The Wedding Party

ONE

“Bingley!” cried Fitzwilliam Darcy to his friend, “You have actually done it? You are to be married?”

Charles Bingley tried to scowl. “You need not be so incredulous, you know. I am capable of handling my own love life without your help.”

“So you claim,” Darcy said with a genuine scowl, which was more or less his default facial expression, “yet here you are engaged to a country miss with little fortune and low connections. Whose family, according to your sisters, are an abomination. Is it true that her mother openly brags that your marriage will be a means for her other daughters to find wealthy husbands?”

“Come inside and I will tell you all about the Bennets. My sisters exaggerate.” Bingley waved his arm toward the front door. “Welcome to Netherfield, Darcy. It's nothing to Pemberley, I know, but I've come to like it very much indeed.”

Darcy had left his sixteen-year-old sister with his uncle in London, and come to Hertfordshire to stand up with his friend at his wedding, which was to take place in six days on March 5. Part of his duty was to attend the myriad social functions that were bound to erupt in the coming days. He quivered with revulsion at the thought of it.

Bingley had chosen to marry in a rural backwater, among virtual savages who no doubt considered a country dance the height of social intercourse. Darcy foresaw a week of bad food, insipid conversation, dreary card games, graceless dancing and unattractive, unaccomplished women. All the while surrounded by his social inferiors clamoring for a favor, or for his patronage, or even--God forbid!--his hand in holy matrimony. After all, the ladies of Hertfordshire clearly aimed high.

Poor Bingley!

Darcy could only imagine what this Miss Jane Bennet must be like--a beautiful flatterer, a calculating fraud. And her mother already trolling for new victims, rich husbands for the four little piranhas still waiting at home. Darcy began to feel queasy as he followed Bingley into the house.

“Caroline and Louisa,” his friend said eagerly, “are entertaining my fiancée and one of her sisters in the drawing room right now. Would you like to meet her?”

No! Darcy wanted to scream. But he could not refuse such an offer, so he nodded with a slight smile. “I would prefer to refresh myself first, but I can stop for a moment in the drawing room.”

Bingley led him down a hall toward an open door. Darcy heard Miss Bingley's voice discussing furnishings in a not very pleasant tone; no one else seemed to be speaking. But as he and Bingley entered the room, a robust, vivacious, prettyish brunette he had never seen before, cried,

“Oh, what a good joke, Jane--you must have a new bed for your wedding night romp!”

And with that, the young lady actually snorted.

Darcy froze in his tracks. Bingley turned to him with an embarrassed smile and motioned him all the way into the room.

“Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley with an air of being rescued. She immediately came to claim his arm, which Darcy gladly yielded lest the snorting girl somehow get it into her head that taking his arm might be a good joke.

“Jane, Miss Lydia,” Mr. Bingley said, “this is my closest friend, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Darcy, this is my fiancée, Miss Bennet, and her youngest sister, Miss Lydia.”

The snorting girl was named Lydia.

“I am very pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet said sweetly. “I have heard so much about you. Charles speaks so very highly of you that I can only have the highest opinion of you myself.”

Oh yes, thought Darcy, a cool, calculating, blonde beauty.

The snorting girl made a face at Miss Bennet's comment but did not speak.

“Thank you, ladies. I am very glad to meet you both.”

Darcy bowed and the Miss Bennets curtsied.

Darcy gestured to his travel clothes and said, “I only just arrived, so you will forgive me if I go to my room now to refresh myself.”

He freed his arm from Miss Bingley with a short jerk, and left the room in as seemly a manner as he could manage. As he climbed the stairs behind the housekeeper, his only thoughts were of how to prevent Bingley's travesty of a marriage.

Bingley had said that his sisters had exaggerated the Bennets' shortcomings! If anything, they had not been severe enough. Miss Lydia was one of the most improper young ladies Darcy had ever met. A maiden--apparently--joking about the wedding night out loud, where anybody could hear! And that snort. Nobody gave her a second glance when she did that, so it must be routine for Miss Lydia to sound like a prize sow.

What could be done? Darcy had read the notices in the London papers and he had heard plenty of talk in Town of his friend's upcoming nuptials. To end the engagement would be a great scandal, and if Darcy were completely honest with himself, he saw Bingley as a potential husband for his own sister, Georgiana. She needed a kind, gentle husband who showed proper deference to her big brother's opinions.

Any hint of scandal would make it probable that Georgiana could not marry Bingley--it would just be too much on top of everything else she had experienced over the last year. So perhaps there was nothing to be done. Bingley had made his decision, he had fallen to the school of piranhas, and there was nothing to do now but drift along.

Poor Bingley!

As Darcy's man was untying his cravat, Bingley came into his dressing room. His face was flushed and his demeanor was far from its happy-go-lucky norm.

“Do not say anything, Darcy. Just hear me out.” He sat on the dressing table. “I am marrying Jane Bennet. I love her, she loves me, and she is not her sister or her mother. She is Jane, a true angel. My angel.” He brushed his hand through his curly blond hair. “Alright, my sisters were not entirely wrong when it comes to the Bennets. In all honesty, I had hoped that you would not yet be introduced to Miss Lydia.”

Darcy smiled and said, “I do not blame you.”

Then he imitated the lady's snort, and the two young men broke into laughter. Darcy's man barely kept his countenance.

“Oh, God, Darcy, you should have seen your face when she did that! I had hoped you would meet Miss Elizabeth first, but Mrs. Bennet insisted that Miss Lydia accompany Jane today. Frankly--and I will deny ever having said this--Miss Elizabeth is the only one of Jane's sisters whom I will be proud to introduce as my own sister.”

“Miss Elizabeth?”

“She is the second oldest, not yet one and twenty. Very witty, clever, kind and outgoing.”

Before he could stop himself, Darcy asked, “Is she pretty?”

Bingley smiled in the manner of a fisherman who feels a nibble on his line. “She is of course not so lovely as my Jane, but she has her share of admirers.” He leaned toward his friend and said, “To emphasize her finest assets, Darcy, she wears rather low-cut gowns.”

That got Darcy's attention. He always admired a fine figure. After a lady's eyes, it was the first thing he noticed. He was suddenly anxious to meet this Miss Elizabeth, and irritated with himself for being so. If she was Miss Bennet's sister, she would have the same abominable family, the same small fortune and the same low connections. She would be entirely unsuitable as a wife, regardless of her other “assets”.

Darcy did not believe in casual flirtations. When he was first out in society, he had quite enjoyed the attentions that the beautiful ladies of the Ton were pleased to shower on the Pemberley heir. This resulted in a minor scandal involving two very disappointed young women. His father's stern lecture reinforced his feelings of guilt over having caused such undeserved pain. Ever since, he had striven not to allow any eligible young lady to perceive his preference, so as not to raise expectations he had no intention of gratifying.

And here he was developing a fascination for a young woman he had never met and could never marry. One who could not possibly live up to the image his friend had managed to insert into Darcy's overheated imagination.

Well, he was to attend dinner that night at Longbourn, the estate of Miss Bennet's father. He had little doubt that by the end of the evening, all illusions regarding Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be dispelled.

TWO

Longbourn was not a very large house, Darcy saw upon his arrival there, but it was large enough, as well as modern and well-maintained. The Bennets obviously had some wealth. It was odd, Darcy thought, that the daughters should have such small fortunes--perhaps there was some mistake there.

Miss Bingley, though, seldom made a mistake about such things, dear to her heart as they were. She had said each daughter would get only 1,000 pounds. It was a ridiculously small amount, given what Darcy was seeing and had heard of their estate. They should each have at least 5,000. Well, there were five daughters so that was perhaps high, but certainly 3,000 pounds each was reasonable. Enough to allow the young ladies to retain their status as gentry--if only just barely--if they could not make eligible marriages.

As things stood, Bingley was likely to inherit the lot of them as dependants. Ridiculous. There was mismanagement here somewhere, thought Darcy. Given that the estate was entailed to a male cousin, Mr. Bennet should have been saving since his wedding.

With these sour thoughts in mind, Mr. Darcy entered Longbourn's foyer sporting a grimmer-than-usual scowl. The servants took the party's coats and hats and ushered them to the drawing room.

“Mr. Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, and Mr. Darcy, ma'am,” the servant said.

“Welcome, Mr. Bingley,” cried a very handsome older woman. Her voice was high-pitched and seemed slightly out of control. “I see you have finally brought your friend whom you have told us so much about.”

She smiled at Darcy in a flirtatious manner. Darcy's scowl became grimmer.

“Yes indeed, madam. Please allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Darcy, this is Mrs. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary and Miss Kitty. You have already met Jane and Miss Lydia.”

Bows and curtsies were exchanged.

“Ladies, it is a pleasure to meet you,” said Darcy while struggling to keep his gaze from settling on Miss Elizabeth. It was difficult--her assets and her gown were as Bingley had described, and moreover she had the most fascinating eyes. She seemed almost to be laughing at him with just her eyes. Fascinating.

Then Darcy was struck by a disturbing thought--why would she be laughing at me? He grew indignant, and his scowl grew grimmer still.

“Mr. Bennet is in his library,” Mrs. Bennet said brightly. “Hill, tell Mr. Bennet that some of our guests have arrived. Please be seated, everyone.”

Everybody except Darcy sat, Bingley taking a seat next to Miss Bennet. Darcy went to stand at the window with his back to the room. It was an old trick that allowed him social distance while letting him observe the proceedings via reflections in the glass. He was unsure what to say to the Bennet ladies, and was feeling displeased with Miss Elizabeth and her laughing, judging eyes. He braced himself against the snorts that were sure to come.

“Uh, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Bennet, “please take a seat here.”

And she actually took his arm and led him to a small sofa. She practically shoved him down next to a very bored looking Miss Lydia.

Looking pleased with herself, Mrs. Bennet said, “There now, is that not more comfortable? I understand you already met Lydia this afternoon. Is she not a darling girl?”

Darcy stared at Mrs. Bennet for a moment before he felt capable of speech. At last he said, “Indeed.” He continued to scowl.

Mrs. Bennet tittered at this, apparently perceiving it as a great compliment to her youngest. “Thank, you sir, you do us great honor.”

“Mama,” pleaded Miss Elizabeth in a low voice from behind her mother. She had come over to them looking as though she wished to intervene, but of course she could not.

“Oh, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy just agreed that Lydia is a dear girl. And why not? She has many admirers, Mr. Darcy. Why, all the officers seek her out at every opportunity.”

That was hardly a recommendation in favor of the young lady. Darcy was again at a loss, not knowing how to respond to this stupid woman who seemed to expect him to make her dull, snorting daughter mistress of Pemberley.

Finally he could not stop himself, and with a tiny smirk he said, “You must be pleased.”

“Oh, yes,” cried Mrs. Bennet, but behind her Miss Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly with a look close to despair while Miss Bingley snickered from her seat in the corner.

Darcy felt horrible. Mrs. Bennet was truly an idiot, but Miss Elizabeth did not deserve to have her mother made sport of in such a way. He forced a smile onto his face and said, “It is a great responsibility to raise five such lovely daughters.”

With a two-handed flourish, Mrs. Bennet began a nonsensical discourse on the burdens of motherhood, but Darcy paid her no attention. His eyes were fixed on Miss Elizabeth's face which was suddenly lit by a beautiful smile. Oh God, he thought, this will not do! I can have no interest in this young lady, she is entirely unsuitable. That woman is her mother, for heaven's sake!

His scowl returned as his gaze bore into Miss Elizabeth, who appeared suddenly conscious of his scrutiny. She looked directly at him for a moment, then her smile faded and she looked nervously away.

A male voice came from the doorway. “Bingley, Hurst, ladies. It is a pleasure to see you again.” An older man of about fifty entered the room and shook hands with Bingley. Then he saw Darcy. “And who is this gentleman? Ah, the famous friend from the north, I'll wager, with the famous estate.”

And no doubt the famous income, thought Darcy.

“This is my friend Mr. Darcy,” Bingley said. “Darcy, this is Mr. Bennet.”

“Mr. Darcy, welcome to Longbourn.”

Darcy stood and bowed. “Thank you sir.”

Mr. Bennet cast an amused glance at Miss Lydia. “I see you have already made friends with the Bennet ladies.”

Mr. Darcy sat down again and turned to Miss Lydia. She appeared to be chewing something, but that was not possible. He realized she was humming. He turned back to Mr. Bennet, who now looked quite close to laughter. Darcy was displeased to be such an object of mirth. He did not know how to politely respond, so he simply nodded.

“Yes, well, good for you,” Mr. Bennet said in a slightly distracted tone. He had apparently tired of Darcy as a target for his humor, and moved off to talk to Miss Elizabeth.

Darcy could not hear what they said, particularly as Miss Lydia's hum had become audible, but he was fascinated by the melodic quality of Miss Elizabeth's voice and the play of expression across her face. Her eyes were so bright and shone with such intelligence, her smile was so enticing, that she was a joy to watch.

And her light, pleasing figure was very pleasing indeed, with her bosom prominently displayed in a low cut gown. Darcy's eye was caught by a small garnet cross suspended from a delicate gold chain around her neck. It rested at the base of her throat, just above . . .

Oh, good God! He stood, moved back to the window and scowled intently out into the dark, while forcing himself to contemplate the willful neglect that was required to saddle one's daughters with 1,000-pound fortunes.

He heard the housekeeper--Hill--enter the room with more guests. Darcy saw red coats reflected in the glass in front of him and groaned. Officers, come no doubt to admire Miss Lydia's tuneless humming and violent snorts. A miserable evening was about to get worse.

THREE

The officers were Lieutenants Denny and Sanderson, and they did indeed gravitate directly to Miss Lydia. Miss Kitty joined their little group and soon the sounds of enthusiastic flirting wafted gratingly over the rest of the room. Darcy turned back to the window and scowled.

In spite of his resolve to think of other, less pleasant subjects, his eyes searched the window for Miss Elizabeth's reflection. But she had apparently disappeared, and he no longer heard her musical voice above the din. Had she left the party?

He turned away from the window to look for her, and very nearly knocked her down.

“Oh, excuse me, Miss Elizabeth,” he said as he steadied her by taking hold of her elbow. “I did not see you there.”

“It is my fault, sir, for sneaking up on you.” She grinned at him. “I was coming to talk to you.”

“Oh.” He let go of her arm and put his hands behind his back. He toyed with his signet ring.

“You seemed to find something of great concern in our yard. I was stricken with curiosity.” She smiled impishly. “What is so interesting out there in the dark night, Mr. Darcy?”

Good God, must she smile at me like that? Darcy scowled at her and swallowed. He had no idea how to answer her. Could he say that he stood at the window so that he might watch her without having to give her consequence by talking to her? No, she would definitely not like that.

Why was he worried about whether she would like it? It was the truth, and after all she was nothing to him. She was not of his sphere, she was beneath him.

He would tell her the truth. Put an end to it right now.

As he was about to speak, to tell her as tactfully as possible of her inconsequence in the great scheme of things, he noticed that her smile had begun to fade once more, was being overtaken by a look of uncertainty. Without further thought, he said,

“I was admiring the gravelling of your yard. It is very well done.”

“Oh, can you see it in the dark?” She leaned toward the window with raised brows, and Darcy got an unexpectedly unimpeded glimpse of her assets. “I suppose so. Papa had it done two years ago. It was mostly dirt before that, and always getting tracked everywhere by the servants.” She smiled again and whispered, “Even occasionally by the daughters of the house.”

He grinned in spite of himself--she was utterly charming. Darcy began to feel some danger with this lively, witty, lovely young lady. He tried to force himself to remember the difference in their stations, but it proved difficult when she smiled at him that way.

He bowed slightly. “I am sure that it must have been very elegant dirt.”

In a fair imitation of his drawl, she replied, “Only elegant dirt is permitted at Longbourn.”

He smiled as wide as he could ever remember and she beamed back delightedly, beautifully. Oh yes, she was a danger! To mock him to his face in such a charming manner. He shook his head and looked back out at the darkness. This was getting out of hand. His smile disappeared as he cast about for some means to separate himself from her magnetic pull.

Suddenly Miss Bingley appeared and took his arm. “Miss Eliza, you have monopolized Mr. Darcy for long enough.” Her smile did little to hide her displeasure. “Come sir, my sister and I wish to speak to you. We have yet to enquire after Miss Darcy.”

Darcy had never been so thankful for Bingley's rude family. He nodded apologetically to Miss Elizabeth, who said sweetly,

“By all means, Miss Bingley. I would not wish to deprive you and Mrs. Hurst of Mr. Darcy's lively conversation.”

Darcy grinned and shook his head at her teasing, and she smiled back in amusement as for the second time that evening a woman bodily pulled him across the room.

Darcy had been able to avoid Bingley's sisters since his arrival, but they had him now. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst peppered him with praise. Everything about him was exemplary: his person, his sister, his home, his books, his clothes and his horses. When they praised his conversational skills even though he had hardly spoken, Darcy grinned and thought of Miss Elizabeth. Unfortunately that just encouraged them.

Relief came only with dinner.

Unsurprisingly, Darcy found himself seated between Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty at the dinner table. Miss Mary sat directly across from him (Mrs. Bennet was apparently hedging her bets) and between the two militia officers. The resultant conversation was an odd mixture of flirtation, sermonizing and deference as the two young officers made sure to pay proper respect to the great man from Derbyshire.

“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Denny said at one point, “we have a fellow officer who claims an acquaintance with you. A good friend of yours since childhood, I understand--Mr. Wickham.”

Darcy felt as though he had been struck across the face. The two young ladies beside him now sang Mr. Wickham's praises--so amiable, so handsome, such a fine dancer--and regretted that he was engaged to a nasty little freckled thing named Miss King who had recently come into a 10,000 pound inheritance.

“Mr. Wickham and Lizzy were sweet on each other, I do believe,” said Miss Lydia loudly enough for the whole table to overhear, “and she has been quite cast down at his defection.”

“Lydia!” cried Miss Elizabeth, glancing at Darcy with a deep blush. “I am sure nobody is interested in such things.”

“Oh Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley called out to her, “the two of you looked so happy dancing together at our ball last November and at Lucas Lodge at Christmas time. I am sure his engagement must have been a great disappointment.”

Miss Elizabeth frowned at her plate. “I was hardly disappointed. It was only a few dances, Miss Bingley. Mr. Wickham is just a good friend.”

Miss Lydia said, “You know you were disappointed, Lizzy.” She turned to Darcy. “But she forgave him and said `Handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as the plain.' Is that not a good joke?” She snorted.

“Such a charming young man is dear Mr. Wickham,” lamented Mrs. Bennet. “Oh, well, we can at least have the consolation of knowing he will not be happy with Mary King.”

Yes, thought Darcy reeling from the conversation, Mr. Wickham's unhappiness would certainly provide some consolation. He could not believe that Mr. Wickham was in the area, a militia officer of all things! And he had apparently been telling people that he and Darcy were still on good terms--having a connection with a great estate like Pemberley must have helped ease his way in the officers' mess and local society. It certainly had helped him in the past to borrow money and buy on credit, Darcy thought disgustedly.

Could Miss Elizabeth harbor affection for Mr. Wickham? Everybody seemed to think she did. They danced together, but that was no great indication of affection--Darcy frequently danced with Miss Bingley. And now the man was engaged to a young lady of some fortune.

Too bad for Miss King, but a very lucky turn of events for the other local ladies. He wondered how affected Miss Elizabeth truly was by this “defection”. She still frowned at her plate with high color. It could be over nothing but the impropriety of the conversation, but it could be from something more.

Darcy scowled at his own plate, angry at himself for being so concerned with Miss Elizabeth's affections.

Miss Elizabeth seemed in subdued spirits for the remainder of the evening. Darcy was not certain whether he was happy about that. On one hand she did not seek him out for more conversation, so he was freed from some of her allure. This was a great relief.

But her joy was gone. When he watched her in the window or out of the corner of his eye, she did not smile. She did not laugh. To Darcy, it was as though a bright light had been extinguished. Earlier the party had had a certain brilliance, now it was dimmed and dull.

Could this one young lady have had such an impact? Did everybody in the room feel it, or only he? Darcy looked about him and saw that nobody paid her any special attention, they simply went on with their own conversations as though Miss Elizabeth was still happy. How was that possible? How could they not feel it?

My God, he thought, just look at her. She was sad. Elizabeth was sad and nobody cared. That should have been impossible, he thought angrily.

His mouth fell open and his eyes went round in surprise. This was getting very bad, very dangerous. He had at least five more days in Hertfordshire, and he was already in such a state over this girl that it was difficult to believe.

He needed to talk to Bingley about her. What was Miss Elizabeth about? Was she trying to ensnare him, or was she simply being her usual enticing self?

And did she love Mr. Wickham?

FOUR

“Did you enjoy dinner, Darcy?” They were back at Netherfield. The ladies had retired, Mr. Hurst had passed out, and Bingley sat in a leather armchair by the fire nursing a cognac

Darcy poked at the fire and said, “The food was very good.”

“Yes, Mrs. Bennet wanted to put her best foot forward.”

Darcy stared at the fire and said nothing.

Bingley shifted in his seat. “What did you think of Miss Elizabeth?”

“She is an intriguing young lady.” Darcy had wanted to discuss her, but not so directly. He was feeling rather uncomfortable.

“Come man, don't be so vague. What did you think of her?'

Darcy cleared his throat. “She seems like a proper young lady.”

“And?”

“She has a keen wit.”

Bingley made a “come on” gesture.

“She has fine eyes.”

“I knew it, you like her!” Bingley stood and clapped his hands together. “You must get to know her, Darcy. She is an excellent young lady, and you know you really should get married, you need a wife. . .”

“Wait a minute, Bingley. Married? To Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Are you joking?”

“Of course not. You like her, do you not?” Bingley looked at him expectantly.

“Of course I do, she is very appealing.” Darcy suddenly realized what he had said. He walked to Bingley and put his hand on his shoulder. “I like your dog as well, Bingley, but I will not marry her.”

“She is a gentleman's daughter, Darcy.”

“Really? I thought she was a Great Dane.” Bingley did not laugh, so Darcy shrugged and said, “I know who her father is, but please do not try to foist her on me. If I were itching to be married--and I am not--I could not marry her.” Darcy frowned and sat.

“Why not?”

“Partly for the same reasons you should not marry your Jane.” Bingley began to speak, but Darcy put his hand up and continued, “Her family is terrible, Bingley. Her mother and younger sisters, her father. Just horrible.”

“What's wrong with Mr. Bennet?”

Darcy noted that Bingley had made no attempt to defend the others.

“The Bennets are rich, Bingley. They are wealthy. Longbourn is worth 2,000 a year. He has saved nothing. All his daughters will have is his wife's fortune of 5,000 pounds. If he had only saved and reinvested the income on that, they'd have nearly 15,000 today.”

Bingley sat and stared at his cognac in silence.

“You will have to support them, you know,” Darcy said.

“I know. I will be honored to do it.” He looked up and smirked. “So that is why you can not marry Elizabeth? Because her father did not save any money?”

“Do not be an ass.” Darcy stared at the floor for a moment, then looked up. “Quite aside from the fact that I am not pining away in love, she is beneath me, Bingley. Too far beneath me. It is not so bad for you, your father was in trade. Still, you could have done better and advanced yourself. But it will not set you back much.” He stared at the floor again and said more quietly, “It is different for me.”

“Why?”

“Good God, you know perfectly well why. This is a silly conversation.” Bingley just stared at him, so he blurted, “I am expected to make a great match, Bingley. A great match, better even than my father's. A peer's daughter, with at least 50,000 pounds. How many gentlemen--without so much as `the honorable' before their names--can make a match like that? Not many, my friend, but I can. And I will, so my heir can make an even better match.”

“I see. So your great great great grandson will be king? That is impressive planning even for you, Darcy.”

“You try to make it sound ridiculous, but you know it is not.”

“Very well, Darcy. No more talk of Miss Elizabeth.”

In a casual voice, Darcy said, “Tell me about Wickham.”

“You know him, do you not? He is an officer in the militia. Quite a hit with the ladies.”

“Any lady in particular?”

“You heard he is engaged to Miss King.”

“Any others?”

Bingley smiled and said, “None that I am allowed to discuss.”

“So it is true, what Miss Lydia said? Miss Elizabeth is attached to him?”

“Why do you care, Darcy? You can not marry her, can you?”

“Neither can Wickham.”

“Nor will he. He is engaged to Miss King. You and Mr. Wickham seem to share an opinion on marrying women of small fortune.”

Darcy scowled at Bingley. “I share no opinions with Mr. Wickham, and I resent the implication.”

“Resent it or not, it is true. A small fortune makes her ineligible for marriage as far as you are concerned. I am the odd duck here, willing to marry Jane without regard to her finances.”

After a long silence, Darcy said, “Was it the way Miss Lydia said? Was Miss Elizabeth disappointed?”

“You ask a great many questions about a girl we are not discussing.”

“Just answer me.”

“Very well, Darcy, here is you answer. My future sister's affections are, by your own choice, none of your concern.”

Darcy could not believe it. He felt the heat rise up his neck and glared at Bingley.

“Yes, Darcy, I have grown some backbone. How else could I marry Jane? My sisters are dead set against it. They actually tried to force me to stay in town in December by closing up Netherfield when I had left for a few days. It did not work.”

“Her mother is trying to ensnare me. She expects me to marry one of her daughters.”

Bingley rolled his eyes and said, “Yes, just like every other mother in England. But Miss Elizabeth will not be a part of that, I can assure you.”

“How can you assure me of such a thing?”

Bingley leaned toward Darcy and said in a low voice, “She turned down her cousin in November, the man who will inherit Longbourn. Her mother was furious--still is--but Mr. Bennet supported her.”

“Another example of Mr. Bennet's negligence.”

Darcy meant what he said about Mr. Bennet, but he was amazed that Miss Elizabeth had turned down an opportunity to save her family's fortune. She was not stupid, so she had to have known what she was doing. She must have done it for reasons of affection and respect. That spoke of a solid character. He wondered what sort of man she would willingly marry.

“Good heavens, Darcy, you are impossible! Now you blame the Bennets for not chasing after rich husbands. Which is it, do you want Miss Elizabeth to throw herself at you, or not? Make up your mind, man.”

“Is that not what she was doing tonight? She sought me out for conversation and then did her best to charm me.”

“Did her best, eh.” Bingley laughed. “And how was her best?”

Darcy could not help but grin. “It was pretty good, I have to admit. She is quite charming.”

“Yes she is, but it is not by design. She is simply being herself.”

“Are you certain you are marrying the right Bennet sister, Bingley?”

“Oh, yes, quite certain. Jane is an angel. Miss Elizabeth is wonderful, of course, but frankly, Darcy, she is too much for me. She reads. A lot. She is very clever and quick, like someone else I know.” He laughed and shook his head. “I am glad she likes me, because she can wield a sharp tongue.”

“A bluestocking?” Darcy asked uncertainly.

“Did she look like a bluestocking, Darcy? Good heavens, man.”

No, Darcy thought, that was not the gown of a bluestocking. They smiled at each other and laughed.

Bingley said, “I have been telling the Bennets about you, you know. That is probably why Mrs. Bennet acted the way she did. I wanted them to like you.”

“So you told them about my income?”

“No, that was Mr. Wickham's doing. He impressed everybody by telling them about his great patron who had 10,000 a year. They were all quite in awe, especially after they found out that you were Lady Catherine DeBourgh's nephew.”

“What has Lady Catherine to do with this?” Talk of Lady Catherine reminded Darcy of his cousin Anne, which was the last thing he wanted to think about right now.

“Did I not tell you? The cousin Miss Elizabeth turned down--Mr. Collins is his name--is her parson. He married Miss Elizabeth's closest friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas as was, in January.”

“Did you not say he proposed in November to Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy was suddenly confused.

“Yes, and he proposed two days later to Miss Lucas. He is a rare fool, Darcy. I do not know what your aunt was thinking giving him a living. Did she sell it, do you suppose?'

Darcy shook his head. “No, she likes to exercise her patronage too much to appease her greed in such a case.”

“Wickham and Collins both tried to claim you were engaged to your cousin Miss DeBourgh.”

“What! That is not true!”

“Don't worry,” Bingley said, “I told everyone that I knew nothing of any engagement, and I surely would know.”

They sipped their drinks and watched the fire. After a time Bingley said, “You know, these last few months have given me a new perspective.”

“How so?”

“Maybe I can explain it with a question. You have a good life, Darcy. You are young and rich, you have excellent connections, you have a beautiful estate, a wonderful sister, you are tall and handsome and women throw themselves at you!” They laughed again. “Aren't you missing anything, my friend?”

Darcy stared at the floor. After a long silence he asked, “How long have you been planning to match me with Miss Elizabeth?”

“Almost since my first day here,” Bingley said with a wide grin. “Last October she was sitting out a dance at an assembly in Meryton, and I thought `if only Darcy were here'.”

“Good thing I was not. I hate to dance with strangers, you know that.”

“You would have danced with her. She looked quite fetching that evening.”

FIVE

Darcy took a ride before breakfast the next morning in a greatly unsettled state. The previous 24 hours had had a shocking impact on his thinking. All thanks to Charles Bingley.

Darcy had spent the last few years trying to mold Bingley--that was the reason Bingley leased Netherfield in the first place, to take his first step toward becoming a landed gentleman. In imitation of Darcy.

And though Darcy had hopes for his sister, Bingley had spent the past few seasons in London meeting eligible young ladies--and falling in love every few months--to try to make just the right marriage. In imitation of Darcy.

Bingley had joined the right clubs, taken up the right hobbies, and been seen at all the right events. In imitation of Darcy.

But now, as a result of his adventures out from under Darcy's wing in Hertfordshire, and in the face of stern opposition from his sisters, Bingley had come to look at life in a different way. He had indeed taken a step toward becoming a landed gentleman, but he had also taken up a different, less fashionable way of life. He mixed with people like the Bennets and the Lucases and the Gouldings. He was marrying a gentlewoman of no fortune or connections, of truly frightening family, simply for purposes of connubial felicity.

And now he expected Darcy to imitate him.

Most amazing of all was that Darcy was tempted.

He wondered why, and the only reason he could readily come up with lived at Longbourn and wore low cut gowns. And he was just not sure that was reason enough. Bingley could marry for personal happiness because he could not make a truly great marriage. Darcy, though, could, and it was something he had always taken great pride in. How many commoners could make the sort of marriage he was destined for?

And it was more than just pride. Was personal happiness worth the benefit to his own children of even better connections? Of 50,000 pounds?

He was in a quandary. How could he discover the answers to these questions? First, he would have to know--really know--Miss Elizabeth. As it stood, he admired her a great deal. She was attractive in every way, lively, witty, clever, and seemed so different from any young lady he had ever met before. But he certainly did not love her, he did not know her well enough.

If he did know her, if he loved her as Bingley loved his Miss Bennet, would he understand Bingley's decision? Would he make the same decision? He was sorely tempted to find out.

He had set a course toward Longbourn, just to get a better sense of the place and of the Bennets, he told himself. He did not expect to see anyone, yet he did. As he came into a clearing a low rise loomed immediately to his right. A flash of burgundy drew his eyes, and there was Miss Elizabeth about fifty yards away surveying the countryside from atop the little hill.

He stopped and surveyed her from atop his horse. The burgundy was her bonnet, and she wore a long coat. There was a soft smile on her face, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, and Darcy's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her.

Talking to her was so very tempting, but he did not want to give her the wrong idea. And all they needed was to be seen out here alone. Bingley said her mother was still furious with her for refusing her cousin, so his attentions could result in great acrimony at Longbourn, and that would make things difficult with Bingley at Netherfield.

Then she glanced down at him and started. He touched his hat and nodded, and she recovered herself and gave a smiling little curtsey. Darcy could not help returning the smile, and before he knew it his horse was walking up the slope.

“Miss Elizabeth, what a pleasure meeting you this morning.”

“Mr. Darcy, sir, it is a pleasure to see you. Do you often ride out this early?” As she looked up at him, she held her hand at her eyes to block the early morning sun.

“Yes,” he said hopping to the ground, “very often. It is a refreshing start to the day. Do you often walk out this early?”

“Indeed I do, and for the same reason.” With him on the ground, she was able to drop her hand. They just smiled at each other for a moment. “That is a formidable beast you ride, sir. Are all horses in Derbyshire giants, or is that trait specific to Pemberley?”

He grinned. “It is Bingley's horse, and I have no idea where he got him. Do you ride, Miss Elizabeth?”

“Well,” she said as she clasped her hands behind her back, “I can ride in a manner of speaking, but I am no horsewoman. I prefer to walk.” She laughed. “I like to think of it as the prudent choice.”

“So you are a prudent woman?”

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him in serious contemplation. “Perhaps not as prudent as I should be.”

Darcy's heart skipped a quick beat. He said quietly, “An adventurous spirit is to be admired. I do not think you will suffer for it.”

Neither spoke for a moment, then Darcy said, “I enjoyed dinner last night.”

She colored. “I wish I could say the same. I am sorry for my family's behavior, Mr. Darcy. It was very improper.”

“Your behavior was above reproach, Miss Elizabeth. But your family is a bit . . . exuberant.”

He grinned and she smiled back.

“You are very understanding, but I know how they are. Mama, well, she should not have pushed Lydia at you like that.”

“I rather thought I was the one being pushed, and not just by your mother.”

She laughed. “Yes, Miss Bingley had a go at you as well. Are you often moved about like a chess piece, sir?”

“Oh, it happens quite frequently, I assure you.” He shook his head. “It seems that many ladies think I need to be taken in hand.”

She colored deeply at that and gave him a sideways glance. “And do they often succeed in taking you in hand, Mr. Darcy?”

He cleared his throat and blushed. Good God, she was dangerous! Yes, Elizabeth, take me in hand! He scowled up at the sky a moment, then said in an exasperated tone, “There is no proper response to that bit of teasing, Miss Elizabeth. I may have to return to my normal taciturn state.”

“Yes,” she cried with a delighted laugh, “you are loquacious this morning, Mr. Darcy.”

“Was I so bad last night?” He grinned. “You called my conversation `lively'--were you toying with me, madam?”

“Never! I was quite sincere, I assure you.”

“I begin to think that you take great pleasure in expressing opinions that are not your own.”

“Perhaps,” she said with an impish smile, “but not about anything important.”

He looked out at the countryside. Netherfield and Longbourn were both out of sight, but many fields were in view, and Meryton could be seen in the distance. He sighed and glanced down at the young lady beside him, trying to remember when he had last enjoyed himself so much. Not for years, he thought.

He cleared his throat again and said, “So whether a gentleman runs off at the mouth is of little importance to you?”

“Good gracious, Mr. Darcy, I can not imagine you ever running off at the mouth!” She laughed and shook her head. “Do not worry, sir. Mr. Bingley has said that you have a reserved nature which people sometimes take the wrong way. He said you are not quite so disdainful as you first appear.”

He scowled. “No, not quite.”

She strolled a few feet away, saying, “He also mentioned that you frequently scowl, but to think nothing of it.” She turned back to him with a grin. “I should return home now. I have enjoyed our talk, Mr. Darcy, but perhaps it would be best if we do not tell anybody about this little encounter.” Her grin turned to a mock scowl. “I would not want people to know how you run off at the mouth.”

He said goodbye with a deep bow and watched her walk rapidly down the hill. She had been out of sight for some time before he mounted Bingley's horse and returned to Netherfield.

SIX

The Netherfied party attended a soiree at Lucas Lodge that night, in unofficial honor of Miss Bennet's upcoming wedding. Many of the principal families from around Meryton were there as well as several militia officers, resulting in quite a crush.

It was with great relief that Darcy discovered Mr. Wickham to be absent. He was not sure how he would react to seeing that man again, especially as he now harbored suspicions regarding Miss Elizabeth's affections.

Miss Elizabeth was involved in conversation with a rather plain lady, somewhat past the bloom of youth, at a corner of the room when Darcy entered. Their eyes met almost immediately, and each colored and looked away. Darcy had resolved to maintain some distance this evening, but already he felt her attraction and had to force himself to walk elsewhere.

He followed Bingley to where Miss Bennet stood with a young man he had not yet met. He was dressed as a clergyman. Miss Bennet made the introduction.

“Mr. Darcy, may I introduce my cousin, Mr. Collins? Mr. Collins, this is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.” A certain anxiety showed through her serene countenance as she glance from one man to the other. “Mr. Collins is the parson at Hunsford in Kent, Mr. Darcy. Your aunt, Lady Catherine DeBourgh, is I believe his patroness.”

The men bowed. Mr. Collins cried, “Mr. Darcy, I am honored indeed to make the acquaintance of the nephew of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine DeBourgh. And may I say, sir, that she has spoken of you in such terms, with such affection and respect, that I feel myself not merely honored, but quite humbled at this privilege.” And he bowed again and smiled in proud deference.

Darcy struggled to maintain an even expression. This man was indeed a rare fool, just a Bingley had said. And he had thought that Elizabeth would marry him! At least, Darcy thought with some amusement, I would not be the last man in the world she would ever marry.

“Mr. Collins, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Mr. Collins bowed deeply once more and said, “Mr. Darcy, I am in the happy position to be able to inform you that your aunt, Lady Catherine, and your cousin, Miss DeBourgh, were in the most excellent health just two days ago.”

“My cousin, you say, was in excellent health two days ago?”

Mr. Collins's eyes went wide and he brought his hand to his mouth. “Oh, of course I meant her health was unchanged. For I know she is of an uncertain and sickly constitution, perfectly amiable though she is.”

Darcy just managed not to roll his eyes. He turned to Miss Bennet and said, “I hope your family is in good health.”

“Yes, thank you Mr. Darcy. They are in excellent health.” She smiled slyly and said, “Elizabeth is I think a little tired this evening. She had a more vigorous walk than usual this morning, I understand.”

Darcy colored and scowled. “I hope she is suffering no other ill effects of her walk.”

“I am assured not. Lizzy is an excellent walker. Have you spoken to her yet this evening?”

A glance between Bingley and Miss Bennet told Darcy that Bingley had a confederate in his matchmaking scheme. He was unsure how he felt about that. His opinion of Miss Bennet herself had greatly improved since his arrival in Hertfordshire. Everything he had seen of her had been perfectly proper and gentle, and even Bingley's sisters called her a dear, sweet girl.

But he was not sure he wanted to be matched with the delightful but relatively poor Miss Elizabeth and her abominable family.

Yet he was actually proud that Miss Bennet thought him worthy of her sister. Or at least worthy of getting to know her sister better. Bingley had told him how close they were, how protective of each other. How surprising to be desirous of having Miss Jane Bennet's good opinion!

“I have not yet had the pleasure of speaking to Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said. “When I arrived, I saw her across the room in conversation with another young lady, and I did not wish to interrupt.”

“That,” said Mr. Collins, “is my dear Charlotte. Please, sir, allow me to introduce you to my wife.”

Darcy could only acquiesce, and he followed Mr. Collins to the two ladies. The ladies watched them approach, and Darcy and Miss Elizabeth both colored once more as Mr. Collins introduced him to his wife.

“I have heard much of you, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins said with a smile. “Eliza was just describing last night's dinner at Longbourn.”

“The honor you paid to my cousins, sir,” Mr. Collins interrupted, “is very great. That you should have condescended to dine at their humble house and grace them with your company, is exactly what I would have expected from the nephew of Lady Catherine DeBourgh.” Mr. Collins punctuated this speech with a deep bow.

Silence descended on the little group as the other three stared at Mr. Collins. At last, Mrs. Collins asked her husband to bring glasses of punch for herself and Miss Elizabeth. Mr. Collins left on his errand, but not before further embarrassing Darcy by asking if he might also bring a punch for his patroness's nephew.

“You must be happy for your friend, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Collins suggested when her husband had gone.

“Indeed I am,” Darcy said with a glance at the betrothed couple. “They seem to be very much in love and that is what Bingley most desires, I believe.”

Mrs. Collins nodded. “It is an unusual sort of marriage. I am very happy for Jane. It is so fortunate for a young lady in Jane's position, with no fortune or connections to speak of, to find such a providential match and love at the same time. Even with Jane's beauty, it is more than she could ever have aspired to.”

This was a most cold blooded appraisal of his friend's happiness. It was nothing that Darcy had not thought himself and even said out loud on occasion, but to say it so casually in front of himself and Miss Elizabeth. . . he began to understand Mrs. Collins's prudent marriage. She was no longer young, she was probably never very pretty, she surely had little fortune, and she no doubt felt herself very lucky indeed to have married the heir to a fine estate like Longbourn.

Darcy felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach as he contemplated Miss Elizabeth's future. She had not taken the prudent offer of marriage when she had the chance. Attractive though she was, her chances of marrying a man of any consequence were insignificant.

He looked at Miss Elizabeth and said, “Mr. Bingley is the fortunate one.”

He was rewarded with a bright smile. “I think so as well, Mr. Darcy. My dear sister is a wonderful young lady, and any man would be fortunate to win her affections.”

He felt about to smile back at her in sheer delight, and refused to do it among that company. He scowled and watched Mr. Collins carry two punches across the room. He heard Miss Elizabeth's delighted laugh and turned to see her watching him with raised brows and a barely suppressed grin.

He said, “Ah, yes--the scowl. I must remember that.”

She touched his arm and said, “Do not worry, Mr. Darcy. We will simply have to remember that your scowl is the equivalent of anybody else's most toothy grin.”

She beamed him a lovely, bright smile, and he answered it delightedly with his own.

SEVEN

They smiled at other for a moment, then Miss Elizabeth said almost to herself, “Though your scowl is not nearly so . . .” She immediately blushed and looked away.

“Eliza,” Mrs. Collins said, “my mother told me you have been practicing at the instrument. Is this true? Are you much improved?”

“Do you play, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked.

“Oh, Charlotte, see what you have started?” Miss Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and said, “You are going to have me playing in a moment, I know you.” She looked at Darcy. “I have never practiced much, unlike my sister Mary. My vanity never stretched to music.” She leaned toward him and whispered, “But since the Bingleys have been at Netherfield, well, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst play so well, I have been rather ashamed of myself. So, I have forced myself to practice regularly since Christmas.”

Darcy leaned toward her and whispered back, “I would love to hear you.”

They smiled at each other again and she said, “Oh, very well, but only because I am intimidated by your imposing height!”

Mrs. Collins laughed as Miss Elizabeth sat and began to play. A young man sat beside her to turn the pages. He smiled happily, and Darcy was certain he was admiring the cut of her gown--it was not cut very low, but it was low enough and Darcy did not like the young man's look. He scowled.

“That is my younger brother William,” Mrs. Collins said to Darcy. “Eliza has known him all her life.”

“What is your brother's career?”

“He is a physician in London, as of last summer. His studies were complete in the spring. He arrived this morning to attend the wedding.”

Darcy started at this information. At least she could not marry Wickham; a young London-based physician, on the other hand, would be a good match for an impoverished gentlewoman. And this young Lucas was no Mr. Collins--he seemed sensible and clever, and he had a ready smile that Miss Elizabeth returned with obvious pleasure.

Darcy's scowl deepened, and he became angry with himself for caring about young William Lucas and Miss Elizabeth. If Darcy liked her, he should be happy that she might find a good marriage--had he not just been worried about her future prospects? But he did not like it, and he knew why he did not like it, and it was humiliating.

He, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, was jealous of one of Sir William Lucas's younger sons. Absurd!

Yet each smile the couple exchanged made his stomach churn and his teeth grind. Finally, when she had finished her piece and they were happily selecting another, he turned and strode to the refreshment table. He needed to get his mind off their musical shenanigans. He needed something cool to drink.

He needed to think.

How had it come to this? He had intended to keep his distance from her this evening, and after only a few smiles and a little flirting, she was all he could think of. Good God, he needed to get out of Hertfordshire! But he had to stay for Bingley's wedding. It was still three days away.

Perhaps he could plead illness and avoid all social calls until then. That seemed the most likely remedy. God knows, thought Darcy, I can not spend the next three days watching Miss Elizabeth smile at William Lucas!

The music began again, and Darcy glanced back to the piano-forte. Miss Elizabeth was gone; Miss Mary Bennet was playing and William Lucas sat beside her, smilingly turning the pages for her. Beside the instrument, Mrs. Collins stood glaring at Darcy and sipping the punch her husband had brought her.

Darcy looked around for Miss Elizabeth, but she was nowhere to be seen. Still, he was relieved that she no longer sat with young Dr. Lucas. He did see Miss Bennet quickly pass through a door into another room, looking very purposeful. He wondered what was happening.

He wandered the edge of the room for a few minutes until Bingley came up behind him.

“Darcy,” he whispered, “what did you do to Miss Elizabeth?”

“What?”

“Something upset her. What did you do?”

Darcy scowled at Bingley. He had no idea what the man was talking about. “I did nothing. I asked her to play the piano-forte, and she happily complied.”

Bingley looked angrily about the room, then took Darcy's arm and said, “Come with me. We need to talk.”

Darcy almost yanked his arm away, but he remembered this was not last year's Bingley and decided to go along with him. They stepped into the cold, dark garden and went out of sight of the house.

“Jane said that Elizabeth is upset about something. She implied it was something you did.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“You did not say or do anything to upset her?”

“Of course not,” Darcy said. “I have not even talked to her since she played. William Lucas is the one you should speak to. They were having quite a discussion at the piano-forte last I saw.” Yes, that Dr. Lucas. He probably did something. Darcy wished he had not walked away from them, he might have been able to prevent it. Whatever it was.

“You mean Dr. Lucas? The one at the instrument with Miss Mary?”

Darcy scowled and nodded. Bingley looked uncertainly back at the house.

“I am sorry, Darcy, that makes no sense. They've known each other forever. They are old friends. It makes no sense.”

“But it makes sense that I would upset her?” Darcy was becoming offended.

“Oh good God, Darcy, you know you are always offending people wherever you go. I had hoped you would decide not to offend my future in-laws.”

Darcy was truly insulted now. How dare Bingley speak to him in such a way. He scowled at Bingley. Bingley scowled back. It was over a minute before Darcy sighed and said,

“Why don't you ask your fiancée what happened?”

“I did. She will not tell me. She said I have already done enough damage by pushing you at her sister.”

“Miss Bennet is unhappy that you introduced me to her sister's acquaintance?”

Bingley nodded angrily.

Darcy did not know what to make of that. How had he offended Miss Elizabeth? Offended her so severely that Miss Jane Bennet was sorry she had ever met him!

“Bingley, I do not understand. Truly, I have no idea how I offended her.”

“What happened?”

“I told you. I asked her to play, and she did.” Darcy had no intention of explaining how feelings of jealousy had nearly overwhelmed him.

“There had to have been something else. You said nothing else to her? You did not even compliment her playing or ask her to play again?” Bingley's scowl turned to a humorless smile. “Or said she was ugly or played terribly or she smelled bad?”

Darcy shook his head and smiled sadly back. “If only it was that simple. Bingley, this is absurd. I do not know! I did not compliment her playing. I just walked away when she was selecting another piece with Dr. Lucas. When I looked back, her sister had taken her place.”

“So she was playing at your request, and you just walked away without complimenting her or thanking her?” Bingley's scowl returned. “That was rude, Darcy, even by your standards. Did you know she has been practicing very hard for weeks?”

Darcy's mouth fell open. “Yes, I did know. She told me. Damn it, Bingley, I am a selfish dolt!”

Bingley nodded in agreement.

EIGHT

Sleep for Darcy came slowly during the night, and he did much thinking. He felt terrible for treating Miss Elizabeth so rudely, and he was determined to apologize. But there was more. He thought about the emotions he had felt, the jealousy. He thought of Miss Elizabeth's lovely face and figure, her liveliness and wit.

And those thoughts led him to consider Bingley's question--was something missing from his life? And if the answer was `yes', then where was it to be found?

Difficult questions, indeed! Did he need a marriage that was more than a financial transaction and a dynastic alliance? Did he need the sort of marriage Bingley was making? And if he did, was Miss Elizabeth Bennet the woman with whom he could find it? He did not know yet, but there was a way to find out--he could court her.

To court Miss Elizabeth was a very pleasing prospect, but his acquaintances in town would be shocked, and his family would be dismayed. About the former, he realized he hardly cared. Aside from a few close friends like Bingley who would support him to the end, his circle in town sought his society because of his name and his wealth. That would not change because he courted--or married--Miss Elizabeth.

His family's dismay was a greater concern. One did not cast off one's relations lightly, yet he doubted it would come to that. His sister would love any woman he loved, he was sure of that. The Fitzwilliams, on the other hand, knew that their self-interest lay in maintaining a connection with the Darcys of Pemberley. No, there would be no rupture in the family.

But a marriage to Miss Elizabeth would come with other costs. The material ones were obvious--money and connections, and a great deal of each. As he considered it, though, he came to understand that it was not the material cost that most concerned him. No, he realized with some shame, all his life he had been primarily motivated by other considerations--his pride and selfishness.

His pride would suffer by a connection to the Bennets, and he was mortified to realize how much. Did his pride have such sway over him? Surely that was no way to live, being ruled by pride, being led by pride to one's fall.

And what of his selfishness? His desire to push Bingley away from Miss Bennet and toward Georgiana, and his excessive concern for his own feelings at the expense of Miss Elizabeth's at Lucas Lodge, were prime examples of his selfishness. Could he overcome it? Could he come to consider others' feelings before his own?

He began to wonder if he was worthy of a woman like Elizabeth Bennet--and he knew she had already refused one very eligible marriage offer. He certainly had a lot to learn about being a better man. He was suddenly amused at his hubris--he had thought himself complete, a finished product, ready to conduct the business of life to the satisfaction of all concerned. Now he knew better. Perhaps, he thought with growing excitement, we never stop learning and changing.

The next morning Darcy rode out before breakfast on a mission. He was determined to speak to Miss Elizabeth. He rode towards Longbourn, heading for the same small hill where he had encountered her the day before. And there she was. This time she saw him right away, as though she had been watching for him, and gave him an unsmiling nod in greeting. He rode up to her and dismounted.

“I hoped to find you here this morning,” he said. She only raised her brows, so he continued, “I want to apologize for my rudeness last night. You were kind enough to play at my request, and I did not thank you or tell you how much I enjoyed it. I am very sorry.”

“Why did you scowl at me and walk away when I was looking for something else to play? Did I play so badly that you could think of nothing worth suggesting?”

She was very angry, he could see, angry and hurt.

He looked at his feet and said, “I am embarrassed to tell you what I thought.”

She laughed derisively. “I am so sorry you are embarrassed,” she said.

He took a deep breath and looked in her eyes with a fierce scowl. “I was jealous of Dr. Lucas.”

She stared at him incredulously, then blurted, “You were jealous of one of Sir William's younger sons? Little Billy Lucas? That is absurd!”

“We agree on that, at least.”

She continued to stare at him with an amazed look. At last she smiled shyly. “I have known him all my life, you know. He is a friend, nothing more.”

Darcy's breath caught. He only nodded.

“That was why you scowled and walked away?” she asked with her head tilted to the side.

“Yes. I could not bear to watch the two of you smiling at each other.”

She grinned at him. “Why did you not turn the pages for me? Then you and I could have smiled at each other.”

Good God, thought Darcy. She was teasing him again, after the acrimony of last night and this morning, she was teasing him again. It was wonderful. He felt his color rise, and the hints of arousal came over him.

Oh, she is dangerous!

Very carefully, he maintained his scowl and said, “I did not want to raise any expectations that I was not prepared to gratify. I never toy with young ladies' affections.”

“So your friend Mr. Bingley has assured us.” Her expression turned serious. She looked up at him and asked, “Are you toying with me, Mr. Darcy?”

“Never,” he said with feeling.

“Then what are you doing?” And in a softer voice, “What are we doing?”

His scowl disappeared and he smiled. He put his hands behind his back and said, “I believe we have been courting.”

“You realize, do you not,” she said with a smirk, “that my sister and your friend have engineered this? They are a couple of unrepentant matchmakers.”

“Well,” Darcy said casually, “it was either you or Miss Lydia.”

Miss Elizabeth looked at him in shock. Then she laughed and cried accusingly, “You, sir have a sense of humor!”

“Just a little one.”

“If we have been courting,” she said with a curious look, “what shall we do now?”

Darcy scowled. “I am a great believer in finishing what I start.”

“My fortune is 1,000 pounds, payable only after my mother dies.”

“Last year my income was over 15,000 pounds.”

Her mouth fell open.

“I mean I do not need your money,” he added quickly. He cleared his throat. “You should probably understand that I have always expected to make what society deems a great match. My wife was to be a lady of great connections and great fortune. However, as you may have noticed, I am still single. I have had absolutely no inclination to marry any such lady.”

“Why do you tell me that?” she asked with some anger. “Do you want me to be grateful for your attentions? Do you want me to know what you would be giving up for me so I will be properly thankful?”

“Good God, no! That is not it at all. I want you to know everything. I do not want you to suddenly think,” and here he switched to a high-pitched imitation of her voice, “`Oh dear, Mr. Darcy can get a great fortune through marriage, he could never want me.'”

“I do not talk like that,” she cried.

He smiled. “Of course you do. I sounded just like you.” They laughed together a moment, and he continued, “I do not want you to suspect me of toying with you after all. You need to know that I have thought about all of this. I know what I am worth on the marriage market. Any decision I make has taken that into account, and if I decide to forego a great monetary fortune, then it is because I have found another treasure of even greater value.”

The stood in silence for a time, until Elizabeth said, “I am not sure what to make of all this. I am not even sure what you are saying. Are you asking to court me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh dear, this is a surprise. I really had not expected it.” She shook her head slowly and stared out at Meryton in the distance.

“I thought I was making a fool of myself over you.”

“I doubt you are capable of being a fool, Mr. Darcy.” She turned to him again. “Do you anticipate offering me marriage?”

He started. He had contemplated exactly that--eventually, perhaps--but he had not expected Miss Elizabeth to raise the subject.

She said, “I am sorry, I know that was an improper question, but this is so strange. I am not of your sphere, sir.”

“I am a gentleman, you are a gentleman's daughter.”

“You are a gentleman whose grandfather was an earl. My grandfather was an attorney in Meryton.”

“My mother's grandfather was a duke.”

Miss Elizabeth looked stunned for a moment and cried, “Is that supposed to help?”

He shrugged. “I told you, I want you to know everything.”

“How comforting,” she said with a scowl. “How could you possibly marry me? I am poor. I have never even had a season in Town. I have not been presented at court. I am not known, sir, and you most certainly are.”

Darcy was growing exasperated. “I have not asked you to marry me.”

“And I have not said I would accept you.” She crossed her arms at her chest. “If you decide that you can not marry me, Mr. Darcy, then my heart will certainly be broken. I know it as surely as I know that is Meryton over there.”

“And if you will not accept me, will my heart not be broken?”

She smirked and said, “If you have a heart.”

“You are impossible,” he cried. “I want to court you. Will you allow me to court you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

“Why should I?” she asked, still smirking.

He smiled and did his best to suppress the passion he felt churning--it would not do at all to act on his impulses here, now.

“Because I so admire you,” he said. “I admire your wit and your understanding and your lively nature. I admire your lovely eyes and smile. I admire that you would ask that question. I admire everything I know about you. Well, to be honest, I was too jealous last night to pay any attention to your playing. I am sure, however, that you play admirably.”

“We hardly know one another.”

“So we will get to know each other. It should be very interesting, I think.”

“It would certainly not be dull. How would this work? Are you not leaving after the wedding?”

“I had not thought of that. I feel rather stupid. But does that question mean you will allow me to court you?”

“Yes, I suppose it does. You may court me, Mr. Darcy.” Miss Elizabeth smilingly offered him her hand, and he gave it a well-mannered kiss.

“Thank you, madam,” he said earnestly. “I suppose I will ask Bingley if I can stay at Netherfield while he and your sister are in London.”

“That is a splendid idea, sir. Be sure to give my regards to all my Hertfordshire friends for me, for I shall be gone.”

“Where are you going?”

“I am going to Kent.”

NINE

“Why are you going to Kent?” Darcy asked.

“To visit Charlotte Collins at the Hunsford parsonage. I leave the day after the wedding and I'll be there about six weeks.”

Darcy thought for a moment and said, “Then I will return to London the same day, and I will see you three weeks later.” He grinned.

“Three weeks, sir? I said I would be in Kent for six.”

“I will visit my aunt Catherine at Rosings for Easter with my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“Ah,” Miss Elizabeth said with a smile, “that is indeed three weeks. I understand the parsonage is close to Rosings House.”

“About a half mile. I am sure we shall be frequently in company.”

“I shall look forward to it.” She looked at him a moment as if considering something, then said, “Would you like to escort me home, sir? I am sure my family would like to see you this morning.”

The first test, thought Darcy with an inner cringe. To face the Bennets alone, as the suitor of one of their daughters. He took a deep breath and said, “Certainly, Miss Elizabeth. Shall we go?”

She took his arm and they began the walk to Longbourn, with Darcy leading his horse with his free hand.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said as they walked down the slope, “I am somewhat concerned about my mother's reaction. I do not ask you to pretend you have no interest in me--I would in fact take exception if you did!--but let us not say anything about your intentions unless specifically asked. If this does not work out, that is if we do not become engaged at some point, my mother's disappointment may be rather difficult to endure. This way, we will likely have until I return from Kent to get to know each other in peace.”

Darcy glanced at her and saw her brows knitted in concern. “I think I understand, but I'm not sure what to do. Your mother is certain to figure the situation out before long.” He cleared his throat. “I intend to spend some time with you, madam, and somebody may notice that I smile rather than scowl in your presence. And here I am walking you home.”

She smiled up at him and said, “We can explain you walking me home this morning as a chance meeting, which actually did happen yesterday.” Darcy smiled at this tacit admission that she had walked out to meet him that morning. “I do not want you to hide your intentions, just do not say anything about it unless my mother or father directly ask. My mother, like the rest of us, is so concerned with Jane's marriage that she probably will not pay any attention to you once she realizes that you are not about to whisk Lydia off to Scotland.”

The prospect of courting Miss Elizabeth in peace was much more pleasant that the alternatives, so Darcy accepted this readily. But he was very curious about her relationship with her mother, and asked,

“Why does she push Miss Lydia at me? Are you not next in age?”

“My mother and I have an unusual relationship.” She frowned down at the path before them. “She loves me as a daughter, but I am probably her least favorite. Possibly because I am my father's favorite. Lydia, on the other hand, is Mama's favorite.” She smirked up at him and said, “So when a tall, handsome, single young man with 10,000 a year comes to Longbourn, he is gently shoved into the seat next to Lydia.”

He grinned. “You think I am handsome?”

“Of course, particularly when you smile. You have dimples, Mr. Darcy.”

When they arrived at Longbourn they found Mr. Bennet alone in the drawing room.

“Good morning, Papa,” Miss Elizabeth said brightly.

Mr. Bennet looked up from a newspaper, and Darcy heard Miss Elizabeth stifle a giggle as her father's mouth fell open. He quickly gathered his wits and said, “Have you come for breakfast, Mr. Darcy?”

“No, sir. I simply walked Miss Elizabeth home. I would not want to intrude. Sir.”

Miss Elizabeth explained, “I met Mr. Darcy on my walk and he saw me home.”

Mr. Bennet removed his glasses and gave Darcy an innocent look before asking, “Are you certain, sir, that you would not like to eat? My daughter Lydia should be down soon, and I am sure she would enjoy your company at table.”

Darcy colored. He was not used to being made sport of by other gentlemen, but he suspected that such would be his destiny if he connected himself with this singular family. He glanced at Miss Elizabeth, who appeared to be torn between mirth and anger at her father. He said to Mr. Bennet,

“I am sure I would enjoy the company of the ladies of the house, but I should return to Netherfield, sir.”

“Why of course, Mr. Darcy. Thank you so much for seeing Lizzy home.”

Darcy bowed and Miss Elizabeth saw him out to his horse.

She smiled and gave him her hand. “Thank you for your company, sir.”

“Not at all.” He bowed over her hand. “Shall I see you this evening at Netherfield?”

“Of course. All the ladies of Longbourn shall be there, sir. I understand there will be dancing.” She looked at him speculatively. “Do you dance, Mr. Darcy? I am not sure I could spend much time in the company of a man who did not dance.”

Still holding her hand, he scowled and said, “I can certainly dance, madam. But I can not claim to enjoy the pastime.”

“Heavens, sir, how can one not enjoy dancing? Mr. Bingley enjoys it, and is quite good at it.” She smirked. “I believe that is why my sister fell in love with him.”

“I see. And what makes you fall in love with a young man?”

She gazed earnestly into his eyes and said, “I have never been in love, sir.” Then she laughed. “But you never know--dancing just might just do the trick!”

He looked at her smiling, lovely face and thought that if ever he had looked forward to dancing, this was the time. He felt his arousal building as he said,

“Miss Elizabeth, dancing is one of many things that I do exceptionally well.” He thought he heard her gasp softly as he bent to kiss her hand. “Until tonight, madam.”

TEN

“That was a long ride, Darcy,” Bingley said when Darcy entered the breakfast room at Netherfield.

“I hope,” said Miss Bingley, “that you did not get lost in the wilds of Hertfordshire, sir.”

Mrs. Hurst giggled at her sister's wit. Mr. Hurst forked more bacon onto his plate.

“It was very refreshing exercise,” Darcy replied as he sat and prepared his own plate.

Bingley gave Darcy a questioning look that Darcy ignored.

“Oh, Louisa,” cried Miss Bingley in a tone of false despair, “how I dread this evening. The whole of Hertfordshire society descending upon us in their emptiness and self-importance.” She turned to her brother. “Surely, Charles, there was no reason to hold such an event. Was not that appalling ball in November sufficient?”

“But this is not a ball, Caroline,” Bingley said with some exasperation. “There will be dancing, of course, if our guests so choose.”

“If they choose?” said Caroline. “Do you imagine that you could hold a funeral in Meryton where those Bennet girls would not dance a reel?”

Everyone at the table laughed. Miss Bingley continued, “Dear Jane excepted, of course. But Mr. Darcy, you have not told us whether you were lost. What else could you have been about? The countryside around here is certainly not so breathtaking as to hold your interest for so long.”

She smiled at him flirtatiously and Darcy's stomach turned just enough to put him momentarily off his breakfast. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he replied,

“It is not Derbyshire--it has not its wildness--but it is pleasant all the same. And I was in no danger of becoming lost. I had a most efficient guide.” He bent back to his plate.

“A guide, sir?” asked Miss Bingley uncertainly.

“Yes.” Darcy could not hide his smirk. “One of the local inhabitants was good enough to guide me part of the way.”

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst shared a glance. Bingley began to smile.

“I see,” said Miss Bingley. “How fortunate for you, sir.”

“Indeed.”

The party ate in silence for a time. Then Miss Bingley asked, “I wonder who your guide was, Mr. Darcy. One of the local farmers? One of Mr. Goulding's tenants?”

“It was not a farmer,” Darcy said casually. “It was Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Bingley cackled delightedly. His sisters gave him angry looks. Darcy struggled not to smile. Mr. Hurst chewed contentedly.

“How fortunate for you, sir, that Miss Eliza Bennet was . . .” Miss Bingley stopped in mid-sentence. With creased brows she said, “And where did you and Miss Eliza meet, Mr. Darcy?”

“She was standing on a small hill near Longbourn. I escorted her home.”

“You rode toward Longbourn?”

Bingley laughed. “I dare say, Caroline, or he would not have been likely to see her there. Did you have a nice visit at Longbourn, Darcy?”

“Yes I did, Bingley.”

“And how,” asked Miss Bingley unhappily, “did you find Miss Lydia this morning, sir? Gay as ever, no doubt.”

“I did not see her. I only saw Mr. Bennet.” Darcy rather cruelly let Miss Bingley contemplate that for a moment, then continued, “We spoke briefly in the drawing room. I declined breakfast and returned here. Is there any of the strawberry preserves left that I sent you from Pemberley, Bingley?”

As a servant brought the preserves to Darcy, Miss Bingley played with her food and raised her eyebrows to her sister. After a time she said with false cheerfulness, “Miss Eliza is a rather forward girl, I think. Her manners are not fashionable at all. How are you able to tolerate her Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy said nothing. It had been fun to take some of the wind out of Miss Bingley's sails, but he worried that her behavior to Miss Elizabeth was likely to become quite shrewish if she knew he admired her. He hoped to spare everyone that ordeal for as long as possible.

“How amazed we were in October to find her a reputed local beauty,” continued Miss Bingley. “I could never see it. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion which is intolerable. But you, sir, have you fallen prey to her country charms?”

His resolve to be silent crumbled. She was directly attacking Miss Elizabeth's beauty and his own character. With a scowl, Darcy responded, “Perhaps, Miss Bingley. Or perhaps she has fallen prey to mine.”

Nothing else was said during breakfast on the subject of Miss Elizabeth. Later that day when Darcy was changing for the evening's party, Bingley came to his dressing room again.

“So, Darcy, has Lizzy fallen for your charms?”

“Lizzy? Do you mean Miss Elizabeth?”

“She's to be my sister. I can call her Lizzy. And do not avoid my question. What were you two up to today? Did you at least apologize?”

Bingley's manner was beginning to irritate. But, Darcy supposed with a sigh, it was just as well, since Mr. Bennet had not shown any inclination to ask how Darcy and Miss Elizabeth had come to be together that morning. The man had been perfectly happy simply to tease them. He again wondered at the master of Longbourn's negligence.

“I did apologize,” Darcy said, “and she was gracious enough to accept it.”

“And you walked her home?”

“As I said.”

Bingley stared at Darcy expectantly. When Darcy said nothing more, Bingley cried, “Details, man, I want details. What did you say to Mr. Bennet?”

“You are becoming tiresome, Bingley.”

Bingley puffed out his chest and said, “We are talking about my future sister.”

“Bingley, I will accept that you have a new--what did you call it?--backbone.” Darcy smirked. “But a tiger does not change its stripes, and you and I both know that you are only asking for details to satisfy your own insatiable curiosity. You are a terrible gossip.”

With a pathetic pout, Bingley said, “Not as bad as your cousin the colonel. Does that mean you will not tell me?”

“Nothing happened. I apologized, she agreed I could court her, I walked her home . . .”

“What! You are courting her?” Bingley clapped Darcy on the back, ruining the beautiful knot his man was putting in his cravat. “Oh, sorry about that.”

“Yes, I am courting her, but do not tell anyone. We are hoping to do this in peace for as long as possible.”

“Good luck with that,” Bingley told him. “One thing Mrs. Bennet can do as well as anybody is ferret out a suitor for one of her daughters. Believe me. She was telling people that Jane and I were practically engaged back in November. It was embarrassing. If we had not actually been in love, I would have had to leave Netherfield.”

“What? That will not do. I will not have Mrs. Bennet engaging my honor for me. Perhaps Eliz . . . Miss Elizabeth and I should discuss all this with Mr. Bennet--surely he can control his wife.”

Bingley suddenly clapped his hands together and cried, “Do a good job of this courtship, Darcy, and we can be brothers without you having to suffer Caroline as a bride!”

With Darcy's knot at last impeccable, he and Bingley descended to the drawing room. As they reached the bottom of the stairs a footman opened the front door and hurried to a carriage that had just arrived.

“Early arriving guests, Bingley?”

“I do not recognize the carriage. Let's see who it is.”

Darcy did recognize it. They reached the top of the front steps as the carriage doors opened and the passengers appeared.

“Congratulations, Bingley,” cried, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“Yes, Mr. Bingley,” Georgiana Darcy said softly, “congratulations.”

ELEVEN

“What are you doing here, Fitzwilliam.” Darcy and the colonel were in the library alone, Georgiana having gone upstairs to her room with the housekeeper. Bingley was off finalizing preparations for the party.

Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “Georgiana wished to come and celebrate your friend's wedding. Surely that is not a problem.”

Darcy just scowled until the colonel cried,

“Yes, yes, I know. But it is wholly unreasonable that she should stay in London, Darcy. I can not believe that Bingley's new in-laws are such savages that she should not be exposed to them. This is Hertfordshire, not the South Seas.”

“I believe I am the best judge of that.”

“See here, Darcy, I am her guardian as well.”

“I am her brother.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam now seemed contrite. “I understand,” he said. “Perhaps I should not have brought her.”

“Why did you?”

The colonel's face turned crimson. He rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. “She cried, Darcy. I stood my ground as long as I could. I said `no' over and over again. But she cried, man.”

“For heaven's sake, Fitzwilliam, she always cries and you always give in.” Darcy threw his arms up in exasperation. “Is this how you run your battalion? If a soldier cries, he doesn't have to charge the enemy?”

“I say, Darcy, that's a bit harsh.”

“Georgiana cries, and you borrow your father's coach and rush up to Hertfordshire. This is rich, it really is.” Darcy walked to the window and looked out at the fading light. “It is too late to return, but you will have to take her back tomorrow.”

“She is here now. Why not let her stay?” He laughed. “I brought my sword, Darcy--I will fight off any savages that try to harm her.”

“Wickham is here.”

The colonel gasped and his hand went to where the hilt would be if he were in uniform.

“Yes,” Darcy continued, “you may indeed get an opportunity to use your sword.”

“What is he doing here?”

Darcy laughed humorlessly. “He is a militia officer, if you can believe that. Don't they have to do any work? How could he possibly pull his weight in such a position?”

“It's the militia and it is wartime,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a shrug. “We get a mixed bag even in the regulars. Who knows what goes on in some of the militia regiments.”

“Apparently he has been telling everybody that I am his patron, trading on his great connection to the Darcys and Pemberley. I have not had the opportunity to correct that impression.” Darcy grew thoughtful. “I am not even sure how I would do it. He seems to be very well liked here.”

“He is well-liked everywhere at first. How did he react to you, Darcy? Did you acknowledge him? Did you speak?”

Darcy shook his head. “I have not seen him. I have only been here two days, you know. They say he is engaged to a young lady--a Miss King--who recently inherited 10,000 pounds.”

“His charms,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a smirk, “have apparently decayed by two-thirds since the summer. Or perhaps it's a buyer's market.” He sighed. “I suppose it would be best to return Georgiana to London tomorrow.”

“But that does not solve our problem for tonight,” Darcy said. “Bingley is hosting a large gathering. Several prominent local families are invited, along with all the officers of the regiment. Wickham may be here tonight.”

The two men stood in silent thought. Darcy stared out the window as Colonel Fitzwilliam examined his nails. Then the colonel glanced at the closed library door toward the stairs beyond, and said,

“We need to tell Georgiana. She should be prepared. Let me know how she takes it, Darcy.” Colonel Fitzwilliam's social skills did not extend to dealing well with his fair cousin's emotional displays.

As they were about to leave the library, the colonel grinned and said, “Tell me about this Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy. Bingley says she has an ample bosom.”

“He told you already? You just got here, you just stepped off the carriage!”

“Good news travels fast, man. So you are courting a pretty young country miss with a marvelous bosom? I understand that I'll quite approve the cut of her gowns. I say, if she plays the piano-forte perhaps I can turn the pages for her.” Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked at Darcy's discomfort.

“Yes,” Darcy said in great irritation, “she has a fine figure, and some of her gowns do display it, but not in an improper way, Fitzwilliam.”

“I see. A proper young lady with an ample bosom. She sounds admirable. No doubt she holds contained within her bosom all the womanly virtues: plays the piano-forte, violin and harp; reads and speaks Latin, Chinese and Iroquois; and has the strategic skills of Cleopatra.” Colonel Fitzwilliam walked to Darcy and put a hand on his shoulder. “Who are her connections? What is her fortune?”

Darcy bristled and said, “That is none of your concern. She is a gentleman's daughter.”

“My father and brother will make it their concern. And do not forget Lady Catherine.”

“I have already considered their opinions, Fitzwilliam, to the extent I consider necessary. I am no politician and I do not need to make a great match for any reason but pride.” Darcy looked his cousin in the eye. “I will not allow my pride to rule me in such a way.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked again and said, “You are too proud to be ruled by your pride?”

“If you like,” Darcy said with a small smile.

“Will I get to meet this paragon?”

“If you attend tonight I have no doubt you will. Her family will of course be here. I would like for her to meet Georgiana.”

“I say, Darcy, you are quite serious about this Miss Elizabeth. Remember, man, you have only been here two days.”

Darcy laughed. “I have not asked her to marry me, Fitzwilliam. I am only courting her. But I admire her a great deal. You laugh now, but wait until you meet her. You will see, cousin. I believe that she may be a paragon of sorts.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head and said, “I imagine her parents are overjoyed. First their eldest marries the Bingley fortune, now the Darcy fortune is courting the second eldest. That is something for such a family.”

“Her family do not yet know, and you are not to say a word about this to anybody.” Darcy took his arm. “I mean it. Miss Elizabeth and I want to court quietly for as long as we can. You are quite right--by all accounts her mother will be insufferable once she knows. We have not told any one. Only Bingley knows. And now you.” Darcy groaned. “Oh God, I hope the two of you can keep your mouths shut about this.”

“You talk as though we are a couple of old women, Darcy. Frankly, I am offended.”

Darcy just scowled at him.

“Oh, very well,” the colonel said, “I will say nothing. I promise. Are you satisfied? I say, Darcy, I like to tell a story as much as the next fellow, but I am not as bad as all that.”

Darcy rolled his eyes as he left to talk to Georgiana.

TWELVE

Georgiana was with Miss Bingley in the latter's sitting room when Darcy found her some minutes later. Miss Bingley cooed relentlessly. Georgiana's face held a look that might have been equanimity, but Darcy recognized it as boredom. Georgiana was shy, but she had had too much experience with the multitude of young women who courted her brother's attention, and Miss Bingley was one of the worst.

“Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, “I was just describing to dear Georgiana the spectacle we can expect here this evening. The locals in their finery, gracelessly hopping through a dance, or going on and on about one inane subject or another.”

Darcy glanced at Georgiana. She returned an almost pleading look. He said,

“Miss Bingley, I understand you have many last minute details to attend to before your guests arrive. Might my sister and I use your sitting room for a private conversation?”

Miss Bingley's face fell. “Of course, Mr. Darcy, you are quite correct. I must see to many . . . things.”

She left them alone, and Georgiana immediately let out a great sigh. “Oh, heavens, she is a trial. I am sorry, brother, I know she is Mr. Bingley's sister. But she is a trial.”

“I imagined you must have missed her, since you defied my wishes to come visit her in Hertfordshire.” Darcy crossed his arms at his chest and scowled.

She looked at the floor and said quietly, “Please forgive me, Fitzwilliam.”

“Why did you come here, Georgiana? And to use that crying trick on Richard again--really, dear, you should not manipulate him so.”

“I know.”

“Why did you do it? You enjoy staying with aunt and uncle Matlock.”

“I missed you, Fitzwilliam. I got used to having you around the last few months.” She looked up at him and he saw tears in her eyes. “Since father's death I have spent most of my time at school or at a relation's home, or even in my own establishment in Town. But the last few months with you have been so wonderful.” She looked at the floor again. “I missed you.”

Darcy cleared his throat and said, “I missed you as well, dear. But I asked you to stay in Town for a reason.”

She looked up, still teary eyed, and asked, “Why? Do you agree with Miss Bingley about the local society?”

Here was a difficult question! Two days ago he agreed wholeheartedly with Miss Bingley, but now there were two residents of Longbourn he very much wanted to introduce to his sister's acquaintance. He was less certain about the rest of the locals. However, if he was truly interested in Miss Elizabeth, perhaps he and Georgiana should begin to get used to a different kind of society.

“I was very concerned,” he said, “before I arrived here. Now, though, I think there are some people we should get to know better. Bingley's fiancée, Miss Bennet, is an excellent young lady, very kind and sweet. She reminds me of you in some ways, dear.”

“Miss Bennet sounds lovely.” Georgiana smoothed her skirts and casually said, “I believe I would like to meet Miss Elizabeth as well.”

Darcy looked at the ceiling and cried in exasperation, “Bingley gossips like a fishmonger's wife!”

“He just thought I would be interested in the young lady who has caught my brother's eye. He said Miss Elizabeth is very kind and witty. And very pretty. Is she very pretty, Fitzwilliam?” Georgiana gave him her most innocent look.

“Yes, she is very, uh, pretty.” He cleared his throat again. “She is an admirable young lady. What did Bingley say?”

“Only that you liked her, and had gone walking with her this morning.” She smiled. “I would like very much to meet her.”

“I was hoping very much to introduce her to you.”

Georgiana squealed with happiness and hugged him. “Thank you! I must get dressed. The guests will begin arriving before long. Mr. Bingley said there will be dancing--may I dance tonight?”

“Wait, Georgiana. Before you dress, we must discuss something.” His mouth fell open. “Dance? You want to dance?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh.” Darcy was shocked. Georgiana had never danced except among family. He had never suspected she would even want to, as shy as she was. He did not know how to feel about that. But tonight it was out of the question. “Dear, you will not be attending the party tonight. Please, listen to me.” He took a deep breath and said, “Mr. Wickham is in Meryton.”

She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.

“He may be here tonight,” Darcy continued. “I do not want you exposed to him. Tonight, you will stay with cousin Richard upstairs. I insist.”

For some time Georgiana scowled at the floor. Then her look grew thoughtful and she said, “So I will not be able to dance?”

Darcy shook his head.

“I understand, Fitzwilliam. I will not mind very much missing the party. I can meet Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth tomorrow. Can we go to visit them at Longville?”

“Longbourn, dear. They live at Longbourn House. And no, we can not go there tomorrow. At least you can not. Richard is taking you back to your aunt Matlock tomorrow.”

“Brother, no! When will I meet Miss Elizabeth?”

“When Mr. Wickham leaves Hertfordshire. Or perhaps she will visit the Bingleys in London soon. You will meet her, do not worry, dear.”

“But what if your courtship does not work out? Mr. Bingley says you do not know how to woo a woman.”

“He told you I am courting her?”

“Oh. Was that a secret?”

Darcy closed his eyes and rested his head in his hand.

“I am sorry, brother, but I do so want to meet Miss Elizabeth.” Georgiana squared her shoulders and said, “I will risk Mr. Wickham to meet your Miss Elizabeth tonight.”

“You will not. I will not discuss this further.”

“Then I will meet her tomorrow.”

“You are returning to London tomorrow.”

She looked at the floor and said softly, “Please, Fitzwilliam? I so want to meet her.”

“I am sorry, dear. It is impossible.”

“But she sounds so wonderful, I am sure she could be my friend.” She looked up. There were tears in her eyes. She sniffed. “Please, dear brother.”

Darcy cleared his throat. He looked at poor Georgiana, on the verge of tears. He sighed and said sternly,

“Very well. But you may only stay one more day to meet the Bennet ladies. The day after tomorrow, you return to London.”

Georgiana smiled and said brightly, “Thank you, Fitzwilliam. I believe I will freshen up in my chambers now. Enjoy the party.”

THIRTEEN

Darcy paced by an upstairs window at Netherfield as Bingley's guests arrived. When the Bennet carriage stopped in the yard, he froze in place and watched Miss Elizabeth step out. She looked radiant in her evening gown, again cut to accentuate her figure. As he stared in rapt fascination trying to catch a glimpse of her eyes, a voice startled him from behind.

“Damn,” Mr. Hurst drawled, “your Miss Elizabeth does have a fine bosom.”

Darcy turned and scowled at Bingley's brother-in-law, who only shrugged his shoulders and said, “I would not tell Bingley a secret even in my cups, Darcy. What were you thinking, man?”

Darcy sighed. “What did he tell you?”

“He said you are courting that handsome young thing down there.” Mr. Hurst waggled his eyebrows. “Is it true, old man? Looks to be some fine sport there!”

“I am not sporting, Hurst, and I will thank you not to refer in such a way to Miss Elizabeth.”

Mr. Hurst put up a hand and said, “Settle down, Darcy old man, I meant nothing by it. Only a joke, don't you know.” Then he chuckled. “Caroline failed to see any humor in it, I can tell you that.”

“He told Miss Bingley?” Darcy closed his eyes and grimaced as if in physical pain.

“Not exactly,” Mr. Hurst said with another chuckle. “My brazen sister-in-law was listening outside the billiard room when he told me.” He considered Darcy for a moment. “Were you in your cups when you told him?”

“No, Hurst. I have not that excuse. I am simply a fool.”

“No need to worry, you know.” Mr. Hurst smirked. “He made sure I understood it was a secret when he told me.”

Mr. Hurst let out a guffaw on his way downstairs. Darcy followed him shortly, unsure of whether he most wanted to strangle Bingley or flirt with Miss Elizabeth. The panorama at the bottom of the stairs quickly settled the question--Bingley was nowhere to be seen; Miss Elizabeth was a vision. Darcy scowled and strode to her side.

She greeted him with a cold, unsmiling curtsey. Her first words were, “Mr. Darcy, how long have you known Mr. Bingley?”

Good God, she was beautiful when angry! Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparked, her pursed lips dared his to meet them. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths.

“Well, sir?”

He opened his eyes to see her still angry, but now she looked away, would not meet his gaze. Good God, was she as affected as he? He closed his eyes again and thought of Miss Bingley. It helped. He was able to maintain some composure when he spoke.

“Miss Elizabeth, I am very sorry. I should never have told him.”

“Why did you? The first three things I ever learned about Mr. Bingley were that he loves nothing better than dancing, he writes in hieroglyphics, and he can not keep a secret!”

“You are quite right. I am sorry.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I could hardly believe it when Mrs. Hurst gave me her sour congratulations on my being courted by one of the most sought after `catches' in the land. Are you a `catch', Mr. Darcy? Am I to be congratulated on my fine maneuverings?”

He did not know what more to say. He lifted her gloved hand for a decorous kiss and kept a light hold of it. She did not try to take it back, so he said,

“You look very lovely this evening.”

She smirked and said, “So do you.”

“I told him in a moment of weakness,” he whispered in a sudden heartfelt rush. “I had to tell someone, I was so excited and happy and proud. I should not have done it, but he is my closest friend.”

“The world, then, must be well acquainted with your romantic adventures, Mr. Darcy.”

“Until today, there has not been much for him to tell. I've never had a serious intent towards a lady before you, Eliz . . . Miss Elizabeth.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her hand in his.

Mr. Bennet ambled to his daughter's side and said airily, “Good evening, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy released Miss Elizabeth's hand. “Good evening, sir.”

“You realize, do you not,” Mr. Bennet whispered conspiratorially, “that had you told me you were courting my Lizzy, I would not have told another soul.”

Darcy sighed and looked at the ceiling. Suddenly there was a tugging at his elbow.

“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet cried from behind him, “how are you tonight, sir?”

“I am very well, madam. Yourself?” Oh God, thought Darcy, here we go.

“Very well, indeed. And here is Lydia.” Mrs. Bennet smilingly dragged Miss Lydia to her side. “Is she not in looks this evening?”

The others gaped in astonishment. Darcy managed to say, “Indeed.”

“There will be dancing later,” Mrs. Bennet simpered. “You could not ask for a pleasanter partner.”

The effrontery of the woman, practically asking him to dance with her daughter! And the wrong blasted daughter! Darcy gave Mrs. Bennet a stiff, scowling bow before striding away toward the library. But he had not made it three steps when Miss Elizabeth's anguished, “Oh dear,” stopped him in his tracks.

“It was a civil comment, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet defensively. “Mr. Darcy will certainly be looking for partners, and who better than Lydia?”

Stupefied silence enveloped the group. Finally Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and said, “Mrs. Bennet, let us go speak to our hostess.” He took her hand and led her away.

“La, Lizzy,” Miss Lydia cried as soon as they were out of hearing, “you and Mr. Darcy! He may be dull but he is quite rich, and he does wear his breeches fashionably tight!”

“Lydia!” Miss Elizabeth turned several lovely shades of crimson.

Darcy was mortified at being called “dull” by the stupid Miss Lydia; but Miss Elizabeth's hesitant glances at his breeches were not at all off-putting. He had the sudden uncomfortable realization that if her gaze continued to warm him there, she and everyone else in the room would be seeing rather more of him than was appropriate in polite society. It was evidently unwise to wear “fashionably tight” breeches around Miss Elizabeth. Especially when her gowns put so much of her on such delightful display.

Good God! He needed to change the subject. He came back to Miss Elizabeth's side and asked, “How is it that everybody knows about us but your mother?”

“It is a secret,” said Miss Lydia as though Darcy were dense. “We do not tell Mama secrets. Oh look, there is Harriet.” She ran off to speak to Mrs. Forster who had just entered with a gaggle of officers.

“It is comforting,” said Darcy, “that it is a secret.”

Miss Elizabeth laughed nervously and said, “We have nobody to blame but you, Mr. Darcy, if we lack that comfort. I must speak to Papa. He will need to exercise some control over my mother tonight. It will certainly be a novelty.”

He was pleased to see her smile blushingly at him before she moved away through the growing throng as guests continued to arrive. It was a while yet before dinner, so Darcy knew he must mix.

Bingley had said that Darcy gave offense wherever he went, and it was undeniable that he had offended Bingley's future wife and in-laws. He had imposed his selfishness on his friends for long enough, and he certainly did not want to impose it on Miss Elizabeth. Here, then, was his challenge: to behave with consideration for others' feelings; to demonstrate to Bingley and Miss Elizabeth that he could safely be introduced to their friends and loved ones; to show the Lydia Bennets of the world that he was not dull!

Time to hazard the Hertfordshire savages, Darcy thought with a grim smile before he plunged head-first into Meryton society.

His first target was the easiest--Darcy hoped this was not a sign of cowardice. He strode confidently to Sir William Lucas and enquired after his family's health, then the weather, then the state of the roads. It was surprisingly painless, even pleasant. That is, until the arrival of Sir William's son-in-law.

“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Collins breathlessly cried, “I must speak to you, sir. I must most humbly beseech you to cast off this unseemly attachment, to flee from the well-known arts and allurements of my fair cousin Elizabeth, to return to the noble bosom of your family, to flee from my cousin Elizabeth's bosom . . . oh my.” He stopped in mid-muddle.

The Lucas clan stared in embarrassed silence at their stupid relation. Darcy's face grew red and he said in a low, barely controlled voice,

“Mr. Collins, you forget yourself. You forget your place.”

Mr. Collins truly looked as though he had forgot something. He looked at his wife in confusion, but that lady merely scowled at him before smiling at Darcy and saying, “We are all very happy to hear of your `secret', Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy was thankful for her good sense, which enabled him to rein in his anger. He prided himself--properly, he hoped--on his even temper, but Mr. Collins would try a saint! Darcy returned Mrs. Collins's smile and thanked her with a small bow.

Then a familiar voice caught his attention. Two familiar voices. He turned to the front door and saw Miss Elizabeth in happy conversation with an officer who had just entered by himself. Wickham!

FOURTEEN

The two young men from Derbyshire spotted each other almost simultaneously. One turned red, the other white, and each was for a moment immobile. Then Wickham's face underwent a strange quiver before a huge grin spread over it and he cried, “Darcy, old friend, it is so good to see you!”

And to Darcy's immense disgust and astonishment, Wickham came forward and claimed his hand in a vigorous shake! Darcy was unable to speak. He tried to reclaim his hand but his “friend” held it so tightly that it would have required an unseemly tug-of-war to get it back. All around him he saw only smiling faces watching their happy reunion. Miss Elizabeth came beaming to Darcy's side and said,

“Is this not wonderful? Mr. Wickham did not know you were in town, Mr. Darcy. I was only just telling him when he noticed your presence. It has been some years, I understand, since you last saw each other.”

She looked at him with such happy anticipation of his delight, that he smiled and nodded. This demonstration of her trust in Wickham galvanized him. He gathered his wits, turned to Wickham and said, “Wickham, let us go to the library and catch up for a few minutes. I am sure everybody will understand.”

A hint of fear showed in Wickham's eyes, but Miss Elizabeth said with only a slight air of disappointment, “Of course, you will have much to talk about privately. We can do without you, Mr. Darcy, for a time. A short time.” She gave him an impish smile.

Wickham's astonishment at Miss Elizabeth's smile was very satifsying. Darcy almost laughed as he dragged the man by his captive hand into the library. Wickham did not resist, but he was obviously unhappy with the prospect of them being alone together. And rightly so, thought Darcy.

“Calm down, Wickham. You are the one with the sword. I am not armed.” Darcy smiled unpleasantly.

Wickham sat without ceremony on a chair by the fire. He frowned at his boots and said, “What in hell are you doing here, Darcy?” Then realization dawned. “Oh, you are here for Bingley's wedding. I should have known, only they were not engaged when I left for Bath and I had other things on my mind.”

“What are you doing here?”

Wickham gestured to his uniform. “I am earning my living, as you see. Not all of us were born to luxury, with thousands upon thousands of acres worked by hundreds of tenants and servants.” He sniffed derisively. “Ten thousand a year.”

“You could outspend that easily enough, Wickham. Sometimes that seems to be your goal, to outspend whatever funds you have available. On drink, gaming, opera girls, and God knows what else.”

“You've never had an opera girl, I suppose? Hypocrite.”

“I have never seduced a virtuous woman for sport, or charmed my godfather's daughter for her fortune!”

“Your ancestors have been marrying for fortune for a millennium, Darcy. Don't make me laugh.”

They glared at each other across the room. Darcy said, “So we are great friends now?”

Wickham tossed his head back and laughed. “You should have seen your face, Darcy, when you tried to take your hand back! Oh God, that was wonderful!” When Darcy did not reply, Wickham said, “What did you expect? A connection to Pemberley is worth something. When I realized that Bingley had never heard of me, it seemed like a pretty good gambit. Oh well,” he shrugged, “I knew it could not last forever.”

“It is certainly over.”

Wickham's look turned sly. He said, “Then again, your Lizzy seemed rather delighted at our happy reunion.” Darcy's face contorted miserably. “Ha! I knew it, she is your Lizzy! This is marvelous. She and I are great friends, Darcy. Oh, don't look like that, man. There is no need to take my sword and run me through--she has no fortune, I never dallied with her. At least not physically.”

Darcy cringed inside, but refused to ask what that meant. He knew Wickham was only trying to torture him. They both had seen Miss Elizabeth's happy smile and knew for whom it was meant. He was not worried on that score. Not much, anyway.

“What has that to do with anything?” Darcy asked.

“How could you explain, it? Turning away your childhood friend, your father's favorite? Casting off a young man who was dependant on your patronage? Lizzy has a tender heart and a rather over-developed sense of justice. Tell me, Darcy, how much are you prepared for her to know?”

“Her name is Miss Elizabeth. I would thank you to remember that.”

Wickham shrugged again as Darcy considered Miss Elizabeth's opinion and the implied threat to Georgiana's reputation. He could handle the threat easily enough. He said,

“Colonel Fitzwilliam is here as well.”

Wickham's eyes grew large in genuine fear. “Richard is in Hertfordshire?”

“He is upstairs right now,” Darcy said slowly. He smiled. “He has a sword too.”

Wickham's round eyes darted to the library door, then to the windows. “Is he coming downstairs?”

Darcy shrugged.

“See here, Darcy, you can not let that man murder me!”

“Murder? Well, I suppose that dueling is illegal, but if he only inflicts a permanent crippling injury on you it is hardly murder. And you know what a good shot he is.”

Oh, Darcy was enjoying this! Wickham was positively squirming. They both knew full well that had Colonel Fitzwilliam not been in Portugal during the summer, Wickham might very well have been dead already. With the passage of time and Georgiana's recovery of her spirits, Darcy was fairly certain he could now restrain the colonel, but there was no reason for Wickham to know that.

“Perhaps I should leave,” Wickham said.

“Perhaps you should make a reasonable excuse and leave. And soon, before the wedding, you and I will speak to Miss Elizabeth and enlighten her. Together.”

Physical fear was such a wonderful incentive where George Wickham was concerned. He only nodded before he stood and left the room. Darcy followed him a moment later and went to the drawing room, where he found Wickham taking his leave of a confused Miss Elizabeth. It was most satisfactory. Darcy made his way to them just as Wickham bowed and turned to leave.

“Darcy,” Wickham said, “I was just telling Miss Elizabeth that my duties have unexpectedly called me back to my post. I hope everyone will forgive my leaving so early.”

And then he glanced over Darcy's shoulder and gasped. Darcy turned to see Colonel Fitzwilliam, resplendent in his scarlet uniform, warily leading a spectacularly evening-gowned Georgiana through the crowd. They all froze in astonished recognition, except Miss Elizabeth whose face was still a mask of confusion.

Suddenly Wickham bowed with a deep blush and hurried from the room.

FIFTEEN

“I say!” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam when Wickham had disappeared.

“Oh heavens!” cried Georgiana. She colored and fixed her eyes on the floor.

“What just happened?” cried Miss Elizabeth.

For a moment all Darcy could do was scowl at Colonel Fitzwilliam. The colonel's initial astonished fury at Wickham turned sheepish when he saw Darcy's glare. He shrugged and said, “She cried, man.”

Darcy rolled his eyes, then realized that Miss Elizabeth was watching them with intense curiosity. He fell back on good manners.

“Miss Elizabeth, please allow me to introduce my cousin, Lieutenant Colonel the Honorable Richard Fitzwilliam, and my sister Miss Georgiana Darcy. Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

The colonel bowed and the ladies curtsied. Miss Elizabeth said, “I have heard so much about you, Miss Darcy.”

“And I about you,” Georgiana said softly, as the colonel's gaze took in all of Miss Elizabeth from head to foot. A wide grin came over him.

“I understand,” said Miss Elizabeth, “that you enjoy music and play very well.”

“Oh, not very well. Do you play, Miss Elizabeth?”

Miss Elizabeth gave Darcy a smirk. “Yes I do, but so poorly that your good brother can not even force himself to listen.”

Georgiana looked truly shocked. Colonel Fitzwilliam said delightedly,

“Darcy, you really must learn a thing or two about women.”

“Is Mr. Darcy uninformed on the subject?” Miss Elizabeth asked. “I understood he was a man of great education.” She gave Darcy a teasing smile, and he felt suddenly light-headed.

How was it, Darcy wondered, that Miss Elizabeth could simultaneously light the flame of his desire, and humiliate him before his relations? Good God, this was becoming a complex relationship!

“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, “is referring to a party at Lucas Lodge last night. She played to great approbation. Unfortunately, I was otherwise engaged and unable to appreciate her performance.”

Miss Elizabeth gave him a nod which he interpreted to mean, “Well done.” He smiled back at her and for a few moments they became lost in each other's gazes. He felt his arousal and the blush that rose up his neck. He heard Colonel Fitzwilliam clear his throat.

“Miss Elizabeth, I would very much like to hear you play sometime. I hope to get the opportunity soon.”

“I am sure you shall, Colonel. Perhaps Miss Darcy will favor us as well.”

She smiled sweetly at Georgiana, who blushed and softly said she might be willing to play, but she could not possibly sing among so many strangers.

“Do not feel obliged, Georgiana,” Darcy said tenderly, “but we would all like to hear you. You play very well and I am very proud of you.”

At that moment one of Mrs. Long's nieces began playing a rather stilted air on the piano-forte, and couples began forming for a dance. Miss Darcy said,

“Oh, brother, they are dancing. May I dance?”

Darcy had hoped to avoid this--Wickham might at least have served some purpose if he could have kept Georgiana away from the party. Darcy could see the way the young men in the room looked at his sister. She was truly lovely, but she was also very expensively dressed, significantly more so than even Bingley's sisters, and that drew the kind of attention he had come to fear.

Miss Elizabeth watched with interest as he said, “I do not know, dear. You are not out, after all.”

“But it is a private dance.”

“I am not sure it is a good idea.”

“But you are here to approve of my partners,” she said softly. Tears began forming in her eyes. “Please, Fitzwilliam. I so want to dance.”

Darcy scowled and said, “Very well, but cousin Richard or I must approve all your partners. And remember to behave with proper decorum, and that you are not yet out.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam snickered. When Darcy turned his scowl on him, the colonel said, “And may I, cousin Darcy, be the first to solicit Miss Darcy's hand for the dance?” He made an exaggerated bow, took Georgiana's hand and escorted her to the makeshift dance floor.

Darcy scowled after them, then turned to Miss Elizabeth. She looked very close to laughing.

“What is so amusing?” he asked indignantly.

“Oh, nothing at all.” She smirked at him, then sniffed and wiped her eye. With a sad frown she said pleadingly, “May I dance, dear Fitzwilliam?”

Good God! He would have given his left arm to kiss those frowns and smirks off her lovely, teasing face! He scowled intently at her as his breathing changed and his color rose. She gasped softly and averted her gaze blushingly downward. Now she seemed to focus somewhere below his waist, and suddenly her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Her eyes shot back to his face, which by now was the color of the colonel's coat.

He had to leave. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly, and he practically ran to the library.

He paced diagonally across the dimly-lit room, from one corner to the other. He tried to concentrate on unpleasant things--Wickham, Miss Bingley, the bubonic plague. Gradually his desire subsided and he contemplated returning to the party. He had no idea how long he had been in the room when the door opened.

“Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth whispered loudly, “are you in here? Oh, there you are.” She strode swiftly toward him. “What do you mean running away from me, sir? That was very rude.”

Good God! He had just calmed down and here she was again, cheeks aflame, eyes blazing, bosom heaving. Oh God, that gown! He cleared his throat, but could think of nothing to say that was not grossly improper.

Then she looked below his waist--very deliberately this time--and said uncertainly, “Oh. I am very sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I do not know what to do about that.” She smirked. “And I should probably not find out just yet.”

Speaking of improper! He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, thinking of Miss Bingley. She would be very unhappy, very shrewish. He could hear her screeching . . .

“Mr. Darcy!” Miss Elizabeth actually stamped her foot. “I am right here, sir. You have no alternative but to deal with me.”

“Miss Elizabeth . . . Uh, I am not sure what to say. Obviously, I have imposed most improperly on you. I beg your forgiveness.”

“Oh.” She sounded surprised. “My forgiveness? Do you mean to say that you have some control over that . . . situation? I mean, your, uh, condition?”

She actually pointed slightly in the general direction of the problem area.

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. “Well, no, not as such. That is, no. None whatsoever.”

Suddenly he could not help but chuckle at his predicament, and he was very relieved to hear her join him.

“I am sorry, though,” he continued. “You should not be subjected to such things just because I have suddenly become sex-crazed.”

She laughed incredulously. “Yes, I am in great fear of you, sir. I have never seen a man so out of control. Should I flee now, do you suppose, or wait until the actual ripping off of my clothes commences?”

He could see from her face that she knew she had teased too far. He had no idea what his face looked like, but he could imagine. He closed his eyes again and thought of the plague. The sores, the puss. Very good. Very helpful.

This time she left him alone while he calmed. When he opened his eyes, she was some distance away near the fire. She said with great sincerity,

“I am very sorry about that. It was cruel and improper. Is there anything I can properly do to help you?”

Unable to stop himself, Darcy grinned and stared at her bosom. “Maybe you could wear higher necklines.”

He almost tingled with excitement when her mouth formed a teasing smirk.

“Perhaps,” she said with a long glance below his waist, “you should not wear breeches tight enough to reveal all the vast Darcy secrets.”

His breath caught in his throat and the Darcy secrets became vast indeed. When he found his voice, he said, “You, madam, should leave this room now. Or you could remain and expedite our courtship in a rather breathtaking fashion.”

Now it was she who closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. “What do you think about?” she asked uncertainly. “To, uh, calm down I mean. I am sorry to have to ask, but this is all rather new to me.”

“Something unpleasant.” She looked at him expectantly, so he continued, “Like the plague or famine. Or Miss Bingley.”

She shrieked with laughter and quickly covered her mouth with both hands. She shook her head and walked to the door. “You will not stay in here all night, will you?”

“No. I will emerge before long. But please, Elizabeth, do not tease me so. I can not be seen to go rampant down the dance.”

“So we will dance together?” She smiled happily.

“Of course we will. It is the way to win your love, is it not?”

She laughed with delight as she left the room.

SIXTEEN

Darcy remained in the library for a few minutes more. His dilemma had become acute. Miss Elizabeth seemed to be everything he needed in a woman, in a companion--in a wife--but had not known he needed: her heart was tender but not cloying, her wit was sharp, her understanding was keen, her lively manners unconventional but charming. And her physical person answered his every desire!

For him to be lured to the edge of impropriety in such a way--in his friend's library in a party that included the young lady's family--was astonishing. And she--unused to such things as she was--had apparently been so moved by his presence, so physically affected, that she had needed to compose herself. He chuckled, wondering if Miss Bingley had been her charm of tranquility or if she had chosen the plague.

To continue in such a manner would not do for either of them. He could not expect Miss Elizabeth, innocent but charming Miss Elizabeth, to understand the necessity to keep more distance between them, to realize how rapidly their behavior could deteriorate to the point that her reputation, even her virtue, was in danger. It would be up to him to maintain propriety. He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was a gentleman. A Darcy of Pemberley. He would not impose in such a manner on such a lady. He would not!

He would continue to court her in a more restrained way. He would avoid unchaperoned pre-breakfast meetings. He would endeavor, strenuously endeavor, not to caress her with his gaze at every opportunity. Her smile, her eyes, her figure--these would no longer be his first objects whenever in her company. He would concentrate instead on her mind. They would converse with the utmost propriety. No more talk of, well, of anything even remotely related to low-cut gowns or tight breeches.

Books! They would talk about literature as they danced. He would not watch her lithe body next to his, her hips swaying in time to the music, her soft, full bosom rising and falling with each step--he would discuss Shakespeare and Dafoe!

With this resolution firmly in his heart, Darcy went to find Miss Elizabeth. However, no sooner had he entered the drawing room than Miss Bingley seized his arm. He wondered how long she had lain in ambush.

“Mr. Darcy, let me congratulate you,” she cried. “Miss Eliza is such a charming young lady, with such a fine family. And what marvelous connections.”

“Thank you.”

Miss Bingley's face fell for an instant at this bland reply, but she recovered and said, “When am I to wish you joy?”

Darcy said nothing as he scanned the room for Miss Elizabeth. She was already dancing with Dr. Lucas. They smiled and laughed, and Darcy felt an immediate, absurd pang of jealousy, but just as quickly drove it away. Things had changed a great deal in the last 24 hours!

Miss Bingley continued to speak. “And of course she is so admired. By all and sundry.” She smirked at the dancers.

“Do not worry, Miss Bingley,” Darcy said as he removed her hand from his arm, “I am sure someone will ask you to dance before the night is over.”

He left Miss Bingley gaping after him and went to Colonel Fitzwilliam. The colonel was talking with two young ladies Darcy vaguely recognized. The ladies smiled and giggled and flipped their fans while the colonel all but winked at their décolletages. Darcy took him by the arm and said,

“Where is Georgiana?”

“Dancing,” the colonel replied with an absent-minded wave. He had not torn his eyes from the young ladies.

Darcy scanned the dance floor again and was shocked by what he saw. “Richard,” he whispered, “she's dancing with an officer!”

“Oh?” Colonel Fitzwilliam stood on his toes and stared at his young charge. “So she is.”

“Well?”

“Oh, that is young Denny. Or Sanderson--I am not sure which. Bingley introduced them.”

“It is Sanderson,” Darcy said. “Why did you let her dance with an officer?”

“I say, Darcy, I'm an officer and you let her dance with me.”

“You are her guardian!”

“Calm down. Bingley said the fellow is fine, just has a bit of a stutter.” He turned back to the ladies and made some comment about their lace.

“Where is Bingley?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged. Darcy resisted the temptation to drag Georgiana off the dance floor and went looking instead for Bingley, but the man was nowhere in sight. Fighting back his distaste, he asked Miss Bingley where to find her brother.

She rolled her eyes and said, “I am sure I do not know.”

For the remainder of the set, while his sister and Miss Elizabeth went gracefully down the dance with their grinning partners, Darcy prowled the edges of the floor. He scowled fiercely whenever he caught Lieutenant Sanderson's eye and was glad to see the little man swallow nervously. Yet he could not help but also seek out Miss Elizabeth's lovely face and figure, and they exchanged brilliant smiles whenever she found him watching her.

Unfortunately, this constant switching of facial expressions grew tiring--some of those muscles had been scarce used for years--until at last he found himself smiling flirtatiously at the Lieutenant. Miss Elizabeth's sparkling laugh suddenly rang out over the din. Darcy turned to see her looking at him with her eyes wide and her hand over her mouth. He blushed and shook his head smilingly, and all his tranquility immediately returned.

The set ended and Lieutenant Sanderson brought Georgiana over to her brother. Miss Elizabeth and Dr. Lucas joined them and Miss Elizabeth made the introductions. Both young men were likeable enough, and if the young officer could only stammer shyly, at least Dr. Lucas seemed capable of intelligent conversation.

“Mr. Darcy,” the young doctor said with a smile, “I understand you are sweet on our Miss Eliza.”

“Dr. Lucas, that is enough of that,” cried Miss Elizabeth.

Darcy was pleased to see her scowl. He merely nodded in response to the vulgar colloquialism.

“Your estate is in Derbyshire?” continued Dr. Lucas.

In the face of such impertinent prying, Darcy found it necessary to remind himself that this country gentleman was Miss Elizabeth's friend since childhood. She was watching the two of them with great interest, and he realized this was another test. He forced a smile onto his face and said,

“Yes it is. It is called Pemberley.”

With quiet enthusiasm, Georgiana said to Miss Elizabeth, “It is very lovely.”

“Miss Bingley has told us much of it,” Miss Elizabeth said with a teasing look at Darcy. “I believe she sees it as the ideal country estate. She even told Mr. Bingley that he should take it as a model if he builds his own, which she insists must be in Derbyshire.”

Darcy choked back a laugh. Miss Elizabeth's smile brightened.

Dr. Lucas said, “I have visited your aunt's estate in Kent, Mr. Darcy. I was there three weeks ago when I visited my sister and my brother Collins. It is very impressive, as is Lady Catherine DeBourgh herself.”

Darcy's eyes narrowed. “Yes, we all find her very impressive.”

Dr. Lucas smirked and said, “She has a charming manner.”

Darcy nodded. He would not be baited into defending his aunt.

“Miss Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth said as she cast a disapproving glance at Dr. Lucas, “tell me more about Pemberley. I must admit that Miss Bingley's praise has aroused my curiosity.”

Few topics were as certain of drawing Georgiana out, and she began describing Pemberley`s grounds with gentle enthusiasm--the riding trails, the lake and streams, the woods and groves. As she talked, Dr. Lucas sidled closer to Darcy and said quietly,

“Mr. Darcy, I am sorry for my impertinent questions.” He looked anxiously at Miss Elizabeth. “I am only concerned for Miss Eliza. She is an old friend, my sister's dearest friend.”

Darcy's scowl softened slightly. “I can certainly understand concern for Miss Elizabeth's well-being. But what has my aunt to do with it?”

Dr. Lucas shrugged and said, “Since I heard this evening that you are courting her, I have been imagining her in Lady Catherine's drawing room.” He raised an eyebrow. “I believe they would have a fascinating conversation.”

Darcy vaguely wondered if he should not be offended, yet it was all he could do not to smile in return. He said, “Indeed.”

“Miss Eliza,” Dr. Lucas suggested, “is not the most complying person.”

Darcy nodded. “It is true that my aunt Catherine enjoys giving advice. It is also true that her family do not always enjoy taking it. We do not, of course, seek confrontations, but neither do we allow her to fatigue us into compliance.” He gave the doctor a small smile. “The Fitzwilliams and Darcys are not known for malleability.”

“Unlike the Collinses.” Dr. Lucas frowned in the general direction of his brother-in-law.

“Your brother's position is one that requires deference to his patroness. I owe deference to no person but the king.”

Miss Elizabeth was now listening to their conversation. She asked, “Should a man not defer to his family? To his friends?”

“If by `defer' you mean to substitute their judgment for his own, I think not.”

“But do not affection and respect conjure deference?”

“Does a man not owe his family and friends the benefit of his judgment?”

Miss Elizabeth seemed to consider this a moment before saying, “I will grant you that in some circumstances--those of great moment, with significant outcomes in the balance--we all owe to each other full use of our judgment. A husband,” she suddenly colored, “I mean, a man would owe no less to his family and friends.”

Dr. Lucas laughed. “Eliza, I can't believe it! Did you just lose an argument?”

With an impish grin, she said, “Nonsense. I merely judged myself convinced.”

Then Mrs. Long's niece began another dance tune at the piano-forte, and Darcy said, “Miss Elizabeth, would you judge it appropriate to do me the honor of this next dance?”

“Is this a question of great moment, sir?”

“It is indeed, madam.” He grinned. “Very significant outcomes hang in the balance.”

With a charming blush, she said, “Mr. Darcy, having given your request all due consideration, and bearing in mind the great weight of the issues at hand, I believe you could use a dance. I therefore accept.”

With a bright smile, she took his hand and led him to the floor.

SEVENTEEN

Darcy strode to the dance floor behind Miss Elizabeth, thinking that his plan was not working very well. In an effort to restrain his desires, he had resolved not to concentrate on her physical attractions, but instead on her mind. So he had conversed with her.

She was so quick and clever and witty, having stood her rhetorical ground against him on the issue of “deference”--oh, beautiful irony! She had dared to contradict him, to challenge him, to force him to defend his positions. If he had been on less solid ground, he knew she would have made a fool of him in the most charming manner possible. It was thrilling. She was thrilling!

And Darcy was now in danger of being as aroused as he had been in the library.

This would not do!

He tried to force himself not to watch the curl behind her neck that bounced as she walked. He tried not to notice her flowery fragrance, or listen to her delightful laugh as they took their places in the set. He tried not to say with such feeling,

“You truly look lovely this evening.”

But he did all that; and when she answered with a beautiful, blushing smile as their hands met, he was lost. So lost that he was dangerously close to kissing the hair atop her head--at the very moment he heard Miss Bingley cry out,

“But such an uneven match! Even you must see it, brother!”

Every nearby head turned to see her standing next to Mr. Hurst, who promptly rolled his eyes and strode away toward the refreshments. Miss Bingley had the grace to blush and look down before silently following him.

“That woman!” said Miss Elizabeth. “I understand she is still not reconciled to my sister's marriage, but to be so open about it is insufferable!”

The shock of Miss Bingley's outburst had brought Darcy back to a more composed state. With a meaningful look, he said, “I am not certain that it was your sister's marriage of which she spoke.”

Understanding dawned on Miss Elizabeth's countenance. She said, “Oh.”

They continued dancing in silence. Darcy's quandary was now magnified--he could not safely enjoy her physical attractions or her mind! He wondered how in the world other men handled themselves in such situations. His scowl deepened.

“Mr. Darcy,” he heard Miss Elizabeth quietly say, “you must be mortified. What Miss Bingley said is quite true, it is most uneven, and now you are an object of open gossip.”

She appeared mortified herself. Darcy quickly said, “If I am the subject of gossip it is my own fault for telling Bingley. You were quite correct about that, I did know better. And we have already discussed whatever unevenness exists between us, have we not?”

“Very well, you are correct. We did discuss it. But why do you scowl so? And do not tell me it is equal to a smile--we both know that is not true.”

“My scowl--and I am not conceding that I scowl as much as some claim--was because I am trying to, uh, forestall . . . oh, good God, we can not discuss this on the dance floor.”

“Ah,” Miss Elizabeth said, smiling again. “You are trying to forestall a similar situation to that which . . . arose in the library?”

“Do not start, Elizabeth. Please. Let us discuss books.”

“Books? On the dance floor?” She laughed brightly. “I begin to suspect you have not a romantic bone in your body.”

“You are not making this easy.”

“I am not here to make things easy, sir. Oh, very well,” she said at his exasperated look. Then in a singsong voice, “What books have you read lately, Mr. Darcy?”

“Now you make me feel ridiculous. What should we discuss if not books?”

She only widened her eyes teasingly.

“Please, madam, have mercy. Let us discuss crop rotation.”

She giggled. “Very well, sir. How many fields do you leave fallow?”

Darcy grinned and said, “We primarily farm sheep.” Miss Elizabeth laughed and hit his arm. “But,” he continued, “we farm crops as well. Do you really want to discuss crop rotation? I did not think so. I refuse at any rate, since you already think me unromantic.”

“Oh, you could recite me every sonnet ever written and I would not believe you a romantic. You are too level-headed for that.”

“Would you describe my behavior this evening as `level-headed'?”

“Not exactly,” she said, “but I like to think it was only a result of the inducement.”

She gave him a true, full-force, come-hither smile, and Darcy's knees nearly gave way. He closed his eyes to think of Miss Bingley's screeching voice. Shrewish and loud. Irritating. Without opening his eyes he said,

“You have no sympathy for my plight, I see that now.”

“You are not alone in your plight, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth said softly. “But, sir, this can not go on. Surely other courting couples do not go through their day with eyes closed, deep in thought on unpleasant matters. We must simply find a way to deal with this problem.” She smirked. “Without actually dealing with it, that is. In short, sir, we must find a way to flirt without descending into gross impropriety.”

“A noble goal.”

“For a noble suitor.”

They smiled at each other until they came together again. Darcy said, “I have been considering the same problem. I had resolved to engage you in intellectual conversations.”

“Books.”

“Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “You saw how well that worked.”

“Tell me about your family. Are you close to them?”

“I am very close to Georgiana, of course, but almost as a father. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I have been her guardians for five years. Colonel Fitzwilliam is probably the closest thing I have to a brother. He and Bingley are my dearest friends. My uncle and aunts I love, but not like one would their parents. We are not terribly close.”

“Other cousins?”

“Tom, the Viscount, is a fine fellow, but we are too far apart in age to be very close. There are three girls--Lady Gwen and Lady Susan Fitzwilliam, and Anne DeBourgh. I am closer to the Fitzwilliams than to cousin Anne, but not greatly so.”

“You are not engaged to one of your cousins, then?”

“No.”

“My family is not nearly so august,” Miss Elizabeth said. “You have met my parents and my sisters. In fact, I hear you are sweet on my sister Lydia.” She laughed at Darcy's groan. “You've also met my aunt and uncle Phillips. Tomorrow if you wish it, you will get a treat. My aunt and uncle Gardiner arrive from Town for the wedding.”

“They are a treat?” Darcy found it hard to believe that any of Miss Elizabeth's relations might be treats. Out of the whole lot he had met thus far, only she and Miss Bennet could be accurately called `treats'. Those were not good odds.

“You are in for a surprise if you doubt me,” she said. “I hope you can come to Longbourn tomorrow to meet them. We may not have any other opportunities before the wedding.”

“There is a dinner at the Phillipses in two nights, is there not?”

She nodded absently mindedly. “Will you be riding tomorrow morning?”

“Is that wise?” Darcy asked. “Have we learned to properly flirt?”

“It will be good practice.”

“The concept of `practice' encompasses failure as a matter of course.”

“I have faith in you.”

“Too much, perhaps.” Darcy did not want to commit himself, so he said, “I may ride out, but I may not be able to. I will certainly travel to Longbourn with Bingley to meet the Gardiners.”

Miss Elizabeth scowled at him and whispered, “Coward,” as they came together again.

“The better part of valor, Miss Elizabeth.”

She shook her head at him as the dance ended. He led her to his sister and cousin, who were in conversation with Dr. Lucas and the colonel's two young admirers. A new dance started, and Dr. Lucas solicited Georgiana's hand. She looked at her brother who nodded, and off they went to the floor.

“You are becoming broad minded, Darcy,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a laugh. “I suppose it is only because he is not a redcoat.”

“Mr. Darcy is hardly against redcoats, colonel,” said Miss Elizabeth smilingly. “Between you and Mr. Wickham, he has friends enough in red coats.”

Darcy just scowled at the floor.

EIGHTEEN

“Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth whispered, “is something the matter? I have been meaning to ask you about Mr. Wickham's behavior--he was in a great hurry to leave after your conversation in the library.”

“I have wanted to discuss that with you as well. I am afraid that Mr. Wickham has not been completely truthful with the people of Hertfordshire.” Darcy almost said more, but that conversation required more privacy.

“What do you mean, sir? He said you two are the greatest of friends.”

“We were at one time.”

“I do not understand.”

She looked quite confused and a little saddened. Darcy knew of her affectionate heart and felt sorry that he would have to enlighten her as to Mr. Wickham's true character, but there was no help for it.

“If you will agree,” he said, “we can discuss it tomorrow morning. I will ride out to meet you.”

“This sounds rather serious to be taking such a risk as meeting alone.” She smirked. “Very well, sir. We can discuss it tomorrow morning. Should I also prepare to practice my flirting?”

Darcy grinned. “Proper flirting only, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I know of no other kind, sir.”

“Did you enjoy your dance, Miss Elizabeth?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked when the two young ladies had joined their partners on the floor.

“Yes I did. Your cousin is an excellent dancer.” She smiled at Darcy and he felt his insides churn very pleasantly.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy as though he were a particularly disappointing child and said, “He ought to be, he had the best masters. But he seldom engages in the art. He lacks social skills, Miss Elizabeth. He is something of a brute, if I may say so.”

“How frightful!”

“Frightful, indeed. The stories I could tell--if he were not standing right here ready to throttle me!”

Darcy did indeed feel like throttling his cousin, but not because of his silly teasing. He wanted to throttle him because the man couldn't seem to keep his eyes from Miss Elizabeth's delectable bosom, leering like a wolf the whole time. Darcy's color rose and he struggled to stay silent. He would not give Richard the satisfaction.

“Throttle?” Miss Elizabeth said with a delighted laugh. “Mr. Darcy, throttle? Oh dear, colonel, does he often throttle other gentlemen?”

“Well, no, not often. But with a scowl like that he hardly needs to.”

Darcy's scowl was now set firmly on Colonel Fitzwilliam, who only laughed and clapped him on the back. “Cheer up, Darcy old man--with luck this lovely young lady will never know the horrible truth about you.”

“Actually, colonel,” said Miss Elizabeth with a sweet smile, “Mr. Darcy has already revealed some of his biggest secrets to me.”

Darcy was seized by a sudden coughing fit. Colonel Fitzwilliam rubbed Darcy's back with a look of real concern. After some moments Darcy recovered and gave Miss Elizabeth an accusing look, but she merely shrugged happily.

The colonel apparently observed this interaction, and asked slyly, “Miss Elizabeth, given that I am Darcy's relation, can you not share these secrets with me?”

Darcy's eyes grew wide and he flushed head to toe. Miss Elizabeth blushed and grinned before saying,

“Oh, no, colonel. Secrets are secrets. Do you take me for Mr. Bingley?“

“Can you not even give me a hint?”

Darcy said, “Be careful, Eliz . . . Miss Elizabeth, he is as bad a gossip as Bingley.”

She laughed at Colonel Fitzwilliam's hurt expression. “I can not give you specifics, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I can say that the Darcy secrets are most impressive.”

Darcy could not help smiling at that as his blush deepened and his secrets began to expand. Miss Elizabeth grinned back while the colonel gave them both suspicious glances.

“Well,” he said, “I am not aware of any great Darcy secrets. Perhaps I will ask my mother if she knows of any.”

“Let us hope she does not,” Miss Elizabeth said solemnly.

“She doesn't,” Darcy declared.

“You seem rather certain of that, Darcy. I will ask her all the same. My interest is now piqued.” He raised an eyebrow at the two of them, and they broke into laughter.

Suddenly Bingley and Miss Bennet appeared arm in arm next to Darcy. They did not look precisely disheveled, but they were certainly not put together as well as when Darcy had last seen them. Their clothes were slightly askew, their hair slightly mussed, their complexions heightened, their eyes brightened. Good God, thought Darcy, they could at least take the time to compose themselves!

After Miss Elizabeth introduced Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss Bennet said, “It is very good to see you again, Mr. Darcy. It is especially good to see Lizzy smiling.”

Darcy cleared his throat and gave a small bow. “Yes, it is very good to see.”

The two Bennet sisters fell into conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Darcy addressed Bingley in a whisper.

“Bingley, do you find it impossible to keep a secret? Did it occur to you that if I wanted everybody to know I was courting Miss Elizabeth, I would have told them?”

Bingley looked indignant. “I only told the colonel, Hurst and your sister.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “So you only told three people? Bingley, it was a secret. Do you not know what that word means? A secret.”

“I told them it was a secret.”

“But you did tell them. You were not supposed to tell anybody. Oh, God, why am I even having this discussion?”

“Upon my honor, I do not know, Darcy.”

Darcy scowled at Bingley. Bingley scowled back. Darcy said, “Just tell me this, Charles. What do I have say or do to get you to keep a secret?”

“What do you mean? I told everybody it was a secret.”

Darcy closed his eyes and sighed.

Bingley said, “See here, Darcy, does Mrs. Bennet know? Does she?'

With a deep sense of resignation, Darcy shook his head.

“There you are!” Bingley cried. “Mrs. Bennet does not know. It is still a secret!”

“You have been in Hertfordshire too long, Bingley.”

NINETEEN

The next morning was the third in a row Darcy was up before dawn. Hertfordshire parties did not last as late as those in Town, but it was well past midnight when he had finally flopped onto his bed, and he was exhausted. He would have to find time for a nap.

As he prepared to meet Miss Elizabeth at “their” hill, he felt a thrill of anticipation. She was so lively and witty and clever. So handsome. They had danced a second time last night--the last dance before Mrs. Long's niece pled fatigue of the fingers--and though they carefully avoided the teasing flirtations that had nearly got them in trouble earlier, it had been a delight. At the end of the night they had parted with a most proper goodbye, but their eyes met in a glance so like a caress that he could scarcely breathe for some moments afterward.

And now they were to meet again. Alone. Fortunately for purposes of keeping his lust at bay, they were to discuss Mr. Wickham, who had caused more unhappiness for Darcy's loved ones than Miss Bingley and the plague combined. So Darcy was able to set out that morning with well-founded confidence in his continued gentlemanly behavior.

Before he could get away, though, he encountered Colonel Fitzwilliam at the stables.

“Darcy,” the colonel said, “are you riding as well? Excellent, I could use the company. It would prove quite embarrassing for a lieutenant colonel of infantry to get lost amongst the hamlets and estates of Hertfordshire!”

“I will be riding alone, Richard.”

“Alone?” Colonel Fitzwilliam looked confused for a moment. Then he slyly asked, “Alone for the whole ride, or will you be meeting someone on the way?” When Darcy did not answer, he said, “Come, Darcy, I have had more assignations than you have had haircuts. I know the signs.”

Darcy scowled and said, “It is not an assignation.”

“Are you not meeting Miss Elizabeth?”

“It is not an assignation.”

“What is it then? An auction? A game of tennis?”

“This is something you can discuss with nobody,” Darcy whispered. “I am going to tell her the truth about Wickham.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned. “Good. She seems to like the man, and that will not do.”

“She sees him as a friend, and she thinks he is my friend as well. She is a very loyal person, so I am little worried.”

“After what I saw between the two of you last night, I would not worry about her loyalty to Wickham. I think her loyalty lies with you now, cousin, or will very soon.” His eyes narrowed. “Will you tell her about Georgiana?”

“Yes. She needs to know, especially as she and Georgiana seem to get along so well. And I promised Georgie that I would take her to Longbourn today. The Bennets are all well acquainted with Wickham, so his name may come up. I want Elizabeth to know just in case.”

“Longbourn?” the colonel cried in exasperation. “I say, Darcy, you told me to take her back to London today. I've made plans, man.”

“That can wait a day.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps I have an assign . . . a tennis game of my own to attend.” Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked. “How did Georgie persuade you to allow her to stay?”

“Never mind. I will see you at breakfast.”

The colonel laughed as Darcy mounted and eagerly galloped toward Longbourn. Upon arrival at the hill, he realized he may have been overeager. He had arrived somewhat earlier than on the two previous mornings and Miss Elizabeth was not yet there. With some anxiety that she might be prevented from coming, he dismounted and took a seat on the ground with his back against a tree. He laid his hat on the grass beside him, closed his eyes and rested.

Soon he was back on the dance floor with Miss Elizabeth. Her gown from the night before had somehow been altered, and the bust was made of nothing but the sheerest lace. As she moved, her virtually exposed bosom rose and fell, unencumbered by stays, nipples clearly visible to his fervent gaze.

She gave him a daring smile and said, “Mr. Darcy, you claim to admire my fine eyes, yet you seem unable to look above my neck.” She moved close in the dance so that her nipple pressed against his hand--ungloved for some reason--and whispered, “Do you admire my bosom as well? I hope so, for I wore this gown just for you.”

His arousal grew until it was almost painful. He cried, “Elizabeth, my love!”

The music stopped. They were alone in a garden fragrant with lavender blooms, standing very close in the warm summer night. She reached up her small hand to brush the hair from his forehead, and he could restrain himself no longer. He grabbed her arms, pulled her tightly against his body and ardently kissed her. Her response was all he could have wished--her lips parted and their tongues met and she pushed herself against his arousal until he needed more!

Suddenly, Miss Bennet appeared in the garden and shouted, “Lizzy!”

Startled awake, Darcy opened his eyes and met Miss Elizabeth's. He was still sitting on the ground against the tree, but now she was in his arms, sitting across his lap cocooned in her lavender scent, and they were indeed kissing. Most passionately!

“Oh dear!” she cried as she scrambled to her feet and dashed over to where Miss Bennet stood with mouth agape.

“Good god!” cried Darcy. He leapt up in one swift motion and ran a short distance down the hill just out of sight of the ladies. He paced rapidly back and forth and did his best to think of anything besides Miss Elizabeth's active tongue, fine eyes and bountiful bosom! He soon realized he could hear the Bennet sisters' agitated conversation. He guiltily listened.

“Oh, Jane!”

“Lizzy, what were you thinking?”

“Oh, Jane!”

“Calm down, dear. Tell me what just happened.”

“Was it not obvious?”

“Oh, yes, it most certainly was. But how did it happen? You were just going to wake him.” Then a moment of silence before Miss Bennet said, “Wipe that smirk off your face, Lizzy Bennet, and don't you dare say, `But I did wake him!'”

“Oh, Jane! All I did was brush some hair off his forehead. Suddenly he grabbed me and kissed me.”

“You kissed him back, dear. Do not deny it.”

She most certainly did, thought Darcy.

“And there was no need to touch his hair,” Miss Bennet continued.

“But it always hangs down over his forehead. Do you not just want to brush it back?” Miss Bennet evidently did not, and Miss Elizabeth said, “Well I have wanted to do that since the first time I set eyes on him. I suppose I thought this was my opportunity.” She giggled, and Darcy could almost see her impish smile in his mind's eye. “I thought he would never know. Perhaps my kissing him back was simply a ruse to keep him from discovering the improper liberty I took with his person!”

“Lizzy,” Miss Bennet cried laughingly, “this is serious. You must not do such things, and you must not encourage such behavior in him. Mr. Darcy evidently admires you a great deal. Perhaps as much as you admire him.”

“Jane!”

“Oh, you two are very cute together. But you are not married or even engaged to be married. Both of you need to remember that,” she said sternly.

“Yes, dear sister. You are quite correct.”

“And no more unchaperoned meetings, dear sister. I am glad I invited myself along this morning. Good heavens, if this is how you behave before my very eyes, what would you do if alone? ”

What indeed, thought Darcy. Where might that kiss have led? What would Miss Elizabeth have allowed? Oh, that she might admire him as much as he admired her!

He momentarily bristled at Miss Bennet's presuming to set the rules for his courtship, but quickly realized how right she was. He even felt a certain relief--he and Miss Elizabeth obviously needed some help to maintain propriety.

The ladies fell silent while Darcy continued to pace. Without Miss Elizabeth's voice to remind him of things he did not presently want to think on, he calmed down and composed himself. He felt thankful that he had not discovered this morning what Miss Elizabeth would have allowed. He would not be the means of her fall from maidenly virtue!

He would not!

After a while he heard Miss Bennet say,

“He has been gone for some time, Lizzy. He did not take his horse, or I would be afraid he left us. Should we go looking for him?”

Miss Elizabeth giggled. “Not unless you have a miniature of Miss Bingley to show him.”

TWENTY

It was almost ten minutes before Darcy returned to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. They had taken seats upon the ground with their backs against the same tree he had slept against, and he had seldom seen so lovely a picture. He wondered if it was a vision of the future: Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley sitting together under a tree at Pemberley, perhaps watching their children--his and Charles's children--play together by the lake or in the little glade by the old mill where his family had picnicked in his youth.

His eyes misted and his throat constricted. He was astonished at how this thought affected him. He remembered his dream--he had called her “my love.” He shook his head and composed himself once more. After a few moments, he was able to approach them.

They saw him and stood. Miss Bennet said,

“Mr. Darcy, we must talk about what just happened.”

He acknowledged this with a short, scowling bow.

“The behavior I witnessed this morning,” Miss Bennet continued with a deep blush as Miss Elizabeth stared at the ground, “was not appropriate for a couple who are not betrothed. Such behavior could have damaged my dear sister's reputation most grievously had it been witnessed.” She took a deep breath and continued resolutely, “I need hardly add, sir, that the remedy for such damage would be betrothal.”

Miss Elizabeth looked at her sister and gasped. “Jane, that is enough! Nobody will be forced into marriage.”

“That is right, Lizzy, but only because nobody saw it. Am I correct, Mr. Darcy?” She raised an eyebrow. “Would not a gentleman's honor require him to marry a young lady in such circumstances?”

Darcy was amazed--Miss Bennet was acting as Miss Elizabeth's father! Upon further consideration, though, he supposed that if it were not Miss Bennet, it would have to be Bingley who was not yet even related to her. He again thought with contempt about Mr. Bennet's ongoing failure to protect his daughters.

Darcy decided that he owed Miss Bennet an answer, but what was the answer to be? Would a “yes” be tantamount to a marriage offer? And could his honor truly be engaged by a kiss made without his volition, because of a dream? Then he looked at Miss Elizabeth's worried face and he was decided, as simply as that. He said,

“Indeed my honor would be engaged. Rather, my honor is engaged, Miss Bennet.” Miss Elizabeth looked at him with wide eyes as he said, “I am honor-bound to make your sister an offer of marriage if this ever comes to light.”

“Mr. Darcy,” cried Miss Elizabeth, “you are under no obligation to me. Please do not say such things. Jane, you must not insist on this!”

“She need not insist,” Darcy said. “I insist. Miss Bennet, may I have a private word with Miss Elizabeth?”

Miss Bennet said, “Of course Mr. Darcy. I will be right over there. Watching.” Then she laughed. “So no funny business, you two.”

Miss Elizabeth groaned and rolled her eyes as her sister walked some feet away, out of earshot. She said, “Mr. Darcy, you can not be serious.”

“Can I not?” he casually asked.

She smirked and shook her head.

“Well, I am serious. You know what this would mean for your reputation. I am simply promising to protect it, as I certainly had a hand in the proceedings. I am very sorry for what happened . . .” He stopped, wondering if he should ask. He had to know. “What did happen, by the way? All I know for certain is that when I woke up, we were, uh, kissing.”

Miss Elizabeth blushed. “You were asleep when we got here, and I knelt beside you to wake you.” She paused a moment, then said in a rush, “And you grabbed me and kissed me.”

Darcy stared thoughtfully at her for a moment. He said, “I was dreaming about you.”

“Oh.”

“I dreamt . . . well, I dreamt you brushed the hair from my forehead.”

She colored even more deeply, looked at the ground and sighed.

“I should probably tell you,” Darcy said, “that I could hear your conversation with your sister after we kissed. I only went down there. See?”

She looked where he pointed and closed her eyes. When she opened them she said, “So you know that I really did brush the hair from your forehead?”

He nodded smilingly.

“Well, Mr. Darcy, I am now mortified. Absolutely and completely.”

“You need not be. You see, there was something that I have wanted to do since I first saw you.”

“I am almost afraid to ask what it is.”

“We just did it under that tree.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “So you were dreaming about me?”

“Yes I was.”

“So that was why you said, `Elizabeth, my love?'”

Darcy's mouth fell open. Good God, he had spoken it aloud!

“You see,” she continued in a soft voice while looking down, “that was part of the reason I touched your hair. You called me your love with such tender passion. I was very moved. I could not stop myself from touching you.”

Neither spoke for a time. Finally Darcy said, “Your sister is right, you know. We can not go around kissing. Not until we are engaged. Even then we should not do it too much.”

“Someone should tell that to Jane and Charles,” she said under her breath with a small smirk. “You speak as though our engagement is a certainty.”

He grinned in response.

“I know,” she said, “you believe in finishing what you start. But I, sir, am not a project to be completed. I am a woman with a heart to be won. I hope your romantic abilities match your aspirations.”

Darcy laughed. “Yes, let us hope so, as I clearly aim high for a man without a romantic bone in his body.”

She smiled brightly and said, “Very high indeed! At least nobody but Jane saw us this morning--it would be too embarrassing to be forced to surrender to your fiendish ambitions because I could not resist that errant lock of hair on your forehead.” She shook her head and cried laughingly. “But by heaven, after we are engaged I will brush it back every day with wild abandon. It taunts me, sir!”

“You speak of our engagement as a certainty.”

“A mere slip of the tongue, Mr. Darcy.” Her mention of her tongue set his mind off in a direction it should not go. She apparently saw something in his face and said, “Since Miss Bingley and I will soon be connected, I am considering asking her for a keepsake--a miniature for display at such times as this.”

Darcy threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, yes! Why did I not think of that?”

“I am afraid, sir, that such a request coming from you might have other repercussions.”

“Indeed,” he said soberly. “Shall we return to your sister? Have you agreed to allow me to marry you if I have damaged your reputation?”

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose there would really be no other way. I hate that you would be compelled to marry me by something other than inclination, but it can not be helped, I see that now.”

“Good. Now I must tell you about Mr. Wickham. Miss Bennet may hear it as well.”

Miss Elizabeth's face fell. “Yes, Mr. Wickham. I had forgot about the reason for us meeting this morning. I have a feeling I will not like what I am about to hear.”

“No, you will not. I know you consider him a friend. I hope it was no more than that,” he said softly.

“Oh, no! We were only friends, though I was flattered at his attentions and did wonder what might have happened if he had an adequate fortune. I am very vain, I think. I realized some time ago that Mr. Wickham paid me more attention than he should, considering that he seemed to have no prospects in spite of his connection to,” she adopted a stentorian voice, “the great House of Darcy!”

“After what your sister and Miss Bingley said at Longbourn about your disappointment, I worried. And you look rather sad now.”

“I think I am sad that I apparently was fooled, and I am also sad because I thought you and he were friends, but you seem to be enemies instead.” She smiled and squeezed his arm affectionately. “But you must not worry about my feelings for him. After all, a man as unromantic as yourself has enough to worry about, does he not?”

They strolled arm-in-arm to Miss Bennet, who said, “You two seem to have resolved something.”

“Only that Mr. Darcy feels obligated to save my honor if the situation should arise, and I have agreed to let him.” She smiled up at him. “We have also agreed that he is quite unromantic and has a daunting task ahead of him.”

Darcy rolled his eyes and said, “I am resolved to make your sister an offer of marriage if her reputation is threatened by my actions.”

“Lydia will be happy to hear that, sir,” Miss Elizabeth said with a laugh.

TWENTY-ONE

After receiving their assurances of secrecy, Darcy began his story of Mr. Wickham's misdeeds with little preamble. He discovered that they already had a good understanding of Mr. Wickham's basic relationship to the Darcys; it was only regarding the more unsavory details that they had been misled.

When he described how Mr. Wickham declined a living in the church in exchange for a very substantial sum of money, they were amazed.

“But how could he now be poor?” asked Miss Elizabeth. “And he is not an attorney--what happened to interrupt his studies?”

“Perhaps,” said Miss Bennet hopefully, “he was cheated out of the funds.”

Darcy shook his head. “Mr. Wickham lived a life of idleness and dissipation with that money. If he studied at all, it was not in earnest. He spent 4,000 pounds in less than four years. About a year ago, when he had gone through it all and was penniless, the living came open and he contacted me to request it. I refused him of course.”

“What shamelessness!” cried Miss Elizabeth. “I am sure the people of the parish owe you thanks, Mr. Darcy. To have such a man as their parson would have been unfortunate indeed.”

“It is so sad that money has come between two boyhood companions, has made you enemies,” Miss Bennet commented unhappily.

“If it were only money, madam, it would not be so bad. His licentiousness, his viciousness, would have driven a wedge between us had he an independent fortune greater than my own. But it was his behavior last summer toward my sister that forever destroyed any possibility of friendship between us.”

Darcy now described Mr. Wickham's attempted elopement with Georgiana. The Bennet sisters were stunned.

“Oh dear,” said Miss Elizabeth when he had finished. Miss Bennet only shook her head. Both young ladies appeared near tears. Miss Elizabeth reached out to squeeze Darcy's arm and asked,

“How is Miss Darcy? She seemed happy last night, even after seeing that man. I hope she is recovering.”

Darcy was struck by the genuine compassion of these two women, so unlike other ladies he knew. He found it difficult to speak, his emotion was so high. By God, Charles Bingley certainly knew what he was about here in Hertfordshire--who would have suspected that? He recovered his voice and said,

“She is much recovered, thank you. We spent the fall together and the Christmas season. It was very good for both of us, I believe. We have grown closer. Oh, we were always close, but she is so much younger that for years I have been mostly an authority figure. One she may have been trying to escape through elopement.” He smiled sadly. “I have done much thinking on this, as you can tell.”

Miss Bennet said, “I do not know when I have ever been so shocked. Poor Miss Darcy! Mr. Wickham so bad! One hardly knows what to think.”

“Pardon me, dear Jane,” Miss Elizabeth said angrily, “but one knows exactly what to think. Mr. Wickham is a scoundrel. Oh, to think I actually liked him! I am so ashamed.”

“Miss Elizabeth, please, you have done nothing to be ashamed of. Mr. Wickham has always had the ability to make friends easily. It is only in the keeping of them that he fails. He is a duplicitous man, deceitful and manipulative. You had no reason to dislike him and you certainly do not have a suspicious nature.”

“We all believed him, Lizzy,” said Miss Bennet. “Father, Aunt Gardiner--everybody whom you and I respect believed him. Do not be so hard on yourself.”

“I can not help it.” She scowled fiercely at the ground. “I have always prided myself on my perception, and to discover what a fool I have been. All because of vanity! I look back now and I can see how silly I was. He was always too forward, improperly telling me things so early in our acquaintance. And I knew nothing about him but what he told me, I knew nobody that had been acquainted with him for more than a few weeks.”

Nobody spoke for some moments, until Darcy said,

“I told you this now because Georgie wants to visit you today at Longbourn. She enjoyed making your acquaintance last night and begged me to bring her with me today when Bingley and I visit.” He laughed humorlessly. “When I spoke to Mr. Wickham last night, I told him that I expected him to join me when I told you the truth about him. I am happy it turned out differently. I would hate to have him here now.”

There was general agreement on that point.

Miss Bennet said, “Mr. Darcy, we will be very happy to receive Miss Darcy today. Is there anything in particular that we can do to make her feel more at home?”

“She enjoys music very much. You have a fine pianoforte--she might enjoy some time playing with Miss Elizabeth.” Darcy truly hoped this would come about. Georgiana loved music above all things; but more than that, he wanted another chance to hear Miss Elizabeth play.

“Oh, that sounds very nice,” said Miss Elizabeth. “I am glad I have been practicing. Thank you for the suggestion, sir.”

“I believe we should be returning home now,” Miss Bennet said. “It has been a very interesting morning. Thank you for trusting us with this information, Mr. Darcy. You may be assured of our discretion. And we look forward to seeing you and Miss Darcy--and Mr. Bingley--later today.”

With a significant look at Miss Elizabeth, she strolled once more out of earshot and waited. Darcy daringly took Miss Elizabeth's hand and said,

“Thank you for hearing me out. I was worried you would not believe me.”

She looked amazed. “Why would I not believe you?”

“Mr. Wickham is so believable--there have been times when his lies were believed no matter what I said.” Darcy was thinking of some particular instances during his boyhood. At the time they seemed no more than mischievous pranks, but now they seemed unhappily portentous.

“But even were that so, he always spoke highly of you and your family and your home. I suppose,” she continued thoughtfully, “it made him seem more important, lent him a bit of your luster.”

“I have a luster?”

She laughed, and it was a wonderful sight to behold after their grim discussion of Mr. Wickham. “Indeed you do sir. You are lustrous! Or as Mr. Collins says, illustrious.”

Darcy felt such affection for her he hardly knew what to do--particularly as Miss Bennet watched them so closely. He squeezed her hand and said, “Elizabeth, I am a dull fellow compared to you. You shine like the evening star!”

She looked at their joined hands and swallowed. With a tenderness that amazed him she said, “If you are dull, Fitzwilliam, then heaven save me from ever knowing an exciting man, for I do not believe I could live through the experience.”

At the sound of his Christian name on her sweet lips, he felt certain his heart would stop. He stared intently into her eyes and whispered, “Elizabeth--my love.”

She smiled beautifully and whispered in return, “But this is only the fourth day of our acquaintance! How can this be? It seems so real, though.” She shook her head. “I hardly know you.”

He simply smiled back.

“Mr. Bingley courted Jane for weeks,” she said, punctuating each word by poking him in the arm.

“Bingley was always a rather slow young man. I had hoped his new life in the country would teach him decisiveness.” Now he was grinning like an idiot, but he did not care.

But good God, a one day courtship? Was he actually going to make her an offer, here and now?

They smiled silently at each other for a full minute while Miss Bennet watched with something like amazement on her face. Suddenly Darcy was overcome by the absurdity of it all. He barked out a laugh and said,

“And you were afraid I would break your heart by not making an offer.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Are you making an offer?”

“I am considering it. Would you accept me?” he asked without a thought for propriety.

Now she laughed and said, “I have no idea what I would do. I do not really want to accept you yet, but I would hate to reject you! I hope you do not put me in the position of having to decide. We do not yet know each other.”

How deflating! He nodded with a rueful smile. “You are correct, of course, but do not expect me to wait too long before making you an offer--this will not be the Hundred Years War of courtships. Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “it was the kiss that put us in this mood. That kiss was something!”

“Was it a special kiss, sir? Did we achieve some sort of ideal? I will have to take your word for that, since I have nothing to compare it to. I have only ever received little pecks on the cheek from young men, and that just twice.”

“Poor chaps!”

“They did not seem to feel it a misfortune at the time!”

At that, he swiftly bent to kiss her soft cheek and murmured in her ear, “Nor should they have.”

“Lizzy!” cried Miss Bennet in real distress. “You two stop that. Please! I do not like being your chaperone. You and Mr. Darcy behave like difficult children who will not mind.”

Darcy was swept away on a wave of guilt. Once again his selfishness was hurting others--poor Miss Bennet was unhappy because he had ignored her very correct concerns about propriety, and he could only imagine how his aggressive attentions were distressing Miss Elizabeth! This would not do!

He took a deep breath, stepped back from Miss Elizabeth and bowed. Scowling at himself, he said, “I must apologize to both of you for my poor behavior. Please forgive me, though I know I do not deserve it! I only hope . . .”

He was interrupted when Miss Elizabeth reached her hand behind his neck, stood on her toes and emphatically kissed his lips. Then she said smilingly, “Enjoy the rest of your morning, Fitzwilliam. We will see you and your sister later. Let us go home, dear Jane.”

He did not close his gaping mouth until they had disappeared arm-in-arm down the hill.

TWENTY-TWO

When Darcy went to mount his horse for his return to Netherfield, he was startled by a loud whistle. The whistle was followed by Colonel Fitzwilliam emerging from the nearby undergrowth.

“I say, Darcy,” called the colonel as he picked a thistle from his sleeve, “I always thought you were rather slow with the ladies. I see now I was mistaken. Or is it that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is fast with the gentlemen?”

Anger flared in Darcy's breast. “Richard,” he said with cold disdain, “I suggest you withdraw that comment about Miss Elizabeth.”

“Here now, Darcy, calm down. I meant nothing by it, cousin. I do withdraw it. What has got into you, man?”

“Miss Elizabeth is a proper young lady.”

“Who lets a gentleman she has known for less than a week kiss her; who kisses the gentleman!” Darcy scowled at the ground, and the colonel continued, “Darcy, she is trying to entrap you. Can you not see it? What if you were discovered?”

“She is not trying to entrap me. To the contrary, she does not yet want to accept me. She told me so.”

“You discussed marriage? Did you make her an offer?“ He threw his arms out. “Must everyone who comes to Hertfordshire go mad for a Bennet?!”

“Richard, I suggest you mind your own business. I will conduct my affairs without your assistance.”

“You need somebody's assistance, cousin. You may be making a grave mistake with that young lady.”

“It is nobody's concern but my own, Miss Elizabeth's and Mr. Bennet's. I need no addition to my fortune, I need no more connections. What I need is . . .” His voice trailed off and he turned to look in the direction of Longbourn. “What I need is my concern and nobody else's.”

They stood in silence until Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “So she refused you?”

Darcy sighed. “Not exactly, but she did ask me not to ask her yet. She says we do not yet know each other well enough to become engaged.”

“She kissed you like she knew you.”

Darcy turned to him and smiled. “Yes she did. But she makes a good point--we have not really known each other for years, it only feels that way at times. Let's return to Netherfield.”

The colonel fetched his horse and led it back to Darcy, who asked,

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Reconnaissance. You never know when you might stumble across an assignation in the woods.”

“It was not an assignation!”

The colonel smirked.

“Do not say a word to anyone,” Darcy said. “I mean it.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam squared his shoulders. “I am not Bingley, Darcy.”

When they had mounted and started back to Netherfield, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “I am sorry for my reaction. It is just that . . . It is fine for you, Darcy. As you say, you are not in need of any additions to your fortune, unlike me, a second son. I suppose I am used to thinking about marriage in that way. I envy you.”

Darcy was surprised to hear such a comment from his insouciant cousin. “You do not have it so bad, Fitzwilliam.”

The colonel laughed. “No, not so bad, that is true. But I can not support a family on my own resources in the manner I would desire. I can not afford to maintain a large household. I have nothing with which to dower my children.”

“So marry a rich heiress.”

“Lord, Darcy, how many rich heiresses do you think there are? They do not grow on trees--though given how they have gathered around you in a herd for years, you can not be blamed for thinking so. And let us face it, other than being my father's son, what do I have to offer? I am not as handsome as you or as clever, and most rich heiresses do not seek a life as a soldier's wife.” He sighed. “It's a shame about the Bennets' lack of fortune.”

Darcy could only nod in agreement.

Miss Bingley greeted them sourly when they entered the Netherfield breakfast room. “Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam--out riding again this morning? I hope you did not need a guide today.”

“Certainly not,” Darcy said placidly.

Colonel Fitzwilliam threw a quick smirk at Darcy, then drew up in indignation and said, “Are you insinuating an assignation of some kind, Miss Bingley?”

Miss Bingley sputtered for a moment before disclaiming any such intention.

Darcy stepped on his cousin's foot as he moved to take a chair next to Georgiana. “Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well.”

“Oh, yes I did,” said Georgiana. “I was very tired after the party last night. Thank you for such a wonderful evening, Miss Bingley.”

Miss Bingley preened. “It did seem to go off well. I believe everyone enjoyed themselves. I was surprised to see you dance, dear Georgiana, and with a redcoat. You are not yet out.”

“She danced with two redcoats, if you count me,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam amiably. “But I understand if you do not.”

“Oh, I saw you dance, Colonel,” Miss Bingley said with a sly smile. “But you seemed more interested in a partner other than your cousin.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam cleared his throat and looked quite uncomfortable for a moment. Then he grinned and said in a confidential tone, “I have never enjoyed my dances with Darcy, Miss Bingley. I hate it when my partner towers over me.”

Darcy shook his head fondly--the colonel always found some pleasant lady to entertain during an evening. Sometimes he found more than one. Miss Bingley would soon realize that there was really no point in teasing him about it. Darcy had always been amazed that his cousin was so resistant to embarrassment--no doubt he had a great future ahead of him in politics if he left the army.

Georgiana said, “I am looking forward to visiting Longbourn today, brother. I like Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth very much. I can not wait for Mr. Bingley's wedding.”

“You are not staying for the wedding, dear.” Darcy took her hand but maintained a tone of authority. “We already discussed this. Richard is taking you back to London tomorrow.”

Georgiana frowned. “Yes, brother. I am sorry. You are correct. It was very kind of you to allow me to stay today.” She brightened kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam.”

TWENTY-THREE

The entire Netherfield party visited Longbourn that day. They arrived in a caravan of two carriages amid much flutter and noise from Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters--for one of the carriages bore an earl's crest, and Colonel Fitzwilliam wore his regimentals.

Mrs. Bennet immediately introduced them to the Gardiners, her brother and sister-in-law. Darcy was amazed to find them just as advertised--well-bred, well-dressed and clever. If he had not known better, he would have thought them people of fashion.

Mrs. Gardiner brought up his home. “Your estate is Pemberley in Derbyshire, is it not, Mr. Darcy?”

“Indeed, madam. Are you familiar with it?”

“I am, sir. I lived many years of my youth in Lambton.”

Darcy could not have been more pleased. He asked her about her childhood, and learned that her father was the apothecary Mr. Lincoln, who had actually treated Darcy's mother in the last months of her life.

“We were all saddened by Lady Anne's death, Mr. Darcy. Everyone in Lambton admired her.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “Indeed, my Aunt Anne was admired by everybody who knew her. We all loved her very much.”

Mrs. Bennet now became visibly agitated as she glanced in confusion from Darcy to his red-coated cousin and back again. At last she seemed to make a decision, and Darcy nearly laughed out loud when she pushed his dumbfounded cousin into the seat next to Miss Lydia that had been his own only three days before.

Darcy turned to see Miss Elizabeth watching the scene with a grin of her own from where she stood with Miss Bennet and Bingley. Miss Elizabeth looked so lovely that his heart raced, and when she turned and smiled at him his knees almost gave way. He returned her smile and, after quickly excusing himself from the Gardiners, made his way over to her. He hoped that nobody would notice his growing arousal. At least he had worn his loosest trousers.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said to him after their greeting, “is now learning the cruel fact that in my mother's eyes, a redcoat outweighs 10,000 a year.”

Darcy just laughed in response.

Now she asked him anxiously, “Did you enjoy making my aunt and uncle's acquaintance?”

“I did. I particularly enjoyed speaking with Mrs. Gardiner. Did you know her father was my mother's apothecary?”

She shook her head prettily; her curls dancing about her face and shapely neck, her bosom shifting enticingly above her daring décolletage, mesmerized Darcy. He kissed her hand in delight and said,

“Miss Elizabeth, you remind me of a blossom today.”

Miss Elizabeth stifled a laugh with the back of her hand. “I did not expect clichéd flattery from you, sir.”

“What sort of flattery do you expect, madam? Your wish is my command,” he said innocently.

“Ah, you are my devoted servant.”

“I worship at your feet.”

“While blinded by my beauty?”

In his best Bingley imitation, Darcy cried, “You are an angel!”

Their laughter was interrupted by Bingley himself, who said with a chuckle, “Wrong Bennet sister, Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy is quite correct, Charles,” Miss Bennet said happily, “Lizzy is an angel. You may feel free to compliment my dear sister any time, Mr. Darcy. Even clichéd flattery is better than no flattery at all!”

“It may do for you, Jane,” Miss Elizabeth said with a saucy smile, “but I expect more from a young gentleman. What a misfortune to be merely the latest in a long line of `blossoms'! And did you notice he did not say which blossom I reminded him of? Could it have been Alice or Samantha or Maria?”

“Lizzy!” laughed Miss Bennet.

“It was a rose, of course,” Darcy declared. “The most lovely of blossoms.”

Miss Elizabeth gave him an impish grin and asked, “Have you known Miss Rose for long?”

How alluring she was, this teasing, clever woman! Darcy longed to kiss her again, but he only grinned back and admired her answering blush that extended from her lush bosom to her downy cheeks. Oh, to laugh and flirt with her everyday in his own home, in his own bed. She would love Pemberley, he was certain of it. It would suit her perfectly, untamed beauty for an untamed beauty.

He remembered his fantasy from the morning of the Bennet sisters together at Pemberley as Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley--that was something to aspire to! When, he wondered, would she feel comfortable accepting his suit? How would he know? It was so perplexing!

She must have seen the sudden anxiety in his expression, for she touched his arm and gently said, “I am partial to Sweet Williams, myself.”

His smile returned. “I hope I am not the latest in a long line of Williams.”

“I believe,” Miss Elizabeth said tenderly, “that you will be the first and the last, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy's breath caught. “For certain, madam?”

She took his hand and led him away from the others. “I think so, yes. I have thought about little else since this morning. You see, I know we have not really known each other for long, but I heard so much of you for weeks from Mr. Bingley and his sisters, even from Mr. Wickham. Now I have met your sister, who is the dearest girl. Everything I have discovered about you only confirms what they have said. Though you seem a proud man,” she smirked, “even disagreeable at times, I am beginning to believe you may be a paragon of sorts.”

“Oh, please do not believe anything so silly! My scowls are not really smiles, you know.”

She laughed. “I know, indeed I do. I did not mean you are perfect. I do not think I could stand perfection. Yet you are my ideal of what a gentleman should be. You are honorable, educated, clever, generous, careful and considerate. You also have a wonderful sense of humor when you choose to display it.” She blushed brightly. “And being tall and handsome does not hurt, either.”

“And I have ten thousand a year.”

“You may tease about that, sir, but it really is important. Oh, not that it is so much, but a lady in my position must pay some attention to a man's fortune. I could be quite happy with a tenth as much as you have--I almost wonder if I would not be more happy--but I will simply have to bear it.”

That sounded like an acceptance, and he had not even asked the question! He held both her hands and said, “Elizabeth, I have fallen in love with your spirit and your wit and your fine eyes. I admire everything about you! Please marry me.”

“Oh dear,” she said, eyes sparkling, “you are sweet. Yes, Fitzwilliam, I will marry you.”

Darcy's joy was greater than he had ever felt. He cast a glance around the room--only Bingley and Miss Bennet seemed to be paying them any attention, so he quickly kissed both her palms and said,

“Dearest Elizabeth, you do not know how happy you have made me. When should I speak to your father?”

“Oh, my father.” She looked suddenly anxious. “I had not really thought about him, or anybody else for that matter. Oh dear, he will be surprised. No, he will be shocked!”

“Will he refuse us?”

She seemed to consider it a moment. “I do not believe so. How could he? I love whom I love, there is no help for that, and it is not as though you are destitute or some sort of monster.”

At her casual mention of love, Darcy's heart leapt. But this talk of Mr. Bennet was quite worrisome. It had never occurred to him that any father might refuse his offer of marriage with all he brought to a match. These Bennets were most singular!

“Do you have any idea what would convince him for certain?”

“Yes,” she said, “a longer acquaintance. But that is not possible, I have no intention of waiting, so there is nothing to do but ask him now.”

“But if he requires it, we may have to wait.”

“True, and that may be what he will ask of us--to wait. Can you live with that, Fitzwilliam? Can you wait a few months to be married to me?” She gave him a teasing smile.

“I will wait as long as I must,” he replied breathlessly. He truly had difficulty breathing when she smiled at him like that. And had they been alone, he knew with a hard certainty that he would have kissed her at that moment.

“Then again,” she whispered, “I have no intention of mentioning the idea of a delay. I propose we present him with our chosen date--Papa is not one to put himself to too much trouble, and,” she raised one eyebrow, “opposing our joint choice will be trouble indeed. I will see to it.”

Good God, what a woman! “Would you marry against your father's wishes?”

“I do not know. Hopefully we will never find out, but I will be of age on May 19, and I have recently become somewhat inured to the guilt associated with going against my family's wishes regarding marriage.”

Darcy thought a moment and said, “Then I propose we marry on May 19. Today is March 2. Two and a half months should satisfy him, though it is not a particularly long engagement. That will give you some time to really get to know me.”

With an innocent smile, Miss Elizabeth said, “Perhaps I shall uncover more Darcy secrets.”

Darcy choked and coughed into his hand while Miss Elizabeth patted his back and said, “It was good of Miss Bingley to accompany you, as I have yet to acquire that miniature.”

When Darcy stopped laughing, she continued more seriously,

“That date you suggest sends Papa a small message as well, since we can be married that day with or without his permission. Are you not clever, Mr. Darcy!”

“At the moment,” Darcy said with a teasing smile of his own and feeling a little in awe of his intended, “I am wondering if I know what I have got myself into. I might be too clever for my own good.”

They stared in each other's eyes for a time, then Miss Elizabeth said,

“I wonder if I should go to Kent. Will you still go at Easter?”

“I must go, although . . .” he broke off deep in thought. Lady Catherine would not take his engagement well. She might even refuse to see him. “Although this year I may be uninvited.”

“Ah,” she said with a frown. “Your family's disapprobation is something I should have anticipated, I suppose. You did mention the expectations regarding your marriage. I just assumed they were your own expectations, but your family must have expectations for you as well.”

“They do, but I only owe them respect, not obedience. Georgiana will love you, and Colonel Fitzwilliam will support me.” He nodded to where the colonel now stood by the front window deep in conversation with Miss Kitty. “As for my own expectations, we already discussed that, did we not?” She nodded. “And Aunt Catherine has her own agenda--she intends me to marry her daughter, my cousin Anne. But that is something I have never agreed to.”

“Then I suppose I had better not go into Kent. I will discuss it with Charlotte tomorrow night at Aunt Phillips's house.”

“And I will impose on Bingley to keep Netherfield open for my use while they are away.”

She took his arm and said, “Papa is in his library. Come, I will take you there.”

TWENTY-FOUR

“Mr. Bennet, may I have a word with you?”

“Mr. Darcy, ” Mr. Bennet said in greeting. Then his brows went up when he saw his second daughter enter the library. “Lizzy?”

Miss Elizabeth blushed. “I was just showing Mr. Darcy the way to the library, Papa. I believe he has something to ask you.”

Mr. Bennet stared with his mouth open for a moment. Then he took off his glasses and put his book down. “It was good of you, child, to bring Mr. Darcy to me in this manner. I can only imagine the danger to him if you had merely given him directions. He may have got lost and ended up in a closet or under a couch, and we would have had to form a search party to find the poor man before he died from thirst. You see, Mr. Darcy, we've never yet lost a guest here at Longbourn and I do not intend to start with you.”

Darcy had no idea how to respond to this teasing, but Miss Elizabeth said, “Papa, please be good. Mr. Darcy, I will wait for you in the hall.” She left the room and pulled the door closed behind her.

“Sir,” Darcy began before he realized that he had no idea what he would say. A week ago, it would never have occurred to him to humble himself in this situation. He was, after all, a Darcy of Pemberley, and Mr. Bennet was but a country squire of middling rank without connections, without even a son to inherit his estate. He would have been tempted to make his request a demand in all but name.

Now, though, the last thing he wanted was for Miss Elizabeth to be in conflict with her father due to his own thoughtlessness. Darcy struggled to compose his speech, feeling a world of pressure on his shoulders. Then he heard muffled sounds from the hall. Voices. He could recognize Miss Bennet's and Bingley's and . . . yes, Miss Elizabeth's musical laughter.

He felt his spirits rise, carried aloft on that lovely sound, and an unconscious smile formed on his lips. Suddenly he realized that Mr. Bennet was watching him with a soft smile of his own. The two men looked at each other and their smiles grew. Mr. Bennet said,

“Yes, Mr. Darcy, she is delightful, though perhaps not in a manner that all men can appreciate. And when she leaves this house--assuming she ever finds a gentleman whom she can respect and admire--it will leave a hole. Longbourn will not be the same.” He gave Darcy a thoughtful look. “But they say that life is change.”

Life is change. Darcy thought of the changes in Mr. Bennet's life, one daughter leaving in three days, and another--his favorite--soon to do the same. Longbourn would certainly change. It was conceivable that Mr. Bennet might never hear another word of sense! Darcy felt compassion growing for the man, and he almost regretted what he was about to do to him. Almost.

He stood up straighter and said, “Sir, I have come to ask for your permission to marry Miss Elizabeth.”

Mr. Bennet nodded and frowned. “This is very fast, Mr. Darcy. You have not known each other a week.”

“I understand that, sir.”

They sat in silence for over a minute. Mr. Bennet finally said, “Tell me about yourself and your family.”

Hesitantly at first, Darcy began to describe his life and his relations; Pemberley, his parents, his sister; the Fitzwilliams and DeBourghs. With growing assurance his narrative continued for over a half hour, interrupted only occasionally by Mr. Bennet's questions. At last Darcy realized with amazement that he had ran out of things to say. What, he wondered, had happened to the fabled Darcy reserve?

“You have had great responsibility for so young a man, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet when he had finished. “I am impressed. But tell me, sir, why Lizzy? You have excellent connections, an excellent income, a great estate. A man of your consequence could make a great match. Why Lizzy?”

“Mr. Bennet, I believe that Miss Elizabeth is a great match. Not in the sense you mean, of course. I am aware of her fortune and connections. But she herself is peerless.”

Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and looked down at his desk. When he looked up his eyes shone and in a husky voice he said, “I agree. Yes, she is peerless. But you barely know each other, sir.”

“We have not been acquainted long, but I believe that we know each other.”

“How well can you possibly know each other in such a short time?”

“Well enough to be in love.”

Mr. Bennet shook his head and laughed sadly. “In love, eh?” His eyes narrowed. “She will not always look like that, you know. She will have a child and never loose the weight, and with each additional child she will simply grow fatter. Her bosom will sag. Her hips will grow wide. Her hair will thin. Her skin will wrinkle. Finally all she will be is an ill-tempered, impertinent, fat old woman who looks somewhat like a young lady you `loved' once in Hertfordshire.”

Darcy was aghast that her own father could say such things. He cried, “You believe me that shallow? Do you believe the only applicable description of your daughter's character is `impertinent'? Miss Elizabeth is clever, witty, well-read, warm-hearted, loyal . . .” He stopped speaking when he realized that a grin had crept onto Mr. Bennet's face.

“Once again, Mr. Darcy, I agree with your assessment of my daughter. Well.” He chuckled. “Son, if your wife ever makes a prediction regarding the marriage prospects of any of your children, believe it. No matter how incredible, believe it. Before Michaelmas, sir, my wife predicted that your friend would likely fall in love with one of my daughters, and just last week she predicted the same for you. Amazing creatures, women.”

Darcy grinned and said, “But I did not fall in love with Miss Lydia.”

They laughed together in a great release of tension, and suddenly the door swung open and Miss Elizabeth poked her head in.

“You two seem to be enjoying yourselves,” she said hopefully. She glanced at Darcy. “You have been in here quite a while.”

“Do you make a habit, daughter, of interrupting gentlemen's private conversations?”

Darcy saw her fidget with her skirt. “No, Papa. I was only concerned about our guest.” She smirked. “I had not seen him in some time and was about to search under the couches.”

“We have been having a most intriguing conversation,” said Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy is a fascinating young man with a deeply-felt admiration for your dear sister Lydia.”

“Papa!”

“Mr. Bennet!”

“Ha! Just teasing, just teasing. Don't be missish, Lizzy. This young man has asked to marry you. May I take it from your ill-bred eagerness to discover my answer that you approve of his endeavor?”

“I do indeed, Father.”

“He thinks he is in love with you.”

“Does he? Poor man, for I am in love with him as well.”

Darcy's foolish grin reappeared as he glanced from Miss Elizabeth to her father and back again. Mr. Bennet said,

“You do seem to have quite an effect on him, my dear. Have the two of you discussed a date?”

“May 19,” they answered in unison.

“Ah, your 21st birthday. What a coincidence.” He smirked at his daughter who grinned in response. “That is two and a half months during which you may still change your mind, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy, you understand that I will not attempt to compel her to marry you if she changes her mind, do you not? Scandal be damned.”

Darcy nodded.

“Very well,” said Mr. Bennet. “Do you have any preference for when we announce your engagement?”

Darcy said, “I had not thought about it. I suppose the sooner the better. I must go to town for a few days after Bingley's wedding for the settlements, and I will also place the notice in the newspaper and buy the license. What do you think, Elizabeth?” He felt almost giddy at being able to call her by her name in front of her father.

“Well, Fitzwilliam,” she said with a bright smile, “I would like to tell Mama tonight when you are gone.” Mr. Bennet cackled. “After that I do not think we need concern ourselves with announcements, as Mama will probably have broadcast it throughout the country by tea tomorrow.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Darcy and Miss Elizabeth left the library and met Miss Bennet and Bingley in the hall. The two sisters hugged and congratulations were given.

“What took you so long in there, Darcy?” asked Bingley. “I was in and out in ten minutes, and most of that time I was being teased about my signature on the settlement papers.”

Miss Elizabeth said, “Papa had the strange idea that an acquaintance of four days was insufficient to get to know a person.” They laughed.

Bingley slapped Darcy on the back. “We will be brothers! Imagine that, old man.”

Darcy imagined it and grinned happily. His daydream was actually going to come true. She would be at Pemberley, his wife, the mother of his children. He could hardly wait until tomorrow when all would be acknowledged.

They made their way back to the drawing room, and Darcy was immediately struck by the silence. With the exception of Bingley's sisters and Mrs. Bennet, everyone was grinning at them. Miss Bingley wore a quivering frown, and Mrs. Hurst was watching her sister with great concern. Mrs. Bennet simply seemed stunned--her mouth was open, her eyes were wide and she was breathing heavily, looking for all the world like a giant carp.

“Oh dear,” said Miss Elizabeth. “The cat is out of the bag.”

Darcy turned to Bingley and scowled.

Bingley said, “Oh, was it a secret?”

“Would it have made any difference if it were?”

Georgiana rushed up to Darcy and took his hand. “Is it true, brother?”

He nodded smilingly. “It is. Miss Elizabeth and I are engaged.”

“Congratulations, Darcy,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. Then with a wink, “My condolences, Miss Elizabeth. When did this happen?”

“Today,” laughed Miss Elizabeth. “Since your arrival here. In fact, I believe it occurred at the very spot where Mr. Bingley proposed to Jane. So my advice to all other single gentlemen is to avoid that particular place unless you mean business.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked where she indicated. He swallowed in an exaggerated manner and adjusted his collar like a bad actor in a stage play. “Thank you for the advice, madam. I will take it to heart.”

“Oh,” cried Mrs. Gardiner, “are you the only single man here, Colonel? The last man standing?”

Now the colonel swallowed with true discomfort and looked beseechingly at Miss Elizabeth who said, “Yes Aunt, Colonel Fitzwilliam is now the only single man here. Take care, good sir, and avoid . . . that . . . spot!”

“So much for waiting until this evening,” said Mr. Bennet, who had emerged from the library. “I assume Mr. Bingley had something to do with spreading the good information?”

“Nobody told me it was a secret.”

“Would it have made any difference?”

“That is what Darcy asked. Upon my honor, Mr. Bennet, I do not know how I got such a reputation as a gossip. If you want to see a real gossip, you should see Colonel Fitzwilliam in action!”

The colonel's discomfort appeared to have reached an unprecedented level. Darcy grinned to see his cousin, always so easy in company, squirm. The only single man in a room with--let's see, one, two, three--a total of four eligible ladies. Five if one counted Georgiana, who was really the only one with a fortune even remotely sufficient for the colonel's needs.

Poor Richard!

Darcy said, “Happy you came to Hertfordshire, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam gave him a baleful look.

Suddenly Mrs. Bennet cried, “My dear Lizzy! My dear Mr. Darcy! Oh, Lord, come sit, please. Please--oh, get up Lydia, let Mr. Darcy and Lizzy have the sofa--please, sir, do sit. Lizzy, dear girl, are you not clever!” She stopped speaking a moment, mouth agape. “I must tell Lady Lucas right away. Lizzy, girls, get ready, we must go to Lucas Lodge . . .”

“Madam,” said her husband, “please, would you abandon our guests to the care of the servants?”

“I am just so happy, Mr. Bennet. Think of it--a house in town, 10,000 a year! Two of my girls will be settled better than that scheming Charlotte Lucas--I shall go distracted! Oh, you must be married by special license.”

Darcy was appalled. This was to be his mother-in-law! He had a sudden horrific vision of her in the dining room at Pemberley, asking his aunt how many windows graced Matlock Manor and how much the glazing had cost. A sense of panic began to settle in his breast as he wondered what he had got himself into.

His thoughts were interrupted by Miss Elizabeth who said to the group at large, “Excuse me, I need some air,” before rushing from the room.

“Lizzy,” called her mother, “are you leaving dear Mr. Darcy here alone? Sir, please forgive her, she goes on in such a wild manner sometimes, but she is really a good girl.”

“Sister, please,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Lizzy is merely excited. She has just become engaged, after all.” She gave Darcy a significant look. “I am sure that she would welcome Mr. Darcy's company.”

Darcy only stared for a moment. Then he realized what Mrs. Gardiner was trying to tell him--Miss Elizabeth was upset and needed him to comfort her. Once again he had thought only of his own feelings without considering the effect on his fiancée of Mrs. Bennet's grotesque display. He was ashamed of himself.

He whispered to Mrs. Gardiner, “Do you know where she went?”

“If she did not go outside, you might try the library.”

It was in the library that he found her. She sat in a window seat with her knees drawn up to her chin, staring forlornly out at the chilly, grey day. Something about her pose struck him. He watched her for a moment undetected before he remembered--Georgiana had used to sit that way with just such a look during the weeks of their father's last illness.

His throat constricted as he stepped toward her. She turned to him, and without a word he sat beside her and took her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and slowly slid her arms around his waist. They sat that way for several minutes.

“I understand,” she eventually said with a light chuckle, “that Pemberley is a good distance away from Longbourn.”

“Your family will always be welcome in our home, Elizabeth.”

“And yet, I find it a solace that I will be several days' journey from my mother. Do you not find it a solace, Mr. Darcy?”

“I am sorry for my reaction to your mother.”

“Oh, you merely looked disgusted.” She laughed. “I actually fled the room.”

“Was it your mother from which you fled,” Darcy asked, “or my look of disgust?”

She shook her head and giggled. “I used to think I wanted to marry a clever man, but now I am not so sure. You are too perceptive, Fitzwilliam! What a shame that Mr. Collins is taken.”

“I am glad you are laughing about this. I am now quite disgusted with myself.”

“Why ever for? You did nothing but have a natural and just reaction to my mother's ranting.”

“If it was so natural and just, why did you run away from it? Why did you look so sad when I found you?”

“I ran away because it was natural and just. After such exposure to my mother, it would be natural and just for you to want nothing more to do with my family or me. I feared it would be so.” She snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes with a sweet smile. “Yet here you are. You found me.”

Thank God, thought Darcy. Thank God I have found her!

And thank Mrs. Gardiner!

He held her a while longer in silence, then said, “I can not be reconciled to my selfishness. It was your aunt who sent me to you. I was only paying attention to my own feelings.”

“Oh dear, and here I thought you were a man without fault.” She laughed against his jacket. “I already told you I could not stand perfection--I only put up with Jane's perfections, you know, because she is my big sister and will pinch me if I do not! You will do nicely for a husband, Mr. Darcy.”

Such flirtatious teasing about his qualifications as a husband had an effect. His noble feelings of tenderness and protectiveness were gradually overtaken by an intense arousal. She was so soft in his arms as she unabashedly pressed herself against him. Her fragrance was so enticing, her playful laughter so delightful.

They were to be married! This is what would greet him each night in his bed and each morning when he first opened his eyes. All day, every day, he would be able to talk to her about--anything at all! He could kiss and caress her to his heart's content . . .

“Um, Fitzwilliam,” Miss Elizabeth said a little breathlessly, “perhaps we should rejoin the rest of the party.”

He suddenly realized that in their current position, his arousal was pressing--no, poking--against her forearm, and she actually seemed to be rubbing against it, back and forth, ever so slightly. It was the most arousing thing he had ever experienced.

Good God! He was about to soil himself in her father's library!

He leapt to his feet--and cried out in pain as his manly implements were caught in an unfortunate cranny within the front of his trousers. He nearly fell to his knees.

“Oh, damn!”

He quickly reached down to make the necessary adjustment, remembering at the last second to turn his back on his intended, who was covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. He said in a strangled voice,

“It is not funny, you know.”

“Oh dear, such a burden to be a man.” She smirked. “Though I hear that childbirth is somewhat painful as well.” When he finished she said, “All better?”

“Yes.” They stared at each other's crimson faces and began to laugh. “You are truly amazing, Elizabeth. By God, I look forward to being your husband! Now, let us get out of here before we make a mess.”

TWENTY-SIX

Darcy and his Elizabeth--what a joy to be able to think of her thus!--straightened their clothes and smoothed their hair, and returned to the drawing room. As they approached the open door they heard strident murmurings that sounded very much like an argument, culminating, just as they entered the room, in Miss Bennet's full-voiced exclamation,

“Mama, you should not have spoken so!”

With that all went silent, though whether from the couple's entry or shock at the source of the reproof, Darcy did not know. When the silence became uncomfortable, Mrs. Gardiner came to Elizabeth and said softly,

“Are you feeling better, Lizzy? You look better.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, much better. Thank you for sending Mr. Darcy to me.” She turned to Georgiana. “We have a fine selection of music, Miss Darcy. Shall we take a look at it?”

Georgiana nodded shyly and they walked together to the pianoforte while the rest of the room--except for Miss Bingley, who remained morosely silent--settled into quiet conversations that studiously avoided any reference to Mrs. Bennet's most recent vulgarities. As Mrs. Gardiner moved to where her husband sat conversing with her sister-in-law, she mouthed to Darcy, “Thank you.”

Darcy smiled back, happy to be in Mrs. Gardiner's good graces. He was about to follow Elizabeth and Georgiana when Colonel Fitzwilliam sidled up to him and whispered,

“What an exciting visit, cousin. Better than the theater at the height of the season.”

“Careful, Richard, you are standing awfully close to that spot.”

“Ha! It stands to reason that since that spot must have been designed by Mrs. Bennet, it can have no effect on a poor man like myself. Only rich fellows like you and Bingley need fear it.”

Darcy grinned. “Oh, I think your red coat and your father's title will cover a multitude of financial sins. And you are certainly rich enough for a young lady with only a thousand pounds to her name.”

“Is it really only a thousand pounds?”

“Oh, yes, and only upon the mother's death.” Darcy saw Colonel Fitzwilliam cast a considering glance at Mrs. Bennet. “She appears rather healthy, does she not?”

“Mrs. Bennet's wellbeing is your concern, Darcy, yours and Bingley's,” replied the colonel, sternly enough for Darcy to wonder what was bothering the man. Colonel Fitzwilliam rubbed his eyes. “I need to get back to town. When can Georgie and I leave?”

“It had better be soon if you are to travel in the daylight.”

Just then Miss Catherine approached them and said in a tentative voice, “Mr. Darcy, congratulations on your engagement to my sister. I am very happy for you both.”

Darcy bowed and gently thanked her--she seemed a timid little thing. The three of them lapsed into an uncomfortable silence for a few moments until Darcy excused himself and made his way to the instrument. He would let Richard try to bring Miss Catherine out of her shell--it was likely a hopeless case.

Georgiana and Elizabeth sat at the keyboard, laughing as they discussed a piece of music that was particularly old-fashioned. Elizabeth looked up at his approach and said with a teasing smile,

“So, Mr. Darcy, have you finally braced your courage sufficiently to face my playing? It is too late now to decide that you can not stand the sound of it--you are good and hooked!”

Georgiana laughed softly and smiled up at him. “What would you like to hear, brother? Many of your favorites are here. Miss Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam particularly enjoys this Mozart aria.”

Elizabeth examined the music and blushed. “It is quite beautiful, but perhaps we should play something more lighthearted today. If you like,” she cast a shy glance at Darcy, “I could practice that piece and perform it for you tomorrow night at my aunt's home.”

Darcy knew the piece well. It was full of romantic longing and the anguish of unrequited love. The thought of Elizabeth singing it to him was so pleasurable that it was almost painful to contemplate. He said tenderly, “I would like that very much.”

“Oh, that is wonderful,” said Georgiana, “I look forward to hearing it. I am sure it will be lovely. Is your aunt's home far from here?”

Darcy said, “Georgie, dear, you know you must leave for London today.”

Elizabeth looked disappointedly at Georgiana, who cast her eyes down at her hands and said,

“Oh, that is right. I forgot. I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth, but I cannot stay to further our acquaintance.” Her voice caught. “I must return to town with my cousin.”

She looked tremblingly up at Darcy. A single tear traced its way down her pale cheek.

Darcy cleared his throat. “Well,” he said with a scowl, “perhaps you may stay for another day. Just to hear Miss Elizabeth play tomorrow night.”

“May I stay for the wedding?” Two more tears fell from Georgiana's eyes as she looked hopefully at her brother.

“I suppose, uh, yes, ahem . . . Oh, very well,” Darcy said in exasperation, “you may stay for the wedding. But not a day longer.”

Georgiana leapt up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam,” she said with a happy grin.

Suddenly Elizabeth excused herself in a choked voice, then stood and hurried from the room with her hand to her mouth.

After a moment's hesitation Darcy anxiously followed her into the hall. She was nowhere in sight, but he heard a muffled voice in the library. He again found Elizabeth there, on the same window seat as before, but this time her face was covered with a huge grin and tears of laughter rolled down her cheeks.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” she cried. “Oh, heavens!”

Darcy crossed his arms and scowled. “What is so funny, may I ask?”

“You may ask, but I may not tell you.” She let out a great guffaw. “Oh heavens!”

“I am happy,” he said in a hurt voice, “to provide you with such entertainment. I am very pleased to be seen by you as ridiculous.”

“Oh, poor Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth laughed as she stood. She crossed the room to him and put her arms around his waist. “Poor, dear Mr. Darcy,” she said softly, and she stood on her toes and kissed his lips.

“Well,” he murmured when they separated, “perhaps I don't feel quite so ridiculous.”

“Nor should you, Fitzwilliam. You are a very good brother.”

He wasn't sure he believed her. His look must have communicated this, for she laughed again and said, “Truly, you are an excellent brother. You protect your sister, but you do not smother her. And it is positively adorable how she gets her way!”

Elizabeth let out another barking laugh, and this time Darcy smiled. He shook his head and said, “I just can not seem to refuse her when she cries. She has done it to Colonel Fitzwilliam for years, but only in the last few weeks has she tried it on me. It is disconcerting. I seem to be defenseless.”

“You are too hard on yourself. If you thought she was in real danger, you would never allow her to stay, would you? Of course not. She has just found a way to get around your stubbornness.”

Elizabeth said this with a smirk, and Darcy could not resist. He bent to kiss her, a deeper kiss than before. He felt her body press against his and his answering arousal, and it was with great difficulty that he came up for air.

“You know,” he said with a grin, “I have always loved libraries. But it used to be because of the books.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Suddenly the library door opened and Colonel Fitzwilliam followed Georgiana into the room. Darcy and Elizabeth broke their embrace with such alacrity that Georgiana cried, “Heavens!” and leapt back into the hallway.

“Oh lord,” the colonel said, “I have a feeling that you two will give Georgie quite an education before you are finished.”

“Damn it all, Richard, what are you doing in here?”

“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said angrily, “your language!”

Darcy's face went white. “Oh, forgive me my dear.”

But Elizabeth was not to be appeased. “Do you use that rough language in front of Miss Darcy? For already today you have done so twice within my hearing.”

“Miss Elizabeth,” the colonel said, “please, it is my fault. I provoked Darcy, and I insisted on bringing Georgiana to find him.” But now he ruined the effect of his contrition with a smirk. “I should have known not to look behind any closed doors.”

Elizabeth let out a slow breath and Darcy fancied he heard her counting to ten. Then she spoke very deliberately.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam, is that what passes for humor in the army?”

Darcy stared at Elizabeth in amazement and realized the colonel was doing the same. Elizabeth soon became conscious of this dual regard, and when neither of the two gentlemen spoke after several seconds she stamped her foot and cried, “What? Why do you stare at me so?”

“Well,” said the colonel, “it is just that my mother, Lady Matlock, has asked me that same question at least once a day for a decade.”

Darcy nodded--he had witnessed a number of those instances, and Elizabeth had channeled Richard's mother with disturbing precision.

Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “And do you answer her with the same stupid stare?”

“I usually answer her with a kiss on the cheek, but that,” he glanced at Darcy, “seems unwise in this instance.”

Elizabeth grudgingly smiled. “About time you showed some good judgment. I will leave you and Miss Darcy to talk to my foul-mouthed fiancée. I'll see you in the drawing room, Mr. Darcy.”

She made for the door and hesitated a moment before reaching up and giving Darcy a quick kiss on the cheek. Then she left the room.

While she spoke briefly to Georgiana in the hall, the colonel whispered, “Lord, Darcy, she is a spitfire! Your marriage will not be a frosty one, I dare say.”

Georgiana then came tentatively into the room. “I am sorry, bother. Cousin Richard insisted on finding you.” She gave Colonel Fitzwilliam an accusing look.

“I already told him, dear. See here, Darcy, Georgie tells me that you are letting her stay for the wedding. That's three days away. You told me I'd be back in town this evening.”

“I changed my mind. Georgie did not want to return yet.”

“Can you not take her back with you after the wedding?”

Darcy glared. “I drove my curricle. There is only room for two, and I have my man and Georgie has her maid.”

“Then I can drive your curricle back to town, and you four can return in Father's carriage.”

“I am not riding in your father's carriage with three other people if I do not have to, it is too cramped, I am six inches taller than you. And if you had not brought Georgie here against my wishes in the first place, you would not be in this situation. Obviously you meant to stay for the wedding when you arrived at Netherfield--what has changed?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam grew somber a moment, then smiled not altogether convincingly. “You are correct, Darcy. Of course. I had always intended to stay. And so I shall. There is no reason not to, is there? Of course not. I shall stay.”

Darcy narrowed his eyes at his cousin. “What is going on, Richard?”

The colonel's half-hearted smile disappeared. “I'm stuck in Hertfordshire, that is what's going on.”

And he spun on his heels and left the room.

Darcy raised his eyebrows to Georgiana . “Did he complain like this when you asked him to bring you here?”

Georgiana blushed. “I did not ask him, Fitzwilliam. He asked me.”

“You did not disagree when I accused you of manipulating him with tears.”

“Well,” Georgiana drawled, “I never used that word, brother. Cousin Richard is very kind, and when he understood how much I missed you and wanted to attend Mr. Bingley's wedding, he suggested we come to Hertfordshire in Uncle Matlock's carriage. ”

She strolled to a bookshelf and made an unconvincing show of studying Mr. Bennet's titles. Darcy watched her silently until she looked at the floor and said,

“My feelings may have been more evident due to my tears,” she looked up, “but I never asked him to bring me here, Fitzwilliam. He seemed quite enthusiastic about the whole business, not put out at all. In truth, brother, I think he enjoys doing the opposite of what you ask him to do.”

“So I have noticed. Well, I daresay he will tell us when he wants us to know. Come along, dear,” he took her hand, “you and Elizabeth have not yet played.”

They made their way back to the drawing room where they again joined Elizabeth at the pianoforte. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood apart from the rest of the party, steadfastly glaring out the window.

Elizabeth nodded toward the colonel and asked her companions, “Does it run in the family? Do you glower at windows as well, Miss Darcy?”

“Oh, no,” Georgiana anxiously replied, “I mean, not unless there is something outside to look at. My cousin does not usually do it either.”

Elizabeth smirked at Darcy. “He is doing a fine impression of Mr. Darcy at the moment. You know, Miss Darcy, the first time I spoke to your brother he was standing at that very window. Do you suppose, Fitzwilliam, that your cousin is examining our gravelling?”

“I would not be at all surprised,” Darcy said with a smile, “if Richard were just as mesmerized as I by such a superior example of the paver's art. Though it does hide all that elegant dirt.”

As Elizabeth laughed Georgiana looked in confusion from one to the other. Elizabeth patted her hand and said,

“Your brother is just being silly, Miss Darcy. But this formality will not do, my dear. We are to be sisters--you must call me Elizabeth, or Lizzy if you like, and I shall call you Georgiana.”

Nodding, Georgiana said, “I should like that very much, Lizzy,” but Darcy could tell that she seemed slightly shocked, no doubt from hearing her big brother described as “silly”. He could sympathize--such a notion would have shocked him as well just a few days ago. Now he felt rather pleased and thought that perhaps some inspired silliness was just what his life had been needing for a long time.

“Now, ladies,” he said, “if you have completed your introductions, I am certain we would all love to hear some music.”

“Shall we play this ballad, Lizzy? Perhaps I can accompany you.”

“We can sing it together, Georgiana.”

“Oh, no! I could not sing before so many people. I shall accompany you.”

Elizabeth agreed, and the two young women performed to the party's general approbation. Even Miss Bingley, who had by now recovered her composure, said that Elizabeth's voice was “very pretty”.

Darcy himself was nearly undone. He had expected Elizabeth to play the instrument proficiently, but her sweet voice seeped into his soul in a way he could never have predicted. He had heard the song many times before--it was an old lyric about a Scottish lassie's forlorn love--but this was the first time it had so overpowered him.

Later, as they were preparing to leave, Bingley said to him, “Lizzy has a lovely voice, does she not?”

“She does indeed.”

“That is something to look forward to at Pemberley and Darcy House,” continued Bingley. “Perhaps your Sunday evenings will not be so bad from now on.”

Darcy could only agree.

---