did not see.

"Oh? Does the Colonel plan on coming by today? I suppose it is to be expected...I should get used to it," Mr. Crenshaw said with a wink to his daughter. Edward, whose two week leave had just begun, could not contain his curiosity.

"Has the Colonel proposed yet?" Mr. Crenshaw gave him a look of warning. "And how come the Little Colonel is here?"

"The Little Colonel--we do have to find another name for that dog--is here because he was the Colonel's gift to me," Olivia said, smiling down at the dog which was at that moment at her foot consuming a sausage.

"Really? I would have thought that he could afford a ring," Edward retorted, and both Olivia and Elizabeth made faces at him.

Mr. Crenshaw reminded Elizabeth to write to her father before she left, and she retired to his study for writing things. She hoped that Olivia's coachman would return soon with her luggage. She had slept in Olivia's nightgown, and was struggling to maintain her dignity in one of Olivia's morning dresses. Elizabeth hoped to retrieve a dress she thought she had left at the Gardiner's. That way, she would be able to breathe normally until her trunk arrived. Later that morning she was received by her surprised aunt, who sternly scolded her for her foolish behavior. Elizabeth accepted the scolding she knew she deserved, and in turn she imparted the entire tale of her relationship with Mr. Darcy.

"And now he is come to Hertfordshire, and I do not know how to face him again. I said such ugly, hateful things to him. He must despise me so," Elizabeth said through her tears.

"That is not what Jane told you. Why do you doubt her?" Mrs. Gardiner said in a soothing tone.

"I do not--I simply cannot believe it." She raised her head from where it lay in her aunt's lap. "It seems too good to be true. And if it is true...I do not know that I am equal to his love."

"Oh tush, child! I never heard such nonsense." Mrs. Gardiner said, handing Elizabeth a second handkerchief.

"I did not know I loved Mr. Darcy until after I thought I had lost him forever. It may all be some sick fantasy of mine, pining for what is no longer within my reach. I am afraid that what I feel for Mr. Darcy is not what it ought to be. His feelings for me are so intense...I--." Mrs. Gardiner drew her niece close and hugged her tightly.

"Nonsense," she repeated.

"Flown off to London, has she?" Caroline said suspiciously. "Whatever for? And why is Mr. Darcy leaving so suddenly?"

"Jane is going to London to attend to a family matter. Darcy, I believe, has some urgent business of his own." With that, Mr. Bingley strode off to find the housekeeper to make certain that his friend's carriage would be provided with refreshments for the trip. Caroline Bingley remained where she stood, going over the scene she'd witnessed. Finally, she settled upon an explanation that made sense to her. Apparently Jane had come to Netherfield to break her engagement with Charles. She was fleeing to London to avoid him. Upon learning of it, Mr. Darcy had decided to follow her to town and persuade her to reconsider. That must be it, Caroline concluded. Mr. Darcy's sense of honor would coerce him to act on his friend's behalf. He would do what he could to heal the breach regardless of undesirable it was. Mr. Darcy would do that in the name of friendship. And Caroline could not like him for it.

"The carriage should be outside now," Mr. Bingley said to the servant carrying a large hamper as he returned to the front hall. The servant went out to the carriage and Mr. Bingley followed, watching the scene from the top of the front steps. Caroline followed and looked down at the scene grimly. Mr. Darcy emerged from the house behind them. He didn't pause to chat; he merely patted Mr. Bingley on his shoulder as he passed by.

"Miss Bingley," he said with a tip of his hat. "Bingley, I hope to return shortly." With that he descended the steps and boarded the carriage.

"It will do you no good," Caroline sneered loudly enough for Mr. Darcy to hear. He opened the door of the carriage and looked up at her. "The Bennets are notoriously stubborn. She will not change her mind." Caroline spun on her heel and went into the house, leaving Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy gaping at each other. Mr. Bingley shook his head and shrugged in confusion. Mr. Darcy did not speak, but rapped the roof of the compartment with his walking stick. The carriage moved forward and Mr. Bingley stood and watched till it was out of sight.

The Colonel was admitted to Olivia's presence by Edward, who seemed reluctant to leave the couple alone. Olivia glared at her brother significantly, but it was the Colonel's commanding demeanor that ultimately made him withdraw. Olivia put aside her sewing and the Colonel joined her on the settee. The Little Colonel immediately joined the couple, curling up in the Colonel's lap.

"What has become of Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked.

"She has gone to visit her aunt," Olivia replied with a blush. "She was most embarrassed by her untimely entrance yesterday and was determined not to repeat it."

"Good," Colonel Fitzwilliam declared, relaxing a bit. "We can discuss her problems in a moment. But first, you and I have some unfinished business." He rose and went to the table where the small box sat. He retrieved the box and opened it, revealing a double strand of pearls. The Colonel held it up before Olivia and said simply, "May I?" She tilted her head forward and the Colonel clasped the pearls around her neck.

"I know it is traditional to offer a ring, but my grandmother made me promise to give these to the lady I marry. You will marry me?" Olivia made a face.

"Is this your idea of a proposal?" she asked tentatively. It was not what she expected, but if this was as good as it was going to be, she was not about to pass up her opportunity.

"Far from it," the Colonel laughed. "But on two occasions I came here ready to propose and failed utterly. I thought I should secure a commitment from you right off, before anything else befell us," the Colonel grinned. "Then I would be more than happy to launch into raptures about the beauty of your hair, the wonderful curve of your throat, the--." Mr. Crenshaw and Edward entered the room at that precise moment. "See?" the Colonel said with a jerk of his head as he picked up the puppy and rose to greet his future father in law.

"Look at my engagement gift, father," Olivia said, as her eyes met the Colonel's. He smiled at her and accepted the congratulations of his future father and brother in law. Olivia went to the mirror above the mantle and peered at the elegant necklace with the diamond-encrusted clasp. She turned around and smiled at the Colonel, the two of them momentarily oblivious to the activity around them. After a second, they rejoined the conversation and began to discuss their future.

Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth found the dress they were seeking in the closet of the guestroom, and Mrs. Gardiner went to the attic and found another dress that could be let out slightly to fit Elizabeth, just in case. They repaired to Mrs. Gardiner's room, where good light and a steady breeze could be found. As they sat at their work, a noise was heard in the hallway. A moment later, Jane was announced. Both women were surprised to see her.

"Have you run away as well? You were not expected here for another week," Mrs. Gardiner said as she kissed Jane. But Jane's eyes were fixed on Elizabeth, and Elizabeth rose and blushed as Jane responded to her aunt's question.

"I thought I would come today, Aunt, since there was an empty carriage at my disposal," she said, not taking her eyes off of her sibling. Mrs. Gardiner went to see about arrangements for Jane, tactfully leaving the two ladies to talk.

"Jane, what are you doing here?" Elizabeth asked anxiously. She feared that Jane and Mr. Bingley had gotten into some sort of quarrel. But Jane sat on the edge of the bed and would not be distracted from her own agenda.

"I might ask the same of you, Lizzy," she said defiantly. Elizabeth was slightly amused by Jane's recently developed assertiveness, but she attempted to disarm her nonetheless.

"I am here visiting my aunt. Olivia was to receive a special visitor this morning and I wanted to allow her some privacy..."

"You know full well what I mean, Lizzy," Jane snapped, eyes aflame.

"I know nothing of the kind. You asked me to stay and see Mr. Darcy and I told you that I would think about it. I decided to make my trip to London as planned."

"As planned? As I recall, you had no plans to go slipping off in the dark of night!"

"Oh, Jane, do not be melodramatic! I left in broad daylight in the early afternoon!"

"Do not be coy, Lizzy!'

"Jane! What has got into you? If you are so concerned about Mr. Darcy, you can rest assured that I will speak to him upon my return to Hertfordshire."

"You can rest assured that Mr. Darcy will be in London before nightfall. He knows that you are in town, Lizzy."

"You did not--you could not! Jane," Elizabeth cried. "What have you done?"

"I have done nothing. I simply told Charles that you had gone to London unexpectedly. Mr. Darcy overheard our conversation. He loves you, Lizzy. If you will not see him in Hertfordshire, he will come to London to see you." Elizabeth sat on the bed. She felt faint and numb. An hour earlier she had felt lighthearted and free; now she was trapped. Mr. Darcy had the resources to track her to the ends of the earth. And he had the tenacity to pursue her: Was this love or just an obsession?

Mr. Darcy had, in fact, arrived in London well before Jane. Since she had refused his offer of a carriage, he had ridden on horseback to save time and, to the surprise of his household staff, he appeared at his townhouse before noon. Now he sat in his chambers pondering the very same question as Elizabeth. Had he gone too far? Perhaps he should have waited for her in Hertfordshire. How would Elizabeth react if she knew he had followed her to London like a desperate man?

Since Jane had intended to come to London in July with her mother to purchase wedding clothes, it was decided that Jane should remain in town and make her purchases early. Mr. Gardiner sent an express to Longbourn with that news and Jane silently prayed that her mother would not choose to drop everything and join her in London. There was enough to worry about with Elizabeth--their mother's presence would only complicate things. Jane asked Mr. Gardiner to include a line in his express to make certain that Mr. Bingley was informed of her change in plans. That taken care of, she turned her attention to Elizabeth's problem.

"Aunt Gardiner," Jane said after Elizabeth returned to the Crenshaw's home, "I am afraid this is all my fault. I am afraid that I frightened Lizzy into leaving Hertfordshire by insisting that she go and speak to Mr. Darcy."

"Lizzy has never been bullied into anything in her life, least of all by you, dear," Mrs. Gardiner laughed. "She has always acted according to her own judgment, though in this case I am not at all certain that she knows what she is doing."

"We have to do something, Aunt," Jane said worriedly. "Two people so much in love should be together."

"Even if one of those people very nearly ruined your chance of happiness with Mr. Bingley?"

"I have forgiven Mr. Darcy. I do not believe he acted out of malice. And even if I did, if Lizzy truly loved him...I would like to think that I would not be so cruel as to begrudge her what was denied me." Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece indulgently.

"Lizzy is right about you," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "You are too good."

When Elizabeth reached the Crenshaw's home, she immediately set about unpacking the trunk that had arrived on Olivia's carriage. Olivia popped her head in through the open door. She held out the battered box that she had shown Elizabeth a day earlier.

"Would you like to know what this contains?" she asked coyly. Elizabeth looked up from her task and spying the box, eagerly came forward.

"Yes, please!" she grinned. Olivia made a display of opening the box, withdrawing the velvet pouch and laying the precious pearls in Elizabeth's hands.

"They are beautiful, Livy! I have never held a strand of pearls before."

"They make an unusual engagement gift, do they not?" Olivia said airily, anticipating Elizabeth's reaction. She was not disappointed.

"Engaged! Colonel Fitzwilliam finally proposed?" Olivia showed her a wry smile.

"Well, suffice to say we are engaged." Elizabeth frowned, then pressed Olivia for details.

"Livy, I do not believe one word of what you say!"

"It is true. The Colonel told me that his grandmother left the pearls to him with strict instructions that he was to give them to the lady that he married (otherwise, I suppose, they might have ended up in the hands of some opportunistic showgirl or something). Anyway, the Colonel placed them around my neck and said, 'You will marry me, will you not?' He promised to regale me with the two speeches he wrote earlier and failed to deliver and to devote hours to rhapsodizing on my perfection at another time," Olivia laughed, with a particularly inept imitation of the Colonel's voice.

"And you accepted such a proposal?" Elizabeth managed through her laughter.

"Yes, I did," Olivia said, growing serious. "I am afraid I have fallen hopelessly in love with the man, and there is no way he could have made his proposal that would have prevented me from accepting." Elizabeth got a faraway look in her eye and Olivia, deciding that it was too soon to broach the subject of Mr. Darcy, left Elizabeth to her unpacking.

As Mr. Darcy made his way downstairs, Mr. Harris, the butler, informed him that Colonel Fitzwilliam was in his study. Surprised, to say the least, Mr. Darcy immediately sought out his cousin. He found the Colonel seated at his desk.

"Fitzwilliam! What on earth are you doing here?" The Colonel glanced up briefly and then continued writing.

"I am writing a letter to Mama," he said brightly.

"You came here to write a letter?" Mr. Darcy was still perplexed.

"I came here to see you, cousin," the Colonel replied as he applied his seal to the hot wax on the missive.

"How did you know I was in town? I only arrived a couple of hours ago," Mr. Darcy asked as the Colonel abandoned the desk and slipped into an armchair. Mr. Darcy poured out two glasses of port and joined him.

"I saw Miss Elizabeth Bennet yesterday." Mr. Darcy immediately tensed. "I do not know whether or not you saw her in Hertfordshire, but either way, it was an even bet that you would follow her to town."

"How did she appear? Was she all right?" Mr. Darcy asked anxiously.

"She was fine, a bit tired perhaps from the journey." He observed Mr. Darcy closely. "What did happen in Hertfordshire?"

"Nothing," Mr. Darcy replied, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "I never even saw her. I arrived at Netherfield two days ago and spoke with Jane Bennet--."

"About her sister?" the Colonel interjected.

"No, at least not by design. Miss Bennet greeted me with all the warmth and sincerity of an old friend. I felt so guilty about deceiving her I thought it only fair that she know the truth about my interference in the matter of her and Bingley."

"How did she take the news?"

"She took it better than I had any right to expect. She thought that I was trying to protect my friend." Mr. Darcy paused, uncomfortably, and then pressed on. "She asked about Elizabeth and I told her that Elizabeth knew of my role in separating her and Bingley. She left Netherfield soon after our conversation, and when next I saw her this morning, she informed me that Elizabeth had disappeared from Longbourn."

"Olivia had invited her for a visit. She simply left Hertfordshire a day earlier than planned," the Colonel said, trying to ease his cousin's anxiety.

"Yes, her sister did say that. And yet--." Darcy looked up abruptly. "Since when is Miss Crenshaw 'Olivia' to you, Fitzwilliam. Has something happened?" He could not suppress a smirk as the Colonel blushed slightly.

"Olivia and I are to be married," the Colonel said, feeling himself blush and feeling foolish for blushing. Mr. Darcy's face brightened for the first time in weeks.

"Fitzwilliam! You never told me you were contemplating marriage!"

"Are you not the cousin who has been counseling me to marry Miss Crenshaw for the past four months? I may be slow, cousin, but I know a good idea when I hear one," the Colonel laughed. Mr. Darcy poured out more port and toasted the Colonel.

"This calls for a celebration! I will host a dinner for the two of you. It is official, I take it?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"The banns have not been published and we have not set a date or ordered white soup, or whatever it is that engaged couples do. But I have given her grandmother's pearls." Mr. Darcy emitted a low whistle. He clapped his cousin on the back and went to his desk to prepare a guest list.

"Of course, we shall have to invite all the Crenshaws," Mr. Darcy began.

"And Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked innocently. Mr. Darcy stared blankly. "She is their houseguest, after all, Darcy." Mr. Darcy laid down his pen and turned his gaze to the window.

"Fitzwilliam, I believe I made a mistake in coming to London," he said as he stared out over the riot of lush blooms in the garden below. The intoxicating scent of lavender wafted up to him, instantly bringing back memories.... "I acted impulsively. My following her here can only damage my cause." The Colonel was inclined to agree with his cousin but resolved to hold his tongue. He observed Mr. Darcy closely. His looks had improved a good deal since he had last seen him in Derbyshire. Everything about him spoke of the Darcy of old, but for the pained look in his eye. The Colonel sighed once more. He was out of answers. He and Olivia had briefly spoken of ways to bring the two together but this latest development was beyond his ken.

"Fitzwilliam?" Mr. Darcy asked suddenly, "How did you court Miss Crenshaw? How did you make her love you?" The Colonel could not prevent himself from laughing at the question.

"I am no expert on courtship, cousin. I have yet to make Miss Crenshaw a proper proposal." Mr. Darcy was all confusion.

"I thought that you said--."

"Let us leave that explanation for another time," the Colonel urged, "And address the problem at hand." He stood and paced a bit, scratching at his head, trying to think of how to begin. "I hope the Little Colonel does not have fleas," the Colonel said absently, as he scratched his neck.

"What?" asked Mr. Darcy. The Colonel paused from his scratching and looked up.

"It was nothing important." Colonel Fitzwilliam ruminated for a moment. "I did have the advantage of falling in love with a woman who does not despise me..." he offered sheepishly. Mr. Darcy smirked at his cousin, but had to concede that to be an advantage.

"I suppose it would not hurt to choose as the object of one's affections a woman not predisposed to resent one's very existence,"" Mr. Darcy said sarcastically.

"You know, Darce, having had the opportunity to observe the two of you together in Kent, I must say that the two of you are very much alike."

"You are correct, Fitzwilliam. I am disposed to despise myself as well," Mr. Darcy retorted. "Now, have you anything of use to offer?"

"I am afraid not, cousin. All I can do is advise patience," said the Colonel, half expecting Mr. Darcy to reject the suggestion outright. His cousin, however, slumped in his chair, seemingly lost in thought. "Will you return to Hertfordshire?" Mr. Darcy glanced up.

"I do not think so. Not just yet, anyway." He laughed ruefully. "I am afraid Bingley will not let me pass through the front gate again until I have made my peace with Elizabeth Bennet. No. I will remain here awhile. I have some thinking to do, and I do want to celebrate your engagement. How are your parents taking the news?"

"I will know once Mama responds to my letter. It only happened this morning, Darcy." Mr. Darcy looked surprised. The Colonel picked up his things, preparing to take his leave. He clapped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder as he passed and Mr. Darcy mumbled something in farewell. As the Colonel opened the door of the study, his cousin called him back.

"Fitz?" The Colonel turned. "Who is the 'Little Colonel'?" The Colonel laughed and headed out the door.

"It is part of that long story I will have to tell you some other time," he called over his shoulder as he left.

Mr. Bingley was reading over some estate papers at the massive desk in his office when an express was delivered into his hands the following morning. Jane sent word to him that she had safely arrived in London and had found Elizabeth well. Her letter continued:

Although I cannot say that I am pleased with Lizzy's behavior, I do somewhat understand her reasons for leaving Hertfordshire. She is afraid, my dearest. I believe she is afraid of Mr. Darcy's censure, but perhaps she is even more afraid of her own feelings for him. I did try to assure her that Mr. Darcy still loved her. Aunt Gardiner assured me that she has done the same. But Lizzy is nothing if not self-willed. She will believe nothing and see nothing until she is ready. I can only hope that she will see reason very soon.

"I wholeheartedly agree, my beloved," Mr. Bingley said. "For all our sakes, I hope that they can both be made to see reason." He turned his eyes back to the letter.

It has been decided among us that since I am already in town I will remain to do my shopping for bridal things. We had planned such a trip previously and before I left father assured me that I would be permitted to remain in town to purchase wedding clothes once I had seen to Lizzy. I suppose I will be here a few weeks. Father would wish for Lizzy to return with me, and until I have taken the full measure of her feelings and Mr. Darcy's I cannot in good conscience have any expectations of returning to Hertfordshire too soon. I miss you already, my darling...

"And I miss you, my dear."

At that precise moment, Jane was having lunch with her aunt, Lizzy and Olivia. The threesome had spent the morning shopping. For Jane and Olivia it had been a morning of giggling and excitement. For Lizzy it had been somewhat wistful and pensive. Mrs. Gardiner treated them to luncheon at a fine establishment near a little park, where wedding plans continued to be the main topic of conversation. The fact that Olivia and the Colonel had yet to establish a date for their wedding was no impediment to the flow of conversation. Elizabeth grew quiet once more, and Mrs. Gardiner began to grow worried about her. She suggested to the ladies that they all take a walk in the park, but Jane and Olivia pleaded exhaustion from the morning's exertions. They remained behind in the café with a second cup of tea, therefore, while Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth crossed the street and entered the park.

"You have held up remarkably well, Lizzy, considering what you have been through today," Mrs. Gardiner said as the two ladies made their way down a narrow path to a tiny pond where a pair of ducks was holding court. Elizabeth bent down to throw the remains of her sandwich to the ducks as she replied.

"Aunt Gardiner, I could hardly call bursting into tears and fleeing into the street like a madwoman holding up well," she laughed. Lizzy had been momentarily overcome when the proprietor of the shop asked Lizzy if she, too, was soon to be a bride.

"Oh, I was not referring to that. I was referring to your putting up with those two," her aunt said with a jerk of her head towards the café. "Madame Jalabert and I considered fleeing into the street like madwomen ourselves at one point! I have not heard giggling like that since you and Jane were little girls and I caught the two of you playing in my clothes." Both ladies laughed at the thought as they linked arms and walked on.

A short distance away, a man stood observing the pair. He could not believe that he had been so fortunate as to witness what had appeared, like a beautiful apparition, before his eyes. Mr. Darcy's first instinct was to follow, but he forced himself to take a seat on a nearby bench. He sat for several moments with his eyes closed, savoring the memory of Elizabeth, standing not a dozen feet away, and laughing, completely at ease with her companion. He had not fully trusted his cousin's assessment. Now he had proof that she was all right. His Elizabeth was alive and well. The import of those words hit Mr. Darcy like a stone. She is well and happy because she thinks me fifty miles away. He sighed heavily, then, and rose to return to his home.

Back at the café, Olivia grabbed Jane's hand as soon as the other two in their party were out of the door.

"You must tell me all that happened in Hertfordshire," she demanded eagerly.

"Did Lizzy tell you nothing?" Jane was surprised. She knew that her sister confided in Olivia when she could trust no other, even herself. "Mr. Darcy came into Hertfordshire a few days ago. I saw him just after he arrived at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley's estate. We had a chance to talk...he asked to speak with me about an important matter. Olivia, he told me the most dreadful tale!"

"About you and Mr. Bingley?" Jane's mouth fell open.

"You knew of this?"

"Lizzy told me of it when she came to London in the spring. She did not want to upset you, especially since everything worked out in the end..." Jane sat back, a bit put out. It took a squeeze of her hand to bring her back to Olivia's question.

"Mr. Darcy told me about his interference in our courtship and begged my forgiveness. He also told me that Lizzy knew of it--."

"..And thus refused to marry him," Olivia finished the sentence with a hint of impatience. "What happened then?" Jane bowed her head.

"I was so moved by Mr. Darcy's speech that I immediately forgave him, although I do not know that I told him so. I suddenly remembered that Lizzy was back at Longbourn packing for her trip to London, and I rushed home to persuade her to stay in Hertfordshire. I could tell from speaking with Mr. Darcy that he is very much in love with her, and although she has not spoken of him since I returned to Longbourn, I know that she still thinks of him." Jane shrugged. "I only wanted to help them. But it seems that I was responsible for this whole muddle."

"Jane," Olivia said slowly, for her patience was beginning to wear thin, "You are not making yourself clear. In what way are you responsible?" Jane's look was one of incredulity.

"Do you not see? It was my fault that Lizzy ran away! I begged her to go to Netherfield and see Mr. Darcy. Had I not done so, she probably--."

"She would probably have come to me as she originally planned, Jane. Do not blame yourself." Jane shook her head. "Is there more?"

"I let Mr. Darcy know that Lizzy had run off. I went to Netherfield to let Charles--Mr. Bingley--know that I was going to London, and Mr. Darcy overheard." Jane fixed her eyes upon the hand that Olivia held tightly. "I do not know what I was thinking, Livy. I allowed Mr. Darcy to assume more than had actually happened. I am certain that Mr. Darcy followed me to London." Olivia let the hand loose and sat back in her chair. She did not know whether to laugh or cry at this turn of events.

"Does Lizzy know about this?" Jane nodded.

"I made a point of telling her so as soon as I reached Gracechurch Street." The chime over the door of the café sounded at that moment, signaling the return of Mrs. Gardiner and her niece. Olivia looked at Jane, and the two ladies rose and joined their friends.

Chapter 14

Posted on Friday, 10 May 2002

"What?" Mr. Bingley didn't respond immediately to his sister's outburst. He calmly laid his fork and knife across his plate and signaled for the servant to clear the dishes.

"I am returning to London. You may remain here if you wish."

"I most certainly have no intention of remaining here among these uncouth country savages," Caroline spat. "But I should dearly like to know why you went to the trouble of opening the house and dragging me all the way here only to turn around and go back to town again."

"I intend to return to Netherfield in a matter of weeks, Caroline. I am merely going to London to be near Jane." Caroline rolled her eyes in disgust.

She renewed her argument two days later when the siblings left Netherfield and headed for town. Caroline had been quiet about their imminent departure after Mr. Bingley refused to indulge her protests on the night he announced his plans. Now, she was determined to have her say and she deliberately picked a fight with him. He was indifferent, however. The closer he was to Jane the less Caroline's incessant bickering bothered him.

"I do not understand why we have to quit Netherfield. I had only just gotten settled, Charles, when you suddenly decide to change your mind and uproot us again," she said to her brother disdainfully. He was hardly listening, however. He had had to endure his sister's whining complaints for the past two hours. He sighed and silently prayed that London would soon appear on the horizon.

"Just how long do you expect us to stay in town?" Caroline asked after a minute.

"As I told you before, Jane will be in town only for a few weeks, and I mean to remain in town as long as she is there. I also told you that you were welcome to remain behind at Netherfield," he said through gritted teeth.

"With those provincial savages? Pah!" Caroline eventually quieted, and her brother closed his eyes. "Do you think we will see Mr. Darcy this evening?" Caroline suddenly asked.

"The only person I care to see this evening is the future Mrs. Bingley. By the bye, we have an invitation to dine with her aunt and uncle tonight," Mr. Bingley replied without opening his eyes.

"In Cheapside?" Caroline spat distastefully. "I do not want to be seen in that neighborhood."

"Caroline, you know as well as I do that the Gardiners do not live in Cheapside, and you certainly had no qualms about visiting the Gardiners when you hoped to prevent me from proposing to Jane," Mr. Bingley said, his eyes wide open and glaring at his sister. Caroline immediately became quiet again and did not utter another word until the carriage entered London.

"Charles, do you think we could stop in _____ Street. I have nothing appropriate to wear to the Gardiner's tonight," Caroline said beseechingly. Mr. Bingley cast a wary glance at his sister.

"I find that amazingly difficult to believe, Caroline." Caroline pouted, but it was a gesture her brother was completely immune to.

"But I did not bring all my finery to town, Charles. I just need a few things. Please," she purred, knowing that Mr. Bingley would comply just to be rid of her. Moments later the carriage turned off the road leading to Mr. Bingley's townhouse and deposited Caroline in front of an elegant row of ladies' shops. Mr. Bingley promised to send the carriage back for her as soon as it was unloaded, then he gratefully sat back and enjoyed the relative peace all the way to his abode.

That evening, he dressed with special care. It had been days since he'd seen Jane and he was eager to make a good impression. Mr. Bingley had sent a note around to the Gardiners' upon his arrival at his townhouse and had received a reply that kept him smiling all afternoon. Now it was just a matter of minutes before he and Jane would be reunited. Mr. Bingley patted his valet on the shoulder and left his bedroom.

"Is the carriage ready, Mrs. Stewart?" he asked as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"It is waiting out front, Mr. Bingley. And, if I may say so, you look quite the gentleman tonight." Mr. Bingley beamed at her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Stewart. I hope Miss Bennet shares your opinion. Of course, I will never find out if my sister does not come down before midnight."

"Shall I go up and see what is keeping her?" Mrs. Stewart didn't wait for a reply. She ascended the stairs and went to knock on Caroline's door. "Caroline?" she called softly when there was no immediate response. A moment later, Caroline's maid opened the door.

"What is it, Mrs. Stewart?" Caroline asked impatiently.

"Mr. Bingley wishes to know when you shall be ready."

"I will be ready in due time, Mrs. Stewart. I will not be rushed. If he wishes to have me make a good impression upon his future relations he will simply have to wait." With that Caroline turned her back on the housekeeper, who understood the curt dismissal. She held her tongue and made her way down to the parlor where Mr. Bingley waited.

"I am afraid--."

"Do not trouble yourself, Mrs. Stewart," Mr. Bingley smiled. "I can imagine what my sister said. I have been on the receiving end of her responses to such inquiries on many occasions. I should not have allowed you to bother."

"I shall not again," Mrs. Stewart replied archly before she curtseyed and left the room. Mr. Bingley laughed, but within a few minutes he grew impatient once more. He gave a thought to going up to his sister's room himself, but Caroline appeared just as he decided against the idea.

"You look lovely, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said sincerely when he turned around and took in Caroline's sage green gown. And I should hope so, after all the time and effort you no doubt spent at your toilette.

"Thank you, Charles." Caroline was genuinely touched by her brother's rare compliment. She was sufficiently mollified that she didn't complain when he all but pushed her out of the house and into the waiting carriage.

"I daresay we shall be the last to arrive," Mr. Bingley muttered as the carriage made its way across town.

"What does that signify? It is most unfashionable to arrive early," Caroline opined. "It gives the appearance of over-eagerness, which I find a bit vulgar." She gave her brother a significant look.

"Vulgar or not, I am most eager to see Jane. Perhaps one day you will come to understand what it is to live only in the hope of being reunited with the one you love." Caroline had no ready answer to that, and she spent the remainder of their journey feeling somewhat pensive and lonely.

"Oh, Livy, you do look beautiful," Elizabeth said as Olivia stood and twirled to give her friend a full view.

"I believe the Colonel will like it," Olivia declared as she turned her critical eye on her friend. She pushed Elizabeth into the chair she had just vacated and began to fuss with Elizabeth's hair.

"That is an understatement," Elizabeth replied as she tried to fend off Olivia's attack. But Olivia was not to be gainsaid; she had her abigail fetch a length of pale green ribbon and bade her make repairs to Elizabeth's coiffure.

"Jenny just spent ten minutes doing my hair," Elizabeth protested good-naturedly.

"Jenny may be a wonderful maid, but she knows nothing about dressing a lady's hair to its best advantage," Olivia said as she directed her personal maid to pin back an errant ringlet. There was a knock at the door. Olivia took command of the ribbon while the abigail went to open the door.

"Father wants to know if there is the slightest possibility that you ladies will complete your toilette before midnight," Edward Crenshaw said, poking his head into the room. As expected, his remark was greeted with a hail of pillows. He retreated downstairs and was soon joined by the ladies.

They entered the parlor and found Edward engaged in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who beamed with pride when he saw Olivia wearing his grandmother's pearls. The pale peach of her gown provided the perfect complement to the delicately colored strands. The Colonel bowed to Elizabeth before greeting his future wife. He took both of her hands in his.

"You look magnificent, Olivia," he said in a whisper.

"Thank you, Colonel," she breathed.

"I only wish my grandmother could see you tonight."

"Do you think she would approve of me?" Olivia whispered back.

"I do believe she would love you as much as I do," he said, applying a chaste kiss on her forehead. "On second thought, that would be placing quite a burden on my grandmother. Suffice to say she would be absolutely delighted with my choice of bride."

"Oh, Richard," Olivia said, her voice choked with emotion, just seconds before Edward tapped the Colonel on the shoulder.

"Sir?" Edward said meekly, for although the Colonel was soon to become his brother, he was still his superior officer. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not answer. "Uh...sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," the Colonel growled, his eyes still locked with Olivia's.

"My father has asked me to deliver a message to you, sir."

"And?" the Colonel asked, as he heard Elizabeth giggle in the distance. Colonel Fitzwilliam turned then and saw that the rest of the party had already left the room. "Where is your father, Lieutenant?" the Colonel asked, as Olivia tore herself away from him and went to pick up her reticule.

"He is in his carriage, Colonel, and asks that you and his daughter join him when it is convenient." The Colonel sighed, and offering his arm to his fiancée, made his way to the carriage.

In deference to Elizabeth's eagerness to see her sister, the Crenshaw party made a point of arriving at the Gardiner's home a bit early. They were graciously welcomed by Elizabeth's aunt and uncle, who received the Colonel like an old and valued friend. Jane had not yet come downstairs, so Elizabeth went up to her room. She tiptoed to Jane's door and opened it slightly. Peering in, she saw Jane preening before the mirror.

"Really, Jane! Do you truly hope to improve upon perfection?" she asked, hands on hips in a mock display of pique. Jane turned and gave her sister a quick hug.

"You think me presentable, then?" she asked, turning back to the mirror. Elizabeth took her by the arm and led her downstairs.

"If you become any more presentable, the rest of us will not stand a chance of being noticed by anyone the entire evening," Elizabeth laughed. The two ladies reached the bottom of the stairs as Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Bingley, and Caroline came toward them from the vestibule. Jane immediately rushed to Mr. Bingley. Caroline curtseyed to both ladies with cool civility. Elizabeth returned the curtsey with a grim smile on her face that immediately warmed as Mr. Bingley came and took her hand.

Elizabeth was still smarting from her brief encounter with Caroline earlier in the day. She and Olivia were in Harley's shopping for ribbon when they overheard Caroline make a scandalous allegation about Elizabeth.

"I understand that there was some scandal that made her flee from her home in the dead of night," she said to her companion. "It was all over Meryton that she had gotten into some trouble with a man," she told a woman standing nearby. Olivia had acted quickly to quash the rumor, assuring the woman to whom Caroline had spoken that it was a complete falsehood. But Elizabeth could not forget Caroline's deed and vowed to let her know.

"It is good to see you again, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Bingley said, distracting her from her thoughts. "I am afraid you gave us all something of a fright the other day, disappearing from the country unexpectedly." Mr. Bingley's tone was teasing rather than reproachful, and Elizabeth immediately seized upon the opportunity to avenge herself upon his sister.

"Why Mr. Bingley! Do not tell me that you have been listening to those malicious rumors about me that someone has been spreading around town." Elizabeth cast an almost imperceptible glance at Caroline, whose face instantly lost its color. Mr. Gardiner heard Elizabeth's comment and demanded to know about the rumors, and Mr. Bingley furrowed his brow in a show of filial concern. Elizabeth took her uncle's arm and led the way into the parlor.

"Do not worry yourself, Uncle," she said soothingly. "It is nothing." She took a seat on the settee next to her aunt, but neither Mr. Gardiner nor Mr. Bingley was mollified. The Colonel, as well, who had heard Elizabeth's comment from the hall, was somewhat alarmed. All eyes were on Elizabeth. She looked around, a serene smile on her face. Her eyes came to rest on Caroline, who was standing near the window. "Oh, it truly is nothing. I am sure that someone who knows what has passed between Mr. Darcy and myself is putting about the rumor. Only a person without an ounce of sense would credit it."

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner seemed satisfied by this explanation, as did all but three others in the room. Mr. Crenshaw and his son, who knew nothing of Elizabeth's relationship with Mr. Darcy, both raised their eyebrows in surprise. Caroline, equally unenlightened, fairly swooned. Mrs. Gardiner rushed to her side.

"Miss Bingley, are you unwell?" Mrs. Gardiner cried as she and Mr. Bingley helped Caroline to a chair. Mr. Gardiner fetched a glass of brandy, and without a moment's hesitation, Caroline took the offered glass and swallowed half its contents in one gulp and was instantly overwhelmed by paroxysms of coughing. Her eyes grew red and she drew her fan from her reticule and fanned herself furiously. Olivia sent for water, and brought Caroline the glass herself.

"Miss Bingley, you do look terribly ill," she said. "Drink this down." Caroline was grateful for the water but resented Olivia's attentions. She glared at Olivia as she continued to hover about, a tiny smile on her lips, although her every action sought to relieve Caroline's suffering. Edward, Jane, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, meanwhile, were trying to conceal their amusement, while Mr. Crenshaw and Mr. Gardiner considered sending for a physician. Elizabeth alone remained calm and unruffled amid the confusion, observing Caroline in quiet triumph. In a very few minutes Caroline's coughing episode had subsided and the Gardiners and their guests repaired to the dining room, where a curious Edward could no longer contain his curiosity.

"Livy?" he whispered from his seat between Caroline and his sister, Olivia. He was unheard by all but the two ladies beside him. "Exactly what did happen between Mr. Darcy and Lizzy?" Olivia silenced her brother with a look, but not before Caroline had choked on her soup.

"Really, Charles, I think that it is disgraceful that Eliza Bennet should invoke Mr. Darcy's name at a time like that! To try and implicate him in a scandal! Mr. Darcy, whom you and I both know is above reproach"

"Calm yourself, Caroline; I am sure you are mistaken," Mr. Bingley assured her. "Miss Elizabeth merely referred to something that passed between herself and Mr. Darcy. I am certain you misunderstood her meaning."

"And I am equally certain that she wanted to be misunderstood. Well, Mr. Darcy shall hear of this. He will put an end to her lies."

"Caroline?" Mr. Bingley rose to follow his sister, who had left the parlor in a huff. "What are you thinking?"

"I am thinking of nothing but my bed at the moment, Charles. I am not the scheming sort of woman those Bennets are. But if I were you I would warn Mr. Darcy about Eliza Bennet's machinations. Good night, Charles." With that, Caroline went up to her room.

"Machinations, indeed! Elizabeth Bennet is no more capable--well, I know well what she is capable of. She has taught me a thing or two about how to skin a cat, I daresay," Mr. Bingley chuckled. "But I know she is guilty of soothing more than speaking the truth and Caroline would have a fit if she knew exactly what that truth was!"

Mr. Darcy awoke early the next morning and took a long, leisurely stroll in the park. He had made a point of keeping to the house for the last two days, the better to resist the temptation to seek out Elizabeth Bennet. But on this morning he grew restless and soon found himself standing at the spot where he had seen Elizabeth back in March, on the grassy knoll by the pond. He stood for a moment and indulged himself with thoughts of what might have been, but he would not allow himself to succumb to morose reflections. Mr. Darcy walked on, his heart full of Elizabeth, content to think of her as he did last spring before everything went so terribly wrong. He was making his way to his club for an assignation with an old Cambridge friend when he heard his name being called. Mr. Darcy froze in his tracks, then slowly turned to see Miss Bingley rushing to catch up with him.

"Why it is you, Mr. Darcy! I was just about to get into my carriage when I thought I saw you." Mr. Darcy was less than pleased to be reunited with the lady.

"I thought you were still at Netherfield, Miss Bingley," he said in a tone slightly tinged with irritation.

"Miss Jane Bennet has come to town," Miss Bingley answered haughtily, "And my brother cannot bring himself to live without the sight of her for more than a few days' time. He has decided to drag us back to London after I had just gotten settled in Hertfordshire. Really," she added, with a roll of her eyes, "I find his engagement to that woman too tedious." Mr. Darcy held his tongue and began to turn away.

"I must be off, Miss Bingley. I am meeting Benton Fowler at my club and I do not wish to keep him waiting." He made a curt bow, but Miss Bingley took hold of his arm to stay him.

"Mr. Darcy, I am afraid I must warn you about a most scandalous report that concerns you. I think that you should put an end to it immediately before your good name comes to ruin." Miss Bingley had succeeded in gaining Mr. Darcy's full attention.

"What manner of report, Miss Bingley?" he asked.

"A report of the most sordid nature, I fear," she whispered in a conspiratorial tone. Mr. Darcy became suspicious, but he wanted to hear what she had to say. "I had dinner with the Gardiners last evening." Mr. Darcy squinted at her.

"The Gardiners--I do not know them." Miss Bingley sighed petulantly.

"Then you are most fortunate. They are an insignificant little pair with high opinions of themselves. They reside in Gracechurch Street and parade about like people of fashion. It was all too tedious." Mr. Darcy drew out his watch and Miss Bingley hurried her tale. "They are also aunt and uncle to the Bennet sisters."

"And the Gardiners are spreading scandalous reports about me?" he asked dubiously. He could tell where this was going, and he was in no mood to hear Miss Bingley insult Jane Bennet again.

"No, Mr. Darcy--Miss Elizabeth Bennet, she of the fine eyes you so admire--has been telling people that you have gotten her into trouble." Mr. Darcy didn't even blink.

"I find that impossible to believe, Miss Bingley," he said, letting his annoyance show. He began to turn away once more.

"Well, I did not actually hear her say that she was with child," she added hastily, "But she made it quite plain that she was intimately involved with you." Mr. Darcy cast a warning glare at Miss Bingley, who had gone too far to back down. "The worst of it is, Mr. Darcy, that I am sure that it was not the first time she had told the lie. Her family did not seem at all surprised by the mention of your name." Mr. Darcy had heard enough and he signaled for his carriage, which was waiting a short distance away. Miss Bingley followed after him.

"Mr. Darcy, your own cousin was present at the gathering. If you will not believe me, then speak to Colonel Fitzwilliam! He will confirm what I have said. Surely you do not wish to let her go on spreading such a lie?"

Mr. Darcy caught a glimpse of himself in the glass as he entered his carriage. He turned his smiling face to Miss Bingley and said, "Who said it was a lie?" as the carriage sped away.

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fowler had just parted when Mr. Bingley arrived at the club. Mr. Darcy was on his way out, and had stopped to speak with an acquaintance when Mr. Bingley hailed him.

"I say, Darcy! I was hoping to find you here. Have you eaten yet?" Mr. Darcy shook Mr. Bingley's hand.

"I have just finished my lunch, but I would be more than happy to keep you company while you dine." The two men went into the dining hall of the illustrious club and secured a table.

"I met your sister this morning," Mr. Darcy said. "She told me that you would be in town a few weeks." Mr. Bingley colored slightly and admitted that he couldn't seem to find peace in Hertfordshire while Miss Bennet was in London. Mr. Darcy smiled tolerantly and wondered yet again at the remarkable change the love of a woman had wrought in Mr. Bingley. His part in depriving his friend such joy oppressed his spirits momentarily, but Mr. Bingley's ebullience soon dispelled Mr. Darcy's guilt. As the waiter brought Mr. Bingley's soup, Mr. Darcy realized that he too had been indelibly altered by his relationship with Elizabeth Bennet. Indeed, had he not fled to London for the same reason as his friend? Mr. Bingley sampled the soup and, wiping his mouth with his napkin, addressed Mr. Darcy's very thought.

"I suppose you know exactly how I feel. Have you spoken to her yet?" Mr. Darcy took an uneasy breath. "What are you waiting for?"

"Bingley," Mr. Darcy said in a low voice. "I was not two days in Hertfordshire before Miss Bennet bolted for London. Do you think she would welcome my appearing unbidden on her doorstep? She is likely to flee London and to who knows where!" Mr. Darcy picked up a roll and absentmindedly tore it to pieces as he spoke. Mr. Bingley watched him with some amusement, but he had to agree with Mr. Darcy's sentiments. "I believe I made a mistake in following Miss Bennet to town," Mr. Darcy continued, pushing away the bits of bread and crumbs that now littered the surface of the table. "I cannot pursue her, and yet I cannot bring myself to leave."

"You are absolutely right, Darcy. I did not think of that." Mr. Bingley was silent for a moment. "Perhaps what the two of you need," he said brightening, "Is a neutral setting in which to meet." He paused to finish his soup. "I have just the thing." Mr. Darcy waited impatiently as the waiter brought Mr. Bingley's entrée and carefully whisked away the mess of breadcrumbs. "Well?" he finally asked in frustration.

"Oh!" Mr. Bingley said, wiping his mouth once more. "I am to take Miss Bennet and the Gardiners to the opera tomorrow night. Jane has asked if Miss Elizabeth may join us. I think she will be staying with the Gardiners for a few days. Anyway," Mr. Bingley paused to apply his concentration to his beef. Mr. Darcy began to drum his fingers. "If you were to also attend...your box is not too far from mine...well, I am sure you can figure it out, Darcy," Mr. Bingley said as he prodded a chunk of potato.

"Miss Bennet may be no more eager to speak to me in a public theatre than--."

"But that is the beauty of my plan, Darcy! She does not have to speak to you if she chooses not to, and if she does, well..." A smile suffused Mr. Darcy's face.

"What opera is to be performed?" Mr. Bingley stared at Mr. Darcy for a moment.

"What on earth difference does it make?" he exclaimed.

"I want to bring the right libretto with me," Mr. Darcy smiled. Mr. Bingley shook his head, and laughed.

The following afternoon, Elizabeth was putting her few personal items into the drawer alongside her sister Jane's. She would be staying with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner for a few days while the Crenshaws were entertaining the family's eldest son and his family. Elizabeth sat on the bed she would be sharing with her sister, and stared out of the window. It had been more than a week since Jane had arrived in London. Elizabeth remembered their painful confrontation that afternoon. You can rest assured that Mr. Darcy will be in London before nightfall.

Nine days had come and gone since Jane had arrested Elizabeth's heart with those words. Nine days had brought no sign of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth laughed ruefully; she was not sure if she should be happy or saddened by this turn of events.

"Disappointed--that is it, Mr. Darcy. I am disappointed in you," Elizabeth declared aloud. "Not that I would welcome an interview...." She threw herself back and pulled a pillow to her chest. "Oh, Lizzy, you do not know what you want, do you?"

"I suppose you will want to get dressed before Mr. Bingley arrives," Jane said as she entered the room. Elizabeth immediately sprang to her feet, blushing at the thought that Jane had overheard all that she had said. But if Jane had heard her, she did not let on. The two women were soon dressed and ready for the evening. Mr. Bingley was to dine with the Gardiners before they left for the theatre, and Jane was most eager to see him. The pair made their way down the hall teasing each other about which of them had taken the longest to fix her hair.

They descended the stairs to the sound of a small commotion in the vestibule. Elizabeth gasped as she saw the source of the calamity. Unexpectedly, unaccountably, and most unwelcome, her mother stood before her. Mr. Gardiner and Mrs. Gardiner were trying to compose themselves and make Mrs. Bennet welcome, but that lady was oblivious to their distress. Elizabeth managed to walk forward and kiss her mother's cheek, but Jane, frozen in her position on the stairs, chose that moment to do what heroines in novels have done throughout history; she tripped down the last three steps and twisted her ankle.

"What is that?" Mr. Darcy asked in a tone of mock condescension. Colonel Fitzwilliam, unperturbed, calmly sat down, and the brown puppy immediately took its usual place in his lap. The Colonel opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Darcy stopped him with a hand. "No, do not tell me--the Little Colonel?" he asked with a smirk. The Colonel did not deign to reply. "How did you ever manage to come up with such an original name?" Mr. Darcy asked as he poured his glowering cousin a brandy.

"I adopted the beast while I was on a tour of the southern camps. My men took to calling him the Little Colonel because he followed me around during an inspection one day. I gave him to Miss Crenshaw on my return, but she has asked me to keep him for a few days while her brother and his family is in town. It seems Richard Crenshaw's wife has a morbid fear of dogs."

"Afraid of that?" Mr. Darcy pointed at the dog derisively. "You know, Fitzwilliam, a Labrador retriever is not a lap dog." The Colonel made a face.

"I know, but as a lady's dog he's not likely to do much hunting in the field either, is he?" Mr. Darcy leaned back in his chair.

"Somehow I still cannot picture him in Miss Crenshaw's lap. What does she think of the Little Colonel?"

"They are very fond of one another," the Colonel sniffed defensively.

"And she calls him the Little Colonel?" Mr. Darcy was rather enjoying his cousin's discomfort as Colonel Fitzwilliam reddened.

"She actually did give him another name, but it is even more embarrassing."

"This I must hear!" cried Mr. Darcy.

"I thought you had planned an evening at the theatre?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, hoping to divert his cousin. Mr. Darcy pulled his watch from his fob pocket.

"Would you care to join me, or do your babysitting duties prevent you?"

"I have an engagement of my own. My old commanding officer is retiring and his men are giving him a send off tonight," the Colonel said as he picked up the dog and stood. Mr. Darcy looked disapprovingly at the Colonel. The Colonel quickly put the puppy on the floor, and tugged at the leash to make it stand.

"I must be off, cousin," the Colonel said. "Remember: Saturday evening at six. Mother will be expecting you. Enjoy the opera." Mr. Darcy took the stairs to his chambers two at a time. He barely contained his excitement as he bathed and changed. In twenty minutes he was ready. Tonight would mark a new beginning; he would see Elizabeth again. Tonight he would learn if he would have any hope of ever earning her love. As Mr. Darcy waited for his carriage to be brought around, he said a silent prayer that the night would turn out well. He picked up his libretto and strolled out to his carriage with his heart in his throat.

Mr. Darcy arrived at the theatre early by design. He wanted to be there when Elizabeth arrived. He wanted a chance to see her before she...well perhaps this time she would not run away.

"Darcy!" Mr. Darcy turned and came face to face with Benton Fowler. "You did not tell me that you were coming to the theatre tonight," he said, shaking Mr. Darcy's hand.

"I did not know myself, at the time" Mr. Darcy replied, sheepishly. "I only decided to come when I heard that Pantani would be singing," he added as an afterthought. He did not want to tell Mr. Fowler his real reason for coming to the theatre on this night.

"Ah, Pantani," Mr. Fowler replied. "I first heard him on the Continent years ago. We are in for a special evening." The two men chatted, while Mr. Darcy surreptitiously surveyed the crowd. Suddenly, Mr. Fowler tapped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder.

"I say, Darcy. Who is that ravishing creature on the arm of Bingley?" Without looking, for he dared not look in Elizabeth's direction until he had prepared himself, Mr. Darcy answered.

"Her name is Jane Bennet, and she is his fiancée," he said as he braced himself for the inevitable.

"Quite stunning; but I must say I never imagined Bingley with a brunette. He has always had a preference for blondes." Mr. Darcy's head spun around, and he grabbed the railing and peered over the balcony. His eyes immediately met Elizabeth's. She was indeed on Mr. Bingley's arm. Jane Bennet was nowhere in sight. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy stared as each other for a moment. Then Elizabeth lowered her eyes as she approached the steps. Mr. Darcy swallowed hard. After a minute he turned to Mr. Fowler.

"I was mistaken, Fowler. The lady with Bingley is not his fiancée. She..." Before he could say more, Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth, and a couple he assumed to be the Gardiners, approached.

"Good evening, Darcy, Fowler," Mr. Bingley said a bit sheepishly. Mr. Darcy tried to appear disinterested, but he could not help staring at Elizabeth. For her part, she was having equal difficulty distracting herself. "Darcy, you know Miss Bennet, of course, but please allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Miss Bennet, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Mr. Benton Fowler." Handshakes and curtseys were exchanged. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fowler were fixated on Elizabeth and Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner observed Mr. Darcy with great curiosity.

"Are you a fan of the opera, Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Gardiner assayed boldly. If neither her niece nor Mr. Darcy was inclined to speak, she would certainly not hold her tongue. Mr. Darcy had to force himself to focus on the lady's question.

"Yes, Mrs. Gardiner. I have loved the opera ever since my parents first took me as a child." Elizabeth opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it, averting her eyes. "Have you ever seen Pantani perform?" Mr. Darcy asked Mrs. Gardiner, trying to keep some semblance of a conversation going. Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Fowler had fallen quite easily into a discussion of the evening's program.

"Pantani?" Mr. Darcy's heart leapt at the sound of Elizabeth's voice. Mrs. Gardiner was equally pleased at this small victory. Slowly and awkwardly, Elizabeth and Darcy made small talk about the principal tenor, the opera company, and the night's program, with gentle prodding from Mrs. Gardiner. The conversation was as delicate as a peace negotiation, both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy afraid of saying the wrong thing and wanting to say so much. "I have never seen this opera before, sir. Are you familiar with it?" Elizabeth asked as the group made its way toward Mr. Bingley's box.

"It is one of my favorites, Miss Bennet. Please, allow me to offer you my libretto. It may enhance your enjoyment of the performance," Mr. Darcy said, holding out the small leather-bound volume. Elizabeth hesitated.

"I could not deprive you, sir," Elizabeth said haltingly, but Mr. Darcy insisted, and he pressed the book into her trembling hand and bowed to the ladies before disappearing into his own box. Mr. Bingley followed him into his box and hastily explained the absence of Jane Bennet.

"Unfortunately, she tripped and sprained her ankle," he said apologetically. "I would have postponed our outing entirely if Jane had not insisted that we come. I think she was more interested in bringing you and Elizabeth together than in her own health." Mr. Darcy colored slightly.

"I hope it is not serious," he replied with genuine concern. His respect and admiration of Jane Bennet had increased considerably since their meeting at Netherfield. Mr. Bingley assured Mr. Darcy that Jane's ankle would heal in a matter of days. "And what of Mrs. Bennet? I did not know that she had also come to town," Mr. Darcy said. Mr. Bingley sighed.

"Nor did I. She insisted on staying with Jane, who had tried to get her to come out tonight as well," he said with an expression that needed no explanation.

"And where is Miss Bingley tonight?"

"She decided to remain at home. It was the strangest thing. When I first told her that I was taking the Bennets to the theatre a few days ago, she seemed rather interested in coming out with us. But yesterday she suddenly told me that she would be staying home this evening. I know she has no great love for Jane or Miss Elizabeth, especially after our dinner at the Gardiner's our first night in town, but--."

"What happened at the Gardiners'?" Mr. Darcy asked, all curiosity.

"Well, Miss Elizabeth mentioned your name. She didn't speak of your proposal to her per se, but merely invoking your name in conjunction with her own was enough to make Caroline nearly faint," Mr. Bingley said, shaking his head at the revelation.

"I am afraid I probably made matters worse when I saw your sister yesterday," Mr. Darcy confessed. "She accused Miss Bennet of spreading rumors about me, and I..." Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up.

"Darcy! You did not!" Mr. Darcy shook his head and smiled as Mr. Bingley disappeared, his laughter echoing down the corridor. Mr. Fowler soon replaced him.

"I say, Darcy. That lady is most enchanting." Mr. Darcy felt a pang of jealousy and suddenly wished he had not invited his old school chum to join him in his box. "If she is not Bingley's fiancée, who is she? More importantly, what is he doing with her?" Mr. Darcy hid his glare in his program.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet is Jane Bennet's sister. Miss Jane Bennet injured her ankle but insisted that the others come out this evening," he intoned.

"She is unattached then? Better and better!" Mr. Fowler said. Mr. Darcy wanted to tell Mr. Fowler of his own interest in Elizabeth, but did not feel that he had that right. Elizabeth, meanwhile, sat beside her aunt and uncle, clutching Mr. Darcy's libretto in her hand. She said a small prayer of thanks that her mother had chosen to remain with Jane. Having her mother present at her first meeting with Mr. Darcy would have been intolerable. Elizabeth thought back to her mother's untimely arrival. Everything about it boded ill.

Mrs. Bennet had been uncommonly silent since her arrival, even when confronted with Jane's injury. She had allowed Mrs. Gardiner to take charge of the situation and made no argument when Jane insisted that Mr. Bingley and his party go on to the theatre without her. She was up to something, of that Elizabeth was certain, but try as she might to figure out what, Elizabeth was woefully distracted by the certain knowledge that Mr. Darcy was in the same building, less than a hundred feet away. She had seen him. She had spoken with him. He had touched her hand when he gave her the libretto. She looked down and fingered the slim volume. Elizabeth opened the libretto and read, To Fitzwilliam, from your loving mother. She turned a few pages and found a piece of paper, a note from his mother. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the note and read,

Since you insist on spending so much time at the opera (your father and I do hope that your interest is in the music!), I thought this might be of use to you.

Elizabeth blushed, and quickly replaced the note. She closed her eyes and remembered her first sight of him at the top of the stairs. Her heart had raced; her throat had become dry. She was glad of Mr. Bingley's support or else she might not have had the courage to take that first step. And suddenly, too swiftly, she found herself face to face with Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled, glad that she had not swooned like some frail heroine in a novel. She glanced to her left and saw her aunt smiling at her. Elizabeth blushed again and returned to perusing the libretto.

"He is very handsome, your Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth's embarrassed reply was no more than an "Mmm." But Mrs. Gardiner was not satisfied with that. "I grew up not five miles from Pemberley, you know. Our family was not of the first circle, of course, but we did see the Darcys now and again. The late Mr. Darcy was a fine man." Elizabeth dropped her pretense of reading the libretto and looked at her aunt. Mr. Bingley entered the box, and taking the seat on Elizabeth's other side, observed her reactions to her aunt's comments.

"You did not mention this before, Aunt."

"I really had not thought about it. The younger Mr. Darcy also seems like a very fine man, Lizzy." Elizabeth began to squirm in her seat and felt relieved when the concertmaster and conductor made their appearance in the orchestra pit. Elizabeth sighed and attempted to focus her mind on the stage. In another box a short distance away, Mr. Darcy tried to do the same. But his mind kept going back four months to that night in another theatre when Elizabeth sat opposite him. Now she was closer, much closer, and yet Mr. Darcy had never felt farther away from her than he did at that moment.

Chapter 15

Posted on Friday, 10 May 2002

The minute the intermission came, Benton Fowler expressed an interest in visiting Mr. Bingley's box. Mr. Darcy had no choice but to follow; he was not about to give his friend the advantage. When they reached the box, however, he found that Elizabeth and her aunt had gone to the ladies' lounge, and so he slipped back into the corridor while Mr. Bingley, Mr. Gardiner, and Mr. Fowler engaged in conversation. In a few minutes his strategy was rewarded, as Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner approached the box. Mrs. Gardiner tactfully detached herself from Elizabeth's arm, and pleading fatigue, returned to her seat in the box. Fearing that Mr. Fowler would also come in search of Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy offered to take her on a tour of the theatre.

"A tour?"

"Yes. The _____ Theatre is one of the finest and most famous in London. It was built in 1763," Mr. Darcy said, taking Elizabeth by the elbow and steering her away from Mr. Bingley's box. For the next few minutes, Mr. Darcy showed Elizabeth the theatre's grandly ornate interior that took three years to complete, the delicate murals painted by Italian artisans who immigrated to England expressly for the purpose of painting them. He spoke of the rich red velvet curtains and named the courtesan who supposedly chose the color, and told her of several famous operas that had premiered on its stage. Neither of them was paying much attention to what was said. Both were too afraid of what might happen if he stopped talking. Both were too moved by the heady experience of being in each other's company to ponder the conversation. It ended too soon. By the time Mr. Fowler caught up with them, it was nearly time for the second act to begin. Mr. Darcy was in such good spirits that he allowed Mr. Fowler to escort Elizabeth back to her seat without a challenge. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. Their eyes met, and Mr. Darcy knew what it was to have hope.

When the final curtain came down, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fowler rose to leave their box. Mr. Fowler immediately sought to gain the advantage denied him earlier, and he bolted for Mr. Bingley's box. Mr. Darcy followed silently. As he entered the box, he saw Elizabeth staring out over the crowd as it exited the orchestra level. She turned when Mr. Fowler addressed her, but her eyes immediately found Mr. Darcy. She politely answered Mr. Fowler's inquiries as to her opinion of the performance, and her impression of Mozart, but her mind was on the brooding man at the rear of the box. Mr. Darcy watched silent and aloof, much like the Mr. Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire, and Elizabeth felt a bit disappointed. She wanted to bring Mr. Darcy into the conversation, but could not find an opening. Mrs. Gardiner tried to engage Mr. Darcy in conversation fearing that he might flee in the face of a determined competitor.

Elizabeth began to worry when she saw Mr. Darcy bow to Mrs. Gardiner. He is leaving! Mr. Darcy spared her one last look, and with a slight bow in her direction, he turned to depart. Mr. Bingley asked him something Elizabeth could not hear, but it was apparently unsuccessful in delaying his departure. Elizabeth bowed her head, as Mr. Fowler continued to prattle on. She looked at the spot Mr. Darcy had recently vacated; a moment later she bolted into the corridor after him, leaving a bewildered Mr. Fowler behind.

Elizabeth reached the stairs and saw Mr. Darcy at the bottom, headed for the door. She called out his name, but he either did not hear her or did not care to stop. Elizabeth almost gave up. Then she took a deep breath, lifted her skirts and raced down the steps and out the door. She called to him once again. Startled, Mr. Darcy stopped and turned toward her.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said breathlessly. He instinctively put out his arm to support her.

"Are you all right, Miss Bennet?" he said softly, as he breathed in that intoxicating scent that had sustained him through the early spring. Elizabeth put her hand to her chest in an effort to still her heaving bosom.

"Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to alarm you," she replied as she gasped for air. "It is just that you left so abruptly and..." Mr. Darcy, who had bent toward her to offer his assistance, stiffened slightly. He did not know whether his jealous reaction had helped or injured his cause. "...You did not give me a chance to return your libretto, Mr. Darcy, or to tell you that it did indeed add greatly to my enjoyment of the performance, as did your tour of the theatre." Mr. Darcy permitted a wry, crooked smile to escape his lips.

"I am very glad you enjoyed it, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said as the tension began to drain from his body.

"This little book, on the basis of the inscription on the frontispiece, must be very important to you. I would not wish for you to forget it," she said, pressing the volume into his hand. Mr. Darcy stared at the book for a moment.

"I had only just remembered that I failed to retrieve it from you. I thought to call upon you in Gracechurch Street for it tomorrow." Elizabeth smiled archly.

"I hope that depriving you of a ready excuse will not prevent you from paying your call, Mr. Darcy." Mr. Darcy flashed one of his rare toothsome smiles, and spotting Mr. Bingley approaching to fetch Elizabeth, he bowed and took his leave.

"Wild horses would not prevent me, Miss Bennet." Mr. Darcy kissed her hand and then entrusted the love of his life to the care of his best friend. Mr. Bingley watched their parting with satisfaction. The broken hearts of the ill-fated pair, if not yet healed, seemed to be amenable to mending. And if Mr. Bingley had his way, they would soon be joined in mutual and enduring love for one another.

Elizabeth might not have needed Mr. Bingley's carriage had she been able to float her way back to Gracechurch Street amid the clouds. Her head was in the clouds in any event, and she sat next to Mrs. Gardiner with a serene smile upon her face that was reflected in the faces of her companions. No words were exchanged for the length of the trip; none were necessary. Mr. Bingley observed in her quiet joy something of the Elizabeth Bennet he had long held in high regard. And he saw something more, a woman in love. It was a wonder to him that his friend could be in any doubt of her heart. At a glance Mr. Bingley knew that it beat for one man and from the smiles on the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he knew that they were no strangers to Elizabeth's happy situation.

When the carriage stopped at Gracechurch Street, Mr. Bingley declined to come inside with the family since Jane, who had been carried up to her room after supper, had most likely retired for the night. He did, however, reach out and squeeze Elizabeth's hand, and catching her attention, asked her to convey to Jane his love. Elizabeth was more than happy to be able to carry such a message to her sister and told Mr. Bingley so. Before releasing her hand, Mr. Bingley could not resist expressing his happiness in another quarter. He looked meaningfully into Elizabeth's eyes.

"I am happy...so very happy for you both," he stammered with his characteristically boyish grin. Elizabeth did not share his confidence, although she did share his joy.

"It was a beginning, Mr. Bingley, nothing more. But it was a splendid evening, and I have you to thank for it." Elizabeth gave Mr. Bingley's hand a squeeze and went into the house. She glided down the corridor and into the parlor where her aunt and uncle had ordered tea. Elizabeth swept into the room, her cheeks aglow, and a smile about her lips, and froze as she confronted her mother's disapproving glare. Her mother stood near a window, where she had obviously been eavesdropping on her conversation with Miss Bingley.

"Holding hands with Mr. Bingley, were you? Is there no end to your infamy?" Mrs. Bennet said in a huff as she turned her back on Elizabeth in dramatic fashion. A stunned Elizabeth exchanged glances with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.

"Mama? Mr. Bingley and I were only speaking of Jane. He gave me a message to give to her, nothing more." Mrs. Bennet continued to look away. She went to a chair and sat, her eyes averted from her daughter.

"Surely you do not think that Elizabeth was flirting with Mr. Bingley, sister," Mr. Gardiner managed to say as his wife joined him in protesting Mrs. Bennet's inexplicable treatment of her daughter.

"I am sure I do not know what to think," Mrs. Bennet replied, with an offended sniff. She looked at Elizabeth then, and Elizabeth just shook her head and left the room. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner attempted to mollify Mrs. Bennet as Elizabeth made her way upstairs. She entered the bedroom quietly, so as not to awaken her sister, but to her surprise she found Jane wide-awake.

"Jane! I expected to find you sleeping. Do not tell me that you also did not trust me with your fiancé?" she said with a smile.

"What?" Jane said, as she closed the book she was reading. "What reason should I have to be jealous?"

"No reason at all. A love that can withstand a six-month separation as yours did can surely withstand one night. Mother, however, saw Mr. Bingley take my hand and whisper in my ear, and now she is accusing me of trying to steal your future husband," Elizabeth said wearily, as she sat at the vanity and began pulling pins from her hair. Jane scrambled to the edge of the large bed to be closer to her sister.

"And why should my future husband be whispering in my sister's ear?" she asked archly, but without the merest suggestion of jealousy. Elizabeth turned to her dearest sister and smiled.

"Oh, he begged to me to tell you how much he missed your company this evening, and something or other about loving you passionately, or you being the light of his life...adoring you to his last breath...you know the sort of thing." The two ladies erupted into giggles. As their laughter subsided, Elizabeth returned her attention to the mirror and removed her jewelry. Her eyes were on her face, but her mind was apparently miles away.

"Did you enjoy the opera, Lizzy?" Jane asked, surmising that the smile on Elizabeth's face meant far more than she had thus far admitted.

"I had a lovely time," Elizabeth replied as she rose to undress. She continued to speak but her voice was muffled slightly as her dress was drawn over her head. Jane got up on her knees at the edge of the bed and helped pull the gown away.

"What did you say? I could not hear you under all that muslin."

"I said that I met Mr. Darcy at the theatre." Elizabeth spoke calmly, without a tremor of emotion in her voice. But Jane knew that Elizabeth could not be so sanguine.

"Lizzy! Where...how...did the two of you have a chance to speak? Was Miss Bingley present?"

"Jane! One question at a time!" Elizabeth teased, knowing that her sister was as eager to hear her news as she was to tell it. "Yes, we did have a chance to speak and no, Miss Bingley was not present."

"Did you resolve...I mean...I do not want to pry, but--." Elizabeth laughed as she removed the remainder of her apparel.

"Jane, you were always a terrible liar." Elizabeth shrugged into her nightgown and climbed onto the bed. She handed Jane a comb, and turned her back so her sister could do her hair. "We 'resolved' nothing. We did not discuss anything of import: the opera, the performers, and about the theatre itself. We behaved as two old friends who happened to meet by chance at a public place; that is all."

"That is much," Jane exclaimed, "For two people who have not exchanged civil words since April. Now, if the two of you could only manage to 'meet by chance' again..." Jane paused, a hank of Elizabeth's hair forgotten in her hand as she began to consider the possibilities. Elizabeth reached up and freed herself.

"There is no need to think up any elaborate scheme, Jane," Elizabeth said as she finished her braid. "Mr. Darcy has promised to call here tomorrow." The smile on her lips faded as quickly as it appeared. She abruptly let herself fall backward upon the bed.

"Oh, dear! I have forgotten about mother. Mr. Darcy cannot come here tomorrow!" Jane saw her opening and seized upon it.

"Lizzy," she began, as Elizabeth slid under the sheet next to her, "It is far worse than you know."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"Mother told me why she came to town." Jane did not know where to start.

"Well?"

"She has apparently heard the rumor about you..."

"There was no rumor. I only made it up to spite Miss Bingley," Elizabeth confessed.

"Are you sure? Mama is quite convinced that there is a scandal...." Elizabeth, suddenly grew worried, and sat up in the bed.

"What? Jane, tell me everything Mama said to you." Jane sat up and propped herself up with pillows.

"Well, when you left Longbourn so suddenly, Mama was convinced that you were involved in some sort of scandal. Mary and I were finally able to calm her down, but a few days ago, when she found a man's handkerchief in your bed, she believed that her earlier suspicions had been confirmed. She resolved then and there to come to London and find out who the man was and to make him marry you." Jane reached out to take Elizabeth's hand. It was as cold as ice.

"I lost my perfume vial. Mr. Darcy found it and sent it back to me wrapped in one of his own handkerchiefs. I kept it under my pillow. I..." Elizabeth fell silent and said nothing for several minutes.

"Lizzy?" Jane finally said, trying to gauge her sister's state of mind. It was not until then that she realized that her sister had been crying.

"I cannot believe it. That my own mother could believe me capable of...and tonight of all nights...when I was disposed to be so happy? Oh, Jane! I cannot, I must not allow Mr. Darcy to come tomorrow. I must not...." Her next words were lost in sobs. Jane put her arm around Elizabeth and hugged her. "She will ruin everything. No matter what he may feel about me, Mr. Darcy will never have her as a relative. I must have been crazy to even think it possible." Jane tried to quiet and calm the distraught woman, but Elizabeth would not allow herself to be consoled.

"I had only just learned to hope, and now all is lost," she said as she turned over and, laying her head on her pillow, cried herself to sleep.

Early the next morning, the Crenshaw family sat down to a hearty breakfast. The morning meal marked the first occasion in nearly a year when Mr. Crenshaw had all of his children about him again. His eldest son, Richard, sat at his right hand next to his wife, Elise. Mr. Crenshaw's younger son, Edward had been granted a few days' extra leave to be with his family. Olivia sat next to Adam Douglass, Elise's brother, and the elder of Richard and Elise's two daughters.

Like his father, Richard Crenshaw had made a study of the law, but unlike his father, he had never found the need to practice it, having had the good fortune to marry exceedingly well. It was not widely known that Jane Bennet had been the first object of Richard's affections, but when she did not return his love he had found solace in the arms of a very wealthy widow. He did not marry Elise Strong for her money, as many had thought at the time. He fell in love with the lady, not her forty thousand pounds. But people refused to believe it since Elise was somewhat plain. But one had only to spend a bit of time with that lady and experience her warm and personable nature to understand what Richard saw in her. And anyone who saw them together could not deny that they were deeply in love.

Adam Douglass was his sister's opposite: as fair as she was dark, shy and soft-spoken as she was confident and gregarious. He was almost unreasonably handsome, with deep blue eyes that invariably caused the hearts of ladies in his company to flutter and men in his company to secretly envy him. Mr. Douglass had been traveling with his sister and brother on the Continent, and was to join them at their home in Kent for the remainder of the summer.

"I do hope we will have a chance to see Miss Bennet while we are in town," Richard was saying. "It is a pity our numbers forced her to flee to the Gardiners." Olivia assured her brother that Elizabeth promised to visit very soon, and Mr. Crenshaw suggested that the Gardiners be invited to dine with the Crenshaws during his son's visit.

"It has been a long time since our families were all together. The last time was just after your mother's passing," he said softly. A sad quiet fell over the room for a few moments.

"Edward tells me that you received a puppy as a gift from your fiancé," Elise said, breaking the tension. Olivia smiled as she buttered her scone.

"Yes. That is why we call him the Little Colonel." Mr. Douglass laughed and asked if Colonel Fitzwilliam approved of having a dog named after him. "Well, to tell the truth," Olivia replied archly, "I did give him another name but the Colonel liked that one even less."

"What was it?" six-year old Eleanor asked.

"You must promise not to tell a soul," Olivia said dramatically, before realizing that such a promise could not be exacted from a child, much less her older brothers, notorious teases that they were. She promised to tell Eleanor later, when they were alone.

"So, you are to marry Richard Fitzwilliam," his friend of the same name said. "I would never have imagined the two of you as a couple. When did it happen?" Olivia tried to suppress the flush of color that she felt rising in her cheeks.

"I must admit that I first became infatuated with the Colonel when he came home from school with you many years ago. But I would have to say that I first came to his notice at a winter ball two years past."

"That was the ball where she wore that disgusting gown that left absolutely no doubt as to her sex," Edward interjected. Elise's mouth fell open as did her husband's. "You were there, Adam. You remember it, I am sure."

"I...I was there, and as I recall Miss Crenshaw looked very lovely," Mr. Douglass managed, reddening almost as much as Olivia.

"Exactly what sort of gown was this?" Elise queried her sister.

"It was pink," Mr. Crenshaw intoned. "Fashionable, flattering, modest, and very, very pink," he said in a manner that put an abrupt end to Edward's insinuations. Olivia glared at her younger brother triumphantly.

"So, when is the wedding to take place?" Richard asked, returning to his original line of discussion.

"We have not yet set a date. Richard's...the Colonel's parents have arrived in town and we are all to dine with them in a few days. I think that we may set a date after we have consulted with them."

"Your letter said Jane Bennet is also to be married," Richard continued. If he still felt anything for Jane when he said those words, he gave no outward sign.

"Yes. She is engaged to Charles Bingley. Do you know him?" Olivia asked.

"I know the name...I am certain that we must have met at some time or another. A friend of Darcys' is he not, father?"

"Yes. Bingley and the young Mr. Darcy are as thick as thieves. I do not believe their families were acquainted, however," Mr. Crenshaw replied. The two men fell into a conversation about the Darcy family, leaving Olivia and Elise to talk. Although Elise and Olivia rarely had a chance to spend much time together, they were very fond.

"You must be very excited," Elise said with a knowing smile. Olivia told Elise and Mr. Douglass, who knew too little of the Darcys to find interest in the men's conversation and was more inclined to follow his sister's lead in most things, the long and winding story of her courtship with the Colonel.

"Then you were expecting his proposal?" Mr. Douglass asked softly when Olivia concluded.

"I will not say that I was expecting it," Olivia laughed.

"She will also not say that she was desperately hoping for it," Elise added, and both ladies giggled, much to Mr. Douglass' bemusement. When breakfast was done, the family went about their separate tasks; the ladies repaired to the parlor, where they took up their sewing and continued their conversation. Edward and Adam went up to Edward's room to discuss things military, and the older two men went to the study. Eleanor was carted off by her nurse.

"Perhaps we should call on Lizzy today," Elise suggested. "She did promise to call on us, but since we displaced her I think that we owe her the courtesy of a first visit." Olivia was happy to see her friend regardless of the circumstances, and seconded the plan. A short while later, Richard, Elise, Olivia and Mr. Douglass arrived at the Gardiner's door. Inside, a nervous Jane and a panicked Elizabeth waited.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had spoken with the two ladies before Mrs. Bennet came down to breakfast, briefly describing the discussion between her husband and sister the previous night. Mrs. Gardiner thought it best that Elizabeth prepare herself for what was to come and warned her that Mrs. Bennet was determined to get to the bottom of her daughter's "scandalous" conduct.

Elizabeth was beside herself with worry that Mr. Darcy would be subjected to her mother's outrageous behavior and was determined to cancel his visit. Mr. Gardiner suggested that Jane write a note to Mr. Bingley and ask his help in postponing Mr. Darcy's call at the house. A hastily written note thus made its way across town to Mr. Bingley, where it was accepted by his sister at the door of his townhouse. She carried it into the breakfast room where her brother was enjoying a cup of coffee.

"Here, Charles. Your Miss Bennet apparently could not wait until a respectable hour to summon you," she intoned as she casually tossed the missive on the table. Mr. Bingley picked up the note and read it.

"Good God!" he yelped as hot coffee splattered on his formerly pristine cravat. He leapt up from the table and called for his carriage. As he ran upstairs to change his cravat, Miss Bingley's curiosity overcame her and she read the note her brother had carelessly discarded:

My Dearest Charles,

Please forgive this odd note, but I must write to beg your immediate assistance. I fear for Mr. Darcy.

You see, our mother has found Mr. Darcy's handkerchief in Lizzy's bedroom, and has come to London to expose him as Lizzy's lover. Mr. Darcy plans upon calling on Lizzy at Gracechurch Street this morning and I am writing you to beg your assistance in preventing him. Please prevent him, Charles! If Mr. Darcy comes to Gracechurch Street all will be ruined. Please assure Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth will happily meet with him at another time, but that he must not come here until we have convinced our mother to return home to Longbourn.

Please let me know of your success in reaching Mr. Darcy. Lizzy and I will eagerly await word.

Jane

A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm Miss Bingley, but she forced herself to stand. She took a deep breath and fled the morning room.

Mr. Bingley arrived at Mr. Darcy's house before nine of the clock, and found the master at his own breakfast.

"Bingley! You are here rather early. Please, join me," Mr. Darcy said with a gesture toward the table. Mr. Bingley sat and cautiously accepted a cup of coffee. "I am planning on calling on Miss Bennet at Gracechurch Street this morning. If you are planning on visiting your fiancée, we may as well go together." Mr. Bingley looked into the cheerful face of his friend. Everything in Mr. Darcy's demeanor spoke of newfound optimism. Mr. Bingley felt a pang of misery as he carefully formed his next sentence.

"That is precisely why I have come, Darcy. I just received a note from Jane. She urged me to convince you not to go to Gracechurch Street this morning." Mr. Bingley paused, as he searched his pockets unsuccessfully for the note. Mr. Darcy's facial features stiffened.

"Not go? Why ever not?"

"I am afraid it is a bit of a muddle," Mr. Bingley began, still fumbling for the absent document. "According to Jane, Mrs. Bennet found a personal item of yours in Miss Elizabeth's bed chamber...blast, I must have left it in my other waistcoat...and she now suspects Miss Elizabeth of having taken a lover." Mr. Bingley gave up the search and laid his empty hands upon the table. "Jane seems to think that Mrs. Bennet thinks--."

"Wait a minute, Bingley," Mr. Darcy said rising and carrying his cup to the sideboard for a refill. "You say that Mrs. Bennet found an object of mine among Miss Bennet's personal effects?"

"A handkerchief, if I remember correctly," Mr. Bingley amended. "Although I do not know that she knows it to be yours. But Jane seems to believe that she will think it is yours if you appear this morning at Gracechurch Street."

"Why?" asked a confused Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley could only shrug in response. Mr. Darcy stared into his cup for a moment. Then he shrugged his shoulders as well. "Well, there is only one thing for it," Mr. Darcy said with a wry smile. He placed the cup on the sideboard and adjusted his cuffs. "I must go to Mrs. Bennet and confess."

"Darcy!" Mr. Bingley leapt to his feet, his mouth agape. Mr. Darcy laughed.

"Oh, I am innocent of whatever that inane woman is accusing me of, but I am willing to take responsibility for it and accept whatever punishment she decides to mete out."

"And if that punishment is banishment from Miss Elizabeth's company?" asked a dubious Mr. Bingley, as he followed Mr. Darcy toward the door of the breakfast room. Mr. Darcy looked askance at his suggestion.

"This is Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn we are speaking of. She will demand that I marry her daughter, and I as a gentleman will have no choice but to comply." Mr. Darcy stepped forward, but Mr. Bingley reached out and prevented Mr. Darcy from opening the door.

"Think, man! Will Miss Elizabeth appreciate your stooping to such a tactic?" Mr. Darcy turned his back to the door and leaned heavily against it. He knew that Mr. Bingley was correct.

"What am I to do, then, Bingley? I promised Miss Bennet that I would see her today. I would not want to disappoint her."

"You are far more likely to disappoint her if you resort to chicanery to win her hand." Mr. Bingley smiled. "I have another idea."

"If it is as good as your last one, I am all ears." A short while later, the two men parted company. Mr. Darcy walked along the perimeter of ______ Park, while Mr. Bingley made his way to Gracechurch Street.

When the doorbell sounded at Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth froze. She lowered herself into a seat and mercilessly gripped the armrests. Jane, who was resting her ankle on a divan that had been brought down from the Gardiner's sitting room, held her breath. A moment later, however, the Crenshaw party was shown into the parlor. Jane and Elizabeth were reunited with Richard Crenshaw, Elise, and Mr. Douglass, who had met the two ladies several years ago at Richard and Elise's wedding. When Mr. Gardiner joined his guests in the parlor Olivia managed to find a moment with Elizabeth to get caught up on gossip. She was most pleased to learn that Elizabeth had spent part of the previous evening in the company of Mr. Darcy. The ladies repaired to the relative privacy of the window seat to talk.

"It sounds as though the two of you are finally getting somewhere," Olivia smiled.

"Oh, but it will be all for naught if he keeps his promise and comes here this morning. I am sure that my mother will offend him irrevocably," Elizabeth said worriedly, twisting the handkerchief in her hand.

"But she is out this morning, you said," Olivia reasoned. Elizabeth was determinedly grim.

"Yes, but only for now. I have every confidence that she will return in time to ruin my every hope." Olivia put her arm around Elizabeth, attracting the attention of Elise, who came over fearing that something was amiss.

"Are you all right, Miss Bennet? I am afraid you look unwell," Elise whispered as she sat on Elizabeth's other side and took her hand. Olivia fashioned a hasty excuse to explain Elizabeth's anxiety.

"I am afraid that Lizzy was out rather late last evening and is the worse for it this morning," Olivia said unconvincingly. Elise could see that Elizabeth's anxiety had nothing to do with a lack of sleep, but she chose not to pry. She was about to make a tactful retreat when a commotion was heard in the hall. A moment later, Mrs. Bennet, followed by a slightly flustered Mrs. Gardiner, swept into the room.

"I have never been so exhausted in my life," Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "I do declare, sister, you must have meant to torment me with so many shops, so many selections of muslin and lace. So many laces, Mrs. Gardiner! I could not take it all in. My nerves cannot cope with so much excitement," she declared collapsing dramatically into the nearest chair. Jane glanced at Elizabeth, who had gone absolutely pale. Mr. Gardiner was also alarmed by the early return of his wife and sister.

"Mama," Jane said quickly. "We have guests. You will remember the Crenshaws. This is Mr. Richard Crenshaw and his wife, Mrs. Crenshaw, and of course, Olivia. And this is Mr. Douglass, Mrs. Crenshaw's brother." Mrs. Bennet spared the merest courtesies for the Crenshaws, out of her supposed exhaustion and a lingering dislike for Mrs. Crenshaw (whom she had long accused of luring Richard Crenshaw away from Jane). She greeted Olivia politely, but reserved her charm for Mr. Douglass. He was someone new, a handsome man from a very wealthy family. Here was a man who might make a good husband for one of her daughters. She proceeded to question him about his family and connections, smiling slyly when she learned that Mr. Douglass' estate was in Kent. She looked at Elizabeth, thoughts of the embroidered "D" apparently on her mind. Lizzy cringed at the interrogation, while Olivia could not fathom how Mrs. Bennet could see Mr. Douglass as an apt match for Elizabeth, even with his income of five thousand a year.

Into this interesting setting, Mr. Fowler was unexpectedly announced. Elizabeth was both relieved and upset at his appearance. She had concluded that she did not like Mr. Fowler. He was pleasant enough, to be sure, but his interest in her seemed to spring as much from a desire to compete with his friend Mr. Darcy as from any genuine inclination toward her. Elizabeth, however, welcomed Mr. Fowler as a distraction for both herself and her mother. Perhaps if Mr. Darcy did appear now, Mrs. Bennet would be too overwhelmed by the surfeit of eligible bachelors to pay him much attention. Elizabeth had to worry, however, that Mr. Fowler's presence might prove daunting to her elusive suitor.

"Mr. Fowler, may I introduce my mother, Mrs. Bennet, and my friends, Miss Crenshaw and Mr. Douglass. Mr. Fowler greeted Olivia with a gracious bow that instantly excited her distrust. Mr. Fowler and Mr. Douglass exchanged curt greetings before Mr. Douglass excused himself to return to his sister. "I must apologize for abandoning you last evening, Mr. Fowler," Elizabeth began sheepishly. "I suddenly remembered that I had Mr. Darcy's libretto and I wanted to return it to him while I had the chance."

"I see, Miss Bennet," Mr. Fowler replied in a tone that did not admit acceptance of her apology. His tone abruptly changed to become more pleasing. "Have you known Mr. Darcy very long?" Olivia eyed Mr. Fowler suspiciously as Elizabeth responded to his query.

"I have known him less than a year, sir."

"Really? I wonder that he has not ever mentioned you," Mr. Fowler smiled benignly.

"Mr. Darcy told me last evening that, until this week, he had not seen you in some three or four years, Mr. Fowler. I should think that a discussion of Mr. Darcy's recent acquaintances would be rendered virtually impossible by that circumstance," Elizabeth said calmly. Mr. Fowler smiled uneasily. He was not prepared for the sharpness of Elizabeth's wit.

"You have the right of it, Miss Bennet, of course. But I still think that Darcy would have hidden from you from me if he could."

"I would hope that he should not find such behavior necessary," Elizabeth smiled. "It would not likely reflect well upon either of us."

"Miss Bennet?" Mr. Fowler was completely lost. Olivia found pleasure in his confusion.

"Such an action can only mean that he is embarrassed by one of us, or perhaps mistrusts the other." Elizabeth looked Mr. Fowler in the eye. "Do you think Mr. Darcy finds me embarrassing, Mr. Fowler?" Disarmed, annoyed, enchanted, and intrigued despite himself, Mr. Fowler could offer no response. Elizabeth was beginning to feel more herself. The morning was nearly over, and soon it would be too late for Mr. Darcy to call. Perhaps Mr. Bingley had successfully dissuaded him. Elizabeth wondered how he would react to being told to stay away, however, and her mind suddenly filled with unpleasant thoughts. Her fears began to return, especially when her mother chose that moment to rejoin the party at the window. Mrs. Bennet's interest in Mr. Fowler was piqued by Richard Crenshaw's revelation that Mr. Fowler enjoyed an income of eight thousand per annum.

"I had come here this morning hoping to persuade you to come out for a walk with me, Miss Bennet," Mr. Fowler said as he tried to recover his poise. Perhaps if he got her alone he could begin afresh and gain the upper hand.

"Oh, but she cannot go out with you this morning sir," Mrs. Bennet cried. "She has other guests, and her admirers," she said with a wink toward a bewildered Mr. Douglass, "Would hardly appreciate you absconding with their favorite."

"No...no, Mr. Fowler. My mother is correct. It would be impolite of me to leave when my aunt and uncle have so many guests to entertain." Walking out with Mr. Fowler was the last thing Elizabeth wanted to do. Mrs. Bennet suggested to Mr. Fowler that "if he was to come again at a more opportune time" she was certain that her "Lizzy would not be at all adverse to walking out with you." Pleased to have found an ally in his pursuit, Mr. Fowler welcomed Mrs. Bennet's efforts to coyly insinuate herself into his conversation with Elizabeth. As he predicted, Elizabeth quickly grew silent, and Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Fowler chatted amiably. Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, and Olivia watched this odd display for some moments, until the doorbell rang yet again.

When Mr. Bingley entered the parlor, Jane and Elizabeth looked at him expectantly. His smile told them that all was well. As the Crenshaws prepared to take their leave, Mr. Bingley wasted no time in suggesting that he take the Bennet sisters on a ride through the park. Fearing that Mrs. Bennet would insist on Mr. Fowler joining them, Elizabeth declined. Mr. Bingley whispered something into Jane's ear.

"Lizzy?" Jane asked a moment later. "Will you not reconsider? Mr. Bingley assures me that it is lovely outside and that there is much to be seen in the park," she said with a significant look. But Elizabeth was not paying attention.

"I have already declined Mr. Fowler's invitation to take a turn out of doors, and so I must decline Mr. Bingley's fine offer as well," Elizabeth said with a significant look of her own. Jane and Bingley exchanged glances and Mr. Bingley reluctantly took a seat beside his fiancée. Much to Elizabeth's surprise, however, Mr. Fowler left along with the Crenshaws, and calm was finally restored to the Gardiner's townhouse. Mrs. Bennet, satisfied with her morning's work, retired to her room, leaving Jane, Bingley and Elizabeth alone with the Gardiners.

"Miss Elizabeth, I spoke with Mr. Darcy this morning and was able to persuade him not to come to the house. However, he did agree to wait upon us in the park," Mr. Bingley said.

"Oh, dear!" Elizabeth exclaimed, jumping to her feet, followed quickly by the others. "Do you think he will still be there?" But as Mr. Bingley and Mr. Gardiner began to help Jane to her feet, Mrs. Bennet returned to the parlor carrying a bundle of fabric samples.

"Since we have the house to ourselves again," she smiled to the stunned gathering, "And Mr. Bingley, I quite consider you a member of the family already--I think we should use this time while Jane is laid up to discuss the wedding." Jane sat down again. Mr. Bingley sat, Mr. Gardiner sat, and Mrs. Bennet sat in the large armchair near Jane. Elizabeth remained standing, her hands clenched in tight fists.
"Now I think that we should begin with the bridesmaids..." Mrs. Bennet began as she rifled through her fabric scraps. Elizabeth turned and bolted from the room. She ran up to her room, ignoring her mother's demand that she return to look at fabrics. In the bedroom, Elizabeth threw herself on the bed and banged on it with her fists. After a moment she rolled over onto her back. Then she grew calm. Mr. Bingley had spoken to Mr. Darcy and all was well. If only she could get to him at the park...

Chapter 16

Posted on Wednesday, 22 May 2002

It was some time before Mr. Bingley was rescued from the ordeal of suffering Mrs. Bennet and her fabric samples. Protestations that selecting bridal gown fabric was not a job for a man fell on deaf ears as did Mr. Bingley's suggestion that to know what his bride would be wearing defied the dictates of superstition.

"Nonsense, Mr. Bingley!" Mrs. Bennet laughed. "Surely you do not hold to old wives' tales and such silliness. It shall do you no harm to see such things."

"But I do not wish to see them, ma'am," Mr. Bingley said with uncharacteristic firmness. Mrs. Bennet gaped at him momentarily, as did Jane and Elizabeth, who smiled at his display of wills. "Really, Mrs. Bennet, I must insist. I am determined to be completely surprised on my wedding day when I look upon your daughter for the first time," he said with a warm smile for Jane. "Besides, I have other things to do this morning," he said as he rose to his feet, holding Jane's hand in his. He squeezed it gently, questioningly, and she nodded. "I am afraid I must take my leave."

"But Mr. Bingley! I found a lovely blue damask that would make excellent draperies for the master--!"

"Mama!" Elizabeth gasped.

"Perhaps we should leave such decisions to Mr. Bingley, sister," Mrs. Gardiner said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Well," she said. "Well, then," she began again, this time with a sly smile. "Here you are, Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Bennet said as she handed him a bundle of fabric swatches. "Perhaps you should discuss this matter with your future wife." With that she rose elegantly and left the room. Elizabeth gaped, as did Mrs. Gardiner, who followed Mrs. Bennet out of the parlor. Elizabeth turned back to her blushing sister and shrugged. Then she, too, left the couple. Mr. Bingley sighed and sat down again, tossing the bundle of fabric onto a nearby table as though it had suddenly grown too hot to handle.

"I am sorry about Mama," Jane said in a small voice. Mr. Bingley shook his head.

"No need to apologize. I am glad that she left us alone, finally." Jane felt her face grow even warmer. "Do you realize that we have not been alone since I proposed to you?" Mr. Bingley turned to Jane and smiled. She shyly returned the smile and leaned forward to receive his kiss. It was a rather tentative kiss at first, but Mr. Bingley soon warmed to the task and raised his free hand to cup Jane's cheek. He deepened the kiss then, breaking away only when he heard a gasp. The couple turned to see Elizabeth in the doorway. She quickly recovered.

"Forgive me. I...I forgot my needlework. Pretend you did not even see me," she smiled archly as she quickly crossed the room to retrieve her basket. Mr. Bingley did as he was bidden and was kissing Jane again well before Elizabeth reached the door.

Arriving at home, Olivia was delighted to find the Colonel in the parlor with her father. She greeted the Colonel with a spontaneous and warm hug, forgetting for the moment that they were not alone. Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, spied the others smirking behind his intended and quickly extricated himself to greet his friends.

"Fitzwilliam!" exclaimed the younger Mr. Crenshaw. "I hear that you are about to join our family!" he said when everyone had settled. The Colonel gazed lovingly at Olivia and, lost in thought, did not bother to reply. "Does that happen often, father?" Richard Crenshaw asked.

"With astounding regularity. It got so Edward nearly canceled his own leave just so he could find someone to talk to." The sound of laughter distracted the two lovers, and they sheepishly rejoined the conversation. After a short while, Elise decided to go and check on her daughters, and on her cue her brother, husband, and father also found an excuse to give the happy couple some privacy. As soon as they were alone, Olivia launched into an account of what had transpired between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy at the theatre.

"I must say that I am pleased by this development. I knew that if they could just find a way begin they could soon put things right. But I do not like the idea of Fowler lurking about," the Colonel said as he accepted a cup of tea from Olivia.

"Do you know him?" she asked, taking a seat beside the Colonel.

"Not well. He was in Darcy's class at Cambridge, a year behind me. I know of him, though. Something of a ladies' man and a bit of a rake," he said distastefully.

"I would not worry about him on Elizabeth's account," Olivia reassured him, "But I am concerned about her and Mr. Darcy. Lizzy told me that he was to come to call on her this morning, but she had Mr. Bingley prevent him. I hope that Mrs. Bennet will not make it impossible for them to meet. Not when things were just beginning to go well." The Colonel put down the cup.

"Look, if Darcy is going to marry Miss Bennet someday, he is going to have to come to some understanding with Mrs. Bennet," Colonel Fitzwilliam began, but Olivia shook her head.

"You do not know Mrs. Bennet, Richard. 'Understanding' is not her forte, and she is no small part of the reason why Mr. Darcy did not wish to connect himself with Lizzy in the first place. If she were my mother, she would put even you off, and you are disposed to like everyone!" Colonel Fitzwilliam flashed his most endearing smile.

"There is not a creature on this earth that could put me off you, my love," he said as Olivia's heart melted. He stole a quick kiss and then abruptly rose and led her to the door.

"Where are we going?" Olivia cried as she stopped only long enough to reach for her bonnet and parasol.

"To find Darcy; I do not want him to lose hope before he has had a chance to win his prize." As soon as Olivia had tied the pale blue ribbon under her chin, the Colonel whisked her out of the house. It was a sunny, hot afternoon, and the couple decided to take the scenic route to _______ Street, through the park.

"Is that not Mr. Darcy?" Olivia asked a short while later, gazing toward the pond where Mr. Darcy sat on a bench reading. The couple cut across the lawn to reach him. As they strolled in his direction, they saw a woman approach Mr. Darcy and confront him, a piece of paper in her hand. They stopped and exchanged a quizzical glance before quickening their pace.

"Mr. Darcy! Should you not be at Gracechurch Street this morning?" Miss Bingley asked sarcastically. Mr. Darcy was startled out of his concentration on the page he was reading. He had been waiting for some time for Bingley and the ladies to appear, and had become lost in a book of poetry as he passed the time.

"Miss Bingley," he said rising. "Please forgive me. I was absorbed by Shakespeare and did not hear your approach." Mr. Darcy had not heard Miss Bingley's first remark clearly; he heard the words 'Gracechurch Street' but was uncertain of what was said about it. Miss Bingley smiled archly. She was happy to have caught him off guard and would use it to her advantage.

"When last we met, sir, I told you of a most distasteful rumor. You seemed to take it as a joke on my part. But I assure you, sir, it is no laughing matter. Miss Eliza Bennet and her sister Jane Bennet are trying to entrap you into marriage." She brandished the paper in her hand. "They are even trying to involve my own brother, your dearest friend, into their ungodly scheme." Mr. Darcy peered at the paper in Miss Bingley's hand but could not make out what it was. He had no reason to connect it with the note Mr. Bingley had spoken of earlier. He started to reach for it, but Miss Bingley drew the paper from his grasp in a casual way, as though she had not noticed his gesture.

"Miss Bingley, what are you about? Speak plainly," Mr. Darcy replied with exasperation. He was not so much interested in what Miss Bingley had to say as in the speed with which she said it. After all, if everything went well for Mr. Bingley at the Gardiners', he and the Bennet sisters might appear at any moment.

"They are trying to ruin your good name, Mr. Darcy. And I have half a mind to let them succeed. It would be a fitting revenge upon both you and Miss Eliza Bennet." Mr. Darcy could feel his blood beginning to boil.

"You have the audacity to threaten me, Miss Bingley? Why? Because your own pathetic schemes to trap me into marrying you have failed?" Mr. Darcy rose to his full height, which became even more imposing when he went to stand very close to Miss Bingley and spoke in a voice so low and menacing only she could hear him.

"Go ahead and do your worst, Miss Bingley. But you may be absolutely assured of two things: I love Elizabeth Bennet and will continue to do so until my dying breath, and that nothing on this earth could prevail upon me to feel anything more than the basest contempt for you." With that, Mr. Darcy backed away, and looked up to see Olivia and Colonel Fitzwilliam not three paces away. Miss Bingley followed his gaze, and seeing the approaching couple, she dropped the note and ran off. Olivia retrieved the note and tore it up without even looking at it.

"What was that all about?" the Colonel asked as he watched Miss Bingley scurry across the grass.

"Absolutely nothing at all, cousin," Mr. Darcy growled. He suddenly smiled, and offered a proper greeting to Olivia.
"It is very good to see you again, Miss Crenshaw. And may I wish you joy on your recent engagement to my cousin," he said with a glance in the Colonel's direction. Olivia graciously accepted the compliment before she told him what had happened at the Gardiners'.

"I am afraid that poor Lizzy was trapped; she could not come out to meet you, having refused Mr. Fowler. And had she been able to do so, she would have had to bring Mr. Fowler along," Olivia explained as the trio sat on the bench by the pond. Mr. Darcy glanced at his cousin. They both knew what Mr. Fowler was capable of.

"Perhaps I should go to Gracechurch Street," Mr. Darcy said, rising from the bench. "I can cope with Mrs. Bennet," he said determinedly, "But I do not want Fowler ingratiating himself with Eliz--Miss Bennet." Olivia rose and held his arm.

"You need not worry about Lizzy, Mr. Darcy. She has no illusions about Mr. Fowler. And as for Mrs. Bennet, I believe that if nothing else happens to excite her she will soon calm down and go home. She has Jane's wedding to prepare for, after all." Colonel Fitzwilliam added weight to Olivia's argument.

"You have waited this long, you must simply be patient a bit longer, cousin."

"But I must speak with Miss Bennet. I have to know if I have a chance...if there is anything to wait for..." Mr. Darcy said petulantly. Olivia took his arm and she and the Colonel began leading Mr. Darcy toward his own home.

"If my assurances mean anything, Mr. Darcy, I believe that your forbearance will be well rewarded." She thought a minute, then added, "In fact, if you will be so good as to join us for dinner this evening, you will not have to wait very long at all." Mr. Darcy immediately brightened and accepted her invitation. Olivia made a mental note to send an invitation to Elizabeth as soon as she reached her home. As the trio took the familiar route out of the park, Olivia recalled the last time that they had taken that path together. She told Mr. Darcy the entire story of how she and Elizabeth had come to be in the park in the first place. "So you see, Mr. Darcy, I had this great notion that if we could just speak with Mr. Bingley...well, as it turned out, I was right," Olivia concluded with a laugh.

"Except that Miss Bennet got herself hopelessly lost, Darcy got himself injured, and Mr. Bingley found Miss Bennet completely by accident," Colonel Fitzwilliam deadpanned.

"Yes, but Mr. Bingley did speak with Jane that very day, and they have been inseparable ever since," Olivia retorted.

"Brilliant planning, Miss Crenshaw. I had no idea that you were an expert strategist. I am beginning to understand your attraction to her, Colonel Fitzwilliam." The men laughed while Olivia smirked indulgently. Mr. Darcy suddenly grew serious. "Perhaps I should engage you to figure out how to straighten out my own love life."

"Be careful what you ask for cousin," Colonel Fitzwilliam said as Olivia rapped him on the arm with the tip of her parasol. But the Colonel remembered Olivia's failed effort to bring the pair together. "Trust me. You and Miss Bennet do not need anyone's help, just patience." He ignored his fiancée's pointed look as he repeated his advice. The couple left Mr. Darcy in front of his townhouse and walked back toward the Crenshaw townhouse.

"So? I am suddenly useless at matchmaking, am I? Did you not come to beg my assistance with Mr. Darcy and Lizzy not two weeks ago?" Olivia accused her chuckling companion.

"And did you not nearly ruin things by inviting Miss Bennet to town just as Darcy decided to go to Netherfield?"

"It would appear to me, dearest," Olivia said with a slight edge to her voice, "That my decision to invite Lizzy to town was a wise one, given that Mr. Darcy's appearance at Netherfield led her to flee Hertfordshire." Colonel Fitzwilliam opened his mouth with a well-aimed retort, then thought better of it. He drew Olivia closer to his side.

"My love, you are a wonderful matchmaker. Through your efforts, Mr. Bingley and Jane have been reunited and you and I have found a happiness together that I never dared to hope for. But I do not believe that Darcy and Miss Bennet need your help any longer. You can bring them together, but they have to find their own way after that. And, if Darcy loves Miss Bennet half as much as I do you," He said as he slipped an arm about her waist, "There will be three wedding for our friends to attend this year."

Mr. Bingley spent the better part of the next half hour sharing his hopes and dreams for his future with his beloved Jane. They spoke quietly so that only they could hear, in spite of the fact that they were completely alone. They laughed together; they cried together when Mr. Bingley expressed his deepest regret that he could not show his parents the woman who had won his heart. They dreamed, they hoped. They cherished their private moments together, which ended abruptly when Mrs. Gardiner returned to the parlor.

Jane's aunt was shocked. She had assumed, when she left the room to give her sister a piece of her mind, that Elizabeth would stay to serve as chaperone to the couple. But the pair had apparently been left alone. Mrs. Gardiner wanted to put on a stony face and silently declare her disapproval at the scene before her, but it was all she could do to hide her smile. The couple was radiant. Jane sat on the settee with Mr. Bingley beside her. Jane's neatly wrapped ankle was propped on a small footstool, shamelessly exposed. Mrs. Gardiner raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she went to sit near the window. Mr. Bingley rose to his feet and approached her.

"I was about to take my leave, Mrs. Gardiner," he said, trying in spite of himself to appear contrite. He knew he ought to be, but he was far too happy. Mrs. Gardiner found his smile infectious and dropped all pretense of behaving like the stern aunt she was supposed to be.

"I hope you shall come again soon, Mr. Bingley," she said.

"I am afraid that until your niece's ankle improves, I must trespass on your hospitality again."

"Well, if you feel you must," Mrs. Gardiner sighed dramatically, "I suppose we must receive you tomorrow and endure it somehow." Jane giggled and Mr. Bingley wicked before he kissed Mrs. Gardiner's hand. "Until then, ma'am." He returned to Jane and kissed her hand before he walked to the door, stopping to extend his regards to all of the family before disappearing into the hall.

"Cheeky little man," Mrs. Gardiner observed aloud.

"Aunt Gardiner!" Jane cried.

"I have a cheeky niece as well; two of them, in fact. I shall have to have a serious chat with Lizzy about the impropriety of leaving a pair of young lovers alone together in my parlor." Jane had the good sense to blush. Satisfied, Mrs. Gardiner turned her attention to the book in her lap.

Mr. Darcy entered his house and repaired to his study. He poured out a brandy and stared at the clock. He had four hours before he was expected at the Crenshaws. He leaned back in the soft armchair. Maybe Miss Crenshaw is correct. All it takes is a simple notion and the will to carry it out. Mr. Darcy stretched out his long legs and thought. After a quarter of an hour, an idea came to him, and he went to his desk and drew out a sheet of paper. Some two hours later, Mr. Darcy heard a knock at his door. Mr. Harris came in and announced his aunt, Lady Rebecca Fitzwilliam. Mr. Darcy rose and warmly welcomed her. He offered her a chair and a glass of sherry and, warning her of his forthcoming dinner engagement in an hour and a half, sat down to talk.

"I was certain that I would be intruding upon your time, but I could not resist taking an opportunity to visit with my favorite nephew."

"And I am glad to see you, Aunt Rebecca," Mr. Darcy said. Lady Rebecca Fitzwilliam, mother of the Colonel, was like a second mother to Mr. Darcy. She had been in the country since the start of the warm weather, and only her son's engagement had persuaded her to abandon her estate and come to town. They began by getting caught up on family news. Mr. Darcy asked after his sister and learned that she would be arriving in town in two days to attend her cousin's engagement party. Lady Rebecca waxed poetically over Georgiana's progress in her art and music lessons for several minutes before startling Mr. Darcy by asking how he was faring with Miss Bennet.

"What do you know of Miss Bennet?" he asked.

"I am neither deaf, dumb, nor blind, dear. Richard first mentioned Miss Bennet to me some months ago, and you spoke of little else but Miss Bennet while you were visiting with us last month." Mr. Darcy blushed. He had not realized that he had been so unguarded. He gave his aunt a brief account of his entire history with Elizabeth, and concluded with his hope of seeing her at dinner that very night.

"I have to agree with Richard. After so many mistakes and miscues, patience is called for at this stage. However, I agree with Miss Crenshaw as well. You could use a helping hand." Mrs. Fitzwilliam rose and went to the desk. "I have met the girl on several occasions, but I cannot say I know her well. I so, however, think we are going to get on famously," Lady Rebecca added as she drew out a sheet of paper and added the Bennets, Gardiners and Bingleys to her guest list for her son's engagement party. Mr. Darcy thanked her as he escorted her to the door.

"Remember, Fitzwilliam," Lady Rebecca said as she gazed into his eyes. "If she is worth having at all, she is worth waiting for. Now," she said, kissing him on the cheek, "Go and dress for dinner." Mr. Darcy smiled all the way upstairs to his chambers. Then, remembering his forgotten project, he turned back and called for Mr. Harris from the top of the stairs. The butler appeared instantly.

"Sir?"

"I left something on my desk in the study. Take care of it, would you?"

"With pleasure, sir," was Mr. Harris' reply. With a nod of thanks, Mr. Darcy disappeared into his chambers and prepared for his bath.

It was hours before Elizabeth slipped downstairs again. She made her way into her uncle's study, where her uncle offered her a glass of Madeira before she curled up with a book. Her uncle had dozed off before long, and Elizabeth started to leave the room when she was met at the door by a maid.

"This just came for you, Miss," the maid said with a curtsey before excused herself.

"What is it?" Mr. Gardiner asked as he roused himself. Elizabeth's smile was reassuring.

"I have been invited to dinner at the Crenshaw's. May I go, Uncle?"

"I do not see why not." He drew out his watch. "It is growing late. I will order the carriage while you go and prepare yourself." A half hour later, Elizabeth descended the stairs. She was glad to have a reason to leave the house, an excuse to avoid her mother. Mrs. Bennet had doggedly pursued her to her room and demanded that she select fabric for her bridal attire. Elizabeth complied simply to be rid of her mother, but Mrs. Bennet remained with Elizabeth for over an hour fretting on minute and irrelevant details. She had been avoiding her mother ever since, escaping only long enough to peek in on Jane and Mr. Bingley for a moment; she had not even told her Mrs. Bennet of her dinner plans.

"You look lovely, dear," Mrs. Gardiner said as she emerged from the parlor. Mrs. Bennet came down the stairs behind her second born.

"Yes, you do look lovely, child. I am certain that Mr. Fowler will be pleased." Elizabeth turned to look at her mother.

"Mr. Fowler? Mama, I am dining with the Crenshaws tonight. Olivia's note said it was to be a simple family dinner. I do not believe that Mr. Fowler is invited." Mrs. Bennet's face became red.

"The Crenshaws? You most certainly are not dining with the Crenshaws this evening. I forbid it. I have invited Mr. Fowler to dine with us this evening--did I not sister?--and he has most graciously accepted. This is meant as a compliment to you, Lizzy, and I will not hear of you dining with the Crenshaws!" Elizabeth's mouth fell open. She looked at her aunt, whose face belied the truth. Mrs. Bennet had taken the liberty of inviting Mr. Fowler to dinner and only informed Mrs. Gardiner of the deed after he had accepted. Elizabeth looked at her uncle. He nodded to Elizabeth.

"Fanny, I gave Lizzy permission to dine with the Crenshaws this evening. It is too late for her to refuse the invitation now. Go on, Lizzy, the carriage is waiting for you." Elizabeth kissed her uncle and turned to leave.

"Wait right there, Miss Lizzy Bennet! I am your mother and I insist that you stay and dine with Mr. Fowler!" Elizabeth turned back and stared at her mother defiantly.

"He is your guest, Mama, not mine. You stay and dine with him!" Elizabeth raced to the carriage. As it pulled away, Elizabeth sat back and sighed. Maybe coming to London had not been a good idea after all. Had she stayed in Hertfordshire and spoken to Mr. Darcy--. But there was nothing to be gained in dwelling on the past. All she could do now is look forward to a quiet, pleasant evening among her friends, a turbulent and painful return to the Gardiners, and--if she was lucky--another chance to see Mr. Darcy on the morrow.

Elizabeth had calmed considerably by the time she reached the Crenshaw's residence at ______ Street. She was shown into the parlor where she found the ladies of the house engaged in conversation. The men of the house--Mr. Crenshaw, Richard and Edward Crenshaw, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Douglass--were in the library discussing the politics of the day. Elizabeth immediately began to apologize for her tardy arrival, but Olivia reassured her.

"Do not worry yourself, Lizzy. You know we never stand on ceremony here, and besides, our other guest is even later than you are," Olivia said with a sly smile.

"Another guest? Your note said nothing about--."

"I need not tell you everything, need I?" Olivia seated herself on the settee next to Elise. Elizabeth claimed a chair close by as she began to explain the reason for her late arrival.

"You would not believe what I was subjected to while trying to leave the house this evening," Elizabeth began. She glanced at Elise and then quickly moderated her tone.

"Mama was not at all pleased that I came out tonight," she said more calmly. Elizabeth was about to take a seat when she heard the sound of men's voices in the hall.

"Darcy! At last! I thought I might starve to death awaiting your arrival," Colonel Fitzwilliam was heard to exclaim.

"Well, I hope you do not, for it would weigh very heavily on your mother's conscience. It was she who delayed me," Mr. Darcy said with a laugh. Elizabeth froze, her eyes fixed upon Olivia. Olivia smiled and nodded. Elizabeth rose to her full height and turned away from the door as it was opened. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she struggled to regain her composure.

"It would pain my dear Mama greatly to learn that you have abused her so abominably to her own son," the Colonel retorted. But Mr. Darcy was no longer listening. He had seen Elizabeth, or rather sensed Elizabeth's presence. He did not trust himself to look in her direction just yet. He knew that once he did, he would be unable to concentrate his attention on anything or anyone else. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam led the male members of the party into the parlor, where Mr. Darcy greeted Elise and Olivia. He turned to face Elizabeth just as she regained her composure and turned toward him.

"Miss Bennet! We meet again. I seem to have been blessed with extraordinary good luck this week," Mr. Darcy said as he glanced meaningfully at Olivia and smiled.

"You are too kind, sir," Elizabeth managed, extending a trembling hand. Behind her, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Olivia exchanged smiles. Mr. Crenshaw suggested that the party adjourn to the dining room. Mr. Darcy offered to escort Elizabeth and she happily accepted his offer. To no one's surprise, Mr. Darcy claimed the seat beside Elizabeth at the table. When the soup had been served, Elise reminded Elizabeth that she had not finished her explanation of why she was late. Elizabeth blushed.

"Oh, it was really nothing important," she dodged, unwilling to tell the whole story in Mr. Darcy's presence. Invoking Mr. Fowler's name under the present circumstances was out of the question. "I failed to inform my mother of Olivia's invitation and she was quite put out when I left." Olivia looked at Elizabeth and knew that there was more to the story. But she chose not to press the matter.

"So both you and Mr. Darcy were delayed by the untimely intervention of a mother," Olivia suggested. The Colonel nudged her lightly.

"Hey there! You would do well to remember that one of those mothers you are speaking of is shortly to become your own."

"And I cannot wait," Olivia said with a loving look at the Colonel that made both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, who were directly opposite the couple, smile.

"Have you met Lady Rebecca?" Elizabeth asked Olivia.

"Yes, we have been acquainted for years, however, it is only a formal acquaintance. I do so look forward to getting to know Richard's family. He says that we shall all get along famously," Olivia said with another smile meant only for the Colonel's eyes.

"You are already well liked by the part of the family that has come to know you, Miss Crenshaw, and Aunt Rebecca is well disposed to think very highly of you," Mr. Darcy said graciously. "But then, she would be disposed to like anyone who would condescend to marry her youngest," he added with a smirk for his cousin. Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy strangely. She was surprised by his open and easy manners, which she had last witnessed in the spring. His good humor lasted throughout the dinner. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy, and Richard Crenshaw exchanged stories about their childhood pranks and the trouble they often got into. Never had Elizabeth enjoyed herself so much in Mr. Darcy's company. She found herself hoping that the evening was not some figment of her imagination, or a cruel dream. The meal was over too soon for Elizabeth, and the men retreated to the library for port. Olivia grabbed the Colonel by the arm as he headed for the door.

"I beg of you, Richard. Do not allow father to cajole you into staying in there half the night. Things are going well for them, and I do not want to see them separated for too long." The Colonel solemnly promised to bring the men back in record time, extracted a kiss from his fiancée in payment, and with a wink for the other ladies, disappeared.

"What was that all about?" Elise wondered aloud as the ladies retired to the parlor.

"Oh, nothing," Olivia said airily, as she led the way into the room. Elise, of course, was too wise in the ways of the world to believe her. She had been closely observing Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy since their arrival and had already come to a few conclusions. She also strongly suspected that Olivia and the Colonel were inexplicably trying to orchestrate the courtship of the other pair, though they seemed to be in no need of assistance. Elise looked at Elizabeth, who looked as radiant and happy as she was pale and miserable when she saw her that morning. There was a mystery here, and it had something to do with Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Fowler.

"Miss Bennet," asked, Elise. "Have you known Mr. Darcy very long?"

"We met not quite a year ago," Elizabeth replied.

"And he is a friend of Mr. Fowler's is he not? I believe I heard Mr. Fowler mention Mr. Darcy's name this morning," Elise maintained. Elizabeth's sigh told her all she needed, but Elizabeth spoke nonetheless.

"I believe the two men were at Cambridge together." Olivia, fearing that the men might return at any moment, steered the subject away from Mr. Fowler.

"I met Mr. Darcy in the park this afternoon, Lizzy, quite by accident," she said with a gleam in her eye. "He, the Colonel, and I got to reminiscing about that day in the park last March." Elizabeth's face registered her surprise.

"Elise, Lizzy and I can claim responsibility for Jane and Mr. Bingley's engagement," Olivia continued. "You see, they had had a misunderstanding and Lizzy and I decided to--."

"You decided!" Elizabeth cried, shaking her head in denial.

"We decided to go and give Mr. Bingley a piece of our minds."

"Dear me!" said Elise. "What happened?"

"I got lost, Mr. Darcy got injured, and Mr. Bingley actually came to my rescue, quite by accident," declared Elizabeth through her laughter.

"Strange--that is how my intended remembers it," Olivia murmured.

"Is that not what happened?" asked Elise.

"I prefer to remember that before the day was out, Mr. Bingley and Jane had been reunited," Olivia sniffed.

"How did Mr. Darcy get injured?" Elise asked.

"He walked into a tree while staring at Lizzy," Olivia said simply.

"Livy!" Elizabeth cried.

"It is true. I saw him...well, I practically saw him. One moment he was walking ahead of me; I looked away for a second, and when I looked back, he was on the ground calling out her name."

"Livy!" Elizabeth gasped as she colored. At precisely that moment the door opened and the men entered the room. Olivia and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, each hoping the men had not heard their topic of conversation. As the men came in, Edward sought a position from which he might observe Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. His curiosity about the pair had been piqued by Elizabeth's cryptic comment at the Gardiners' a week earlier and he was determined to learn the truth. After coffee was poured and the group exchanged small talk, the card table was pulled out and all the Crenshaw men and Mr. Douglass played at whist, while Elise asked Richard and Olivia about their plans for settling down. Elizabeth sat a little aloof from the trio, and Mr. Darcy came to sit beside her as Edward discreetly observed the pair.

"You do not play at cards tonight, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked by way of an opening.

"I have not the mind for cards tonight, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy replied. He hesitated a moment. "I must apologize, Miss Bennet, for breaking my promise to call upon you this morning."

"Nay, sir, it is entirely my fault," Elizabeth replied in a low voice. "I am the one who prevented you. I must confess," she said sheepishly," I sat this morning in constant fear of your appearance."

"Would it have been so awful if I had come?" Mr. Darcy asked softly. Elizabeth blushed.

"I...I am afraid there has been a dreadful misunderstanding--."

"About the handkerchief, yes, Bingley mentioned it to me." Elizabeth blushed even more deeply. What had Jane written to Mr. Bingley? Elizabeth thought that she should try to explain what happened.

"Yes. When you were so kind as to return my grandmother's perfume vial--."

"Then I was correct in thinking it an heirloom?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"Yes," Elizabeth said softly. "It was left to me by Grandmother Bennet, whom I was named for. I had opened the parcel and was about to read your note when I was interrupted. I stuffed the handkerchief, along with the letter under the bedding. When Mama had my bed turned out last week, she found the handkerchief. I guess I forgot about it," Elizabeth lied. She was not ready to confess that she had slept for the past month with Mr. Darcy's handkerchief under her pillow, or that he had played a prominent role in every dream she had had since she left Kent. She stole a glance at Mr. Darcy, who looked worried.

"And the note? Your mother--." Elizabeth quickly reassured him that her mother had not found the note. "But you did not read it," he said in a whisper. Had Elizabeth found the courage to look into his eyes, the sadness in them would have broken her heart.

"I did read it, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth whispered back, her eyes lowered so that Mr. Darcy could only see her lashes resting upon her rosy cheeks. "And I have preserved it in a secure place." Mr. Darcy was silent for a minute as he repeated over and over in his head her last words. She had read his letter! What is more, she had deemed it worthy of saving, worthy of a second reading. He would only allow himself to draw one happy conclusion: he had been forgiven. Elizabeth had cared enough to hear him out, and when she had done, she had cared enough to respect, if not reciprocate, his feelings. Mr. Darcy was rendered mute by a rush of thoughts that momentarily overwhelmed his senses. Elizabeth watched him, wondering what was going through his head. She glanced across the room and realized that she and Mr. Darcy were being observed, not only by Olivia and Colonel Fitzwilliam, but also by Elise and Edward. Elizabeth squirmed under the scrutiny, startling Mr. Darcy out of his reverie, and he, too, became discomfited by the earnest gaze of four pairs of eyes.

Olivia decided to relieve the tension by opening the pianoforte and asking Elizabeth to play. Elizabeth, glad of the diversion, agreed with unaccustomed alacrity. Mr. Darcy sat spellbound as she performed a brief instrumental piece. When she had done, Mr. Darcy was caught off guard by the enthusiastic response of Mr. Douglass, whom had been fairly quiet all evening. Elizabeth asked Mr. Douglass to join her in a second number, and Mr. Darcy tried to suppress a pang of jealousy as Mr. Douglass took command of the keyboard and played a lively duet. His rich tenor matched perfectly with her less polished but lovely voice. When the song was over, Mr. Darcy thought that he had lost Elizabeth's company for the remainder of the evening. But to his surprise, Mr. Douglass escorted Elizabeth back to her seat by Mr. Darcy and retreated.

"Are you unwell, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked. "You look upset," she said innocently. Mr. Darcy apologized and admitted to being deep in thought. "A parlor full of people enjoying an evening's entertainment is hardly a place to inspire deep thoughts, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said archly.

"Perhaps not," he replied, and broached an entirely new subject. "So are all men banished from your mother's presence while she is town?" Mr. Darcy tried to sound jocular and light, but knew that he was less than convincing.

"If it were up to me, yes. However, I seem to have little control over who comes to call upon my aunt and uncle," Elizabeth said, trying to match Mr. Darcy's tone.

"You managed to stop me easily enough," Mr. Darcy said a bit more harshly than he intended. Elizabeth reddened as she carefully responded.

"Yes. But I rarely have so persuasive an ambassador as Mr. Bingley at my disposal, nor can I credit many of my friends with being as solicitous and respectful of my wishes as you are, sir." Mr. Darcy seemed to be mollified, but Elizabeth hastily added, "It was not that I did not wish to see you, Mr. Darcy. I only wished to spare you the indignity of my mother's scrutiny."

"And did Mr. Fowler survive your mother's scrutiny?" Mr. Darcy asked before he could stop himself. Elizabeth looked at him in surprise.

"How did you...?"

"I met Fitzwilliam and Miss Crenshaw in the park. They told me that you and your sister were unable to join me there because Mr. Fowler had paid you a visit," Mr. Darcy said, as he eyes lowered to hide his shame. Elizabeth groaned inwardly, wishing that Mr. Darcy had not heard of Mr. Fowler's visit. This was the last thing they needed now! She sighed heavily and looked down.

"Mother took quite a liking to Mr. Fowler I am afraid," she said, a tiny smile forming on her lips. She looked deeply into Mr. Darcy's eyes so that there would be no further misunderstanding. "I was very glad she was there to entertain him." The clock struck the hour, and Elizabeth announced that she must leave.

"May I offer you a ride in my carriage?" Mr. Darcy asked, rising with her.

"My uncle has promised to send his own carriage for me, but I thank you." Elizabeth made her apologies to her hosts and bade everyone farewell. Mr. Darcy also took his leave of the Crenshaws and offered to escort Elizabeth to her uncle's carriage, which had pulled up outside the elegant townhouse. The couple stepped out into the cool night air.

"I suppose the Crenshaws will think us terribly rude. We barely spoke to anyone else this evening," Mr. Darcy said with a laugh.

"I very much doubt that they would be so severe upon us. The Crenshaws are dear friends to us both, according to what Colonel Fitzwilliam told me, and they know enough of our history to forgive our slight breech of etiquette," Elizabeth said as they made their way down the steps to the waiting carriage. The coachman stepped forward to open the door, but Mr. Darcy stayed him with a hand and he discretely retreated out of earshot.

"Miss Bennet, when will I see you again?" Elizabeth opened her mouth but had no ready answer. She did not yet know that she was to be invited to the Fitzwilliam's engagement dinner, but that was several days away yet, and Mr. Darcy was unwilling to wait that long to see her again.

"Will you not permit me to call on upon you in Gracechurch Street?"

"My mother...." Mr. Darcy shook his head. "She is likely to...." Mr. Darcy smiled and Elizabeth capitulated. "You may come, then, but do not say that you were not given fair warning." Elizabeth's eyes met Mr. Darcy's as he bent over hand before handing her into her carriage. No more words were spoken. The pair just stared at each other for a moment, then Mr. Darcy stepped back and the carriage pulled away.

When Mr. Darcy reached his home, he headed straight to his study, summoning Mr. Harris as he went. The footman scurried off in search of the butler. A few moments later, Mr. Harris knocked on the study's door, which Mr. Darcy had left slightly ajar.

"Good evening, sir. I trust your dinner engagement was a pleasant one?"

"Yes, Mr. Harris, quite," Mr. Darcy said abstractedly as he put his seal to a note he had just written. "Uh, did you attend to the matter I asked you to earlier?"

"Yes sir. May I pour you a brandy, sir?"

"No, Mr. Harris. I have had a splendid evening and I do not want to dull my memory of it." Mr. Darcy pushed the note toward the front of the desk. "Have a footman take this round to Mr. Bingley first thing in the morning."

"Very good, sir. Will there be anything else this evening, sir?"

"No, old man. I think I will just select a good book, and them I am for my bed." Mr. Darcy rose and patted Mr. Harris on the shoulder as he walked past him toward the wall of mahogany bookshelves. Mr. Harris bowed and disappeared. A few minutes later, Mr. Darcy followed him out of the room and sought his rest.

Chapter 17

Posted on Wednesday, 22 May 2002

Elizabeth arrived home to find her aunt and uncle in the parlor with her mother. Mrs. Bennet rose as she entered and immediately began to torment Elizabeth with descriptions of her evening with Mr. Fowler.

"Mr. Fowler was most disappointed that you were not here this evening. But I gave him my assurance that you would be home tomorrow when he promised to call again." Mrs. Bennet went on praising Mr. Fowler, describing the elegance of his attire, his wit and intelligence, and his taste in food, music, art, and theatre. Elizabeth looked at the Gardiners, who shrugged helplessly.

"Did you have a pleasant time at the Crenshaws', Lizzy?" Mr. Gardiner asked as soon as he found an opening. Before Elizabeth could say more than "yes," Mrs. Bennet assaulted her anew.

"I do not know why you spend so much time with the Crenshaws. They can do nothing for you, Lizzy."

"Mama! The Crenshaws are my friends, and the Gardiners' friends of many years!"

"Yes, yes, but we must think about the future, Lizzy. You are not getting any younger, you know. Even Charlotte Lucas found a husband, and she is five years older than you and very plain..." she prattled on. "Edward Crenshaw is younger than you, is he not?"

"Edward and I are the same age, and what does that have to do with--."

"Well, he is only a younger son, anyway. You can do much better."

"Mother! You do not really expect me to--."

"Oh!" Mrs. Bennet cried suddenly, "Yes, of course, there is Mr. Douglass. He is a bit more mature and very handsome. What is his income? No matter, I am sure that Mr. Fowler's income quite exceeds it. Lizzy, you would be a fool to settle for a lesser man, even if Mr. Douglass is so much more handsome. Mr. Fowler can hardly be called unattractive, mind you." Elizabeth glanced at her aunt and uncle once more. She started to speak, but her mother unceremoniously dismissed her to her bed, so that she would be in her best looks for Mr. Fowler in the morning. Elizabeth numbly ascended the stairs, and entered the bedroom where Jane was combing her hair.

"How was your evening with the Crenshaws?" she asked as Elizabeth flung herself on the bed.

"Did Mama really invite Mr. Fowler tomorrow?" she said, her eyes on the ceiling.

"Yes. He was quite upset when he found out that you were not going to be here. For a moment I thought he might leave, but Mama persuaded him to stay with the promise of being rewarded with your presence tomorrow."

"How thoughtful of her," Elizabeth said bitterly. She sat up and began to undo her dress. "I wish I had stayed in Hertfordshire. I would have never heard of Mr. Fowler."

"Oh, he is not so bad, Lizzy, once you get to know him. His manners are quite pleasing and he has excellent opinions on music, art, and--."

"So does Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said as she tossed her dress on an empty chair. "Why did I not just take your advice and go talk to him at Netherfield? I would never have met Mr. Fowler, mother would never have found Mr. Darcy's handkerchief...and I would not be faced with the prospect of entertaining two men tomorrow morning." Elizabeth smiled ironically. "I hope it does not become a habit."

"Lizzy?" Elizabeth sat on the bed beside her sister.

"Mr. Darcy also dined at the Crenshaws this evening. Livy and the Colonel arranged it somehow." Jane leaned closer as Elizabeth became lost in the memory.

"And?" Jane demanded.

"And it would have been perfect had it not been for three things. First and foremost, the evening ended all too soon," Elizabeth said with a sly smile. "Second, Mama spoiled everything by inviting Mr. Fowler to return tomorrow."

"And third?" Jane prodded, as she began to comb Elizabeth's hair.

"I am afraid that Mr. Darcy is rather jealous of his friend. He knew that Mr. Fowler had come this morning and he seemed very put out over it." Jane smiled impishly.

"Good! Maybe that is just the incentive he needs to declare himself!"

"Or just the incentive he needs to go running back to Derbyshire. Oh, Jane! This is all so maddening! This is a comedy of errors worthy of the Bard himself! How will it end?"

"Perhaps it is 'much ado about nothing'? " Jane replied. Elizabeth threw a pillow at her. "Lizzy, your course would appear to be simple: tomorrow make it perfectly clear to both Mr. Fowler and Mr. Darcy where your preference lies."

"And Mama?" Elizabeth asked, as she rose to blow out the candles on the vanity.

"You have me there," Jane conceded. "But once Mama knows your feelings...."

"When has she ever shown any indication of--."? Elizabeth sprang out of bed and relit the candle. She dug into her drawer in the tall bureau and drew out her writing materials.

"What are you doing, Lizzy?"

"Mama may understand nothing of my feelings, but I know who does," she responded, as she began to write a letter to her father.

Chapter 17 (cont.)

Mr. Bingley arrived at Mr. Darcy's townhouse very early the next morning. He joined Mr. Darcy in the breakfast room and helped himself to a steaming cup of coffee while a footman filled his plate. When the footman was gone, Mr. Bingley sought to satisfy his curiosity.

"So, what is this about receiving an invitation to the Gardiners'?" he began as he sliced into his sausage.

"I had the good fortune to dine with Miss Bennet last night at the Crenshaws' and she invited me to come round this morning," Mr. Darcy said as he tucked into his own plate.
"Were you with the Gardiners last evening?"

"No. I spent the evening trying to talk Caroline out of joining the Hursts on the Continent. I do not know what came over her, but she suddenly expressed an urgent desire to quit London and go to Italy. I tried to talk her out of it but she was quite adamant about leaving as soon as possible." Mr. Bingley sat back and sighed. "I guess I am to have neither of my sisters at my wedding." Mr. Darcy was very surprised by the news but he said nothing.

"So tell me about your evening with the Crenshaws. How was it?" asked Mr. Bingley, who was not one to dwell on his own problems. He leaned toward Mr. Darcy expectantly. Mr. Darcy said nothing for a moment. He merely smiled, and Mr. Bingley joined him, remembering how he had felt when he had been reunited with Jane and began to dream of a future by her side. But Mr. Bingley's curiosity soon got the better of him and he pressed his friend for a verbal response.

"It was quite...pleasant," Mr. Darcy said with an enigmatic smile.

"Pleasant! Come on, man, you are positively beaming! It must have been more than merely 'pleasant.'" Mr. Bingley cried.

"Well, productive, then," Mr. Darcy added as he waved over a servant for a second helping.

"I have never thought of an evening in the company of a beautiful lady as 'productive,' Darcy. Stop being so bloody cryptic and tell me what happened!" Mr. Bingley challenged. Mr. Darcy sat back and recounted the evening, even including his jealous frustration with Mr. Fowler and Mr. Douglass.

"Why it even makes me jealous to think that you, who can virtually come and go as he pleases in Gracechurch Street, can see her almost at will," he declared, rising from his seat and pacing before Mr. Bingley.

"Well there is only one thing for it, Darcy," Mr. Bingley said airily. "Marry her!"

"Bingley that is exactly what I intend to do!" Darcy maintained. "I would ask her this minute if I could be certain that she would have me," he said in a much lower voice that conveyed all his doubts and insecurity.

"Darcy," Mr. Bingley said, as he rose and put a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder. "Why is it that you are the only person in Christendom who doubts Miss Elizabeth's feelings for you?"

"Then you think that she does love me?" Mr. Darcy asked hopefully. Mr. Bingley threw back his head and laughed. "I am only slightly less sure that the sun will rise upon the morrow," he said, and he led his friend toward the door. As they made their way to Mr. Bingley's carriage, a servant strode up to Mr. Darcy and handed him a letter. Mr. Darcy quickly perused its contents, and with a smile of satisfaction, excused himself to return to the house for a few minutes. Inside, he gave precise instructions to Mr. Harris before he stepped into Mr. Bingley's barouche and headed for Gracechurch Street.

Elizabeth dressed with special care and descended to the breakfast room where she knew she would have a private moment with her aunt and uncle. Jane had also risen early, but her sore ankle would delay her progress, so Elizabeth took advantage of the opportunity to seek out her relatives' advice. She greeted them each with a hug and kiss before joining them at table.

"How was your evening at the Crenshaws', dear?" Mrs. Gardiner asked as she poured out a cup of chocolate for her niece.

"It was wonderful, Aunt Gardiner. Livy invited Mr. Darcy to dine with them as well." Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged smiles.

"So you have seen the gentleman at last," Mr. Gardiner said.

"Yes, and I have invited him to call on us this morning," she confessed. "Of course, that was before I knew that Mama had also invited Mr. Fowler," Elizabeth said as she spread jam on a biscuit.

"They are friends are they not?" Mrs. Gardiner asked naively. Mr. Gardiner, however, understood the problem.

"Mr. Darcy's regard for you is not so tenuous that he would be put off by this upstart Fowler?" he asked with some concern.

"I am not sure how 'tenuous' Mr. Darcy's regard for me is, and uncle, and I am unlikely to find out if my mother is here simpering and fawning over her precious Mr. Fowler," Elizabeth replied heatedly. "I am afraid Mr. Darcy and my mother have never got on well, and she is unlikely to make any effort to see good in Mr. Darcy while she has Mr. Fowler in her sights." Mrs. Gardiner sighed. "Jane said that I should leave Mr. Darcy in absolutely no doubt of my feelings," Elizabeth continued, staring into her empty cup. Mrs. Gardiner rose to refill it. "But I am not completely sure what my own feelings are."

"Are you not?" Mrs. Gardiner asked softly as she resumed her seat. Mr. Gardiner glanced at his wife.

"Well, you do know your heart where Mr. Fowler is concerned. You would be well advised to leave Mr. Fowler in no doubt, if you take my meaning."

"My thoughts exactly, brother," Mrs. Bennet cried from the door where she had overheard his last statement. "I think you should pay heed to your uncle's advice, Lizzy," she said. "A gentleman suitor should be left in absolutely no doubt of where his lady's affections lie." A crooked, ironic smile suffused Elizabeth's face.

"If you insist, Mama."

An hour later found the ladies of the house chiefly occupied with women's work. Mrs. Gardiner worked on a piece of tatted lace, and Elizabeth and Jane embroidered handkerchiefs. Mrs. Bennet was far too flustered by the prospect of Mr. Fowler's arrival to put her time to constructive use. She had picked up and thrown down her knitting twice, and had finally given up all pretense of concentration in favor of pacing back and forth before the windows. She suddenly sputtered and began to scurry about the room excitedly.

"He is here, he is here, Lizzy! The carriage just pulled up outside. Now, I want you to be as pleasant and as encouraging as you possibly can," Mrs. Bennet demanded breathlessly. "Eight thousand pounds a year," she whispered to herself as she picked up her knitting and assumed a pose of absolute indifference to the sound of approaching footsteps. Elizabeth looked at Jane and Mrs. Gardiner and sighed deeply. The door opened and Mr. Bingley, followed by Mr. Darcy, entered.

"Good morning ladies," Mr. Bingley said with a bow. Elizabeth and Jane suppressed a giggle, for their mother's disappointment was blatantly obvious, although nothing compared with her shock at spying Mr. Darcy.

"Oh, it is just you, Mr. Bingley." She barely spared a glance for the tall man. "Mr. Darcy," she spat. Mrs. Gardiner rose and welcomed Mr. Darcy with all the grace and cordiality that was in her nature. Elizabeth also rose, and following her mother's advice to leave her suitor in no doubt of her affections, she smiled warmly and invited Mr. Darcy to sit beside her. Mr. Darcy paused by Jane to ask about the condition of her ankle before he took the seat next to her in the window. Mrs. Gardiner poured him a cup of tea, and Elizabeth had just begun to chat with him, when Mrs. Bennet interrupted.

"We did not know you were in town, Mr. Darcy." Mr. Darcy replied that he had arrived in town just after Miss Bennet; in fact, he had met the Gardiners and Miss Bennet at the theatre just recently. Having silenced Mrs. Bennet for the moment, Elizabeth attempted to continue her conversation, when Mrs. Bennet interrupted again.

"Lizzy is expecting a caller this morning, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Bennet said in hopes of hastening his departure. "You perhaps know Mr. Fowler?"

"Yes, I do," Mr. Darcy said tightly.

"Mr. Fowler has been paying my daughter most particular attention. He seems quite taken with her," Mrs. Bennet smiled. Elizabeth looked worriedly at Mr. Darcy.

"That does not surprise me in the least, Mrs. Bennet, with such a charming and amiable daughter as yours." Elizabeth's smile lit up the room. The warmth with which Mr. Darcy praised Elizabeth surprised Mrs. Bennet, but she soon regained her stride.

"Mr. Fowler came to dine here last night, but Lizzy insisted on going to dinner at the Crenshaws. Mr. Fowler was most disappointed. But Lizzy has promised to be here to receive Mr. Fowler's attentions this morning, and we expect him at any moment." She looked at Mr. Darcy pointedly. Across the room, Jane and Mr. Bingley exchanged worried glances. But Mrs. Gardiner spoke up first to ease the tension.

"Mr. Darcy actually introduced us to Mr. Fowler, Fanny," she began, casting about for aught else to say.

"Oh, then we have you to thank, Mr. Darcy, for Lizzy's good fortune in attracting such a fine man." Elizabeth glanced down at Mr. Darcy's hand and saw his knuckles turn white. She attempted to disarm him with a laugh.

"Mama, you are behaving as though Mr. Fowler is a beau; I assure you, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Fowler means far more to my mother than he will ever be to me." She searched his eyes for a sign of understanding, and seeing it flickering deep in his dark brooding eyes, she smiled and allowed herself to breathe again. A look of horror grazed her mother's face momentarily, but as quickly as it had come upon her it was gone. She instantly assumed that Elizabeth was joking. "I understand that your sister is to come to town for Colonel Fitzwilliam and Olivia's engagement dinner," Elizabeth said quickly, lest her mother intervened again. "You spoke of her so warmly at Netherfield and in Kent. Do you think that we might have a chance to meet while she is in town?" Elizabeth blushed, realizing that she was openly begging for an invitation, but she did not care. She was determined to follow her mother's instructions to the letter. Mr. Darcy would know where he stood with her before he left that day, regardless of what it cost her.

"As a matter of fact, Miss Bennet, my sister Georgiana has expressed a similar interest in meeting you. I hope you will permit me to introduce her to you at Colonel Fitzwilliam's engagement dinner," Mr. Darcy smiled.

"Oh, but I--."

"Your invitations should arrive today," Mr. Darcy said to the whole room. "Aunt Rebecca added your names to her guest list the moment she arrived in town." Elizabeth beamed.

"An engagement dinner...hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam, you say," Mrs. Bennet said abstractedly, visions of social opportunities danced in her head.

"It is Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam, Mama. Colonel Fitzwilliam is the son of the Earl of Matlock," Elizabeth corrected her. Mrs. Bennet immediately seized upon this bit of information. Everyone else in the room instinctively cringed.

"An earl? Really! Leave it to Olivia Crenshaw to capture the affections of a future earl. Very ambitious, that girl..." Mrs. Bennet muttered.

"Mama!" Jane and Elizabeth cried simultaneously.

"My cousin is the younger son, madam," Mr. Darcy said evenly with forced calmness. He was nearing the end of his patience. He continued to find it inconceivable that Jane and Elizabeth Bennet shared blood with the infuriating woman.

"So Olivia's fiancé is your cousin," Mrs. Bennet said calculatingly.

"I explained this all to you when I told first you of Livy's engagement," Lizzy said before her mother could speculate on the number of connections such an alliance could bring her girls. "I told you that I had met Colonel Fitzwilliam in Kent--."

"Yes and you obviously frittered away your opportunity to secure him," Mrs. Bennet huffed. Elizabeth's eyes bulged open.

"The Colonel was already quite in love with Olivia, Mother," she cried, "and I had already..." She caught herself before she openly declared her love for Mr. Darcy, but Jane and Mrs. Gardiner knew what Elizabeth held back, even if neither Mr. Darcy nor Mrs. Bennet did. Mr. Bingley all but cried out "Aha!" He contented himself with a large and triumphant grin that Jane's hard nudge could not dislodge. The sound of voices in the hall spared Elizabeth the stares that turned her face crimson. Mr. Darcy's look was merely of curiosity, but Elizabeth could not meet his eyes. The door to the parlor opened and Mr. Fowler entered the room with Mr. Gardiner.

"Look who I met as I returned from my walk," Mr. Gardiner said. Mr. Fowler came forward and greeted everyone. Mrs. Bennet was effusive in her welcome. Mr. Fowler greeted Mr. Darcy somewhat like a fox caught among the sheep, and Mr. Darcy gave him no quarter. He resumed his seat beside Elizabeth, much to her relief, with a proprietary demeanor. Mr. Gardiner claimed the nearest seat on Elizabeth's other side before Mr. Fowler was aware of its availability. Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Darcy easily fell into conversation, Elizabeth joining in upon occasion. Mr. Darcy felt at ease with the gentleman, and understood that he and Mrs. Gardiner had been strong influences on Elizabeth and Jane. Mr. Fowler, meanwhile, was forced to sit near Mrs. Bennet, much to his chagrin. She once again fawned and fussed over him, praising his every opinion. Mr. Fowler kept his focus on Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, until noticing his distraction, Mrs. Bennet rose and approached them.

"You are being very rude, Mr. Darcy, holding Lizzy prisoner here while she has other guests to entertain. Come, Lizzy," she demanded, tugging at her hand. Elizabeth reluctantly rose and was made to sit in a chair closer to Mr. Fowler. But even as he paid her his addresses, Mr. Fowler's eyes were on Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy's eyes were upon Elizabeth's. Elizabeth's eyes flitted about, to Jane and Mr. Bingley, to her aunt, her uncle; she looked at everyone and everything in the room except Mr. Fowler, Mr. Darcy and her mother until, summoning her courage, Elizabeth lifted her eyes to Mr. Darcy and held them there. When Mr. Fowler saw Mr. Darcy smile, he looked at Elizabeth and knew he would lose this fight. Mrs. Bennet, however, was very displeased by her daughter's continued staring at Mr. Darcy.

"Lizzy!" she cried. "It is rude to stare," she whispered so that only Elizabeth and Mr. Fowler could hear her. "I know you have always disliked Mr. Darcy but do not always stare at him so. I believe the man takes perverse pleasure in it. I dare say it suits his vanity." Mr. Fowler smiled.

"I thought that you and Mr. Darcy were friends, Miss Bennet," he said, his spirits rallying.

"We are very good friends, indeed, Mr. Fowler. My mother is greatly mistaken in saying that I dislike him. We did not get along well when we first met, but we have become good friends these last few months since we learned to understand each other," she said her eyes twinkling. Elizabeth heard her mother's hiss of disapproval. But Mrs. Bennet thought it unwise to insult Mr. Darcy in front of Mr. Fowler.

Mr. Darcy, for his part, had seen enough to reassure him. Mr. Fowler could not separate him from Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet, of course, would continue to be a thorn in his side, but she was an opportunity cost he was willing to bear in order to have Elizabeth by his side. Mr. Darcy rose to take his leave, much to Elizabeth's consternation, and her mother's delight.

"I am afraid I must take my leave. I have a matter of business I must attend to," he said. He thanked Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner for their hospitality and Mrs. Gardiner expressed her hope that he would soon return as a dinner guest.

"I should be delighted, madam, sir," he said with a bow. Elizabeth rose and offered her hand. Mr. Darcy's smile stilled the fluttering in her heart.

"I look forward to seeing you this Saturday, Miss Bennet," he said. Elizabeth returned the smile and whispered that she also looked forward to the evening. Mrs. Bennet was aghast by her daughter's apparent intimacy with the accursed Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy! D! It could not, it must not be! No, it is Mr. Douglass, and she merely wants to deceive me. My Lizzy would have nothing whatsoever to do with that conceited, odious man! As quickly as the notion arose in her mind she had dismissed it as an utter impossibility. Mr. Bingley and Jane called Elizabeth over to involve her in some debate about their wedding arrangements. The talk of weddings excited Mrs. Bennet's interest.

"I do love a wedding, Mr. Fowler, such gaiety, such happiness! And you know what they say: one wedding begets another!" Her meaning was all too obvious and the ladies in the room, save Mrs. Bennet, blushed in embarrassment. Mr. Fowler beat a hasty retreat as soon as propriety permitted.

"Oh, it is a shame he had to leave so soon, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said consolingly to Elizabeth, who was only too glad to see him leave, "and without an indication of when he is likely to return. Lizzy you must make a point of being home every morning in future, lest Mr. Fowler appear unexpectedly and miss you. It would be tragic to waste such an opportunity."

"I doubt that I shall have any such 'opportunity,' Mama. We are to return to Longbourn soon, or have you forgotten," she said, hoping that her father's letter would soon summon them all home, or at the very least, Mrs. Bennet.

"Oh, well we shall have to invite Mr. Fowler to the wedding, Jane. Mr. Bingley, you could give him lodgings at Netherfield. That way he will have ample opportunity to be among the family, and who knows? Perhaps there will be a second wedding for me to plan." Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and went up to her room. She lay on the bed and remembered Mr. Darcy's glowing compliment and the look in his eyes as he departed. Elizabeth had accomplished her mission. She had left Mr. Darcy in no doubt of her affections, and in doing so, she was no longer in any doubt of her own.

Elizabeth was in her room reading when she heard a knock upon the door. It opened to reveal the elder of her two nephews, who poked his head in and told her that her father wished to see her in her uncle's study. Elizabeth lifted her head from the pillow, certain that she had heard the boy incorrectly. She rose and hurried downstairs, her curiosity mounting as she approached the door. She could hear the voices of both her parents from within. Her father was indeed in London!

"Well there was no cause for you to come to London, Mr. Bennet, I am quite capable--." Mrs. Bennet was saying, but Mr. Bennet cut her off.

"No cause! You concocted the flimsiest excuse to leave Longbourn to rush to your daughter's side and when I simply express the desire to see my own child you say I have no reason?" Elizabeth covered her mouth in horror. She had rarely heard her father raise his voice, but he was clearly livid, although Elizabeth knew not about what. She held her breath, attempting to hear more. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but the situation was too extraordinary to resist. How had her father come to be in town? She had written to him only yesterday to beg his assistance in dealing with her mother, but it was impossible that he had received her letter in so short a time, or that he could have traveled from Longbourn even if he had. No, something dreadful must have happened in Hertfordshire to make her father come to town so unexpectedly. Elizabeth suddenly began to fear for her sisters' health and well-being. These past two weeks she had been so consumed in dealing with her own problems to even write to Mary, Kitty, or Lydia. Now one of them might be seriously ill or worse....

"Mr. Bennet! If you would just leave this all to me, I will manage everything. There was no need to come to town and involve yourself in this, this...sordid business."

"What 'sordid business' are you speaking of, Mrs. Bennet?" The sound of a chair being dragged out muffled Mrs. Bennet's words momentarily.

"Why did you come to town, then?" Mr. Bennet said in a calmer tone.

"Very well, Mr. Bennet, if you must know the truth. I came to town because I was worried about Lizzy." Even from outside of the room, Elizabeth could hear Mr. Bennet's gasp.

"Why should you be concerned for Lizzy?" he asked.

"She ran away from home, Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet cried as though speaking to an idiot. "Surely you could understand a mother's concern."

"Lizzy did not 'run away,' Mrs. Bennet. She merely left home on a planned trip a day early," her father said wearily.

"But why, Mr. Bennet, why? I am afraid your dear girl has gotten herself into some trouble," Mrs. Bennet exclaimed dramatically. Elizabeth sighed.

"Errant nonsense! I would sooner believe that of Lydia or Kitty, even Mary before I would believe such an accusation of my Lizzy!" Mr. Bennet declared.

"Of course, you would defend your favorite. But you do not know what I do, Mr. Bennet. I know it all. I had hoped to spare you the truth about your Lizzy, but--."

"Oh, where is that girl!" Mr. Bennet shouted in exasperation. He was tired from his journey and had no interest in his wife's blatherings. He had come to town to see his daughter and if there were any truths to be learned, he would hear them from her. Before Elizabeth could react, the door flew open, and Elizabeth found herself face to face with Mr. Bennet. He opened his arms and she rushed into his embrace.

The following morning, Mr. Darcy's visitor stared at the imposing mahogany door that now stood closed before him and sighed in frustration. He had hoped to catch Mr. Darcy at home but had missed him by twenty minutes according to his butler. He had left his card--all he could do now was wait. He descended the stairs and decided to head toward the nearest large thoroughfare and hail a chair. He had just started to turn east when he heard his name being called.

"Mr. Bennet!" Mr. Darcy called out in surprise.

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet replied evenly, with a tip of his hat.

"I did not know that you were...forgive my manners, sir. Pray walk into the house with me." Moments later, the two men settled into large comfortable chairs in Mr. Darcy's study. Mr. Harris poured out two cups of tea and departed.

"When did you arrive in town, Mr. Bennet? Mr. Darcy began.

"Last evening, sir. I was so fortunate as to be able to ride into town with a friend who was coming here on business, else I would have had to ride the post this morning. I am afraid my own equipage is currently being repaired. Had I waited for it to be mended, I might not have arrived for another week."

"I did not know that you intended to come to London, Mr. Bennet," Mr. Darcy said a bit nervously.

"Nor did I, but I realized that I could be of little use to my daughter from Longbourn," Mr. Bennet intoned. Mr. Darcy hesitated a moment, but Mr. Bennet volunteered no more.

"You did receive my letter," Mr. Darcy assayed.

"Letter!" Mr. Bennet cried, rising and carrying his cup as he began to perambulate around the room. "Letter? That thing read like some ladies' novel, and it was not much shorter." Mr. Darcy smiled, and absently ran a hand through his hair.

"I wanted you to know everything--."

"That much was obvious," Mr. Bennet countered, laying his cup and saucer aside. "What I want to know is what you want me to do about it!"

Chapter 18

Posted on Wednesday, 29 May 2002

"So what reason did your father give for arriving in town so unexpectedly?" Olivia asked as she eyed the display of nonpareils in the window of a confectioner's shop. She and Lizzy had been doing a little shopping and were now taking a leisurely stroll home.

"He said he wanted to see his two eldest daughters, but he was being evasive. I think that there is something afoot." The two ladies walked on in silence for the length of one street.

"So when will you see Mr. Darcy again?" Olivia asked.

"Not until your engagement dinner," Elizabeth said as she dug into her reticule in search of her handkerchief. She found it and dabbed the corner of her eye to remove a speck of dust that had made it water.

"Are you certain of that, Lizzy?" Olivia asked. Elizabeth was intent on putting away her handkerchief, and merely answered, "Hmm?" as she turned to her friend. She looked up then and saw an open carriage bearing the Darcy crest roll by. Its occupants could be plainly seen, although they did not appear to notice either of the ladies observing them. Elizabeth was shocked, to put it mildly. Olivia was merely curious.

"Where do you suppose they are going?" she asked.

"They are headed in the direction of Gracechurch Street, but I think the far more interesting question is where have they been!" Elizabeth said as she picked up her pace to keep the carriage in sight. As she expected, the carriage came to a stop outside the Gardiner's home. When Olivia and Elizabeth caught up with it some minutes later, its occupants had disappeared, apparently into the house. Olivia and Elizabeth entered the parlor just in time to catch the tail end of Mr. Darcy's explanation.

"...And much to my surprise, I encountered Mr. Bennet this morning while I was returning home after my morning constitutional," Mr. Darcy was saying.

"So I invited Mr. Darcy to join me for lunch at my club, and he was kind enough to offer me a ride back to Gracechurch Street," Mr. Bennet said as he and Mr. Darcy stood side by side before the mantelpiece, looking as innocent as a pair of new born babes, but both Olivia and Elizabeth were suspicious. The two ladies exchanged glances; how is it likely that these two men should meet out on a morning walk? Mr. Darcy's home was some distance from Gracechurch Street. No, the coincidence was too neat. The ladies stepped further into the parlor, where they saw that the two men were addressing Mrs. Bennet, who looked none too pleased with the prospect of another visit with Mr. Darcy. Olivia feigned a cough to get Mr. Darcy's attention. Elizabeth blushed slightly as she came forward to greet him.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy. This is a most unexpected pleasure. I had not thought to see you again until Saturday." Mr. Darcy's flustered repetition of the story he and Mr. Bennet convinced the ladies that the gentlemen had completely fabricated the story. Mr. Darcy's expression delighted Olivia, and she recalled that day when she first saw him smile. It was that day in the park when she had first learned of his attachment. She greeted Mr. Darcy with a sly twinkle in her eye.

"I understood that Mr. Bingley was coming by today," Mr. Bennet said. "Has he absconded with my eldest?" Mrs. Bennet, in sour spirits reported that Jane and Mr. Bingley were in the conservatory. "Good, good. Why don't you young people go and join them? I have some business to attend to, and your rattling about here will just try poor Mrs. Bennet's nerves," he said with a wink. The three all looked at Mr. Bennet, then Elizabeth led the group to the conservatory. She could not observe Mr. Darcy as she went, since she was in the lead, but Olivia surreptitiously observed Mr. Darcy from the corner of her eye and was amused at the rapt attention he paid to the lazy curl that bounced about haphazardly at the nape of Elizabeth's neck. Mr. Bennet meanwhile sought out Mr. Gardiner in his study. He entered the room and made directly to the window that overlooked the small conservatory that opened onto a tiny garden at the rear of the house.

"Ah, Thomas," said Mr. Gardiner, looking up from his paperwork, as Mr. Bennet shifted the curtain just enough to peek out and see Olivia, Elizabeth, and Mr. Darcy disrupt an intimate scene between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bennet chuckled.

"My dearest Jane, you must know that Darcy means to propose to your sister fairly soon. I have it on the best authority that he has no intention of leaving London again until he has won her hand," Mr. Bingley insisted.

"I know that Lizzy was reassured by Mr. Darcy's visit yesterday, but Mr. Fowler seemed so persistent. And with mother's encouragement--."

"Mr. Fowler can hang himself!" Mr. Bingley declared with uncharacteristic brusqueness. "And your mother can forget all about her notions of manipulating Miss Elizabeth into an unwanted marriage! Darcy will win the day!" Jane smiled at his emotional outburst. Mr. Bingley colored slightly and sighed. "And I certainly did not bring you out here to discuss your sister's future happiness," he said more softly. He sat beside Jane and took up her hands.

"I am very sorry, sir. I cannot imagine what ever lead me to believe that you cared one whit for the fortunes of others," Jane teased. Mr. Bingley smiled.

"Indeed! Surely you knew that you had attached yourself to one of the most cold-hearted, self-absorbed, and mercenary men in England!" But Jane couldn't keep up the pretense.

"Cold-hearted? You? My dear Charles, I could easily marry a selfish man or a mercenary one, but a cold-hearted man will never make me happy. Please say it is not so! I would never believe it of you." Mr. Bingley sighed dramatically.

"So I am doomed to be Mr. Bingley, the amiable man; kindly Mr. Bingley, the affable Mr. Bingley--."

"Do you truly aspire to be the cold-hearted, self-absorbed, and mercenary Mr. Bingley?" Jane asked.

"Not if it means disappointing you, my beloved," he said as he raised her hand to kiss.

"I should be greatly disappointed to marry any man but the one I fell hopelessly in love with on sight," Jane declared, blushing slightly at the admission. Mr. Bingley scarcely noticed, however, for his lips were well on their way to meeting hers and all he could see was those lips. But he had barely reached his target when he was interrupted by the untimely arrival of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth and Olivia.

"Did you speak with Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Gardiner asked from his position at the desk.

"Yes, yes," Mr. Bennet said absently as he observed Jane's blush and Mr. Bingley's guilty expression. "You were right; the man is quite besotted with my Lizzy." Mr. Bennet sighed, and went to the desk, where he claimed a nearby chair.

"And did the young man acquit himself to your satisfaction? Did he explain his letter?"

"Letter!" Mr. Bennet chuckled again. "Mrs. Radcliffe would give her right arm to be able to concoct such a plot! Five sheets back and front, brother! Between your letter and Mr. Darcy's, I do not know when I was last so well entertained. I am only sorry that I did not have the chance to read Lizzy's letter as well."

"You do not believe that she wrote of Mr. Darcy, do you?" Mr. Gardiner asked, laying aside his reading glasses.

"Perhaps not, but I wish she had all the same. I would like to know her mind on all this."

Mr. Gardiner rose and fetched a pot of tea from a nearby table. "Did you and Mr. Darcy reach an understanding, then?" he asked as he poured out a cup for himself and his brother.

"It is not me he needs to come to an understanding with," Mr. Bennet retorted. At Mr. Gardiner's frown, he added. "The poor boy put on quite a show, scraping and apologizing, and declaring his intent to make my Lizzy the happiest woman alive. Quite amusing," Mr. Bennet concluded as he sipped his tea. Mr. Gardiner gave him a reproachful look. "Oh, I gave the wretched creature my blessing, so long as Lizzy agrees to have him, Mr. Bennet admitted.

"And will she?"

"Mr. Darcy doe not seem to know. That is why I brought him here," he said, returning to the window. Mr. Gardiner followed. "I want to see them together."

Their kiss was hardly scandalous, but Jane and Mr. Bingley still blushed furiously when Elizabeth led Olivia and Mr. Darcy into the conservatory. The three could not suppress their smiles as the couple darted to opposite sides of the greenhouse.

"Miss Bennet!" Mr. Darcy cried with an impish grin. "I see your ankle is well recovered." Elizabeth immediately took pity on her sister and changed the subject, asking Mr. Darcy if he had an interest in gardening. Mr. Darcy responded by speaking of the extensive grounds at his home in Derbyshire. Elizabeth drew him slightly away from the others and suggested that they go out to the garden and sit under the shade of the large elm. Leaving the others to their discussion of their forthcoming nuptials, Elizabeth led Mr. Darcy down the steps and across the tiny yard to a wooden bench that sheltered the couple from the hot July sun. It was barely wide enough to seat two. Elizabeth turned with a smile and sat upon the bench, while Mr. Darcy chose to remain standing. Unaware that his every action was being observed by Elizabeth's father and uncle, Mr. Darcy was nonetheless conscious of the other pairs of eyes at his back. Olivia, Jane, and Mr. Bingley were sitting in the conservatory apparently absorbed in conversation. However, Mr. Darcy did not have to turn around to know that the trio was actually engrossed in what was taking place in the garden.

"Well, now that I have you all alone, Mr. Darcy, pray tell me what you and my father are about?" she smiled. Mr. Darcy started at her question, and then quickly repeated his earlier explanation, that the two had met by accident.

"Come, come, Mr. Darcy. You may deceive my poor dear mother, but you do not really expect me to believe such a tale," Elizabeth challenged.

"Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy asked, wide-eyed.

"Do not dissemble, sir. Do you really expect me to believe that you and my father--residing miles apart--just happened to find each other while out on a morning stroll, and that my father, who has the merest acquaintance with you, should invite you to dine at his club?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows accusingly. Mr. Darcy swallowed hard.

"Yes," he managed. Elizabeth rose and paced before Mr. Darcy, who instinctively leapt to his feet.

"'Disguise of any sort is my abhorrence,' you once said as I recall," Elizabeth said. She stopped pacing and took a step toward Mr. Darcy, who instinctively stepped backward, much to Elizabeth's amusement and to the amusement of the men above. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner exchanged a glance. They could not quite hear what was being said, but Elizabeth clearly had her suitor on the defensive. Below, Elizabeth crossed her arms. She was beginning to become frustrated by Mr. Darcy's stonewalling. She abruptly turned and started to head back toward the house, but she stopped when she heard Mr. Darcy's voice.

"I met your father outside my own house in ______ Street as I returned home from my morning walk." Elizabeth whirled. Mr. Darcy stepped back once more. "Perhaps he has a friend in the neighborhood," Mr. Darcy offered with a shrug.

"My father has no acquaintance in ______ Street!" Elizabeth said heatedly.

"Perhaps you would do better to question your father, then," Mr. Darcy said softly. Elizabeth saw the truth in his words and chastened, returned to her seat on the bench. Mr. Darcy joined her.

"Why did my father go to see you?" Elizabeth asked when she had fully regained her composure.

"I do not know," Mr. Darcy said, "But we spoke mainly of you." Elizabeth shot him a glance. "You must realize that we have few other interests in common, although we did discuss our mutual love of Shakespeare and Mozart, and the occasional pleasure to be found in a glass of fine Amontillado sherry." The dimple in his cheek told Elizabeth that she was being toyed with, and as she fought to suppress the smile that sprang to her lips. She found herself reluctant to press Mr. Darcy for further details. She could hardly expect an interview between her father and Mr. Darcy to go very well, given the difference in their personalities and Elizabeth's former propensity for speaking extremely ill of the man she was now so desperately in love with. Her heart began to pound in her chest. "I told him everything, Miss Bennet. Actually," Mr. Darcy confessed through a veil of long dark eyelashes, "I sent him an express a few days ago describing our entire history," Mr. Darcy said with flushed cheeks. Elizabeth was astounded.

"Whatever for?" Mr. Darcy grew redder.

"I thought that he should know the truth about me. I thought it only fair that he know something of the man who loves and values his daughter above all else in the world..." Elizabeth felt herself begin to swoon, but was saved by Mr. Darcy's untimely ironic laugh. She frowned at him, wishing he had not been distracted by whatever led him to abort his proposal. "I guess I had thought to win another ally in my cause. When Miss Crenshaw told me of how the two of you tried to fix things between Mr. Bingley and your sister, I vowed to follow your example." Elizabeth stared at him, uncomprehending.

"I do not have the pleasure of understanding you at all, Mr. Darcy," she said as Mr. Darcy plucked a flower from a nearby bush and proceeded to rend it to shreds. Both Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth stared at his hands as he attempted an explanation.

"Miss Bennet had you and Miss Crenshaw to act as intermediaries. I chose to rely upon Mr. Gardiner."

"My uncle!" Elizabeth cried.

"Yes. I ran into him in _____ Park the morning after we met at the theatre. I found myself confessing my feelings for you--and I hope you will forgive him--he told me of yours." It was Elizabeth's turn to blush.

"Seeing that we were of similar minds...and hearts," Mr. Darcy said, laying his hand over Elizabeth's, "I needed only the opportunity to make my addresses. Of course, you had forbidden me to come here that day, and I did not know when I would see you again. After I spoke with Fitzwilliam and Miss Crenshaw, and she told me of your adventures in the park that day, I decided to enlist Mr. Gardiner's aid. I went right home and wrote him a note. As an afterthought, I also decided to write to your father. After all, I would need his blessing, and I wanted to stake my claim, so to speak, before Mr. Fowler made his advances." Elizabeth smirked at him.

"You were jealous of Mr. Fowler?" she said, as if such a thing were ridiculous. As if reading her thoughts, Mr. Darcy concurred.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but Fowler and I have a history. He has always competed with me, coveting anything and everything I possessed. I did not mind losing a rare volume, or a magnificent horse, but I was not about to let him steal you away, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth lost herself in the deep, earnest gaze in his eyes, and might have kissed him then, had she not glimpsed her smiling relations in the window at the edge of her line of sight. She lowered her eyes then, but squeezed Mr. Darcy's hand.

"We seem to have a choice before us. We could acknowledge the mistakes I made, and learn from them, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me," she heard Mr. Darcy say. "Or we could choose to put the past behind us and begin again, remembering only from this day forward." Elizabeth met his eyes, only to avert them again.

"We have both said and done things that we cannot be proud of, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said as she rose and walked to a place where she could see the window to her uncle's study without being seen herself. "Perhaps it would be best if we were to remember the past only as it gives us pleasure," she smiled, with another glance at the window as Mr. Darcy's lips approached hers. Elizabeth turned away from him, much to his consternation.

"We are hardly in a place that affords us much privacy, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth laughed, as a way of warning him. Mr. Darcy glanced back toward the conservatory, where Jane and Mr. Bingley quickly looked away and Olivia stared openly, beaming at Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy tapped Elizabeth on her shoulder and pointed to Olivia, who waved at the couple. Elizabeth shook her head, laughing, and began to make her way back to the conservatory. Mr. Darcy gently grabbed her arm.

"Will you not do me the honor of hearing my proposal, Elizabeth? I believe I am finally capable of one that is worthy of you," Mr. Darcy said grinning.

"Your first proposal was quite enough for me, sir," Elizabeth grinned back, as she continued toward the house. "I think you should take a page from your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and play to your strengths, Mr. Darcy!"

"My strengths?" asked the perplexed bachelor.

"Yes. Look what it did for the Colonel," Elizabeth said archly.

"And what are my strengths, madam?" Mr. Darcy asked, hands on hips.

"The same as your cousin's," Elizabeth said, reaching for the door. "He is equally inept at proposing, but like you he has an irresistible charm, or so I am told." Elizabeth opened the door and entered, allowing it to close behind her while Mr. Darcy stood in the garden, a silly smile upon his lips. Inside, Olivia and Jane could be seen running to Elizabeth and hugging her. Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes. It was then that he saw the beaming faces of the two men above.

"I am engaged!" was all Elizabeth had to say before the conservatory erupted in squeals of joy. Olivia and Jane ran to hug Elizabeth, while Mr. Bingley stepped into the garden and walked up to Mr. Darcy, who was still staring at the now empty window. Mr. Bingley tapped him on the shoulder.

"I say! Good show, Darcy!" Mr. Darcy turned and blinked at Mr. Bingley who pumped his hand and grinned like a hyena.

"She would not allow me to propose!" Mr. Darcy said, slightly affronted.

"She told us that she was engaged," Mr. Bingley said helpfully. Mr. Darcy allowed himself a genuine smile then, and allowed Mr. Bingley to escort him back to the house. When they entered the conservatory, the first thing Mr. Darcy saw was Mrs. Bennet, who was on the arm of Mr. Fowler.

"Look who has come to see you, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said smugly, with a look at Mr. Darcy. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to show Mr. Fowler around the garden," she continued, just as Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet entered the conservatory behind her.

Elizabeth glanced at her uncle and father and drew herself up to her full height. She walked over to Mr. Fowler and extended her hand. Mr. Darcy watched her, his teeth involuntarily clenched. Elizabeth gave Mr. Fowler her warmest smile.

"You have arrived just in time to join our celebration, Mr. Fowler," Elizabeth smiled.

"Celebration? What celebration?" Mrs. Bennet asked before Mr. Fowler could utter a reply.

"I was just coming to tell you, Mama," Elizabeth said, her eyes twinkling with tears. "Mr. Darcy and I have just become engaged." In the space of a second, Mrs. Bennet's mouth dropped open, Mr. Darcy's jaw relaxed, Mr. Fowler's sagged, and Mr. Gardiner's and Mr. Bennet's framed heartfelt smiles. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner came forward and hugged Elizabeth and shook hands with Mr. Darcy. The party adjourned back to the parlor, where Mr. Fowler begrudgingly congratulated Mr. Darcy and then hastily retreated. Mr. Gardiner ordered a bottle of champagne from his wine cellar. As it chilled, the couple fielded questions. Mrs. Bennet, who more than willing to sacrifice Mr. Fowler in favor of Mr. Darcy's ten thousand pound income, was as obsequious and obliging as she had formerly been rude. Mr. Darcy was in too good a humor to mind.

"How did he propose to you, Lizzy?" Jane asked, as she and Olivia pressed the third future bride for details.

"Propose? Oh, proposals are passé. Suffice to say," Elizabeth said with a sly glance at her beloved, "We thought we had rather better marry than not. After all, two people so ideally suited to one another could hardly be fit marriage partners for two other unsuspecting people. I would like to think we are doing the world a favor by marrying," she concluded airily. Mr. Darcy made a face at her, but when asked a similar question by Mrs. Bennet, he gave her an equally impertinent answer.

"Proposal? Good lord, I knew I had forgotten something!" He immediately rose, and taking Elizabeth by the hand, led her back out to the garden. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner laughed, as well as the others in the room, save for Mrs. Bennet, who was worried.

"Oh, dear," she said, rising and pacing the room. "Oh, dear. Jane, fetch me my salts. I feel faint! My nerves, oh, my poor dear nerves cannot take this anguish." Mr. Bennet went to his wife and led her to a chair. Mrs. Gardiner at that moment returned from her morning of charity work at a local hospital. When she saw Mrs. Bennet in such a frenzied state, she rushed to her side.

"Whatever is the matter, Mrs. Bennet?" she asked in a soothing tone.

"It is Lizzy! Oh, that girl will be the death of me yet!" Mr. Bennet patiently patted his wife's hand, while Jane brought the smelling salts.

"What about Lizzy?" Mrs. Gardiner asked with a look around the room at the others.

"Lizzy and Mr. Darcy have become engaged, Mrs. Gardiner," Olivia gleefully announced. Mrs. Gardiner clapped her hands together in joy.

"Do not be so hasty in your celebration, Mrs. Gardiner. Mr. Darcy, it seems, in his eagerness has forgotten to propose to Lizzy. And no doubt, just to vex me, the impudent girl will probably refuse him!"

"Where are you taking me?" Elizabeth laughed as Mr. Darcy led her down the corridor toward the conservatory. She nearly had to run to keep up with him. On a whim, Mr. Darcy poked his head into a room where the door had been left ajar. Finding it empty, he whisked Elizabeth inside and closed the door. He led Elizabeth over to the window of Mr. Gardiner's study and, taking both her hands in his, looked into her eyes. Elizabeth returned his smile for about half a minute, then her expression changed to one of confusion.

"Mr. Darcy? What?" Mr. Darcy seemed to be lost in his own world. Elizabeth was about to call him again when Mr. Darcy sighed deeply and spoke.

"I cannot believe how simple it was, in the end. Mr. Gardiner told me that it would be so, but I could not be persuaded to believe him."

"My uncle is a very clever man," Elizabeth said archly, although she was not quite sure what Mr. Darcy was talking about. "You should believe his every word."

"He told me that you loved me. Is that true, then?" Elizabeth ducked her head to hide her blush.

"It must be true. As I just told you, you should believe his every word." She looked into Mr. Darcy's eyes then to confirm her message.

"I would rather hear it from your lips, Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said, freeing one hand so that he could brush one finger lightly over mouth. "Or are you as proscribed from discussing your love for me as I am from discussing mine for you." Elizabeth laughed and walked over to the settee. Mr. Darcy joined her and took up her hands again.

"You are not forbidden from declaring your love, sir--only from proposing." Mr. Darcy nodded slowly, biting his lip.

"You have not answered my question," he said after a moment.

"No. I believe I am completely free to declare my love," Elizabeth said teasingly. She hesitated a moment, caught up in the significance of the moment. Mr. Darcy held his breath, and Elizabeth smiled at his apprehension. But before she answered her smile faded, and tears began to well up in her eyes. "I do love you. I love you so very much, more than even I imagined...." Elizabeth stared at their entwined hands and a single tear escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheek. Mr. Darcy again freed a hand to stop its progress with a finger. "I was too blind to know my feelings until I thought I had lost you forever. When I read your letter..." More tears began to flow. "After I read your letter I realized what I had been denying to myself all along. I thought...I--."

"Shh," said Mr. Darcy, as he placed a finger to Elizabeth's trembling lips. "I apologize Elizabeth. We did agree to put the past behind us. This is too painful.... You have answered my question, and that is all I needed to hear." He lifted Elizabeth's chin, and would have kissed her if Mr. Gardiner had not entered the room. Mr. Darcy leapt up and stood some distance from the settee.

Elizabeth rose slowly and went to her uncle. For a brief moment, the sight of tears alarmed him, but Elizabeth threw her arms around him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"Excuse me. I thought you had returned to the conservatory," said Mr. Gardiner.

"Too many prying eyes," quipped Mr. Darcy.

"I understand that I have you to thank for our present happiness," she said as her uncle drew out a handkerchief and handed it to her. Mr. Gardiner glanced at Mr. Darcy and they exchanged smiles.

"I did what I could, Lizzy. It did not take very much, just a good shove in the right direction, eh, Mr. Darcy?"

"And did you also send for father?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, he came of his own volition. When you came to us and told us your story, I decided to write to your father. I hope you will forgive my indiscretion--I told him everything you had told us. He had been worried about you since your return from Kent. We had corresponded about you earlier, you see. After I chanced to meet Mr. Darcy at the theatre, I resolved to take action. I had a meeting with an acquaintance near Mr. Darcy's residence and on a whim I decided to call upon him in ______ Street. He was not at home, but I was informed that he had gone to the park. I sought him out there, and we had a long talk. I advised him to quit wasting time and get on with it," Elizabeth's uncle laughed with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes," Mr. Darcy said, coming forward. "Without your uncle's help I do not know how much longer I would have vacillated. After I spoke with my cousin and Miss Crenshaw, I began to grow more confident and I went home and wrote Mr. Gardiner to thank him for his assistance and to beg a private audience with you today. Instead of a reply from your uncle, however, I received a call from your father. We had a long talk, and after a luncheon at your father's club...well, you know the rest. I am greatly indebted to your uncle. I was getting nowhere on my own," Mr. Darcy confessed.

"On your own?" Olivia said, entering the room with Jane. "Hardly--Richard, Mr. Bingley, Jane, and I have been trying to help the two of you individually and together since March!"

"Forgive the intrusion, Lizzy, but Mama wants to know if you have accepted Mr. Darcy's proposal," Jane said. Elizabeth grinned at Mr. Darcy.

"It is amazing that I should wish to ally myself with a man of such faulty memory. He has still not proposed," she laughed.

"She told me not to!" Mr. Darcy cried defensively.

"Why not?" asked Jane.

"It is apparently not the forte of men of the Fitzwilliam line," Elizabeth said with a wink at her friend. Olivia laughed, while Mr. Gardiner and Jane exchanged quizzical expressions. Olivia took Mr. Gardiner and Jane by the hand and led them to the door.

"Give him one more chance, Lizzy. After all, Richard was given two tries before he gave up. You can do no less for Mr. Darcy." When the door closed behind Olivia and the couple was alone, Elizabeth turned and looked at Mr. Darcy with a wicked smile. A few minutes later, they returned to the parlor, where the others awaited expectantly.

"Did I not tell you that all would be well?" Mr. Bingley asked smugly.

"Indeed you did, sir," Jane acknowledged. "Perhaps you shall not have to settle for being the amiable Mr. Bingley after all. I know that I shall in future think of you as the clever Mr. Bingley or Mr. Bingley, the clairvoyant."

"I shall be happy to be Mr. Bingley, the husband of the lovely Mrs. Bingley," he said somewhat self-consciously, aware that both Olivia and Mr. Bennet were plainly eavesdropping and that the others in the room were being only slightly more discreet.

"I shall think of you as the fortunate Mr. Bingley," Olivia declared.

"I should wonder that you can think of him at all, now that you are engaged to be married to the son of an earl," Mrs. Bennet declared meanly. Mr. Bennet glared at her disapprovingly. But her attention was quickly turned to the pair entering the room.

"Well?" cried Mrs. Bennet. "Did you accept Mr. Darcy's proposal?"

"No," Elizabeth said, trying to hide her smile. Her mother's wail reverberated through the neighborhood so that she did not hear the rest of Elizabeth's statement. "But he accepted mine." When the laughter subsided, Elizabeth went to her mother and whispered in her ear. Her mother finally understood the joke and was able to join in the rejoicing. Mr. Gardiner opened the bottle of vintage champagne and toasted the happy couple.

Mr. Darcy could not stay very long after the assembled party toasted the happy couple with champagne. His sister Georgiana was to arrive in town, and he wanted to be at home to receive her.

"I cannot wait to tell Georgiana our news. I have spoken to her of you a great deal and I am sure she will be delighted to learn that you are to become her sister," Mr. Darcy said to Elizabeth as he made his leave. He extended an invitation for everyone to dine with him the following evening--which was quickly accepted--and then, with a last loving look at Elizabeth, took his leave with Mr. Bingley, who was somewhat eager to return home to his own sister. Mr. Bingley still had hopes of convincing his sister Caroline to remain in London. He realized, however, that the news of Mr. Darcy's engagement to Elizabeth would in all likelihood decide things.

"She will not take it well," Mr. Bingley said to Mr. Darcy as the carriage turned off Gracechurch Street. "Although I daresay, she must have seen it coming. You have made no effort to hide your feelings for Miss Elizabeth for some time." Mr. Bingley grinned and said, half to himself, "And even when you did try to, you failed miserably." He expected some sort of retort from Mr. Darcy, but that man had not heard a single word his friend had uttered. His mind was much more agreeably engaged.

She is mine at last! Just a fortnight ago I would have believed it impossible. I was bereft of hope and the most wretched of beings. And today...today she said the words I never dared hope to hear. To think that she has loved me all this time...I hope I am now worthy of her. A jolt of the carriage crossing a rut in the road brought Mr. Darcy back to his surroundings. He discovered that Mr. Bingley was watching him with a tolerant grin.

"I know exactly what you are feeling, Darcy. The world is suddenly a very different place, is it not?"

"Well put, Bingley," he said, ducking his head. "Knowing now the joy of finally being united with someone whom I once thought lost to me...Charles, I feel even more remorse for my actions in separating you and Miss Bennet." Mr. Bingley reached across the carriage and offered his hand. Mr. Darcy took it a bit doubtfully.

"We will speak no more of it. Today marks the beginning of our future. What is past is no longer important."

"'Remember the past only as it gives you pleasure,' I think it goes," said Mr. Darcy sitting back in his seat. "An amazing woman told me that."

"Really?" said Mr. Bingley, his imagination titillated by his friend's confession. "Who was she?"

"Elizabeth Bennet," Mr. Darcy smiled, and slipped back into his dream-like state until he reached Mr. Bingley's door.

"Oh, Jane, did you ever imagine that things would turn out this way?" Elizabeth asked the following morning. The sisters sat together in the conservatory, where they'd snuck off to enjoy a quiet breakfast of tea and scones.

"I had it the very best authority that it would be," Jane replied. "Charles told me that it would be so, and he had it from Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth gasped.

"So I was the very last to know? That hardly seems fair!"

"Oh, Lizzy! It pains me to say it but you have been behind all of us for months! I might have told you last November that Mr. Darcy was in love with you. Anyone who saw the two of you dancing together could tell that you were destined for one another." Lizzy snorted at the comment.

"Anyone who heard us would have surmised that we were destined for a battlefield. We spent those two dances teetering on the brink of a full blown argument!"

"I don't believe you, Lizzy! Your countenances spoke of very different emotions and besides, people do not argue on dance floors!" Elizabeth laughed, but she did not gainsay her sister.

"If you insist, but it no longer matters; from this point forward we shall only concern ourselves with the future. The past shall be relegated to distant memory, soon to be forgotten. We shall not let it cast a shadow over our happiness."

"Nor shall we," Jane agreed. "Charles and I suffered so much pain in our past, but it shall not taint our future."

"Oh, Jane! The future!" She raised her teacup and Jane lifted hers to meet it. The touched the two cups together and smiled.

At that hour, Mr. Bingley was breaking his fast alone. His sister had yet to come down to breakfast so he had plenty of time to think over the previous afternoon's encounter with Caroline when he told her the news about Mr. Darcy's engagement to Elizabeth Bennet.

"May I come in, Caroline?" Mr. Bingley said, opening the door a crack.

"Yes, do come in, brother. Relieve me of this tedium." Mr. Bingley sat down on the only part of the bed not heaped with clothing.

"You would not be subjected to this tedium if you stayed in London, Caroline," he said gently. Miss Bingley looked up at her brother for the first time. The tone in his voice had surprised her. She had not until that point considered that her brother Charles might miss her when she left. She shook off the notion, however, and resolutely began sorting once more. Mr. Bingley sat and watched for a moment, letting his eyes take in the wide array of ensembles that seemed to be randomly strewn about.

"Good God, how long are you packing for Caroline?" he exclaimed. Instead of answering, his sister shot him a look of warning. Mr. Bingley was quiet for a moment, trying to assess his sister's mood. Realizing that there would be no good time to break his news, he decided to get it over with.

"I have some news, Caroline. You may find it unpleasant..." Mr. Bingley sought the right words.

"It concerns Mr. Darcy and Eliza Bennet, does it not?" she said without any show of emotion or concern.

"Yes...yes it does," replied Mr. Bingley, frowning. "How did you know?"

"He certainly wasted no time," Miss Bingley said, holding up a never-worn blue gown for inspection. Her eyes never saw the garment, however, as she discarded it without even looking up. After a moment, she stopped digging through the piles of clothing and sighed. "Mr. Darcy loves her. He will never love anyone else. He told me so." If Mr. Bingley was surprised by this revelation, he did not show it. He was too concerned for his sister's dull spirits.

"Is that why you want to leave London?"

"What is there for me to do here, Charles? Listen to my 'friends' snicker behind my back? Watch the two of you fawn and simper over your 'lovely' brides to be while I am made a laughing stock?" Miss Bingley did not deign to suppress the bitterness in her tone. She knew, however, that at least part of her anger was derived from self-reproach. She had failed miserably in her efforts to secure Mr. Darcy and her last desperate act had made the possibility of a civil relationship with Mr. Darcy nigh impossible.

"You can come back to Netherfield with me. Let people in town laugh if they want to. I care nothing about that. I do not like the idea of you traveling across the Continent alone to your sister, and you insist on leaving without securing a suitable traveling companion. And I had hoped...I hoped to have at least one of my sisters by my side when Jane and I married...Please reconsider, Caroline--for me, if not for yourself," Mr. Bingley pleaded. Miss Bingley looked into her brother's eyes.

"You do know that I was dead-set against your marriage to Jane Bennet and that I urged Mr. Darcy to interfere in your courtship?" she said, testing her brother's will.

"'Remember the past only as it gives you pleasure,'" Mr. Bingley murmured to himself as a smile came to his lips. Aloud he said, "You are my sister; no matter what you have done, you are priceless and irreplaceable to me. You will come to Netherfield and sit by my side at my wedding breakfast." Miss Bingley hugged her brother to her heart and took comfort in his staunch defense. She turned to look at the mess behind her.

"I suppose I have to have all of this put away, then," Miss Bingley laughed.

Mr. Bingley smiled at the bittersweet memory. He had felt his sister's pain and disappointment, but he had earned something more--the knowledge that his sister loved and valued him. Mr. Bingley vowed that henceforth Caroline would never be in any doubt of her value to him. He drew out his little notebook and flipped through its pages.

"Perhaps I ought to start one for her. Or better yet, counsel her to start her own. My days of strategizing are over. I will do all I can to see my sister happily wed, but I sincerely hope the campaign will not have to be so hard fought. Still," he admitted as he closed the book and laid it on the table, "I cannot say that I have not enjoyed it," he said. "But my days of meddling in the affairs of others is over. My next notebook will be filled with the more mundane ramblings of a deliriously happy husband."

"Deliriously happy?" Caroline said as she entered the room. "Really, Charles, do not think that you shall always be that way. Even the most amorous and besotted man soon learns that marriage is at best a comfortable situation and at worst a trial."

"Cynic!" Caroline smiled thinly.

"Romantic!" Mr. Bingley opened his mouth but stopped himself before calling his sister an embittered old maid. He felt a pang of guilt before he smiled.

"Allow me the folly of trying to prove you wrong." Caroline smiled sincerely, then, and reached out to take his hand.

"You would hardly be my brother if you did not."

On a sunny morning in August, some three weeks later, Mr. Bingley awoke in his bedroom at Netherfield. He bathed and then dressed with special care. When his valet was satisfied that Mr. Bingley looked his best, Mr. Bingley went down to break his fast. He found Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam already in the morning room enjoying a cup of coffee. They rose and greeted their bright-eyed friend.

"Are you ready to seize the day, Bingley?" Mr. Darcy asked as Mr. Bingley joined them at the table.

"I will never be more ready," he smiled. "In fact, I can scarcely understand how I managed to wait this long." Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled.

"You managed it admirably, Bingley, albeit impatiently. I must say I am glad the day has come at last. You were becoming quite insufferable."

"Yes, Bingley, I have to agree. It is one thing to see a man happy; quite another to see him euphoric. It quite put me off to see you smiling at nothing all the time like the village idiot," Mr. Darcy teased.

"My brother did nothing of the kind," Caroline said defensively. "He has merely had the look of a deliriously happy man--he told me so himself." Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam exchanged an amused glance.

"I stand corrected," Mr. Darcy said with a hint of a smirk as Caroline took her seat.

"All the same, I shall be glad when he leaves for Scotland. I have decided that I cannot stand the look of a deliriously happy man anymore than you gentlemen." Caroline allowed her smile to show, then, and the cousins exchanged another glance.

"Well, tease me if you must, Caroline," her affronted brother said. "You have not had to spend time in the company of these two lovesick pups. And they have two months to wait yet till their wedding day." Caroline dismissed the two men with a gesture.

"They are no concern of mine, Charles. You are the only one I am bound by blood to endure." If she stole a wistful glance at Mr. Darcy, only her brother noticed it. The others were too surprised by Caroline's display of humor to detect it.

"Lizzy!" Elizabeth sighed and opened her bedroom door although she could plainly hear her mother's voice well enough without doing so. "Go and tend to your sister, Lizzy," her mother demanded. "This is not your day. Jane needs all of our attention if she is to look her finest for Mr. Bingley."

"Jane needs no help from any of us to make her look perfect," Elizabeth muttered as she closed her door. Behind her, Jane laughed. "And if she finds out that you have been hiding in here these past ten minutes I will not live to see my own wedding day."

"Nonsense!" Jane cried. "Mama would not ruin her chance to see her second daughter marry even better than her first, if only to rub Mrs. Long's nose in her good fortune."

"Not to mention Lady Lucas," Elizabeth agreed. "Oh, Jane, you look so lovely! Mr. Bingley shall have a great deal of difficulty paying attention to the ceremony. He shall go completely distracted at the sight of you. Then again, he always has."

"Lizzy!"

"Perhaps Mr. Darcy can help him to compensate," Elizabeth teased. "He can tap your Mr. Bingley on the shoulder when he has to speak."

"Lizzy, you are incorrigible!" There was a knock on the door and Mrs. Gardiner and Olivia entered the room.

"Jane, you look wonderful!" Olivia breathed as she took in Jane's attire.

"Yes, you do. You look so very beautiful and so happy," Mrs. Gardiner concurred. "But I wonder if I might amend your outfit just a bit." She opened a box and pulled out a gold chain with a small locket appended from it. "You need not wear it, but Mr. Gardiner and I thought you might like to carry it today. It was your grandmother's and she gave it to me to carry at our wedding." Jane's eyes filled with tears and she smiled as she accepted the gift. She opened the locket and saw tiny images of her late grandparents inside. "Now, shoo, you two. Jane and I need a moment to ourselves." Elizabeth and Olivia left the room and headed down the stairs, leaving the two women to talk.

"Can you imagine, Lizzy, in eight weeks it will be our turn!" Olivia said excitedly.

"I know, Livy," Elizabeth said. "I cannot believe it myself! If anyone had told me when we started our crusade to reunite Jane and Mr. Bingley--. I had no idea that I would end up falling in love with Mr. Darcy."

"That is precisely why you should leave the crusading to me. I knew the first time I saw Mr. Darcy look at you that he was a man in thrall, even if you were some twenty yards away." Elizabeth started to argue, but thought better of it and smiled.

"I am in your debt, Livy. I owe all my future happiness to you. I shall never doubt your matchmaking capabilities again. Even better, I shall never have need of them again!"

"No; I shall happily give up my avocation in return for marital bliss with my dear Colonel. Of course, your sisters Mary and Catherine are of marriageable age..." Elizabeth took Olivia by the arm and quickly led her out of the house to where a carriage awaited to take them to the church.

"We shall have no more talk of schemes and matchmaking today! Today is for Jane and Mr. Bingley. Oh, I am so happy for them both," Elizabeth smiled as tears of joy moistened her eyelashes.

"It is a happy day, indeed," Olivia agreed. Her father and brother joined the pair in the carriage and they were soon off to the church. Moments later, Jane arrived, escorted by her parents, one ebullient and one subdued. Mrs. Bennet was far too nervous to sit in the carriage and wait. She demanded that she be released and strolled about greeting her guests with Mr. Bennet in tow. Catherine and Lydia followed them, as did Mary. Elizabeth remained behind to comfort Jane as Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared to escort his future bride to her place inside the church. In a small room at the rear of the small structure, Mr. Bingley paced nervously as Mr. Darcy watched.

"You are well on your way to wearing out those tiles, Bingley," Mr. Darcy teased. Mr. Bingley did not respond. Mr. Darcy shrugged and sat down. A moment later, Mr. Bingley joined him.

"I want to thank you, Darcy. I may have traveled a difficult course to reach this day, but I think I gained much from the journey, thanks to you."

"I fear I do not understand you, Bingley."

"You intended to keep me from making a mistake when you separated me from Jane. Wait--," he said when Mr. Darcy began to protest. "I know you meant well, in spite of your error. But I have come to appreciate that error for what it was--a chance to truly earn the happiness we have found together."

"Bingley, I think you have merely come up with a way to rationalize all that has happened," Mr. Darcy smiled.

"Perhaps, but I have come to love and value Jane Bennet more in these past few months than I ever did last winter. I might never have done so had it not been for your interference."

"Well," Mr. Darcy said awkwardly. "I cannot accept any gratitude for whatever lesson you might have learned through my actions. I shall never be able to forget that you and Miss Bennet suffered greatly at my expense--."

"...And have found such happiness," Mr. Bingley smiled. Mr. Darcy threw up his hands in defeat as the vicar knocked on the door to let Mr. Bingley know that it was time.

"So, Bingley, you go to face your fate," Mr. Darcy said. He extended his hand and Mr. Bingley took it. "I wish you joy."

"And in a few weeks, you shall face yours." Mr. Darcy clapped him on the back and the two men headed for the door. Mr. Darcy paused and turned.

You know, Bingley, maybe you are right after all. We have both traveled a difficult course to find happiness. I, too, have gained a great deal along the way."

"You have yet to learn not to keep your future wife waiting, I fear," Mr. Bingley replied as he pushed Mr. Darcy through the door. The two men thus arrived at the altar laughing, much to the amusement of Mr. Bennet as he escorted his daughter down the aisle.

Epilogue

"Mr. Bingley?" The newlywed gentleman turned to smile at his bride as she descended the grand staircase of the Craigsanquhar House Hotel in St. Andrews.

"Are you referring to the amiable Mr. Bingley? Or the clever Mr. Bingley?" he teased. Perhaps you mean to summon the affable Mr. Bingley."

"I am referring," Jane said when she drew close enough so that no one else might hear, "to the wicked Mr. Bingley who left me to sleep alone while he went off for a morning of sport on the links." She wagged a finger at him in mock rebuke.

"I apologize, my love, but you looked so peaceful lying there this morning. And I knew that you had no interest in golf--." He took Jane's hand and pulled her closer. "I am more than willing to make amends. The wicked Mr. Bingley can be terribly obliging." He bent even closer and planted a kiss just under Jane's ear as the pair stepped outside.

"I believe I like your wicked Mr. Bingley," Jane confessed as she opened her parasol and took hold of her husband's arm. "It is a shame that we must leave for Derbyshire at week's end," she sighed. "It is so lovely here."

"You would not wish to miss your sister's wedding?" Mr. Bingley said, surprised.

"No," Jane sighed. "But I would wish to have as many weeks again with you here in Scotland."

"Do not fret, my love. I am certain that the wicked Mr. Bingley will go with us to Derbyshire, and I daresay on to Hertfordshire as well." Jane smiled. "As will his brothers; Mr. Bingleys of all stripe will happily accompany you wherever you go, henceforth."

"That is good to know, for I would not part with any of my Mr. Bingleys for anything in the world!"

The End

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