The Third Nephew

VOLUME I

Chapter One - in which we are introduced to the third nephew



Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the parsonage, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they received any invitation thither, for while there were visitors in the house, they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day, almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little of either Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had only seen at church.

The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined the party in Lady Catherine's drawing room. Her ladyship received them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact, almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, much more than to any other person in the room.
- Pride and Prejudice, Volume II, Chapter Eight


The drawing room at Rosings, Easter

Upon their arrival, the Hunsford party learned with some surprise that a third nephew had joined the guests at Rosings. He had not been seen with the Rosings party at church earlier in the day, and it was learned that he had only just arrived at Rosings a few hours earlier. The gentleman, a Lord Everton, was a nephew to the late Sir Lewis de Bourgh, his mother being the only sister of Sir Lewis. As the inheritor of his mother's estate, which had involved holdings related to the de Bourgh properties, he occasionally called at Rosings to deal with property matters shared between the two estates.

Lord Everton appeared to be in his early thirties, and was quite obviously a gentleman of some means and position. He was a tall man, at about the same height as Mr. Darcy, though his build was somewhat slighter. His features, while not handsome, were striking, with sharp, high cheekbones and a long, aquiline nose. His air was one of haughty elegance, and his manners confirmed this. During the course of the evening he seldom spoke to anyone but Lady Catherine, and occasionally with Mr. Darcy. The visitors from the parsonage he did not seem to feel merited his attention, beyond the briefest of civilities at their introduction.

Elizabeth, after ascertaining that the gentleman seemed to be as cold and haughty as Mr. Darcy, paid little more heed to him, and was happy to devote her time to the pleasant and welcome attentions of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Collins, however, seated as she was across from Lord Everton for most of the evening, observed the newcomer with much greater interest. Neither her husband, nor indeed, Lady Catherine, had spoken much of this representative of the de Bourgh side of the family.

As she observed the gentleman and his conversation with the others, she noted almost a slight circumspection in the mode that Lady Catherine spoke with him. This was, indeed, a new occurrence! Previously, Charlotte had observed that only with Mr. Darcy was Lady Catherine perhaps a little less imperious in her interactions. But during the course of the evening Charlotte sensed some slight discomfort on the part of Lady Catherine, and a curbing of her usually outspoken manner when speaking to this third nephew. And though there was polite conversation exchanged between Mr. Darcy and Lord Everton, Charlotte also observed a marked coolness in their manner towards each other.

Of this, Elizabeth was perfectly unaware, as she was happily entertained for most of the evening by the very pleasant companionship of Colonel Fitzwilliam. To her great surprise, when she had gone to the piano after coffee was over, Mr. Darcy had joined them. The interchange that had followed had been lively and allowed Elizabeth opportunity to offer that gentleman in politely gentle terms some criticism for his past behavior. His response to her words had been most surprising, for both his smile and his words stating similarity in their natures had not been what she had expected from him. Elizabeth had left Rosings that evening with both very amiable thoughts of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and some puzzlement at Mr. Darcy's somewhat surprising behavior and words. Of Lord Everton, she thought almost nothing.




Chapter Two - in which calls are made and walks are taken

In the days that followed, Elizabeth had little reason to think any further of Lord Everton, as she never even saw the gentleman. And indeed, both the increasingly curious behavior of Mr. Darcy and the very welcome attentions of Colonel Fitzwilliam occupied her mind when she spared time to reflect on Lady Catherine's visitors.

Over the course of the next two weeks, both the Colonel and Mr. Darcy made almost daily calls at the parsonage. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their aunt. It was plain to the residents at Hunsford that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he had pleasure in their society, but why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage was more difficult to understand. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of Mr. Darcy on these calls. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal during his visits, but the expression of that look was disputable. She once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea.

Curiously, more than once did Elizabeth in her rambles within the Park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought; and to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first, that it was a favorite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time therefore was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like willful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasion it was not merely a few formal enquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking or of listening much.

Elizabeth was engaged one day as she walked in re-perusing her sister Jane's last letter, and dwelling on some passage which proved that Jane had not written in spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw on looking up that Lord Everton was meeting her. Putting away the letter immediately and forcing a smile, she dipped a quick curtsey and quietly said,

“Good morning, sir.”

Given the haughty manners the gentleman had displayed the evening they had been introduced, she fully expected him to grant her the barest of acknowledgements and then continue on his way. But much to her surprise, after a quick bow of greeting, he remained standing before her. For a moment, he stood looking down at her with what she almost took to be an appraising stare, but then his expression was quickly masked by a polite smile, and in a pleasant tone of voice, he said, “Miss Bennet, this is a pleasant surprise. Are you on your way to Rosings?”

“No, sir, I am merely making my morning walk,” Elizabeth quietly replied.

“Ah, then you enjoy taking advantage of the many paths and lanes of Rosings Park?” he asked with a slight smile.

“Yes, sir, I do. I find I long to be out of doors when the weather is so fine, and the grounds of Rosings contain many delightful views and pathways.”

“And do you walk here regularly?”

“Daily, sir, when it is possible.”

Elizabeth felt no little surprise that Lord Everton would display this polite interest in conversing with her. But she reflected that no doubt due to his upbringing, his social manners could be impeccable when he chose to use them. And for some reason, this morning he did so choose.

After a few more comments on the grounds of Rosings, he gestured towards the path and asked politely, “Will you do me the honor of allowing me to accompany you on your walk, Miss Bennet? I, too, enjoy being out of doors, and would greatly appreciate a pleasant companion for my walk. I hope I do not impose?”

Elizabeth could hardly reply that he did, though she felt she would really much rather continue her walk alone and return to Jane's letter. But, she would not be rude, and the gentleman certainly seemed to be making an effort at being civil.

She smiled a little at the inconsistency of his behavior, and quietly decided that at least the gentleman provided an interesting character study for her observation. Whims and inconsistencies did divert her, so while she did not particularly desire the gentleman's company, it might at least provide her the opportunity for a private laugh. Certainly, to further observe another representative of the august de Bourgh family might well provide some amusement, particularly if it was someone with not quite so imperious and impertinent a character as Lady Catherine.

Elizabeth also privately reflected that Lord Everton could provide a fine specimen of a grand, elegant gentleman to compare and contrast with Mr. Darcy. Her first impression of Lord Everton was that he and Mr. Darcy were of a type: equally proud, haughty, and insensitive to the feelings of others. Now, however, Lord Everton's pleasant conversation and manners seemed to indicate otherwise. She would find it interesting to see what closer observation of the gentleman revealed.

As they walked along, Lord Everton began to speak of the history of the de Bough family at Rosings, and of landscaping changes made to the Park by Sir Lewis's father and continued by Sir Lewis. It was harmless, inconsequential chatter.

While Elizabeth found that he spoke well and knowledgably, as the conversation went on, she began to detect a note of insincerity in his manner. He spoke most enthusiastically of his opinions on the fashions of landscaping, yet there was something in his words that made her think he was acting a part. He spoke fluently and well of `the picturesque' and `perspective', yet she saw no matching enthusiasm or interest in his eyes. He uttered a witticism and laughed, and yet she sensed no true amusement or good humor in his smile.

`What can this mean?' she pondered to herself. `It is as if he wishes to demonstrate to me how pleasant and personable he is. He acts the part of a polite and talkative gentleman who wishes my good opinion. But why should he do so? Why would he care to win my approbation now, after dismissing us so summarily the other evening?'

They came to a branching in the path, and Elizabeth indicated that she would now take the one that led her back to the parsonage. She began to attempt to take her leave of the gentleman, but he insisted on escorting her back to her door, and would not listen to her polite urgings to the contrary.

By now Elizabeth was feeling somewhat unsettled in the gentleman's attention, and she was resolving to keep their pace brisk to bring this walk to a conclusion as quickly as possible.

Lord Everton had been silent for a few moments when he remarked in an offhand voice, “I understand that your acquaintance with Mr. Darcy is of some duration.”

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. “I would not say that, sir. Mr. Darcy and I first met only just last autumn. A friend of his, a Mr. Bingley, leased a house and lands in the vicinity of my home in Hertfordshire. Mr. Darcy joined his friend there for a few months, and we met each other occasionally at social occasions. I would certainly not claim to have a close acquaintance with the gentleman.”

Lord Everton raised one eyebrow slightly. He nodded his head and said, “I am mistaken then, Miss Bennet.” He paused for a moment, and then continued, “It is only that from my observations the other evening, I thought I saw --- an ease of conversation, shall we say - that to my mind spoke of a longer acquaintance.”

Elizabeth found herself blushing, though she could not say why she did so.

“I...” she hesitated a moment, and then continued, “Mr. Darcy and I have had several occasions to exchange conflicting opinions on certain matters and I do not hesitate to speak forthrightly with him. I suppose that might lead someone observing us to believe we have a level of - familiarity - beyond that of merely common and indifferent acquaintances.”

Her companion said nothing for a moment, and then remarked quietly, “I have known Darcy all my life, as our two families have occasionally met here at Rosings over the years. Darcy aids Lady Catherine in many of her estate matters, while I have a say over some aspects of the de Bourgh properties that affect my cousin Anne. Darcy and I, therefore, must often deal with each other on some matters of property. I know him to be in most circumstances a quite formal, circumspect gentleman, so I was surprised to observe the warmth of his behavior towards you.”

Elizabeth felt very uncomfortable at these words, both at hearing yet another observation so similar in nature to Charlotte's, but also at the inappropriateness of his broaching such a subject with her.

“Sir, I -” she began, but he interrupted her in a light voice, “Colonel Fitzwilliam always adds a measure of amusement to the evenings at Rosings.”

Grateful that he had changed the subject, Elizabeth smiled and quickly agreed. “Yes,” she replied, “I do not believe I have been half so well entertained in Lady's Catherine's drawing room until the Colonel came to Rosings.”

“What, my aunt and cousin Anne did not entertain you with their pleasant wit and friendly vivacity?” quickly retorted Everton, with a great deal of sarcasm in his voice.

While Elizabeth inwardly echoed his feelings toward Lady Catherine and her daughter, she felt it to be somewhat indiscrete to engage in a mockery of them to someone of such short acquaintance. So she merely replied, “Colonel Fitzwilliam speaks well and easily on many subjects. He has the happy disposition of one who, I believe, is well liked no matter where he goes.”

Everton nodded his assent.

There was a moment's pause, and he then remarked, “There is idle gossip in the family that Lady Catherine has destined Mr. Darcy to be the husband of her daughter, but I for one do not see a match ever coming about.”

Elizabeth made no reply, and Everton continued, “Darcy will demand beauty and elegance in a wife, in addition to fortune and connections. I fear my cousin Anne has only the latter two qualifications. No, I fear my aunt dreams in vain, as Darcy is in the position to choose from the most glittering belles of the ton.”

Growing more and more exasperated at Lord Everton's choice of conversation, Elizabeth now replied in a tone that expressed her desire to reprove the gentleman. “Lord Everton, you are connected to the people of whom you speak, and naturally have a concern and interest in your family's affairs. I, however, am merely a visitor here, and can really make no comment on these things of which you speak…”

Everton suddenly stopped walking, and reached out a hand to briefly touch Elizabeth's arm.

“Miss Bennet, let me apologize, and try to explain why I have led the conversation in such a direction.” Everton's voice was low and his tone serious.

Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise, both at the sudden change in his voice and at his action of touching her arm. She came to a halt as well. Everton sighed, gave her a searching, earnest look, and then began to speak.

“We are not well acquainted, Miss Bennett, and I apologize that I must broach this subject on such a short acquaintance. But I feel compelled to do so, given my connection to those involved.”

He continued. “As I said, I know Darcy well. I know what kind of man he is, and how he acts in circumstances and situations of which you would, of course, have no knowledge. In polite society, and certainly in my aunt's presence, he is always the gentleman. But there are other sides to his nature and manners, and of those aspects of his character you are most probably not aware.”

Elizabeth immediately thought of Wickham's words and account of Darcy's past dealings. Was she about to hear yet more confirmation of the gentleman's less honorable behavior and character?

“I mentioned that Darcy will only marry where he finds beauty in addition to wealth and connections, but that does not prevent him from appreciating beauty in other places.” Everton paused for a moment, and then said quietly, “and Darcy is not above actions that a more honorable man would view with abhorrence.”

Elizabeth felt a tightness in her throat and a great desire to be out of Everton's company. But she could not find words which would allow her to escape the situation, and stood somewhat helplessly, waiting for him to finish what he had to say.

“I speak to you now in this way because I know what Darcy is capable of, and I have lately overhead enough of his private conversation with his cousin Fitzwilliam to feel that I must give you warning.”

“Give me warning?” whispered Elizabeth in some surprise.

“It is clear that Darcy appreciates your beauty and person, Miss Bennet. But I fear he may try to convince you of - of actions that you may regret. He may approach you with an offer that - that no gentlewoman would consider.”

Elizabeth stared at Everton in shock and dismay. Her face became quite pale, and then she gave a little gasp as she realized his full meaning and implication.

“Sir, do not speak to me of this any further!” she replied in some agitation. “This is wrong…you are wrong...” She blushed, and began to move away from Everton down the path.

Everton called after her, “Miss Bennet, please, I apologize to have broached such a subject with a gentlewoman; I only wished to give you warning…”

Elizabeth froze, without turning to look back at Everton.

Controlling her voice, she said in a low, steady voice, “I must ask you to allow me to walk the remainder of the way by myself, sir. What you have said is of great abhorrence to me. I must ask that you leave me now!”

Everton sighed and said in a low, penitent voice, “Of course, I understand, Miss Bennet. Only allow me -”

“You have said quite enough, sir!” Elizabeth exclaimed with some fervor. Biting her lip to maintain control of her emotions while she knew she was still in his sight, she swiftly and determinedly walked away from him. He mercifully made no further attempt to follow her, and eventually she turned a corner in the lane and came to a secluded spot where she knew she would be unobserved.


Chapter Three - in which Elizabeth reflects on Everton's words


Rosings Park, Thursday

Elizabeth's cheeks burned and she knew they must be aflame in blushes. Lord Everton was telling her that Darcy intended to make her a dishonorable offer, and that he sought to make her his mistress!

The very idea was appalling and shameful to her. She felt both great anger, but also dismay, that Lord Everton would ever mention or suggest such a thing to her. Did he think she could possible be tempted by such an offer, that she would ever willingly let any man make such a proposal to her? Everton claimed he spoke to her due to a desire to give her warning. But of such a subject? And to someone of such short and insubstantial an acquaintance? No, it was inappropriate and wrong, very wrong of him!

She could not believe it. She would not believe it. Her opinion of Mr. Darcy was not very high, but she would never have accused him of having designs on a gentlewoman! While he clearly thought very lowly of her and her connections, yet he had never crossed the boundary into inappropriateness. She could accuse him of being uncivil and rude, but not of licentiousness!

No, Lord Everton was wrong, or was lying, or was guilty of suspecting far worse behavior in Mr. Darcy than that gentleman would ever truly do.

Elizabeth felt almost weak, and leaned back against a tree and took a deep breath.

And suddenly, the memory of a moment during her most recent walk with Darcy filled her mind. She had tripped a little, and Mr. Darcy had held out an arm to steady her. Their hands had briefly touched, and he had seemed to hold onto her arm for much longer than necessary. She had glanced up at him in surprise, and seen a look of - of what? His eyes were dark and intense, and seemed to be searching her face for something. At the time she had felt a little shiver at that look, but the moment had quickly passed, and she had forgotten it.

But now, his look, and the shiver she had felt at that look, would not leave her mind.

Charlotte had more than once commented on how Mr. Darcy looked at her, and even once suggested, though in a jesting manner, that Mr. Darcy must admire her. Elizabeth had laughed that off as nonsense. Mr. Darcy only looked at her to find fault. He had deemed her `barely tolerable', and no doubt thought her one of the least accomplished women of his acquaintance. No, Mr. Darcy did not admire her!

But why then, it struck her, had he been so frequently calling at the parsonage lately? Why after her very explicit hints of her walking habits, did she keep encountering him on her walks, and he insist on accompanying her on those walks? What was the meaning of that look, which she now realized she had seen him give her many times, even back during the time of her stay at Netherfield when Jane was sick?

It was almost as if he did admire….She shook her head, gave a loud sigh of exasperation, and began to stride determinedly towards the parsonage. She refused to believe it…she would think no more on this…

But even as she resolved to clear her head, Everton's words came back to her. Mr. Darcy would most certainly marry only where beauty and elegance combined with wealth and connections. And she, Elizabeth Bennet, possessed none of those attributes. Even if he did admire her, he would never consider marriage to a woman such as herself with such low connections and no wealth. Given what his duty and birth must demand as qualifications for his wife, an honorable gentleman would never act upon any feelings of admiration for one such as her.

An honorable gentleman, for example, would never….Elizabeth stopped and gasped. With a sudden cold feeling inside, she thought, `an honorable gentleman, with no intentions of matrimony, would never meet a woman he admired day after day for private walks!'

No! She would not think it of Mr. Darcy. It was not true, it could not be true!

Elizabeth realized she now stood before the pathway to the back door of the parsonage. She saw Charlotte at the window, and knew she must go inside. She bit her lip again, took a deep breath, and resolved to remain calm and keep her emotions hidden from the eyes of her friend.

However, the agitation and tears which this vexing subject occasioned, brought on a headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening that, added to her unwillingness to see either Mr. Darcy or Lord Everton, it determined her not to attend her cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins, seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go, and as much as possible prevented her husband from pressing her, but Mr. Collins could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's being rather displeased by her staying at home.




Chapter Four - in which a proposal is made

Hunsford parsonage, early Thursday evening

When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against both Mr. Darcy and Lord Everton, chose for her employment a repeated mental examination of all that had passed that day between Lord Everton and herself, and how she now looked with different eyes on past actions and words of Mr. Darcy. It was some consolation to think that Mr. Darcy's visit to Rosings was to end on the day after next, and a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she should herself travel to London and would be with Jane again.

She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent, without remembering that his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made no sign that he had any intentions of courtship, and as agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him.

While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now come to enquire particularly after her. But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room.

In a hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she was better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began,

“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Elizabeth's reaction was beyond expression. She stared, colored, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her, immediately followed.

However, he had only spoken a sentence or two, when Elizabeth, full of indignation and fury at the insult of his behavior, rose to her feet, and with flashing eyes and a trembling voice said heatedly, “How dare you, sir! How dare you insult me in this way! I know how meanly you think of me and my low connections, but I did not think you would ever stoop to such dishonorable behavior towards me!

“I am a guest of your aunt's clergyman. I am a daughter of a gentleman. I may not possess the elegant manner of the women of your social circle, but I hope I have always behaved with proper decorum. What you are proposing is repugnant and disgusting to me, and you are no gentleman to come here while I am alone and to speak to me in this way!”

Darcy stared at her in shock. His complexion became very pale, and he stuttered out in great confusion, “I beg your pardon?”

“I will not be your mistress, sir! I would never agree to such a dishonorable proposal. Now leave this house, for you have insulted me quite enough!”

Darcy fell back a step or two, and continued to stare at her in utter bewilderment.

Elizabeth, who by now was feeling near tears in her anger and distress at having such a conversation, sank down once again in her chair. Seeing Mr. Darcy made no move to leave the room, she looked at him with eyes that reflected her pain and feelings of humiliation.

“I thought Lord Everton was lying to me,” she continued in a bitter voice. “I could not believe what he implied! But I was wrong!”

She bit her lower lip to hold back her tears, and then, no longer able to meet his eyes, turned her head and said softly, “Oh please, leave me, sir!”

Darcy finally was able to comprehend the meaning and implications of Elizabeth's words, and he first started in anger. But then, seeing Elizabeth near tears, he took a step towards her, instinctively wanting to comfort her. She looked up with some apprehension at his approach, and shrank back a little in her chair.

“Elizabeth -”

Darcy caught himself.

“Miss Bennet,” he corrected, his voice sounding very strained. “I wish above all else to not cause you any more distress. Please believe me! I will, of course, leave you as you request, but please allow me to explain that my calling upon you is not for the reason that you believe!”

He paused, and added softly, “I have called on you this evening to make you an offer of marriage. I came to ask you to be my wife.”

For a second time Elizabeth felt so astonished as to be unable to speak. She stared at Darcy, almost uncomprehending, and then softly repeated, “An offer of marriage?”

“Yes,” Darcy answered quietly and simply. All his previously planned words of the strength of his attachment and the scruples he had overcome were now forgotten. He knew only that he must convince Elizabeth of his honorable intentions, and the honest truth of his love and admiration for her.

Elizabeth was silent, her thoughts racing, and then, more to herself, but speaking out loud, “but Lord Everton said…”

Darcy interrupted her in an angry voice. “I do not know what falsehoods Lord Everton has told you, but I assure you that I love and respect you, and declare myself to you in hopes that you will agree to be my wife. I would never consider anything less honorable than that, and would never insult any lady with a suggestion of such a thing!”

Elizabeth stared back at Darcy solemnly.

After several moments of awkward silence, she quietly replied, “I have wronged you, sir. I should not have believed what Lord Everton told me. I am sorry to imply that you would do such a dishonorable thing.”

“You and I are both victims of Lord Everton's malice, Miss Bennet. I have recently intervened in his dealings with my aunt, and I believe he has a great desire for revenge against me. I am so heartily sorry that you have been an innocent victim of the discord between the two of us!”

“Sir, you are not to blame for Lord Everton's lies and misconduct!” Elizabeth exclaimed indignantly. “You have acted in an honorable and gentlemanlike manner, and I am ashamed I gave any credence to Lord Everton's words!”

Thinking once again of the impropriety of that which she had just accused Darcy, Elizabeth blushed once again and her eyes fell to the floor.

Taken by her abashed expression, Darcy took a step towards her, but then stopped. After a moment's silence, he said quietly, “You have not yet given me an answer, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth looked at him blankly, almost having forgotten that he had, indeed, made her an offer of marriage. But as she recollected this, she blushed, and quickly looked down again.

Her lips trembled a little as she sought for words, and finally she was able to say in a soft voice, “Sir, I must, of course, thank you for the honor of your proposal…but I fear I cannot accept it.”

Her gaze came to meet his and she continued in a quiet, but strained, voice, “I am sorry, but I am determined to marry only where I can also promise to love. And I do not love you, sir. Indeed, I…I had no expectation or understanding of your feelings for me, sir! Your offer comes to me quite unexpectedly. Until today I was completely unaware that you had any feelings of admiration for me. Part of why I could not believe Lord Everton was because I thought you held me in quite low regard.”

She paused, and then softly added, “I am sorry that I have occasioned pain to you by this.”

Darcy's face reflected both disappointment and chagrin. He held his lips tightly together, and clenched and then unclenched a fist. He nodded, and without a word walked over to the mantel-piece and stared into the fire.

“Am I so clumsy at courtship that you did not even notice my interest in you?” he asked finally, in a quiet, bitter voice.

Elizabeth stared at Darcy, thinking that she did not know the man standing before her. This was not the cold, proud man of Hertfordshire who did not hesitate to tell his friend he found her not pretty enough to dance with. She could not describe the man she looked at now as arrogant or unfeeling. She suddenly realized that early in their acquaintance she had painted a picture in her mind of a completely disagreeable and proud man, and had viewed every encounter with him as a part of that picture.

She had misjudged him, and not allowed herself to see him as he truly was. Suddenly, her suspicion of his part in separating Jane from Bingley was called into question, and Wickham's accusations seemed to ring a little less true. What was the truth? Who was this man?

She stood up and took a step toward him.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly and stopped as he turned to look at her and she saw such - softness - in his dark eyes. She was suddenly struck that such a man had expressed so deep an admiration for her, enough to make her an offer of marriage!

“Sir, I believe I have been guilty of misjudging you. I have long thought you one sort of person. I look at you now and realize that you may be someone else entirely. I do not know...” her voice trailed off.

She shook her head and gave him a weak smile and continued, “I do not get on at all in sketching your character, sir. I thought I had already completed the picture and framed it, and was uncommonly proud of what a good likeness I had drawn. But I find I have been blind. I do not believe I was able to see you very clearly in all the time that I have known you. Do not blame your clumsiness, but rather my willful blindness. I think…I think I have wronged you, sir.”

Darcy straightened and looked at her closely. “I sense from your words that you do not think very highly of me, Miss Bennet,” he said in a quiet voice.

Elizabeth blushed.

“Ah, your blush confirms it,” he said softly.

He shook his head, and gazed at her for a moment with an odd expression on his face. He seemed to be deep in thought. A look of resolve crossed his face, and he continued, finally, in a serious tone.

“Miss Bennet, I think it is best that I leave you now. I have been here too long, and I believe we both have a great deal to think about. I have a favor to ask of you, however. Though I may not want to hear it, I would know what your opinion of me is. You are not the only one who has been blind these past months, for I thought that you -” he stopped.

Darcy swallowed and then continued, “Though I believe you delight in sometimes expressing opinions that are not your own, I also know that you are forthright and honest when the occasion calls for it. And I believe I am in need of your honesty, Miss Bennet. Will you grant me this favor? Will you meet me tomorrow, and help me understand the picture you have of me, and what I have done to inspire it?”

“I am not sure that I…” Elizabeth began to demure, but Darcy interrupted her in an earnest, low voice.

“Please, Miss Bennet. Believe me when I tell you how much I value your honesty. There are so few people of my acquaintance I would trust to have both the judgment and the forthrightness to help me see and know myself. And tonight I have learned that I do not know myself. Will you help me to do so?”

Elizabeth finally nodded, feeling quite unable to find any words adequate to express what she felt.

Darcy seeing her nod, continued. “Will you meet me on the path by the maple grove, where we spoke yesterday? It is your usual routine to be out by early morning, is it not? Could we meet there tomorrow at, say, half nine?”

Again Elizabeth merely nodded, her eyes falling to the floor, as she felt strangely unable to meet his gaze.

“Then let me bid you a good evening, Miss Bennet, and take my leave of you,” he said quietly. He bowed, and turned, and left the room.

Elizabeth stood frozen in place for a moment or two, and could not move until she heard the bell sounding, telling her Darcy had opened the front door and quit the house.

The tumult of her mind was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half an hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he should have been in love with her for so many months!

She continued in very agitating reflections till the sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to encounter Charlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room.

Chapter Five - in which words are exchanged on the terrace at Rosings

The south terrace of Rosings, early Thursday evening

Lord Everton strolled along the terrace that ran the length of the south side of Rosings, enjoying the early evening quiet and smoking a cigar. Looking out somewhat absentmindedly at the lawns stretching before him, he saw the figure of Fitzwilliam Darcy striding along a path towards the house. A scornful smile came to Everton's lips.

Everton had never particularly cared for Darcy, even as a boy. Darcy had been a thoughtful, well behaved boy, who had looked at Everton's wild, youthful indiscretions with a mixture of disdain and censure. But back then, Everton had paid scant attention to Darcy, as the boy was a full five years younger than himself.

Darcy had first truly drawn his ire on a visit to Rosings the year that Everton was seventeen. The twelve year old Darcy had intervened upon finding Everton spitefully beating a small stray dog behind the Rosings' stables. Stable hands had quickly separated the two boys, but not before Everton had been shaken by the unexpectedly strong fighting skills that the boy, still a full head shorter than himself, had displayed.

As the years had passed, and Darcy had grown to match and even exceed Everton in height and strength, Everton had been more wary of any physical challenges between the two. But he had on more than one occasion done what he could to frustrate or irritate the man he was forced to encounter occasionally on these visits to Rosings.

The two men were unfortunately tied by their common connection to Lady Catherine. Darcy advised his aunt on many of her estate matters, and Everton occasionally needed Lady Catherine's concurrence on matters dealing with holdings of the de Bourgh estates that were shared between Everton and his cousin Anne.

His mother, the late Lady Everton, had married very well indeed, and the combination of her husband's vast wealth and Lady Everton's forceful and determined character, had put her at the very pinnacle of the inner ring of influential London society. For reasons not fully known by Everton, his mother had always felt a great contempt for her sister-in-law. No doubt, two such strong personalities had more than once in the past had strong disagreements, or perhaps it had irked Lady Everton to see Lady Catherine presiding as mistress of Rosings, Lady Everton's childhood home. Whatever the causes, she always spoke of and treated Lady Catherine with a contemptuous disdain, and she raised her son to do so as well.

And adding to his disdain, Everton had always found it laughingly easy to manipulate his aunt to concur with his wishes. He knew she was never fully at ease in his presence, and he happily exploited the power of being one of the very few people who Lady Catherine treated with some care.

Over the past several years, however, there had been more than one occasion when Everton had convinced Lady Catherine on a particular matter, only to find this decision overset when Darcy looked into the matter and counseled other action to his aunt.

Everton was still greatly angered at Darcy's most recent d-mnd interference. There had been several tense moments and strong words exchanged between the two men in the study that Easter afternoon of his arrival. But in this instance Darcy had the upper hand; Everton had to concede. But that evening as he had sat at dinner and afterwards in Lady Catherine's drawing room, Everton had silently vowed he would have his revenge on Darcy.

So he had watched Darcy with resentful and spiteful eyes that first evening of his arrival. Everton had already been in a foul mood, and then, to add to his disgust, the evening had been an incredibly boring gathering made up only of the Rosings party and the nonentities from the parsonage.

He had taken one glance at the subservient churchman, his plain wife, and her little mouse of a sister and had rolled his eyes in dismissal. There had at least been the comely friend of Mrs. Collins, whose figure he had eyed with some degree of enjoyment. But even she had no unusual beauty, and was clearly of no family of distinction, and Everton had quickly dismissed her as not worthy of his time or attention.

But as he glared at Darcy during the course of the evening, he had gradually noticed that Darcy's eyes seemed drawn quite frequently to Miss Bennet. At one point the gentleman had actually left Lady Catherine in mid sentence to join the lady and Colonel Fitzwilliam by the piano. Everton had noted the spirited exchange that followed. He had also particularly observed the look in Darcy's eyes as he gazed at the lady. Ah, now this was an interesting development!

Everton had decided it would be well worth his while to make further observations, and instructed his valet to find out what could be learned from the servants. His man, Roberts, was unsurpassed in his ability to get chambermaids and footmen, dressers and coachmen to talk of who was seen with whom and in what state of undress or compromising situation. If there was any thing to be learned from any of the servants about Mr. Darcy's behavior, Roberts would sniff it out.

Over the course of the following two weeks, Everton heard daily reports from Roberts. Mr. Darcy was seen calling at the parsonage, but it had often been in the company of his cousin Fitzwilliam and his aunt. Then there had been the earlier speculation passed on from the maid at the parsonage as to the rather focused attention of Darcy's cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, towards Miss Bennet.

But then had come a report that Mr. Darcy had once called on Miss Bennet while she was alone, and shortly following that, a revelation from one of the gardeners that Mr. Darcy seemed to be making quite a habit of making early morning walks, and had been seen more than once heading towards the paths that Miss Bennet was known to wander, particularly in the early mornings.

It seemed clear to Everton on hearing Roberts' reports that Darcy appeared to be fixing his interest with the lady. Everton had smiled. How pleasant it would be find a way to somehow interfere in Darcy's progress with the lady!

And this morning, when he had happened upon Miss Bennet while on his walk, he had quickly thought of what he would do.

Just as Everton was smiling at the memory of the confused blushes on Miss Bennet's face during their talk this morning, Darcy looked up from the path as he approached the house. Darcy, seeing Everton on the terrace, turned and strode directly towards him. Seeing the look of cold anger on Darcy's face, Everton smirked. It appeared that perhaps the little seed of doubt that he had planted with Miss Bennet regarding Darcy's true intentions had already born some sour fruit!

It had not been lost on Everton earlier that day that Darcy had suddenly excused himself upon learning that Miss Bennet was unwell and had not joined the other Hunsford visitors at Lady Catherine's tea. Darcy had not been seen again, until now, and Darcy's face showed he was clearly in a dark and distracted mood.

“I would speak with you, Everton!” Darcy snapped out as he came up the terrace steps.

Darcy's voice was cold and biting as he angrily accused Everton of speaking inappropriately to Miss Bennet, and of making false accusations concerning Mr. Darcy's character and behavior.

“I warn you, Everton, if you ever do so again, or in any way take any inopportune actions toward Miss Bennet…”

“You will what, Darcy?” Everton interrupted in a disdainful and mocking voice. “I am not one of your minions to be ordered around, or a faithful puppy-like companion such as your most amiable friend Bingley. I am here at Rosings at Lady Catherine's invitation, not yours. You' have already interfered with my aunt and put a stop to the Delesford estate matter, so there's nothing more you can do that would interest me in the least. Oh, you can irritate me at the dinner table with your high moral standards and your boringly lofty sense of duty, but I have nothing to fear from you, sir. And I will do as I please.”

Darcy stared at him for a moment, and then replied in a cool voice, “It was in retaliation for my interference in your attempt to persuade Lady Catherine on the Delesford matter, is it not, Everton? That's what this is about! By G-d sir -” Darcy's voice deepened in his anger, but then he caught himself and turned away.

Darcy walked to the French doors leading to the Blue Salon, but then turned and spoke in a quiet, controlled voice. “Miss Bennet has a better understanding of your character, now, Everton, and will not believe you, should you attempt to tell her any more lies. And I will warn you again, sir. Stay well clear of Miss Bennet! She is a gentlewoman and a lady of quality, who will not suffer your kind of unlicensed behavior. If I hear that you have imposed yourself upon her in any way, or if you attempt to hold anything more than a civil exchange with her here in the company of my aunt, I will make you pay, sir! Do not doubt that I will know how to do so!”

Darcy strode into the house, and Everton stared after him somewhat speculatively. This was indeed most interesting! The warmth in Darcy's expression and voice when he spoke of Miss Bennet, his fierce and protective warning to Everton to stay clear of the lady…it all bespoke a gentleman in love.

Darcy, in love! And with a woman of no extraordinary beauty and no connections or wealth! And as she was certainly a gentlewoman, knowing full well Darcy would never consider a dishonorable situation with such an innocent, it could well mean Darcy intended marriage!

Everton gave a short, harsh laugh. Darcy married! Ah, if it was true, how he would relish whispering the news to any number of top lofty beauties in town! He and Darcy had never competed for the same women, as their tastes in the fair sex were quite dissimilar, but there were several women of Everton's acquaintance that he could envision turning green at the thought of Darcy off the marriage market. And engaged to a nobody from nowhere, of whom no one had ever heard!

Oh, Miss Bennet was a comely thing, Everton admitted as he reflected again on his memory of the lady's figure and form. She was really quite taking, especially when animated and laughing, and there was something in her expression and her face when she spoke that was really quite delightful to gaze upon. But these were subtle attractions, and Everton had always had an eye for attractions of a far more obvious nature.

Everton turned and looked out aimlessly at the trees beyond the elaborate Italianate garden; he gave a slightly wry smile at the words he and Darcy had just exchanged. It was just one more piece of an antagonism that had been steadily growing between them over the years. Darcy's foul mood just now clearly indicated Everton's words with Miss Bennet must have wrecked considerable damage to Darcy's progress with the lady.

Everton grinned, relishing the thought that he had just won a battle. And, he speculated thoughtfully, there might well be even more opportunity to interfere in this little affair. He would watch Darcy carefully, and ensure Roberts doubled his efforts. There appeared to be even more opportunities to enjoy the very great pleasure of teaching Fitzwilliam Darcy a lesson!



Chapter Six - in which Mr. Darcy apologizes and Elizabeth speaks honestly

Rosings Park, Friday morning

The next morning Elizabeth walked along the path to the grove of maples with no small amount of trepidation. She was not at all sure that she wished to have further conversation with Mr. Darcy, given her current state of mind. She had not slept well the evening before, with confused thoughts filling her head of all her past experiences with Mr. Darcy.

All the certainties and conclusions she had almost glibly arrived at concerning his character and worth were now called into question. He asked her to give him her honest estimation of his character, but she felt quite certain that she did not know her own mind. Or rather, she did not trust what had been in her mind prior to yesterday evening's surprising events. Mr. Darcy seemed to her now an enigma, and she felt as if she could not rely on any of her previous conclusions.

As she turned a bend in the path, she saw Mr. Darcy, waiting for her. He stood looking out over a vista that lay to the north of the grove. His tall figure and proud stance were familiar, and yet when he turned at the sound of her approach, she saw a gentleness in his expression that she had never realized was there before. She had seen that expression on his face and in his eyes several times in the past, but had never marked its true meaning. Oh, how blind she had been!

“Good morning, sir,” she said with a blush as she met his eyes. The look in their dark depths was so warm that she looked away in embarrassment and some discomfort.

“Miss Bennet,” he replied softly, with a quick bow to his head. “I thank you for joining me this morning. I know this cannot be easy for you, and you are very kind to do so.”

Elizabeth attempted to give him a polite smile, and then bit her lower lip in some nervousness of what to say. She suddenly felt most awkward. After what had passed between them last night, to talk of trivialities and exchange polite small talk seemed impossible. Yet, to broach subjects of deeper import, and which involved more intimate feelings and thoughts was also not yet within her power.

Mr. Darcy gestured towards the path and said quietly, “Shall we walk for a ways? Perhaps if we have trees and pathways to look at, we can feel a little more at ease in what is, for both of us I am sure, an awkward situation.”

Elizabeth gave him a genuine smile of appreciation at his sensitivity to her uneasiness, and together they began to make their way down the path. There was a moment of silence, and then Mr. Darcy spoke, looking off to the side as he did so,

“I would wish, first of all, to offer you an apology, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise.

Mr. Darcy continued. “I left the parsonage last night greatly disappointed and even a little angered and resentful that my suit had been rejected. I felt no small amount of what I might even call rage at Lord Everton for his outrageous accusations. Not only because he spoke so inappropriately to you, but because he had interfered in such a way that prevented you from being able to hear my proposal in the way that it was intended to be made.

“But as I walked back towards Rosings, I reflected on all that you had said. It suddenly truly struck me that, even without Everton's interference, you would not have accepted my suit. Yet I came to the parsonage last evening without a doubt of my reception, I was fully convinced that you were wishing and even expecting my addresses. I thought you would be mine, merely for the asking. And I suddenly realized how incredibly vain and self centered I had been!

“The man who came to you last night did not deserve to win you, Miss Bennet. The love I declared was a selfish, possessive kind of love. I spent last night thinking once again about what attracts me so to you, and it struck me that, in part, it is because your good opinion must be earned. And last night when I looked back at all my interactions with you, both here in Kent and back in Hertfordshire, I realized I had done very little, I believe, to earn your good opinion.”

He gave an almost exasperated sigh and shook his head. “I have been so blind, Eliza - Miss Bennet. I have been so used to think so highly of myself, and so meanly of much of the rest of the world, that I believed I had merely to grace you with my attention, to win your favor.

“I was wrong to approach you last evening as I did. Wrong, vain, blind. And I beg your forgiveness.”

He suddenly stopped, and turning from her, stood staring with unseeing eyes at the view before them. His whole posture spoke of his self anger.

Elizabeth stared at him in wonder at such an honest confession of the failings of his behavior. She suddenly felt a tenderness for him in his obvious distress that she would never have imagined herself capable of feeling towards such a man.

She felt at a loss of what to say, but felt compelled to speak to him. So, as she silently prayed that the right words would come, she began to speak without fully knowing what she should say.

“Mr. Darcy, it is my opinion that anyone capable of such painful self-examination and confession is already well on the way to overcoming whatever faults of character that are found. We are all of us somewhat blind to the faults of our natures. It is only thanks to times of self examination, and to the good offices of friends, that we can see ourselves as others see us. The true measure of a man - or a woman - is what we do when shown our true selves in a mirror.”

She thought for a moment and then continued. “Before last night, I would never have thought you capable of making such an honest admission about yourself, or ever acknowledging it to be true. But as I said, I do not believe I have truly understood you, sir. But I do believe the man before me now is one capable of earning my good opinion, and my respect.”

Mr. Darcy turned slowly to look at her. “And what was your picture of my character before last night?”

Elizabeth began to blush and he continued earnestly, “Please, Miss Bennet, I beg you to perform the `good office of a friend' of which you just spoke.”

Not able to meet him in the eye, Elizabeth now also turned to look out over the fields beyond them, and said in a hesitant voice, “When you first came to Hertfordshire, sir, you…you were deemed as very haughty and proud. When you were in society, you spoke only to those of the Netherfield party, and seemed above being pleased. I thought you felt yourself very much above your company.”

She paused, and then finally added quietly but honestly, “Until last night, I thought you arrogant, conceited, and selfishly disdainful of the feelings of others.”

Mr. Darcy was silent, his face reflecting no small agitation of mind. Finally, he replied in a slightly uneven voice, “Last night you said that I had always thought meanly of you. I could not believe that you thought I felt so! What was it I did to have made you think this?”

Elizabeth gave a little nervous laugh and replied with a note of teasing in her voice, “Sir, have you forgotten that the very first time you saw me, you declared me merely `tolerable', and not pretty enough to dance with? That I was a young lady `slighted by other men'? I, quite naturally, concluded that you did not find me attractive or worthy of your attention!”

He looked back at her with a look of utter mortification. “You overheard me that evening?”

Elizabeth laughed again. “And was quite thoroughly amused, sir! I am afraid it quite confirmed my first impression as to your pride, and I can see now, your words started me down a path of deliberately looking for faults in you, in retaliation.” She added somewhat sheepishly, “I thought myself uncommonly clever in my dislike of you.”

Mr. Darcy looked rather pained. “I fear it did not take a great deal of cleverness to find my faults. I see now they were quite obviously on display to everyone I encountered in Hertfordshire. I have, in my pride and reserve, not acted the gentleman I was brought up to be.”

Elizabeth's expression became more serious. She studied him for a moment, and then said quietly, “Sir, you are a serious and reserved man, who I believe thinks deeply about things. As you said yourself the other evening, you are ill at ease with strangers, and I do not believe are much in the practice of trying to overcome that uneasiness.” Elizabeth smiled gently at these words.

She continued. “I think you do not always realize how your behavior affects those with whom you come into contact. You are a man of education, of wealth and position in society. People expect you to think well of yourself, and meanly of others, and when you display any tendency to do so, they will quickly condemn you for your pride and arrogance. You have many advantages, Mr. Darcy, but will also be judged, perhaps more harshly, because of who you are.”

There was a short silence, and then Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth and said very earnestly, “You are correct, Miss Bennet. Discerning people such as yourself will expect and demand to see right behavior in every gentleman, regardless of his position in life. And yet, I am sorry to say, there are many who will excuse improper behavior, and who will turn a blind eye to pride and haughtiness, because they are blinded by position and wealth. I know of almost no one in my acquaintance who would say to me what you have just now said. How have you come to be so wise?”

Elizabeth blushed, and then gave a little laugh. “Oh sir, I will admit to being forthright and quite willing to brave others' scorn at my opinions! There are many who might say I am also rather impertinent, and I would not say that they are wrong. But I am not wise, though I would wish to be.”

She sighed a little, and continued. “I would wish to be not only wise, but also good, as my dear sister Jane is good.”

Elizabeth paused and looked out over the view before them once again. Jane! The thought could not but bring back all her concern for dear Jane's low spirits, and her anger and suspicion that Mr. Darcy had somehow played a role, along with Bingley's sisters, in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane. Could she broach this subject?

It was uppermost in her mind, and yet how awkward, how impossible to demand an explanation from Mr. Darcy! She could not baldly ask `have you played a part in destroying the happiness of my most beloved sister?' Yet, to harbor such suspicions of his interference, and not to speak of it, now, when he had asked for honesty from her. Could she do so? Should she do so?

Chapter Seven - in which much is said and tears are shed



Rosings Park, Friday morning (continued)

Elizabeth quickly cast a glance at Mr. Darcy's face. He looked back at her earnestly, and seemed to be waiting for her to speak.

Silently strengthening her resolve, Elizabeth looked down, and after a long pause said, somewhat hesitantly, “Sir, you have asked me for honesty…yet what I would ask of you now is most difficult…” Her voice trailed off. With her head still lowered, she cast a quick glance up through her lashes to his face. He stood waiting patiently, the look in his brown eyes tender and warm.

Elizabeth's eyes quickly fluttered down, and resolving herself to speak, she continued in a soft voice, “I have for some time now harbored a suspicion that you played some role in Mr. Bingley's sudden removal from Netherfield, and his subsequent absence from Hertfordshire. I did not doubt the man I thought you to be would have done so, but I find now that I do not think I know you.”

With this, Elizabeth looked up to steadfastly meet Mr. Darcy's eyes, her voice stronger now as she asked, “Am I wrong to believe that Mr. Bingley did, indeed, have…have an affection for my sister Jane? I could not believe him to be as untouched as his actions seem to indicate. And Jane is so good, and I believe could have made him so happy. Did I misjudge or misread Mr. Bingley?

“You know him better than I. I had always thought him such an amiable, kind man, but to not have even acknowledged Jane while she has been in town these past months…”

Elizabeth hesitated again, and then said in a somewhat strained voice, “I know that our family connections are considered low, and that my family's behavior - especially that of my mother and younger sisters - is at times not what it should be. I look back at the ball at Netherfield and can only reflect with great shame at how my family exposed itself to censure that night. But surely, such censure could not include Jane?”

Mr. Darcy seemed to start a little in discomfort. After a moment he replied in a very earnest voice, “Your sister's behavior, and your own, Miss Bennet, has always been above reproach...” He paused, awkwardly, hesitant to speak of his judgment of the rest of her family.

But Elizabeth felt what went unsaid, and gave him a sad smile. “You do not need to say more, Mr. Darcy. I know, better than most, the folly and the want of propriety of my family's behavior.”

“But it gives honor to both you and Miss Bennet,” He quickly replied, “that the two of you always conduct yourselves with decorum and grace, so as to have no share in any censure of your family's conduct!”

“But Mr. Bingley's feelings toward my sister were not strong enough to overcome the disadvantages of our family situation,” Elizabeth concluded sadly. “And Jane suffers now, in part, due to her own family's behavior.”

Elizabeth blinked away a sudden tear at the thought of Jane's sadness and disappointed hopes, and gave a small sigh.

Mr. Darcy said nothing for a few moments, and then asked in a low, gentle voice that held some note of abashment, “I would not wish you to break a confidence or reveal the intimate feelings of your sister, but…can I conclude that your sister loved…” he paused awkwardly and then began again. “That Miss Bennet's heart was touched by Bingley? Forgive me, I do not mean to be intrusive in asking!”

“Oh sir, we are being honest with each other, are we not?” cried out Elizabeth with some emotion. “Yes, Jane loved, still loves, Mr. Bingley! She tries to hide her unhappiness, but I read it in every letter she writes to me. I try to be a comfort to her, but fear I have little success. I had hoped her visit with my aunt and uncle in London would help…but in even her most recent letter it was clear that she had not written in spirits.” Elizabeth sighed again, thinking of her love and concern for her dear sister.

Mr. Darcy stood still, and once again he looked away for a time. He cleared his throat, as if in some discomfort, and then spoke in a quiet and deliberate voice,

“Miss Bennet, I would not have you think wrongly of Mr. Bingley. I have often seen him in love, and was not long in Hertfordshire before I saw, in common with others, that he preferred your sister to any other young woman in the country. But when, at the ball at Netherfield, I realized that there was much speculation as to a match soon to come about between Mr. Bingley and your sister, I observed him closely.

“I believed that his partiality for your sister was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. But when I observed your sister, I did not see that she returned his feelings to the degree that he felt.

“Upon his journey to London, and the rest of our party's following him there, both his sisters and I engaged in convincing him of the unsuitability of such an attachment, and I confess, I gave him my honest assurance of your sister's indifference.

“Bingley has a great natural modesty, and depends on my judgment quite frequently more than his own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself as to your sister's feelings was no very difficult point. And to persuade him against returning to Hertfordshire was scarcely the work of a moment.”

He paused for a moment, and then added in a low voice, “I am saddened, shamed, to hear of your sister's pain. But I would have you believe that my actions were based on my friendship and protection for my friend.

“When I studied your sister, I saw that her looks and manner were always open, cheerful and engaging, but without any symptoms of particular regard. I knew of your mother's efforts to hasten a marriage to a man - I believed any man - of means. Believing as I did in your sister's impartiality, and the added concern of the want of proper behavior on your family's part, I acted as I thought was right and best for my friend.”

Mr. Darcy paused and swallowed. He finally continued, his voice revealing a note of chagrin. “Though there was one aspect of my behavior that I have always regretted. I, who by nature abhor such deception, acted along with Mr. Bingley's sisters in concealing from Bingley the news of your sister's presence in town. Such trickery was beneath me.”

He was silent for a moment, and then said, earnestly, “I realize now by your words that I wounded your sister's feelings with my actions. I did not intend to. But though it was not done with any malicious intent, I must confess to you that I played a principal role in actions that have caused her pain. And I deeply regret to have occasioned that pain.”

Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy with a mixture of anger and indignation, her first impulse to retort why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner Mr. Bingley was to be happy. But even as she opened her mouth to speak, she saw the honest pain expressed on his face at his confession. He had just admitted his role, and indeed fault, in causing Jane pain. To lash out in her anger now would not lessen Jane's pain or right this wrong.

And suddenly, Elizabeth remembered the conversation she had once had with Charlotte as to how little Jane allowed her feelings to be displayed. Indeed, Jane's constant complacency in her air and manner could easily lead the observer to doubt the true depth of her feelings.

As Elizabeth stared wordlessly at Mr. Darcy, she found - with a start at such a change in her estimation of his character - that she believed him honest in his claim to be unsuspicious of Jane's attachment.

She sighed deeply, and then with great emotion replied, “I would be angry with you, sir, for your actions. I would be angry with Mr. Bingley for his lack of resolve, and with his sisters for their interference…but to what avail? My anger will not sooth Jane's heart or undo what has taken place!”

She sighed again.

“This is a matter that I believe has left us all with regret,” she said finally, her voice now quiet and pensive. “But I do believe you acted to defend your friend from pain, just as I try to act now to heal my sister from it.” She then added softly, “We are alike, I believe, in our loyalties to the ones we love.”

She walked on a short ways alone, her arms folded across herself, barely holding back tears that had suddenly threatened to fall. In speaking with Mr. Darcy, she realized she no longer felt the deep resentment and anger that had been bottled up inside. It was right so, but it left an empty spot, and more room in her heart to ache for dear Jane. Her thoughts carried her away to the Gardiners' home, and to Jane, and she felt anew her desire to be reunited with her beloved sister. A tear rolled down her face, which she quickly wiped away.

She was somewhat startled, then, when she realized Mr. Darcy had drawn up beside her, and stood looking at her with an expression of deep tenderness and concern.

“Miss Bennet,” he said quietly, “you have been most kind in what you have both so graciously yet also honestly shared with me. I hesitate to ask more of you, but I fear there is yet another subject that I would discuss with you, now that we are able to be so open and honest with each other. It is a subject that you raised with me once before, but at the time I did not deign to give you any real response. But if I do not speak to you of it now, when you return to Longbourn, I fear he may take some opportunity to…” He broke off.

But then, with a look of quiet resolve, he continued, his voice low and somewhat strained. “My pride, my reticence to reveal what was - and remains - a most painful subject, prevented me from speaking to you earlier of the character of Mr. Wickham, and explaining the truth of my family's dealings with that gentleman.”





Chapter Eight - in which more is said and yet more tears are shed


Elizabeth blushed at Mr. Wickham's name. She had indeed been wondering if the subject would come up between them. She had hesitated to do so, in part because she had seen such a strong reaction to the subject on Mr. Darcy's part in the past, and in part because she had been steadily coming to question what she had always taken to be as certainty as to the despicableness of Mr. Darcy's behavior towards Mr. Wickham.

The man she was coming to know now could not be the man described by Mr. Wickham. She knew not what to believe. She did not trust her old assumptions and conclusions, and yet had no answer or understanding to explain Mr. Wickham's accusations away.

Mr. Darcy hesitated once more, and then in an earnest voice began with the words, “I think I can best explain by laying before you the whole of his connection with my family…”

Mr. Darcy proceeded to explain about Wickham's youth at Pemberley and their relationship as boys, and of the elder Mr. Darcy's affection for him. He spoke on of Mr. Wickham's character as a young man, of his decision to go into the law rather than the church, forgoing the promised living for a large remittance, and his dissipated way of life.

At this point Mr. Darcy stopped, and an expression of great pain crossed his face. Elizabeth looked at him with some concern, but after a moment, he collected himself, and proceeded to relate Mr. Wickham's attempt to seduce his young sister, Georgiana, at Ramsgate.

As Elizabeth listened to his words, her feelings were acutely painful and difficult of definition. Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. At one point she thought to herself `This must be false! This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!'

But even as she had these thoughts, she also reflected that Mr. Darcy's account of Mr. Wickham's connection with the Pemberley family was exactly as Mr. Wickham himself had related, and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy agreed equally well with Mr. Wickham's own words. The longer Mr. Darcy spoke, the more and more she came to believe that Mr. Darcy's conduct was blameless in the entire affair. By the time Mr. Darcy finished speaking of Mr. Wickham's designs on Miss Darcy, Elizabeth had grown completely pale, and she stood staring at Mr. Darcy in shock and mortification.

She felt her knees grow weak as she thought to herself, `how ashamed I am of myself! How blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd I have been!'

Mr. Darcy, who had looked away from Elizabeth as he ended his account of his dealings with Wickham, turned back, and was alarmed to see Elizabeth looking pale and miserably ill.

He rushed forward to her, and putting an arm around her, steadied her against his chest.

“Elizabeth! You are ill!” he exclaimed with more feeling than politeness.

Not heeding his words or actions, Elizabeth, with almost unseeing eyes, clung to the strong arms that steadied her and whispered to herself in a mortified voice, “How despicably have I acted! I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! I have been wretchedly blind!”

Tears began to flow, and she suddenly found herself held tightly in a comforting embrace, a strong arm encompassing her, a warm hand gently stroking her hair, and a soft whisper repeating her name, “Elizabeth, oh Elizabeth!'




Chapter Nine - in which Elizabeth blushes and can not meet Mr. Darcy's eyes


Several moments passed by, and eventually Elizabeth's shock wore off. With a start, she became aware that she was clinging to Mr. Darcy, and was, indeed, being embraced in his arms.

With great consternation she gasped, and quickly pulled away from him, her face turning a deep pink, her breath growing quite unsteady. She could not meet his eyes, and stood staring miserably down at the ground trying to regain some semblance of dignity and control of her emotions.

“Oh Eliza - Miss Bennet!” Mr. Darcy's voice was unsteady, but clearly remorseful. “Forgive me! You looked so ill, so forlorn…I only thought to give you comfort. I did not mean…I meant you no disrespect! ”

“Sir, I…forgive my outburst, I was so shaken…”

“Forgive?” came Mr. Darcy's incredulous voice. “What have you to ask forgiveness for, Miss Bennet? It is I who took advantage of you just now, it is I who lost control of myself and crossed a line where I had no right. It is I who must beg forgiveness of you!”

Elizabeth turned away from him to hide her blushing face. She wiped her eyes and said in an unsteady voice, “But I am guilty of such misjudgment, sir! I allowed my vanity and my prejudice to persuade me to believe such falsehoods told me by Mr. Wickham. I have so greatly misjudged and abused you, sir, and I am heartily ashamed!” She stared down at the ground, and bit her lip, and then said softly, “Until this moment, I never knew myself.”

There was a short silence, and then Mr. Darcy asked in a low voice that was almost a growl, “In what way has Wickham imposed himself upon you, Miss Bennet? By G-d, if he has abused your trust or taken advantage of you in any manner…!”

Elizabeth quickly turned back to look at Mr. Darcy. “No, sir, it is not…Mr. Wickham's behavior was not of that nature! Rather, he has told falsehoods and attempted to blacken your name and reputation. I am so ashamed to admit that I listened to him, and that I gave even the smallest credence to what he said of you! What must you think of me!” Her eyes fell again to the ground in shame.

Several moments of silence passed, and then Mr. Darcy spoke in a low and unsteady voice.

“Miss Bennet, I wish I had the words to tell you what I think of you. I wish I had the right to show you how I feel as I stand here gazing at you, the loveliest, dearest woman in the world to me.

“What do I think of your laughter, your kindness, your lively mind and impudent spirit? Your honesty, your goodness, your softness, your love of life? Your smile, your eyes, your voice, your every movement? I wish I could praise you with the words of poets, in a style that you deserve. But I stand here a clumsy, awkward man who can not adequately express how ardently I admire and love you!”

Elizabeth stood frozen in shock at this torrent of words, and even more at the ardency of his expression. She found she could not lift her head to meet his eyes.

There was a brief silence, and then Mr. Darcy continued softly, “I beg of you, Miss Bennet, to let me try to win at least a little of your good opinion! I beg of you to allow me to call on you while you visit with your family in London. Will you allow me this? Has our talk today made you think at least a little better of me, that you would give me at least a chance to try to redeem your opinion of me?”

“Sir, you have already, in what you have told me today, done much to correct my opinion on your character,” Elizabeth replied softly, still not meeting his eyes.

“But I wish for so much more, Miss Bennet! I would wish for the chance to court you, to try to win your respect, and perhaps, someday, your love. For I cannot win your hand without it, and I still long above all else to be able to have you as my wife.”

Elizabeth blushed and was silent.

“You do not answer me, Miss Bennet,” prodded Mr. Darcy's soft voice, betraying some anxiety. “May I have your permission to call on you in London?”

“Yes, sir, you may,” she replied softly.

Had she been able to meet his eyes, she would have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him. He took a step towards her, and she finally lifted her eyes to look at him. Seeing his expression, and especially the glistening warmth in his eyes as he looked upon her, she took a startled step back and blurted out a little nervously,

“Mr. Darcy, please, I can not promise you that my feelings will come to be what you wish them to be! I would not have you believe that my affections at this moment are stronger than they are, or that it is certain I will come to return your regard. I would not wish to give you a false hope!”

Mr. Darcy came to stand before her, and with a gentle smile, asked, “But you will allow me to call on you?”

“Yes,” she replied with a slight blush.

He grinned. “Then I am content. I would not wish you to feel discomforted or uneasy by what I have declared, or by the hopes I have expressed. Though, on reflection, I do not believe you are a woman who could be intimidated into feelings that you do not truly feel or are not your own…though you may now and then somewhat impudently express them!”

Elizabeth relaxed at his teasing words, and looked back at him with a genuinely friendly smile.

“How I have tormented you, sir, in some of our past dealings! Looking back, I marvel at your forbearance at my impertinence to you. I was often quite amazed that my manners and words did not seem to affront you.”

Mr. Darcy gestured towards the path, and they began to make their way, side by side, towards Hunsford.

“I do not believe you are capable of affronting anyone, Miss Bennet,” he replied with a smile. “Your liveliness of mind can often lead you to say the most surprising things, but your kind spirit and genuine good heartedness would never allow you to say what would give offense.”

“Ah, Mr. Darcy, I must tell you that you will get along very well indeed to so appeal to my vanity!' Elizabeth exclaimed with a growing sense of light-heartedness and playfulness. “But do, pray, continue to praise the elegance of my expression and the cleverness of my mind.”

He laughed and said with a smile, “I must reserve at least some of my compliments for when I call on you again in London. Tell me, where do your aunt and uncle reside?”

“Near Cheapside,” Elizabeth replied, casting him a quick glance to see how he reacted to her words. But if the gentleman felt some surprise at the information, he was successful in concealing it, and he bowed and inquired for the street address.

He then requested Elizabeth to describe to him the characters of her London relations, and the rest of the walk was quickly passed with Elizabeth's light-hearted and loving description of her most excellent Aunt Gardiner, her wise and amiable Uncle Gardiner, and the most delightful little cousins that had yet to be born in England, or anywhere else in the world for that matter.

When they arrived at the gate to the parsonage path, Elizabeth gave a little start at how quickly the journey had passed by, and how much she had found herself enjoying Mr. Darcy's company. The last hour she had spent with him was both the most emotional, but also the most delightful, that she had ever experienced in her entire stay at Rosings.

And the unbidden thought came to her that never before had she spent time with any gentleman who had conversed so honestly and easily with her, or in whose company she felt both so admired and respected. And as she paused to look up at him to say her goodbye, she also acknowledged no gentleman had ever looked at her so warmly and intently as the man standing before her.

Mr. Darcy was looking down at her now with an expression of admiration and delight.

“Miss Bennet -” he began, but at the same moment, Elizabeth, with a growing feeling of discomfort at the sudden flush she was feeling at the warmth of his gaze, quickly said, “I will bid you farewell, then, sir.”

She was about to dip a polite curtsey, when he reached out and took her gloved hand in his and raised it to his lips.

She gasped, from both the surprise at his action and the shock she felt at the warmth of his touch, which seemed to radiate through her thin gloves.

Keeping his eyes on hers, he softly kissed her hand, and holding it still, he said softly, “I thank you for our talk, Miss Bennet. I leave tomorrow for London, and greatly look forward to seeing you there, soon. I wish you a safe and pleasant journey.”

“As I wish for you,” she replied in a whisper, not able to look away from his gaze. He still held her hand, and for a long moment they stood there, frozen. Mr. Darcy made a small movement of leaning towards her, his eyes now upon her lips. “Oh, Elizabeth,” he breathed softly.

At the shock of hearing him speak her name, Elizabeth started, and pulled quickly away.

She blushed, turned, and began to hurry down the path to the parsonage. When she reached the door, she turned, and saw he stood standing where she had left him, gazing at her with such an expression of longing that something inside her ached. Feeling somehow compelled to give him some kind of comfort, she said softly, “I will look forward to seeing you again, sir. And until we meet in London, may God bless.”

“Till London, Miss Bennet,” he replied with a quiet, warm smile.

Elizabeth quickly turned and entered the parsonage. She hurried up to her room, needing time to think through all that had been said between herself and Mr. Darcy.

She passed two whole hours endeavoring to determine her feelings for the gentleman. She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished, and she was now ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, that could be so called.

The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, qualities which she had acknowledged only truly first today, was not at all repugnant to her feelings; but today's conversation had also quickly heightened that respect into a much friendlier nature, after seeing his disposition in so amiable a light. But above all, above this new respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude, gratitude for loving her.

For to love, ardent love, must the warmth of his looks and expression be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged; as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined.

She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she would employ the power she knew she possessed of bringing on the renewal of his addresses.



Comments, sighs, swoons, etc? Let me know HERE

END VOLUME I

VOLUME II

Chapter Ten - in which Lord Everton once again intervenes

Rosings, Sunday morning

Lord Everton lounged lazily in the breakfast room of Rosings, enjoying his morning solitude. Being a late Sunday morning, with his aunt and cousin Anne away at church, he enjoyed relaxing here with no fear that the painful sound of his aunt's grating voice might interrupt his reverie. He hoped, with a slight grimace at the thought of the alternative, that he might successfully avoid Lady Catherine for the next several hours and enjoy an afternoon of merciful quiet, before the exasperating experience of dining alone with his relatives.

While he had no regrets at Mr. Darcy's departure yesterday morning for London, at least while Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were at Rosings the dreadful tedium and inanity of his aunt's conversation was held a little at bay. Thank G-d he would be departing for town himself tomorrow and would soon be free from this tedious place and his insufferable aunt!

As Everton sat staring somewhat aimlessly out the window, he gave a slightly wry smile at the thought of Darcy's departure the day before, and all that had occurred between himself and Darcy during the past two weeks.

Everton was well aware from Roberts' report that the very next morning after their words on the terrace, Darcy had disappeared on one of his early morning walks once again. Upon his return, Darcy had been of a most serene and satisfied disposition and Everton initially speculated that perhaps a proposal had actually been made and accepted.

He could not be certain, however, and Darcy certainly said nothing to indicate that this was the case. Of course, an engagement could have been settled between Darcy and Miss Bennet with an agreement to remain silent until the lady's father could be spoken with, but Everton began to have his doubts. Darcy did not quite have the air of an acknowledged and successful lover.

No, Everton speculated, it was rather more likely that Darcy had made some significant progress in his courtship, but had not yet won the hand of his lady.

As Everton sat looking out at the gardens of Rosings on this late Sunday morning, he thought with amusement about Lady Catherine's reaction to such a development. She would take it most unwell, both at the thought of such a low connection as a mere Miss Bennet aligned with the august Fitzwilliam and Darcy bloodlines, but even more so at the disappointment of the loss of her intended son-in-law.

Suddenly, a gleeful thought crossed Everton's mind. Lady Catherine at the moment had obviously no suspicion of what had been brewing under her nose…but what if she was to learn of it? And what then if she was encouraged to interfere?

How would Miss Bennet react to the wrath of Lady Catherine, particularly now that Mr. Darcy was no longer in the vicinity to soften the blow? Might not Lady Catherine succeed in intimidating a modest country gentleman's daughter by her wrath and indignation, so much so that any thought of an engagement might be thought impossible?

No matter what the outcome, it was sure to cause pain and uncertainty to what appeared to be a tender young romance. And if there was a way to further interfere in Darcy's happiness, Everton would gladly pursue it, and rejoice in his success.

It was an easy matter an hour later upon Lady Catherine's return from church to make a few pointed remarks to Lady Catherine with raised eyebrow and sardonic voice. Lady Catherine, after a few frustrating minutes of failing to take the bait, eventually did rise to the occasion, demanding to be told what malicious gossip was being spread about Mr. Darcy and his attentions to someone other than Anne.

When Miss Bennet's name was mentioned, she had been so indignant she had risen from her chair and exclaimed, “That impertinent young woman? The cousin of my very own rector? Why, she is no one. No, it can not be!”

But Everton knew how to smoothly paint a tale, to insinuate and hint. Miss Bennet most definitely had certain charms, he said softly, and had been in close vicinity to Mr. Darcy these past few weeks. She was a clever woman, and would know the enormity of the conquest she had made. Given the opportunity, she would be just the kind of woman to most certainly take advantage of it.

Everton could see his words taking hold and having his desired effect, and shortly after excused himself. As he left the room, he heard Lady Catherine ring for her maid to bring her writing materials, and shouting that a note was to be sent round to the parsonage at once.

A well pleased smirk formed on Everton's face. No doubt Miss Bennet was to be summoned for a hearing with Lady Catherine. That would be an interview he would dearly love to overhear! No doubt by the end of the day, an abashed Miss Bennet would flee Rosings in disgrace, and a wrathful Lady Catherine would continue to sow seeds of discord between Mr. Darcy and his lady.

And knowing how Darcy would avoid gossip or scandal of any kind, and the priority he put on duty to family name, Darcy might even question whether he should draw back from his desires in the face of his aunt's determined opposition.

`Poor Miss Bennet!' thought Everton with a pleased smile, picturing the young woman's coming trials and the firestorm she would soon face. She would end up badly scorched by the conflagration he had just set.

And then he pursed his lips with a new thought. Perhaps he should see to it that he was available to offer the poor thing a shoulder on which to shed a few tears. He was quite adept at the gentle art of lending comfort that gradually led to seduction. Women in tears could easily be distracted from realizing, until too late, that the hands and lips that offered innocent comfort could - oh so easily! - be used for other purposes that were far from innocent.

Everton lounged casually in the drawing room just off the main entrance hall the remainder of the afternoon, and had taken note when Lady Catherine emerged from her sitting room and announced to the butler that she would be in the Blue Salon, and that Miss Bennet was to be escorted there upon her arrival.

`Ah, excellent!' thought Everton. After several moments, he put down his book, passed through the hall, and entered the Blue Salon. Lady Catherine shot him a sharp look.

“What are you doing here, Everton?” she demanded. “I wish to meet here alone with…with someone. Find some other place to lounge.”

“Most certainly, ma'am,” he replied lazily with a smile, and sauntered out onto the terrace. He deliberately ensured the French doors to the terrace were not completely closed as he left, and meandered out to a seat in the shade. He lit up a cigar, and awaited the upcoming tête-à-tête.



Chapter Eleven - in which Lady Catherine speaks her mind and Everton is taken by surprise

Everton did not have long to wait. In less than half an hour, he heard Lady Catherine's raised voice sounding through the open French doors. Miss Bennet's was obviously much softer, or perhaps she was facing away from the door, for he could only just barely hear a murmuring voice that told him someone was in the room with his aunt.

Everton rose from his chair, and wandered closer to the slightly open doors. As he drew near, he heard his aunt exclaim, “Miss Bennet, you ought to know, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it.”

Everton listened in gleeful silence to Lady Catherine's words and Miss Bennet's quieter replies. As the interview went on, however, he was astonished at Elizabeth's measured responses and presence of mind. To each of Lady Catherine's increasingly impertinent and imperious remarks, Elizabeth answered easily, with spirit, and in some cases, with almost impudence.

The interview was reaching a high point of emotion when he heard Lady Catherine cry out, “Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?”

“I am not,” came the quiet reply after a short pause.

“And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?”

“I will make no promise of the kind.”

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

“And I certainly never shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise, make their marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would my refusing to accept his hand, make him wish to bestow it on his cousin?

“Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. You have no right to concern yourself in my affairs. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject, and I will take my leave of you and return to the parsonage!”

Everton almost laughed out loud, imagining the look on his aunt's face in reaction to such a retort. Choking back a cough, he hurriedly stepped away from the open doors so his presence would not be marked. D-mnd but Miss Bennet had spirit to stand her ground with the old termagant! Everton found himself feeling an entirely new level of interest in this young woman, as he silently returned to the doors to hear more of this extraordinary conversation.

He heard his aunt's enraged voice once again.

“And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well, I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your ambition will ever be gratified. This interview was to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable; but depend upon it I will carry my point!”

“Good day, Lady Catherine,” came Elizabeth's coldly civil voice, and Everton heard the sound of a door being opened and footsteps walking firmly away.

In growing fascination at the strength of will and self possession Miss Bennet had displayed, Everton quickly slipped around the side of the terrace, and shortly after saw Miss Bennet exit the front of the house and start down a path that ran along the side of the house on the most direct route back to the parsonage. He moved swiftly through one of the side gardens, and came out of a hedged walkway in time to intercept her as she made her way briskly down the path.

“This is well met, Miss Bennet,” he said with a slow smile.

Elizabeth looked up at him in some surprise at encountering him. Her thoughts had been full of the extraordinary interchange that had just taken place, and she had been hardly aware of where she had been walking. Everton had seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Lord Everton.”

She acknowledged him in a cool voice and with a slight nod of her head. After their last exchange and his speaking on so inappropriate a topic, which had been revealed to be a blatant lie, she felt no compunction to pay him anything but the merest of civilities. She certainly had no intention of carrying on any kind of conversation with him alone.

“You will excuse me,” she said, and began to continue on her way.

Everton reached out an arm to stop her. “You are in a great hurry, ma'am,” he observed in a pleasant voice and with yet another smile, but keeping his hand upon her arm.

She immediately shook it off, and took a step away from him with a quick glare of indignation.

“Please leave me to make my way alone, Lord Everton,” she said coldly. “I have no desire to speak with you, and I would ask you to allow me to pass.”

“Ah, but I wish to speak with you, Miss Bennet, so I fear I can not grant you your request,” he replied in a light and playful tone.

Elizabeth stared back at him with no little shock.

“Let me pass!” she finally said firmly, and began to stride purposefully away from him. He caught up with her in a moment, and moved to stand before her in the path.

“Miss Bennet, I merely wish to congratulate you on your rather remarkable display of courage just now with Lady Catherine. I am greatly impressed with your presence of mind to hold your own with my shrew of an aunt!”

“You listened to our conversation?” Elizabeth gasped in a shocked voice. She opened her mouth, but seemed to find no words or else re-thought whether she should say what had come to mind. She closed her lips firmly, and then wordlessly attempted to push past him again.

Everton was feeling more and more exhilarated by this exchange. Elizabeth's eyes were shining in indignation, her color still high from her conversation with Lady Catherine, and she breathed a little heavily from walking so quickly. As Everton looked at her, he felt a familiar stirring of attraction and desire. His eyes swept over the curves of the woman before him, noted the rosy lips half parted with her breathing, and then came to gaze in fascination at the beautiful expression of anger and indignation in her flashing eyes.

He slowly smiled, and his right hand quickly darted out to firmly grip her by the arm. He began to whisper in a soft voice as he put out his free hand to gently cup one side of her face, “Oh my dear Miss Bennet -”

His words were cut short by a loud slap across his face.

“Do not touch me, sir!” Elizabeth seethed in a fierce and angry voice, shaking free from his grasp. “Go back to your aunt, and to those who can stand your lies and your insincerity. I am not one of them! I find you utterly repellent and lacking in any kind of redeeming quality. You waste my time and I will not allow you to insult me with either your words or your ungentlemanly behavior!”

With this she strode angrily away from him down the path.

Everton remained frozen in surprise, one hand gently stroking his smarting cheek where she had soundly slapped him.

Everton was angry, and with a cold and intense anger that steadily grew as he stared after her departing figure. `I will teach you a lesson, my dear Miss Bennet!' he thought maliciously, his eyes narrowing. `I will allow no woman to speak to me so!'

Everton took a few steps after her, but then stopped, his thoughts beginning to focus on how to best exact revenge. Oh, he would teach Miss Bennet that he knew the meaning of revenge! His thoughts then flew to Darcy. They would both learn not to cross him, and he would relish carrying out the plan that was already forming in his mind.

And so, it was with a look of pleased satisfaction that he slowly ambled back towards the house.

He would need to think through some of the details quickly, before he left Rosings tomorrow morning. He would need to speak with Lady Catherine and gather some more information before he departed for town. He knew he could quite easily use his aunt as a pawn in his plan. A pawn and a dupe: he suddenly thought of the Delesford estate…if all went as he planned, he'd not only have his revenge, he'd get his hands on those land holdings after all!

Oh, it was really rather fortunate he chose to visit Rosings this Easter!


Chapter Twelve - in which Elizabeth receives an emotional letter from Jane


Hunsford parsonage, Wednesday morning

“Are you quite sure you will find adequate amusement by yourself this entire day?” asked Charlotte rather anxiously.

Elizabeth laughed. “My dear Charlotte, I will delight in some time to wander where I will, and perhaps write a letter to dear Jane. Believe me, I am quite content to remain here by myself; there is no need for you or Maria to remain here at the parsonage with me!”

“If you are certain?”

“Indeed I am! Now hurry along, and enjoy your outing. When you return this evening you can tell me all about the glories of Bayham Abbey!”

“My dear, we are late!” cried Mr. Collins from below. “Lady Catherine's second carriage stands waiting for us, and we must be off! We must not keep her waiting!”

Charlotte gave Elizabeth a final look of apology, and then hurried down the stairs. Within a few moments Elizabeth could hear the sound of the Collins and Maria leaving the house. She looked out her bedroom window and eventually saw one of Lady Catherine's carriages moving away, turning in the lane, and disappearing from view.

Elizabeth smiled in amusement. Charlotte had been greatly worried that Elizabeth would be in low spirits, given the disgrace in which she stood in Lady Catherine's eyes. And ever since Elizabeth's return from Rosings Sunday evening, Mr. Collins had been in a state of high anxiety and extreme nervousness from his cousin falling into such deep disfavor with his noble patroness.

If travel plans for Elizabeth and Maria Lucas had not already been made, Elizabeth suspected she might have been hurried on her way even sooner. But the arrangements were already set for Saturday for the post-chaise and the escort of her Uncle Gardiner's servant, and they could not be changed at this late date. So, for the short time remaining, Elizabeth stayed safely tucked away in Hunsford parsonage or out on the pleasant walks of Rosings Park, and far from the halls of Rosings and Lady Catherine's further displeasure.

Since the day of Elizabeth's interview with Lady Catherine, invitations to tea and to dine that week at Rosings had come to the residents of the parsonage, as well as the very gracious honor extended towards them to join Lady Catherine and her daughter later that week on a trip to view the ruins of Bayham Abbey. Miss Bennet, however, was pointedly excluded from all the invitations.

Elizabeth had merely laughed at these slights, and assured both the Collins that she paid no mind to Lady Catherine's censure.

And indeed, she was heartily glad to have an entire day to herself. She was longing more and more to be gone from Kent and to see Jane. And then the thought struck her: and to see Mr. Darcy once more. She could not deny that she felt happy at the thought of seeing him again, and continuing the rapport that had begun to grow between them. And what was most strange, the more she thought of the admiration he had expressed, and so obviously shown in his look and gaze, the warmer she felt.

She would find herself smiling these past few days, and discover her thoughts had wandered to picture his eyes, the sound of his voice, the shiver she had felt when he had kissed her hand at the parsonage gate.

She gave herself a little shake to dispel these daydreams. She was happy. It would be only a few days more and she would be traveling to London. The sun was shining, and the paths of Rosings Park beckoned her.

She heard the bell ring, and hurrying downstairs, found that a letter from Jane had newly arrived. She eagerly snatched up the letter which appeared to be somewhat hurriedly addressed. Putting on a bonnet, she called out to the maid that she would take a walk and read her letter and might be gone for some time. With a smile on her face, Elizabeth merrily made her way down the front path and towards her favorite walk in Rosings Park. Once on the path, she hurried to a spot where she knew of a fallen log where she could sit and peruse her letter.

As she did so, and read further and further, she gave first one short gasp, and then yet another in pleasure and joy.

Jane wrote in an effusion of happy spirits. That morning both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had called to pay their respects. Mr. Darcy's purpose was ostensibly to inform Jane and the Gardiners that Elizabeth had been in good health and spirits when he had left her in Kent. And then Mr. Bingley had let fall that he had only just that morning learned from Darcy of Jane's being in town. How strange that his sisters had made no mention of the matter!

`Yes, strange indeed!' thought Elizabeth wryly to herself. But she read on.

Jane overflowed in happiness. Mr. Darcy was most polite and conversed at great length with both Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, who were both quite pleased with his gentlemanlike ways. And Mr. Bingley had been all attention and eagerness to speak with Jane.


`Oh Lizzy, he is all that I remember him to be: amiable, agreeable, kind and attentive! After a few moments of ill ease, we were soon able to converse as freely and easily as when we met last autumn. And the Gardiners seemed quite pleased with him, and have invited both him and Mr. Darcy to join us for dinner once you come to join us from Kent. Both gentlemen readily accepted the invitation.

Mr. Bingley then made mention of perhaps calling tomorrow once again, to bring a book he thought Uncle Gardiner might enjoy perusing, though he was most eager to know if I would be at home at the time when he planned to call. He stated at least three times the hour he intended to call tomorrow!

Dear sister, I am so happy! I only lack now my own dear Lizzy to tease and laugh at me as I smile and play with our dear little cousins.

I look forward with great anticipation to your arrival on Saturday.

With love,
Jane'



Elizabeth sat back, caught her breath, and felt tears come to her eyes. To know that Jane was so happy, and reunited with her Mr. Bingley!

Every indication was that he was as much in love with her as ever, and it was not at all improbable that at long last, at the end of so much unhappiness, an engagement would be made that would bring things to the happiest, wisest, most reasonable end!

And then Elizabeth thought of Mr. Darcy's part in this reunion. He must have called on Mr. Bingley almost immediately upon his own arrival back in town, and persuaded his friend to call at the Gardiners. Her heart whispered that his quick action to reunite Bingley and Jane had been done, in part, for her.

The thought could not but make her smile, and then blush at her wonder at how quickly she was learning to place so much dependence and happiness on Mr. Darcy's actions. She thought once again of his expressed wish to court her, and her reaction now was solely of pleasure.

The gentleman's obvious and deeply felt admiration was perhaps still a little alarming to her, but she also was forced to admit to herself that the thought of it made her secretly feel quite gratified.

She blushed even deeper, as the thought of his eyes filled her thoughts, and she once again felt suddenly quite warm.

And then she gave herself a little shake, laughed, and leapt to her feet. She needed a brisk walk to clear her thoughts and express the happiness she was feeling. She looked about her, and seeing no one, began to run down the path, feeling the cool, refreshing air on her face and reveling in the feeling of freedom from the both the confines of Hunsford parsonage and Lady Catherine's disapproval.

Eventually she stopped to catch her breath, and then began to walk at a more sedate pace. As she rounded a curve in the pathway, she spotted two men standing a short way off the path. Both were dressed in the sturdy working clothing of foresters or gardeners, and were conferring over a tree that appeared to be affected by disease or some kind of rot. Elizabeth gave a small smile of amusement at the thought of their reaction, had she come running around the corner!

She gave them a quick nod of acknowledgement as she passed by them, and continued along her way. But she had not gone far when she heard a loud crack, an exclamation of pain, and turning, saw one of the men had fallen to the ground, and was holding his side and groaning softly.

Elizabeth hurried back to see if there was any aid that she could lend.

“Can I help, sir?” she asked the second man who was bending over the injured man. He looked up at her, distress showing on his face.

“Oh, ma'am,” he said, “Have you a handkerchief, or some other item of cloth to put against a wound? He's bleedin' and we need to stop it up!”

Elizabeth pulled out her handkerchief, and bent down alongside the man, holding it out. “Where is the wound, sir? You can use this…”

She looked down with concern at the fallen man, and did not note that the other man rose to his feet.

“Sir -” she began addressing the injured man, when suddenly she found her face smothered by a cloth that reeked with a strong, horrible smell. She would have cried out in surprise, but felt as if her lungs were being squeezed of every drop of breath. As she gasped out for air, she took in a great swallow of the horrible odor which both nauseated and choked her. She made one last, desperate struggle to get air to her lungs, and then knew no more.



Chapter Thirteen - in which Elizabeth awakes in confusion

Her eyes still tightly closed, Elizabeth sighed and rolled her head to one side. She instinctively knew herself to be waking from a deep sleep, but her head was so thick, and her thoughts so groggy, she felt as if she was fighting her way out of a deep, encompassing fog. She was vaguely aware that she must have been dreaming, and that it had been a very disturbing dream. And yet, as dreams often do, the particulars of the dream were evaporating from her head and memory, even as she tried vainly to recall them.

She had been walking in Rosings Park, there had been two foresters, and she had felt a sudden stab of fear...

She sighed sleepily. No, the dream was gone. Her mind was blank and the picture that had been in her mind's eye of the path in Rosings Park suddenly disappeared into darkness. It was time to wake up, to open her eyes, and begin another day at Hunsford parsonage.

Finding it unusually hard to will herself to even open her eyes, she had a fleeting, bemused thought at how lazy she must be growing. `Are you becoming such a sluggard, Lizzy, that you cannot even rise in the morning without a call from Charlotte?' she inwardly chided herself. Finally, with a burst of concentrated willpower, she opened her eyes.

The lazy little smile that had formed on her lips immediately was replaced with a blank look of confusion.

Instead of the by now familiar surroundings of her bedroom in the parsonage, the sight that met her was of an elegant sitting area with two richly upholstered chairs standing before a large, impressive fireplace.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and opened them again, but the view was unchanged: she was staring at a sight totally unfamiliar to her. She was most definitely not in her bedroom at Hunsford parsonage.

She sat up with a start, and then immediately regretted her sudden movement. Her head began to throb from deep within, and her eyes clouded over in stars. She sank back down again, one hand coming up to her forehead to massage it where, for several moments, it throbbed in a merciless rhythm. Her eyes closed, she lay quietly, taking deep breaths, and eventually the throbbing subsided.

Her lesson learned, she cautiously opened her eyes and glanced around. She was lying on a bed with a large, ornately carved, mahogany head board and a richly plush canopy. She slowly moved her body towards the head of the bed, and managed to reach an almost upright position, leaning back against the massive headboard. She took several more breaths, and looked around.

She was in a large, beautifully appointed bedroom with an elegant seating area to one side. The room was paneled in rich walnut, with thick, elaborate tapestries depicting hunting scenes hanging on several of the walls. The bed she was on had four tall, intricately carved posters, and colorfully embroidered crewel work on the bed hangings and coverings. All that she saw was elegant and rich, and completely unfamiliar to her eyes.

The room was lit only by a small fire in the fireplace, and a small amount of light which came through a partially shuttered window to one side. It was clearly almost evening by the golden quality of the light that came through the window and which fell on the opposite wall.

For several moments Elizabeth looked around her in great puzzlement. Where was she and how had she come to be here? In no small confusion, she looked down, and for the first time noted that she was fully dressed, though her shoes had been removed. She could not be waking from a night's sleep if she was dressed so…but why then was she waking up dressed this way?

`Think, Elizabeth!' she chided herself. `What can I remember?'

She thought for a moment and could picture herself conversing with Charlotte, stepping out the door of the parsonage, taking her walk along her favorite path of Rosings Park and reading Jane's letter. She remembered seeing the two foresters, and that one of them had fallen injured. She remembered feeling a sudden rush of fear. And then? Why could she remember nothing more?

Had she fallen ill? Suddenly, the answer came to her. She must have met with some accident, and been taken up to Rosings, rather than the parsonage. She let out a great sigh of relief. Yes, someone had found her - perhaps it was the foresters - and, not knowing she was a guest at the parsonage, had brought her up to Rosings. This room must be one of the many such elegant bedrooms in Lady Catherine's grand home.

She had only been shown one or two of the public rooms in her visits, so it was no wonder that this room was unfamiliar to her. She was in a room at Rosings!

While feeling some slight concern that she had no memory of what she had just worked out, she relaxed in at least feeling a little less disoriented. It must be evening, and the Collins had not yet returned from the trip to Bayham Abbey, or a carriage was not yet available to take her home to the parsonage.

Elizabeth smiled a little in amusement. She had no illusions that she would be welcome to recover under Lady Catherine's roof, once that great lady knew that Elizabeth was here!

Yes, either the party to Bayham Abbey had not yet returned, or they were waiting Elizabeth's regaining of consciousness to arrange for her swift removal from this grand room. Surely its elegance was even now being polluted by such a disgraceful presence as the lowly Elizabeth Bennet!

Elizabeth looked around with curiosity at the room again, feeling no little amusement at the irony of finding herself here after the words spoken to her by Lady Catherine just days before. Her smile turned a little rueful. It was most certainly a very lovely room; the kind of room that perhaps the fiancé of Mr. Darcy would be given. Had she accepted Mr. Darcy, and had Lady Catherine been able to receive her as his intended, she might well have stayed in this very room.

She gave herself a little shake. These were not the kind of thoughts on which she should dwell! She was still in some confusion as to her feelings for Mr. Darcy, which seemed to change - more and more favorably - daily. Perhaps there might come a day when he renewed his offer and she would find within her heart such feelings that would lead her to accept him. Suddenly, the memory of her feelings and her body's reaction when she thought of his kiss of her hand and his embrace as he comforted her by the maple grove flooded her mind, and she blushed.

She quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind.

`No, think on Lady Catherine's insulting words of the other evening, Lizzy!' she chided herself. Even should she and Mr. Darcy…she blushed again. Lady Catherine had made it clear that she would never accept such a match. Elizabeth would never be welcome at Rosings under such circumstances.

And she was most certainly not welcome now. She should go.

Remembering her dizziness and pounding head from when she had tried to rise too quickly, she slowly moved about until she was able to sit at the edge of the bed. She waited several moments, breathing deeply, and was happy to find no return to the pounding in her head. Finally, with one hand firmly on the poster at the head of the bed, she slowly stood up.

For a brief moment her eyes began to cloud over with stars, but she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt the dizziness pass. As she looked around she saw what she took to be the door to the hallway at the far side of the room.

Given her current lightheadedness, she realized she could not easily cross the room to go to the hallway to draw attention to the fact that she was now awake. And, if she was in a room down one of the vast wings of Rosings, there was no guarantee of anyone being immediately about, should she even make it to the hallway.

She began to look about for a bell pull to call a servant, and finally spotted one on the wall on other side of the bed. She smiled: that would be her goal.

Slowly, she took a few steps alongside the bed. Her legs seemed strangely weak, and to her surprise she found she was glad to sink down in relief at the foot of the bed, steadying herself again on one of the posters.

`Why am I so lightheaded?' she puzzled again. Why could she not remember a fall or some other kind of accident? Had she been hit on the head by a falling branch or some other object, and knocked out so quickly that she had no memory of it?

Growing more and more eager for someone to explain to her what had occasioned her memory-loss, she rose again to make the next step in her journey. After a few moments she was able to round the end of the bed and to head back around towards the wall where the bell pull was located.

Elizabeth was almost to her destination when she heard the welcome sound of the door being opened. She immediately turned with a smile to greet her visitor, happy to see anyone, whether it was a doctor, maid, or perhaps even Charlotte.

But the smile on her face faded into a look of first confusion, and then uneasiness, when she saw the tall figure of Lord Everton standing in the doorway, gazing at her.

Chapter Fourteen - in which Elizabeth learns she is mistaken



?, Wednesday evening

“Ah, Elizabeth,” Everton said in a quiet voice, “I am glad to see you have finally awoken.”

He shut the door behind himself, and slowly moved across the room towards her. As he approached, his gaze on her seemed to be assessing her state of health, for he remarked lightly as he drew near, “I fear you are still feeling quite weak and lightheaded…the after affects, I am afraid, of the sleeping draught.”

Elizabeth had stood almost frozen in her surprise at seeing him. But as he drew near, she flinched a little, and instinctively took a step backwards.

Seeing this, he stopped, a few feet in front of her. A slow smile came to his lips, and he held out one arm. “Come, Elizabeth, let me help you to one of the chairs by the fire; I believe it would be best if you stayed seated till you are stronger.”

Elizabeth did not move.

“What are you doing here, sir?” she asked in a low voice. “Why do you come into my room this way and use my name so freely? Where are the others?”

An exaggerated look of puzzlement flashed across Everton's face. “What others, my dear?” he asked softly.

“Mrs. Collins, Lady Catherine…” she replied, trying to steady her voice.

“They are not here,” he replied with a smile.

“Are they not yet returned, then, from the visit to Bayham Abbey?”

“I do not know whether they have returned or not, Elizabeth, and indeed, must confess I really do not at the moment even care.”

Elizabeth looked at him in confusion. “But surely they would have been informed about me if they have returned!”

To her surprise Everton laughed. “Yes, Mrs. Collins most probably would have been informed, Elizabeth. It appears to me she would run her house well enough that she would be immediately told of your failure to return home from your walk. Whether word has been sent to Rosings, though, I could not speculate. And, as I said, it is not a matter of interest to me at the moment.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Sir, you make no sense to me. Surely Lady Catherine's servants would inform her immediately upon her arrival home of my presence here in her home!”

Everton looked at her in genuine surprise for a moment, and then a look of understanding came to his eyes. His lips pursed into an amused grin, and then he broke out into a laugh.

“Ah, I see the misunderstanding!”

He took a step closer to Elizabeth, and looking at her with a smile, said softly, “My dear, you are not at Rosings Park.”

The color drained from Elizabeth's face, and she felt for the first time real stirrings of fear.

“Where am I then, sir?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and under control.

“Quite a distance away from Rosings, in a small residence of mine that I value for its seclusion and privacy,” Everton answered in a quiet voice.

“And how did I come to be here? Why can I not remember being brought here?” Elizabeth demanded, her voice sounding her confusion and bewilderment at what Everton was telling her.

“My men drugged you and brought you here, Elizabeth,” replied Everton in a matter of fact voice. “That is why you can not remember your journey, and that is why you now feel so lightheaded and groggy.”

With his words the memory of the horrible smell of the cloth over her face flooded her mind, and Elizabeth turned white, remembering the sudden stab of fear she had felt back in the woods of Rosings Park.

Meanwhile, Everton had stepped forward and taken hold of one of her arms. “Now, I must insist that you be seated, my dear. It will not do to have you fainting or falling to the floor and injuring yourself.”

Elizabeth wrenched her arm free, and took a step back away from him, only to find she was backed up against the wall. She shook her head and said in a low, but determined, voice, “Do not touch me, sir! What is it you are saying to me?”

“I am saying that you are quite far from any friends who might help you, and quite frankly, completely in my power. And you would do well to quickly learn to obey me, Elizabeth!” With these words Everton roughly grabbed her arm, turned, and forcibly pulled her away from the wall. He strode with her across the room, and almost pushed her down into one of the two chairs that stood in the sitting area before the fireplace.

Elizabeth's head spun from the sudden movement, and she sat motionless for a few moments and tried to catch her breath and clear her head. When she finally looked up, she saw Everton standing in front of the fireplace, looking down at her with a calm expression on his face.

“Why have you done this?” she asked in a voice trembling in confusion.

“There are several reasons, my dear,” he answered smoothly. “The first of which is because Lady Catherine is quite determined that you are not to wed her nephew.”

“Lady Catherine!” gasped Elizabeth. “She is a party to this?”

“Indeed. And, after I very cleverly planted the idea in her mind, I then persuaded her to reward me most generously to be the one to carry it out.” Everton stopped and smiled. “Ironic, is it not? She hands me exactly what I want as payment to do that which will give me so much pleasure.”

“And what is it she has paid you to do?” asked Elizabeth in a quiet voice, her heart pounding.

“See to it that you are so thoroughly compromised that Mr. Darcy would never consider an offer of marriage to you,” answered Everton in a matter-of-fact voice.

Elizabeth looked at him in shocked dismay. “How could she…how could you...?” Elizabeth struggled to find words to express her feelings of horror and disgust at what Everton was implying.

“With a woman like you, Elizabeth, very easily,” he replied softly. And then turning to look at the fireplace, he continued in a low voice, “And to personally deprive Darcy of his blushing, virgin bride? That will be a pleasure indeed!” He looked back at Elizabeth with an expression of triumph and immense satisfaction.

“How dare you even think to do this? You will be punished by the law, sir!” Elizabeth exclaimed indignantly.

Everton merely smiled. “Oh, I think not, Elizabeth. When you leave here, you must realize it will do you far more harm than it will me if our time together were to be made public. My reputation might be a little blackened, but what do I care? It adds spice to the gossip in the ton, but I assure you my dear, my wealth and connections will buffer me from any real damage.

“You, on the other hand, will be completely ruined if you force me to spread the word of how easily you allowed yourself to be seduced. And not only your reputation will be ruined, Elizabeth, but also that of all of your lovely unwed sisters along with you. Would you really condemn your family to a life of social ostracism, your sisters to either spinsterhood or marriage with men of no rank or connection, merely to try to eke out a harmless punishment to me?

“I do not think so, Elizabeth! Your family and friends will wisely counsel you to be silent, to keep the truth from whatever good country gentleman or vicar who might one day ask for your hand in marriage. But I will make certain Mr. Darcy is well informed of what takes place. It will be a pleasure to inform him of what I have done to the comely little lass he thought he would be the first to seduce into his bed -”

Elizabeth rose in anger at his words, her disgust ringing in her voice, “I will not let you speak so of Mr. Darcy, sir! He is a gentleman, and would never -”

“Ah, how the lady defends the gentleman's honor! What a charming little romance has taken place on the grounds of Rosings!” exclaimed Everton in a sarcastic voice.

He stared at her for a moment, taking in her eyes flashing in anger and indignation, and his look became darker and more intense.

“By G-d, I do not believe I have ever seen such eyes as yours, Elizabeth!” he breathed softly. “They flash now in anger, as they did the other evening on the pathway at Rosings when you slapped my face. I knew then I would teach you a lesson, to defy me so.

“But I also realized then what passion you were capable of, by the look in your eyes. And I am determined that before you leave here, Elizabeth, I will gaze at your eyes as you submit to me, and I will see your eyes express passion of quite another sort. And indeed, that will be the very sweetest pleasure for me!”

“I will never submit to you, Everton!” Elizabeth retorted hotly. “You are stronger than I and can…” Elizabeth broke off for a moment, but then swallowed and continued in a low voice, “You can force yourself upon me, but do not think it is anything other than that! I would never submit to you!”

Everton smiled.

“We will see, won't we, Elizabeth? I am willing to wager that you will, indeed, submit. For that is the price of your release.”

He turned to look at the bed. “Spend a night with me in that bed, Elizabeth, doing whatever I ask of you, and you will be sent home, free, the very next morning. You could be free tomorrow, if you will do so tonight.”

Elizabeth could only stare at Everton in revulsion at what he had just demanded of her. “How can you think I would ever agree to do what you ask?” she asked in a whisper.

“Oh, I think you will come to eventually agree to it, lovely Elizabeth,” he replied softly.

“I did not really think you would acquiesce already tonight,” he continued, “but I wished to give you the opportunity. Think of your family, of your friends. You have disappeared without a trace, my dear. How worried your dear friend Mrs. Collins will be! And your father, what a care on his shoulders to find his daughter has disappeared in such a mysterious way, with no word, no clue. He is growing older, is he not? Might not such a burden and its shock endanger his health? And as the days go on, how all your family will worry and begin to imagine the worst for you!”

Everton smiled as he saw Elizabeth whiten at the thought of what he described. “So as each day goes by and you defiantly cling to your pride and your honor, think of the pain that you are prolonging for your family and those who love you!”

Elizabeth brought one hand up to cover her mouth. Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, and a flood of desperation made her whisper out, “I beg of you, Everton, let me go! Do not do this!”

Everton strode over to her and grabbed her roughly by both arms. Looking into her eyes he said eagerly, “Will you submit, Elizabeth? Will you let me kiss away those tears in your bed tonight?”

“No!” Elizabeth cried out, in horror even at the thought. She vainly struggled to pull out of his grip, but only succeeding in pulling slightly away from him as he continued to hold her fast. "Let me go, sir!” she cried angrily.

Everton just looked at her in amusement. He leaned towards her as if to kiss her, and she turned her head away in disgust.

He uttered a low laugh, and she felt his lips come to lightly caress the skin of her neck and shoulder. She started, and then shivered in revulsion at this, and closed her eyes so she would not have to see his gloating face. She took a deep breath, and repeated softly, but still defiantly, “let me go, sir! I do not submit to you.”

Finally, he let her go, and stepped away from her.

Elizabeth stood frozen, biting her lip to keep from bursting into tears in front of him. She stared into the fireplace, knowing she could not at the moment bear to see his face until she regained control of her emotions.

To her great relief, she heard him take several steps away from her, and then heard him say in a quiet, cool voice, “I will leave you now, Elizabeth, and allow you to think about your choices.

“Let me assure you that there is no possibility of escape. I hold the only key to your room, and you will see there is no escape out the window. The servants here are loyal, well paid, and discrete. Your servant is Martha, and she will come once a day to tend to you, but she knows better than to lend you aid of any kind, so I would caution you it would be a waste of time to even ask it of her.

“I will call on you tomorrow evening, at dinner time, and we can discuss this further. I believe, once you have some time to reflect on your position and situation, you will eventually come to agree that your only choice is to submit, Elizabeth. And when you do, I will be most happy to instruct you in how to do so in a way that pleases me.”




Chapter Fifteen - in which Elizabeth makes a vow


Elizabeth closed her eyes at Everton's last words, and did not open them again until she heard the door close. She turned and saw she was at last alone, and sank back down into the chair.

What was she to do? How could she possibly escape from here?

She had no doubt that Everton did not lie about her imprisonment. He was clever and would no doubt have picked an isolated spot to hold her prisoner. He had the money to buy servants who would not betray him, regardless of the despicable nature of what he did. And other than his servants, only Lady Catherine had any idea that he played a part in her disappearance. She knew her family would mount a search for her, but how was she to be found? Who would ever suspect Lord Everton, who had left Rosings several days before her disappearance?

She thought briefly of Mr. Darcy. For a moment her heart warmed, thinking `if he learns of my disappearance, he will search for me; I know he will search for me!' But then those thoughts ended with the realization that he would have no reason to suspect Everton could do such a vile thing. He would be left as clueless in his search as her father.

No, she could not see how she could hope for rescue. If she was to escape, it would be through her wits and her determination.

Everton was playing a game with her, relishing his power over her. And, revolting as she found his desire to force her submission, it at least gave her the benefit of time. He seemed to be willing to play a cat-and-mouse game of trying to break her will.

`Well, my courage rises at every attempt to intimidate me!' she thought with a sad smile. She reflected back to when she had so impudently made this claim to the man who, she now forlornly thought, would never have tried to intimidate her.

Oh, how foolishly blind she had been to Mr. Darcy's attempts to speak with her in the past! It was so clear now he, perhaps somewhat clumsily, had merely been attempting to further their conversations, to know her better. How endearingly sweet now appeared his somewhat stilted words and formal statements, knowing what such attempts at sociability cost a man with so much reserve.

A sob caught in her throat. And such a man she had once labeled as unworthy and cruel. And now, fate had put her in the power of a truly cruel and vile man, one whose every word and action pointed out the honor and goodness of the man she had so badly misjudged. Would she ever have a chance to tell Mr. Darcy how deeply, deeply grateful she now was for his regard?

That there could now never be a renewal of his addresses, she knew was without doubt. Even, if by some miracle she managed to escape from Everton before --- she shuddered and refused to finish that thought. Even were she to be rescued at this moment, with no further assault on her honor, she knew to those who learned of her abduction, she was already thoroughly compromised by so much time spent alone with him.

She angrily thought how correct Everton's mocking words were. Because of the need to protect her family's honor, this could never be made public, and she could never see Everton tried in a court of law for this crime. And Mr. Darcy would most certainly eventually learn of her shame from Lady Catherine, and no doubt Everton would delight in elaborating on and describing to Mr. Darcy what took place, with no qualms at lying to make the tale as sordid as possible.

No, only if Mr. Darcy saw and thought no more of her, might she perhaps lessen Everton's revenge on him. And with that thought, Elizabeth silently vowed she would do all in her power to prevent, or at least lessen, any pain to Mr. Darcy.

Now, when all hope was gone, she reflected sadly at just how much she longed to spare Mr. Darcy from pain. And how much she now wished that, instead, she could be the one to bring joy and happiness to him. She knew if he would only now ask her for it, she would give her heart to him, gladly. Now, when she knew he would never, could never, ask.

As she drifted off to a miserable and comfortless sleep, she quietly resolved on one thing. Mr. Darcy would never know of it, but she would keep her inner self protected for him. She would never submit to Everton, he would never break her spirit, he would never find a way to make her dishonor her conscience!

Everton might touch her body, but he could never touch the inner part inside her, and that part she would defiantly hold and protect from him. Had things been different, it was the part of her she would have freely offered to the man she loved. She would never likely have the opportunity now to give it in love to an honorable man, but she would hold it pure, all the same. It was a vow she made to herself, and a vow she made with a sad sigh to Mr. Darcy, the very man in all the world she now knew she could have truly learned to love.




Chapter Sixteen - in which Elizabeth spends time alone

Elizabeth spent a restless night. Her sleep was interrupted by both frightening dreams of Everton and the physical discomfort of her neck and back, as she had fallen asleep in the chair. Part way through the night she had woken with a start, her heart pounding from some terror in her dream. For one short moment she began to calm herself by telling herself that she was in no danger, that she was safe in her bedroom at home. And then the awful truth of her situation came flooding back, and she felt a wave of despair sweep over her.

She looked about the room. All was dark, except for some weak light coming through the window. She slowly stood, stretching and rubbing her sore neck. She knew she needed sleep: if her weapons in this battle with Everton were her will and determination, then she needed to be able to think as clearly and rationally as she was capable of doing.

She glanced toward the bed that dominated the room, but could not bring herself to lay down on it. Even simply looking at it brought back Everton's words and demands.

Elizabeth shuddered, and quickly looked away. And then with a sigh, she removed her Spencer to use as a pillow, and lay down on the thick rug before the fireplace. The room was still comfortably warm from the heat of the fire, and after a time of tossing and turning, Elizabeth drifted off again, finally finding a deep sleep with mercifully few dreams.

**


When Elizabeth woke again, it was clearly the next day. What time it was, she had no way of knowing, as there was no timepiece in the room. She stretched, and looked around, seeing the room for the first time in the full light of day. Eventually she rose, put on her Spencer, tidied her hair, and then made her way around the room inspecting everything. She knew not what she was looking for, but felt she needed to be aware of everything in her prison, in case it could be of use to her in the days ahead.

At that thought she stopped and gave a little gasp. How long would this imprisonment last? Did Everton truly plan to keep her hidden away for more than a few days? Or did he think she would quickly break at such treatment? There was no way of knowing.

Her inspection of the room continued. A screen stood in one corner, concealing a chamber pot as well as a large bathing tub. When she first spotted the tub, she looked around eagerly for a basin and water. She suddenly longed to be able to wash her face and her neck, especially where Everton's lips had touched her last evening. But though she found a washing basin and linens, there was no water.

And the thought of water to wash by also made her aware of her thirst. She had had nothing to drink since yesterday morning at the parsonage and perhaps a day had passed since then. Her mouth and tongue felt thick and dry, and she could almost still taste and smell the horrible drug they had used to put her to sleep.

Elizabeth remembered Everton mentioning a maid named Martha; clearly she had not yet come to bring Elizabeth food or even water.

Pushing aside her thoughts of her thirst, she completed her circuit of the room at the window. The window was tall and wide, with a substantial and comfortably cushioned window seat. She inspected the window closely, but quickly saw it was locked and bolted shut, and the shutter on the outside closed.

One small section of the shutter appeared to be broken away, however, allowing light to come through one small pane. Elizabeth looked through the pane, and saw only trees in the distance, and noted that the room she was in must be on an upper floor. She suspected that Everton had ordered the window's shutters to be boarded up, and even should she manage to break the window and force the shutter open, there was a straight drop-off of several floors to open ground below.

Perhaps if she could practice tying strong knots, an escape ladder of some kind could be tied of the bed linen….but then she sighed. Elizabeth knew she was young and strong, but she doubted herself capable of scaling the walls of the house to the ground below. But even should she find the courage to try, her attempt to escape would have long before been discovered at the sound of breaking through both the window's glass and shutter. No, there was no escape for her here.

She sat down in the window seat, leaned back, and looked sadly out the small window pane at the clear blue sky. What was Charlotte doing and thinking at this moment? Would the Collins think that she had met a mishap on her walk, and even now be searching the woods and lanes around Rosings? Would they have sent word to her father by now?

Elizabeth bit her lip thinking of the ordeal her father would experience. So withdrawn from and wearied by the mundane and practical tasks of life, he was ill equipped to deal with such an emergency. And with Jane in London, there was no one at home at Longbourn with sense and strength of mind to help him in his distress.

Everton's taunts that her pride was prolonging her family's pain and worry rang in her ears again. It was true, she thought, a little forlornly.

But then, just as quickly, she sternly told herself to think beyond his words. Yes, the longer she resisted Everton, the longer her family would know worry. But in the end (and she silently prayed the end would come soon), they would far rather she resist Everton than give in to his demands. She thought of Jane, and thought of Jane's goodness. If Jane were somehow able to counsel her now, Jane would urge her to do what was honorable and right.

Suddenly, the thought of the love she had for Jane, and Jane's great love and care for her, comforted Elizabeth's heart. No matter what the outcome, Jane's love would be waiting for her.

And with these thoughts, Elizabeth realized she had yet another weapon in her struggle against Everton: the great love she shared with her family, and especially with Jane. Even though physically she was held alone and a prisoner, she would never be alone within her heart. She would not despair. She would not lose hope.

At one point in the day, the servant woman Martha finally briefly entered the room. Elizabeth was seated in the window seat when she heard the door being unlocked. She rose to her feet and stood facing the door. As it opened, she saw Everton holding a key, and then stepping aside as a strongly-built woman with a sharp look on her face entered the room. This was clearly the servant Martha.

The woman spoke not a word, glancing briefly at Elizabeth, and then moving swiftly around the room. After briefly stepping behind the screen, she walked over to the bed, but seeing it remained undisturbed, shot a quick look at Elizabeth.

Catching her eye, Elizabeth asked quietly, “could you bring me some water for washing, and to drink? I am very thirsty.”

The woman shook her head. “The master says no water,” she replied shortly, and turned and walked back to the door and gave a quick rap. The door opened, and the woman left the room, leaving Elizabeth looking at the now closed door in a little dismay.

No water? Why would Everton refuse her water?

Chapter Seventeen - in which Everton reveals the rules of his game



?, Thursday evening

But there was no one to answer or to even ask her question the remainder of the day. It was not until several hours later, as Elizabeth leaned back in the window seat half asleep, that she heard the door being unlocked. And this time, Lord Everton once again entered the room.

“Good evening, Elizabeth,” he said courteously and gave a slight bow in greeting as she rose to her feet.

He was followed into the room by two servants who immediately went to work to set up a small table before the fireplace with a dinner meal for two. As they did so, Everton came over to where Elizabeth stood.

“I assume you spent some time today inspecting this room, my dear?” he asked in an even voice. “This window in particular, I would imagine. And yes, though you do not ask, the shutters are boarded up on the outside: it would take a strong man with a sharp ax to be able to open them from the inside.”

Elizabeth said nothing, but merely looked at him with an even expression.

His glance swept over her face, and he smiled. “How lovely you look, Elizabeth, despite the circumstances. What a treat to have you here with me to share my evening meal!”

He reached out to take her hand as if to kiss it, but she quickly snatched it away, out of his reach.

Everton merely smiled at her movement, and then turned back to watch the progress of the servants. They quickly and efficiently set out the meal, lit several candles around the room, and with quick bows, left the room.

Gesturing towards the table, Everton said smoothly, “Our table is ready, Elizabeth. I must ask you to take your place, and we can discuss our situation further. I am sure you have more questions for me, now that you have had some time to think about your circumstances.”

His arm by her side, he guided her to one of the chairs at the table. Elizabeth flinched a little at the slight touch of his arm brushing against her side, but bit her lip and said nothing. After seating her, and taking a seat himself, Everton poured a goblet full of wine, and sat back and took a drink.

He gave Elizabeth a long look and then said quietly, “Martha tells me it did not appear that you slept in the bed last night. That was a silly gesture, Elizabeth. You need not fear I will take you unawares in the middle of the night. I think I was very clear last night: I expect you to be fully aware and fully participative when we…come together.”

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, and then responded in a quiet voice, “I will not submit to you, sir.” She said nothing more, but sat with her hands folded in her lap, looking calmly at Everton.

“And that is all you have to say?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“It is, sir,” she quietly responded.

Everton smiled briefly, and began to speak of some amusing correspondence he had dealt with that day. As he spoke, he served himself a large portion of the meal set at the table, but made no motion to serve or offer anything to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth somehow knew this was a part of his game, and refused to give him the satisfaction of playing a part of his polite dinner party charade.

But she knew her body was sorely tempted by the meal before her. She had not eaten for over a day and a half, and she felt her hunger. But even worse, her mouth felt by now parched and her thirst was very great. Try though she might not to stare at his wine glass, each time her eye fell upon it, she thought longingly of a tall glass of water.

But eventually Everton said in an off-hand tone, “Martha also told me that you asked for water. I would imagine that you are quite thirsty by now, are you not?”

“I am, sir,” she quietly replied. “I have had no water to wash with, and nothing to drink, since you have brought me here.”

“Yes, I know,” he answered smoothly. Elizabeth looked at him in a little surprise. He smiled and said, “You must pay a price, Elizabeth, if you wish to have anything to eat or drink. That is one of the rules of this game.”

Elizabeth stared at him, in shock at his words.

Everton leaned forward and, waiving a hand over the meal laying between them, said, “You may join me in my meal when you are ready to have me join you in your bed, Elizabeth. Since you have already announced to me that you are not yet ready to submit, I did not invite you to join me. However, if you would like to reconsider…” He looked at her a little expectantly.

“No!” Elizabeth whispered.

Everton merely shrugged, and continued to eat and drink. He spoke lazily and at some length to Elizabeth of inconsequential matters. When he finished his meal, he rose and went to the bell pull.

As he walked back to where Elizabeth sat, he remarked lightly, “I received word from Lady Catherine today, Elizabeth. She writes that your disappearance is viewed as quite mysterious. She mentioned that Mr. Collins, as your nearest male relative, heads up the search for you. And you can imagine how effective and efficient a search headed by that estimable gentleman might be!

“Apparently the search has focused on the extensive grounds of Rosings Park, and it is believed you must have fallen and are even now laying somewhere either unconscious, or unable to walk. Mrs. Collins is, quite naturally, greatly agitated by all this, as you can imagine. Oh, and I believe your father has been sent for by an express letter…I fear by tonight all of your family and friends in Hertfordshire will be in great distress.”

Elizabeth rose and walked over to the fireplace. Without looking at him, she asked softly, “Does it give you pleasure, Everton, to tell me this? Is it merely my pain that you relish so, or does thinking of my family's fears also add to your pleasure?”

“Oh, it is solely looking at you, lovely Elizabeth,” came his soft response.

She glanced back at him, and saw he was staring intently at her. “You move and hold yourself with such grace, my dear. Your sorrowful expression is so lovely, and your eyes…” his voice trailed off.

Elizabeth stared back at him in a mixture of astonishment and anger. “How can you, sir! How can you say such things to me? Can you not see that your words only fill me with disgust?”

“But how your eyes sparkle in your anger!” he replied softly, rising and slowly drawing near to her. “When they do so, I must admit I grow quite impatient to inspire even more passion in those remarkable eyes!”

Elizabeth turned away from him, struggling to keep her emotions under control. He clearly relished drawing out her anger and disgust, and she would not give him the satisfaction of succeeding in doing so.

A servant returned at that moment, and came to clear the table and then build up a fire in the fireplace. As he did so, Elizabeth moved to stand by the window, and Everton slowly ambled over to the doorway. He stood there, looking at Elizabeth until the servant departed. Finally, he spoke quietly, “I will take my leave of you, now, Elizabeth. I greatly look forward to our time together tomorrow.”




Chapter Eighteen - in which Everton offers Elizabeth water

The second day of Elizabeth's imprisonment passed as uneventfully as the first. At one point in the day the serving woman Martha came once again to tidy and clean the room. There was little for her to do, as Elizabeth had slept once again on the floor. And once again, Martha brought no water.

As Elizabeth sat in her window seat, waiting for nightfall and Everton's visit, she could no longer dismiss her great thirst. She was feeling faint, and could no longer stand or move about the room without feeling great dizziness. With each swallow, her thick tongue reminded her of the rawness of her mouth and throat.

While her body also reminded her of her hunger, it was her thirst that was beginning to consume her. `This must be how Everton thinks he will force me to submit,' she thought wearily.

And yet, would he be prepared to let her collapse? She knew if she went much longer without water, she would surely do so. But his desire seemed to be of breaking her will and spirit; if she collapsed physically, surely his cruel game would be spoiled!

When evening came, Everton arrived once again, followed by the servants who quickly set up the evening meal. Elizabeth made no move from the window when the door opened and the servants entered the room. By now she was feeling so faint and weak, every move seemed to exhaust her, and she knew she needed to store up her small reserve of energy for the evening's battle of wills.

Everton stood by the doorway, watching the progress of the servants, with an occasional glance over at Elizabeth. He remained there, saying nothing, until the servants left.

Finally, he came over to the window seat. His eyes scanned Elizabeth's face, and he immediately turned and strode over to the table and filled a wine glass with water from a pitcher. He then turned and walked over to where Elizabeth still sat in the window.

“Do not be a fool, Elizabeth!” he said in low voice. “You desperately need water, or you will collapse. I can see in your eyes you will not ask or beg it of me, so I offer it to you…in exchange for one, small thing.”

Elizabeth stared at the glass of water he held before her, and then slowly raised her eyes to look at him.

“Let down your hair, Elizabeth. I will ask no more of you, merely let down your hair, and you can have all the water you wish.” His voice was low and smooth, without emotion.

Elizabeth shut her eyes to the sight of the water, but she could not shut off the cravings of her body. He was right, she desperately needed water. If she did not drink something soon, she would have no energy left, nothing left to fight this battle of wills. She swallowed, and then swallowed again.

And then, with a small sigh, she lifted her hands, and slowly pulled out the hairpins that held her hair in place. Waves of curls fell down about her face and shoulders, and in a short time, the work was done.

Elizabeth knew she had just lost a battle with Everton, yet he said nothing, but simply handed her the glass of water. She could not keep herself from reaching for it eagerly, and greedily gulping down the cool, clear water it contained.

“More?” asked Everton quietly as she finished the glass.

She numbly nodded. He took the glass, returned to the table to refill it, and brought it back to her again. She took the glass and drank this second one down almost as quickly as the first. As she finished, she looked up at Everton who stood, still silent, before her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes dropping to the floor.

He reached out, and she saw him take up the hairpins that lay at her side. She opened her mouth to protest, but he said in a rough voice, “You must have water, Elizabeth, and the price is to let me enjoy your lovely hair. You must not fight me on this.”

Elizabeth sighed, but said nothing. She meekly let him lead her over to the table to be seated. And again, Everton dined alone.

This evening he did not repeat the bargain of the night before, but merely ate and spoke, as she sat silently. He kept her glass filled with water, and she thought she saw an almost anxious look in his eyes as he looked at her. Everton did not linger over his meal, and this evening there was mercifully no repetition of his veiled innuendoes or comments on her person and his desires.

Once she was left alone again, Elizabeth returned to her seat by the window. Somehow, she felt it to be the place that reminded her least of Everton. She could barely stand to look at the bed, let alone sit or rest upon it, and the chairs by the fire were the location of their evening meals. The window seat was her place when she was alone, when she could think her thoughts, long for the comfort of Jane or Charlotte, and forlornly wonder how this nightmare would ever end.

**

The third day passed as the two before it had, with the only change being that when Martha made her daily visit, this time she brought both a pitcher of water for washing, and a tall pitcher of cool water for drinking.

Elizabeth had never been so glad to wash her face and neck. She looked somewhat longingly at the tub. To take a bath and put on a change of fresh clothing would be heaven! And then she gave a small, rueful smile. To leave this place and be out of Everton's power would be heaven. She would gladly give up the bath and clean clothing for her freedom.

The evening's routine was also little changed, though Everton allowed her water when she once again refused his offer of a meal…for as before, her partaking in the meal was contingent on her joining him in bed.

By now she had been held prisoner for over three days, and had eaten nothing in all that time. She was feeling a constant emptiness in her stomach, and though her weakness was not that of when she had gone without water, she sensed it would not be many more days until the lack of food might cause her to collapse.

Half-way through the meal, Everton suddenly stopped what he had been saying and looked at her closely, in apparent concern. He reached over to a plate, and broke off a thick piece of bread.

“You need food, Elizabeth,” he said in a matter of fact voice. “It is over three days now, and you have eaten nothing. Will you let your pride and defiance cause you to starve?”

Elizabeth met his eyes, and said softly, “I will not submit to you, Everton.”

“But you need not submit, Elizabeth,” he replied softly. “Only make one small, harmless gesture, and you may have this bread.”

Elizabeth stared at the bread, and though she wanted to remain silent, she could not help but ask, “What is the gesture?”

Everton paused for a moment, and then said quietly, “remove your Spencer.”

There was silence. Elizabeth stared at him for a moment, and then looked down at her lap. What he asked was indeed small, and yet…

Under other circumstances, she would have removed the Spencer at home among her sisters without a second thought, for she wore the light-weight jacket for additional warmth and for its appearance, not out of modesty. And yet, such an act now seemed somehow intimate and suggestive. The dress she wore under the Spencer would still fully and modestly cover her…and yet!

Everton slowly reached out and placed the bread on the plate before her.

“You must eat, Elizabeth!” he said softly. “You must have some strength for this battle of wills between us!”

She knew he was right. She knew she was desperate to reach out and take the bread. She bit her lip and trembled in indecision and longing. She glanced down at her Spencer, and found her hands coming up to the top button.




Chapter Nineteen - in which Elizabeth wins a battle


It was only because Everton audibly let out a slow breath that Elizabeth glanced up at him. He was staring intently at where her hands rested, and the look on his face was one of desire and hunger. Instinctively Elizabeth saw that her ravenous longing for the bread was matched by the unrestrained lust and hunger in his eyes.

As if she had received a shock, she flung her hands back onto her lap. “No!” she whispered fiercely.

She swallowed, and then continued softly, “I will not sell myself for a piece of bread.” She raised her eyes to look steadily and calmly at Everton. “I will not submit to you, sir, though I must starve as a consequence.”

Everton swore and rose to his feet, glaring at Elizabeth in anger and frustration. “Your precious pride will only cause you agony, Elizabeth! Will you let your defiance for me win out over reason? Take off the Spencer, and eat! It's so simple!”

“And tomorrow night, or the next night, what will you demand for a second piece of bread, Everton?” she asked quietly, looking back at him calmly. “I understand your game. You know that I could never give in to you all at once, but you think to wear me down slowly, one piece of bread at a time. But I will not let you do so. Once I say `yes' to this one small thing, it will be that much easier to say `yes' again tomorrow.” She shook her head. “So I will always say `no', Everton.”

Everton stared down at her silently, clearly struggling with his anger. He suddenly moved over to Elizabeth and pulled her to her feet. She grimaced at the pain from his rough grasp on both of her arms, but she said nothing and looked back at him, her eyes calm and without fear. He seemed to be searching her eyes and expression for some weakening, but finally he let her go. Everton turned and strode to the door.

He paused as he opened it, and then said in a cold voice, “you are free to eat the meal before you, Elizabeth. I will demand no payment from you.” He stared at her once again with a mixture of anger, frustration, and desire, and then left the room.

Elizabeth sank back down into her chair with a little gasp. She knew she had just won a battle in this ongoing contest of wills. But at what cost? And was there truly any way she could win against such a man?

She looked down at the piece of bread on the plate before her. Her body cried out for her to take it, yet she could not. It represented his bargain, and she could not bring herself to touch it.

She looked at the food left spread on the table before her. `If I do not eat, I will soon be too weak to fight against him,' she thought wearily. `I will soon be too weak to even stand….' And then, with a start, a thought struck her.

What if she did collapse from lack of food? What if she refused to eat until her health was in serious danger? Everton would be forced to act, for she could not imagine he would let her die! He would be forced to seek medical help, or even perhaps to return her to her family. His desire was for conquest, for her admission of defeat by submitting to him. She could not imagine he would have any desire to force himself upon her if she lay weak or even unconscious from lack of food.

By holding her here, alone and unchaperoned for so long, he had long ago succeeded in being able to ruin her reputation in society, should word of this ever become known. He had already achieved his and Lady Catherine's goal of putting a stop to any possibility of marriage between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Surely, he could be content with that victory?

If she could find the strength within herself to refuse food, she might be able to force his hand and bring an end to this imprisonment. If he realized she was willing to take such a risk, rather than submit to him, surely he would bring an end to this battle of wills?




Chapter Twenty - in which Elizabeth loses a battle


Elizabeth was sitting listlessly in the window seat when Martha entered the room the next day. Martha first went to the table, which sat undisturbed from the evening before, and went about removing the plates and dishes.

Martha left the room for a time. When she returned with the usual pitcher of water, two male servants entered behind her, both carrying two pails of steaming water. They promptly went behind the screen and Elizabeth heard the clear sounds of the tub being filled. They left and eventually returned with yet more water.

When they left the room a second time, Martha came out from behind the screen and turned to Elizabeth and said, “There's a bath drawn for you, ma'am, and fresh towels. I'll return in thirty minutes, unless you need help in undressing?”

Elizabeth numbly shook her head. Martha glanced at her, and Elizabeth thought she saw a small glimmer of concern in the woman's eyes, but Martha turned away and quickly left the room.

For several moments Elizabeth remained where she was. And then her desire for the comfort of a warm bath overwhelmed her, and she rose to her feet. She felt her head spin, and quickly reached out one hand to the wall to steady herself. The dizziness passed, and she slowly made her way to the tub behind the screen. There it was, inviting her with warm, steaming water, and several large fluffy towels to the side.

With no more hesitation, Elizabeth removed her clothes, and carefully lowered herself into the warm, comforting water. She could lean her head against the back of the tub, and relished in the feel of the warm water on her legs and arms. She sat up and began to wash herself, finding comfort in the feel of the soft cloth against her skin. One bucket of water was within reach, and she lowered her head into the tub and washed her hair, using the extra pail of water to rinse it clean.

When she finished, she leaned back once again and sighed. Her efforts had completely sapped her energy, and she had to rest for a few minutes to let her heart slow down and to gain the strength necessary to step out of the tub. She heard the door of her room open, and then saw Martha look around the screen.

“Do you need any help, ma'am? Or more water?” Martha asked.

“No, I thank you, Martha,” Elizabeth replied, closing her eyes once again and leaning back with a sigh. Martha moved about for a moment more, and then Elizabeth heard her exit the room.

Eventually, she felt the water starting to cool, and she gathered her strength to first sit up, then slowly rise to her feet, and very carefully stepped out of the tub.

A chair stood immediately before her with the thick towels, and she wrapped herself in these, and then took another to begin to dry her hair. Once she had completely dried herself and wrapped a smaller towel around her hair, she turned to take up her undergarments. As she did so, she thought longingly of fresh linens and a clean dress, but knew that to be impossible.

But within moments, she realized with a sudden chill that she had fallen into a trap.

Her clothing was gone.

On the chair where she had carefully laid out her dress, were now draped what appeared to be an elegant sleeping gown and robe. Wrapped in a towel, she moved out to the main part of the room and hurriedly searched the entire room, but in vain. Martha must have removed her clothing, leaving the new items in their place.

Elizabeth slowly walked back to the chair and inspected the clothing. As she fingered the soft material and saw the delicate lace and then noted the deep, revealing neckline, she gave a little gasp, and sank to her knees from sudden weakness.

The sleeping gown and robe, while not indecent, would make up a bride's trousseau. And yet, she knew without a doubt, this evening she would be forced to wear them when Everton made his nightly call. He had so cleverly trapped her with the temptation of the bath. After last night he had probably concluded she would never put on these things of her own free will, so he had tricked her into a position where it was the only option she had.

With a sigh, she put on the gown, and then tied the robe tightly around herself. As she suspected, both were soft and sensuous to the touch, and though the robe modestly covered her, it clung to her body in such a way that she blushed at the thought of any man seeing her dressed so.

`Another battle won by Everton,' she thought wearily. She sighed, and then moved to her window seat and sat and waited for what would come next.

Chapter Twenty One - in which Mr. Darcy finds Jane in great distress


London, Saturday morning, one day earlier

Darcy lifted the knocker of the Gardiners' home with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. His calling again so soon after his call here with Bingley just days before, and at such an early hour, would no doubt provoke speculation on the Gardiners' behalf, and his stated purpose to make a polite social call seemed to his mind feeble indeed.

To himself he acknowledged he came solely to hear confirmation of Elizabeth's expected arrival later that day. And if so, he knew he would soon be repeating this procedure. To know Elizabeth was close by, and not to see her, was by now to him an utter impossibility.

Those last fateful weeks at Rosings leading up to and following his attempted proposal, he had seen her almost every day. To now have gone for a week without the sight of her, without the sound of her voice, and the pleasure in feeling her presence, was practically unbearable.

He would not countenance the thought that, after her short sojourn in London, he would be separated from her once again. No. He would use every day she was in town to woo her, gently but persistently. He would invent mad excuses to keep her in town, if necessary. And surely Bingley would aid in this campaign to keep the Bennet sisters in town, as Bingley would be equally unwilling to allow any further separation from the woman he loved. And if necessary, he and Bingley would pursue the two sisters back to Hertfordshire, or wherever they went next!

At the thought of Bingley, Darcy glanced around to see if he spotted Bingley's carriage. Darcy suspected that in all probability he would find his friend already ensconced in the Gardiner parlor, continuing his suit with his loving Jane.

But before he found confirmation that Bingley had already arrived, a maid opened the front door. At his request for the ladies of the house, he was escorted to the morning parlor.

The maid opened the door to the parlor and announced him. Darcy promptly began to enter the room, but stopped in surprise, startled at the sight of Jane rushing towards him with a pale face and eyes full of pain and fear. In her hands she grasped a letter.

“I beg your pardon, but I must leave you,” exclaimed Jane. “I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not an instant to lose!”

“Good God! What is the matter?” cried Darcy, with great feeling; but then collecting himself said, “I will not detain you a minute, but let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are not well enough; - you cannot go yourself.”

Jane hesitated, but then called the maid to fetch Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner to the parlor instantly.

Once the servant left, Jane sat down, unable to support herself, and looked so miserably ill, that it was impossible for Darcy to leave her, or refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, “Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take, to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill.”

“No, I thank you;” Jane replied, endeavoring to recover herself. “There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Hunsford.”

She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, took a seat opposite her and could only say something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate silence.

At length, Jane spoke again.

“I have just received a letter from Charlotte Collins, with such dreadful news. Elizabeth is missing -”

“Elizabeth missing!” repeated Darcy with great emotion. “Good God, what do you mean?”

Jane was too lost in her own anxiety to take notice of the intensity of Darcy's reaction.

“Charlotte writes that when they returned from a day's journey away from Hunsford on Wednesday evening, it was found that Elizabeth had not returned from her morning's walk. A search was made that night, and again the next day of the grounds of Rosings Park, but to no avail! Charlotte says an express was sent to my father at Longbourn, who arrived at Hunsford Friday, and that Mr. Collins heads up the search -”

“Mr. Collins!” exclaimed Darcy in disgust at the thought of the incompetence of such a man.

Jane continued in a horrified voice. “But almost three days have now passed and Elizabeth is still not found! Oh, why did my family at Longbourn not send me word of this earlier? Charlotte writes to see if Mr. Gardiner might come to assist in the search, as he may be able to do so with a calmer head than my father under such trying circumstances. The hope is that she has been found by someone, but lays unconscious or ill, and thus her rescuers do not know her identity and to alert those at the parsonage.”

“Three days missing and not yet found!” repeated Darcy in growing concern and anger. He rose and strode towards the door. At that moment, it was opened and first Mrs. Gardiner, and then Mr. Gardiner appeared anxiously at the doorway.

Jane rushed sobbing into the arms of her bewildered aunt, and Mr. Gardiner turned to Mr. Darcy for some explanation of the scene before him.

“We must speak in your study, sir, at once!” Darcy commanded, moving out of the room and across the hallway to the study. Mr. Gardiner immediately followed behind, concern clearly showing on his face.

“What has happened, Mr. Darcy?” demanded Mr. Gardiner in a grim voice as the two men entered the room. “What has taken place to so upset my niece, and what is your part in it?”

“Miss Bennet has just received a letter from Mrs. Collins at Hunsford, sir, with the disturbing news that your niece, Miss Elizabeth, is missing, and has been for these past three days!”

“Elizabeth missing?” weakly repeated Mr. Gardiner.

Mr. Darcy quickly explained what he had just learned from Jane, and then continued, “I trust that you will travel to Hunsford as soon as can be arranged?”

Mr. Gardiner nodded and was about to speak, but Darcy continued in a grim voice, “I will send word to my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and see that he brings some of his men with him to Rosings. I will leave within the hour, and will ride directly to Rosings. Send word to me at Rosings as soon as you arrive at Hunsford parsonage, and I will inform you of all that is known at that time.”

“You, sir? Why do you take this upon yourself?” asked Mr. Gardiner in astonishment.

Darcy paused for a moment, and then replied, “Miss Bennet's disappearance has taken place at Rosings Park. I act for my aunt, Lady Catherine, in many of her estate responsibilities; it is therefore my duty to see that the most thorough, relentless search is made until we find Elizabeth. I can assure you I will not rest until she is found and brought home to safety!”

Mr. Gardiner glanced sharply at Mr. Darcy at his use of Elizabeth's first name. He saw the dark and determined expression on Darcy's face, and said nothing, but made note to mention to his wife that the gentleman seemed to hold feelings for their niece of a much deeper nature than had been previously suspected.

Darcy left the house shortly afterward, and true to his words to Mr. Gardiner, had mounted his fleetest horse and was on the road towards Kent and Rosings within the hour. A short note had been sent express to Colonel Fitzwilliam, a second to Bingley, and a quick explanation given to his sister Georgiana, before he was on the road. He left with no luggage or other personal articles, but gave a hurried order to his valet to pack and follow him with a carriage later that day.




Chapter Twenty Two - in which Mr. Darcy experiences great distress

When he looked back over those dark days, Darcy always remembered them as days filled with a bleakness and horror that gripped his very soul. He showed no emotion, but relentlessly and grimly went about the task of heading up the search for Elizabeth. He had never before ridden his horse at so hard a pace as he did that Saturday morning on the journey to Rosings. Upon arriving, he had stopped directly at Hunsford parsonage to interrogate Mr. Collins on what had been done to date in recovering Elizabeth.

He had left the parsonage in utter anger and disgust at the ineptness of the man, and quickly brought together all the male servants of Rosings and a few volunteers from Hunsford village and the surrounding area to perform a grid by grid search of every square inch of the estate and its surrounds and asking after her in every cottage and house encountered.

That evening, the final report came well past when darkness had fallen. No sign of Elizabeth had been found. The men reporting in had confirmed that all the remote places in the vicinity of Rosings Park that were known to both Darcy and the head forester had been searched.

Darcy sank back into his chair in frustration and anger. To be sitting here, helpless, while Elizabeth lay somewhere unconscious, or perhaps in great pain, was beyond bearing! He prayed to God she had, indeed, been found by someone who for some reason did not know her identity, and that she did not still lie outside in the elements!

He had barely spoken with his aunt, who had greeted his arrival with some exclamation of surprise. “What ever possessed you to concern yourself with this, Darcy!” she had snapped. “Mr. Collins has things well in hand -”

“Mr. Collins is an incompetent fool, Aunt!” retorted Darcy in great irritation. “Miss Bennet has gone missing, most probably on Rosings property. We should be doing all in our power to find her and get her medical relief if necessary. As your representative, this is, of course my responsibility!”

Lady Catherine had sniffed her disagreement, but somewhat uncharacteristically dropped the matter, and began to speak of other things. Greatly irritated at his aunt's ability to speak of trivialities while a young gentlewoman was missing, Darcy had quickly excused himself and gone to his room.

At first light the next morning Darcy directed an expanded search over a much wider swath of land, sending men out in all directions beyond the immediate bounds of Rosings. Late that morning Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived with several of his men, and had immediately joined in the search.

After a long, fruitless search along a stream that ran for several miles west of Hunsford, Darcy had returned to the parsonage, a grim expression on his face and a black gleam in his eye.

He spoke for a time with Mr. Gardiner, who had arrived the night before, as well as Mr. Bennet, but could only inform the gentlemen of what was being done, without any happy news of progress of any kind. The two older men planned to ride off to call on every doctor in the area, in case one had been called to tend to Elizabeth, but who did not know her identity or know to send word to the parsonage of her whereabouts.

As he left the parlor, Mrs. Collins met him in the hallway and escorted him to the door.

Seeking for any clue, some scrap of information on Elizabeth's movements the day of her disappearance, he turned to Charlotte and asked, “Was Eliza - was Miss Bennet unwell that morning, Mrs. Collins? Did she remain behind from your trip to Bayham Abbey due to ill health, or some kind of headache?”

“No, Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was in excellent health and spirits, despite the fact of the unpleasant exchange with your aunt a few evenings before…” Charlotte's voice slowly trailed off at her indiscretion of mentioning that exchange to Mr. Darcy.

“What exchange do you speak of, Mrs. Collins?” Darcy immediately asked in some puzzlement.

Charlotte blushed in discomfort and replied, “this is somewhat awkward, sir.”

“Mrs. Collins, it is imperative that we know of everything that might have some bearing on where Elizabeth went on her walk. You must tell me all the details of the days before her disappearance, regardless of the apparent insignificance!” Darcy snapped in an impatient voice.

“Lady Catherine had sent for Elizabeth to come to Rosings last Sunday afternoon,” Charlotte stated after a short pause. “When Elizabeth returned to the parsonage, she relayed that Lady Catherine had spoken quite rudely to her.”

“On what matter?”

“Lady Catherine had heard a rumor...” Charlotte paused, and then blurted out, “She had heard that you were likely to make an offer of marriage to Elizabeth. She informed Elizabeth that, in Lady Catherine's eyes, such a match was completely unacceptable. Elizabeth did not tell me all that was said, but I believe your aunt was…was very forthright and in Elizabeth's eyes, quite insulting. That was the reason Elizabeth did not accompany us on the trip to Bayham Abbey: Lady Catherine pointedly did not invite her to be one of the party.”

There was a short silence as Darcy took in what Charlotte had just told him. If his anxiety for Elizabeth's wellbeing were less, he knew he would have immediately angrily confronted his aunt for her interference and rudeness to Elizabeth. As it was, it struck him with some agony that, had his aunt not interfered in this way, Elizabeth would not have spent the day alone, and would not have encountered whatever accident had befallen her.

Darcy turned and took his leave of Charlotte, but as he rode back towards Rosings he cursed circumstances, and his aunt's unseemly behavior.

Knowing his temper to be at a very short fuse, he resolved to not speak of his displeasure at his aunt's interference in his affairs until a more opportune time. But late that afternoon, as he sat in the study waiting impatiently for Colonel Fitzwilliam to return with a report of what areas his men had been able to cover, Lady Catherine had joined him.

“You must dress for dinner this evening, Darcy,” she said in her usual imperious manner. “I have invited Squire Mickleby and his wife to join us -”

“I am not here for polite society, Aunt,” Darcy snapped at her in irritation. “I will be riding out with Fitzwilliam upon his return and may not return till late…”

“This is nonsense, Darcy!” Lady Catherine exclaimed angrily. “Just because a chit of a girl is missing for a few days does not mean you can ignore all your responsibilities to society! Let the girl's relatives take the burden. She has no claim on you…and you are unwise to get too involved! What will it look like to our friends and acquaintances? There are already rumors and talk…” She broke off.

Darcy turned to give his aunt a cold, angry stare. “I have heard you had words over those rumors last Sunday with Miss Bennet, Aunt. I do not wish to discuss your actions now, but let me inform you that I will not countenance such interference in my personal affairs!”

“But that schemer should by all rights and decent behavior be no part of your personal affairs, sir! Heed my warning. Stay clear of that Bennet woman, stay clear of this search. She is sure to be returned in a few days and then think of all the gossip. You would be well advised to keep yourself and your family's illustrious name well clear of the talk and speculation!”

Darcy stared at his aunt.

“Madam, I can not believe you would have such unfeeling opinions, let alone be unashamed to express them to me,” he finally stated in an icy cold voice. “I think it best that you leave me, or words may be exchanged that would be unpleasant to both of us!”

Lady Catherine's face turned almost red in her frustration at her inability to direct Darcy to act as she desired. She said nothing, though was clearly struggling to keep her tongue, and then turned and angrily left the room.




Chapter Twenty Three - in which Everton admits defeat


?, later that evening

Elizabeth started at the sound of her door being unlocked. She looked about her, and realized she had dozed off for some time, and it was completely dark outside. She looked over at the doorway, and saw a single servant enter with only a few items.

He worked briefly at the table, and when he moved away, she saw he had set a place only for one, with what appeared to be merely a bowl of plain broth, and several pieces of thick, dark bread. A single glass was set out filled with water.

Everton remained outside the room until the servant left, and only then entered. He walked quietly over to Elizabeth, his eyes never leaving her face as he made his way across the room.

“Elizabeth,” he said in a soft voice, and he came up to her, took her hand, and lifted it to his lips and kissed it lightly.

Elizabeth no longer possessed the strength to pull her hand away or even resist, and simply sat and looked back at him with loathing in her eyes. She expected him to be gloating over his victory in tricking her into her current attire, or at least to be directing his gaze at what she wore, but he seemed to only have eyes for her face.

To her surprise, he sat down next to her on the window seat. He gestured to the table and said softly, “The food is for you Elizabeth. It is yours with no strings attached; there is nothing you must do in payment.”

Elizabeth began to slowly shake her head when he continued in an earnest voice, “You must eat, Elizabeth! I am here to tell you that I was wrong, very wrong, in our battle of wills. I underestimated you, Elizabeth; I underestimated your strength of will and determination. I realized that last night. I should never have used food as a weapon, and I have let you put yourself in danger.”

He gave her a look of honest admiration, and then continued. “That game is over, Elizabeth. I realized how wrong I was last night when you stood gazing at me so calmly with those beautiful eyes of yours. I knew then that I would never see your eyes without that passionate, defiant sparkle, and I suddenly realized I was a fool to want to! You have won, Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth looked at him, startled.

“Won?” she repeated blankly.

Everton smiled. “Yes, I admit defeat, Elizabeth, in our battle of wills.”

“Then…you will let me go?” Elizabeth whispered, a sudden glimmer of hope beginning to grow inside of her.

Everton's eyes swept down over her body and then came back to meet hers. The look in his eyes was dark and possessive, and Elizabeth felt a sinking feeling, even before she heard his next words.

“Oh no, Elizabeth!” he replied softly. “I also realized last night that I must keep you; that I must have you for myself. I must know that those glorious eyes of yours shine only for me!”

Elizabeth stared at him in growing dismay, but she could say nothing in her revulsion at what he was saying.

Everton seemed to take no note of her reaction. He stood up, and placing a hand on each of her arms, firmly drew her to her feet as well. One of his hands slipped around her waist, the other came to cup the side of her face, forcing her to look at him.

“You shall have whatever you desire, my love,” he continued, his voice low and smooth. “I will dress you in the finest gowns, and keep you in an elegant townhouse in London during the Season, and will prepare a special suite of rooms for you at my home in Somerset for when we reside there.” He smiled, his face showing his well-pleased satisfaction and continued. “I am quite sure that I will soon be the envy of all my acquaintances, when they see what a treasure I possess. Ah, Elizabeth, how happy you will make me!” And with those words, he lowered his head to claim her lips.

Elizabeth pushed against him with the little strength she had remaining.

“I will not be your mistress, Everton!” she cried out, her voice scathing in her disgust. “You are mad if you think you can keep me a prisoner forever, and I will most certainly never stay with you willingly! I loathe you, sir! And you can not, you will never, possess me!”

Everton seemed to ignore her words. He allowed her to pull back in his arms, but used it as an opportunity to gain access to the front of her robe, and with a sharp pull, undid the tie.

Elizabeth gasped and tried to pull the robe closed, but he was too quick for her, as his hand darted around her waist under the robe, and he roughly pulled her to him again. His other hand came to her neck. He first pushed down the shoulder of her robe, and then of her sleeping gown, slowly and deliberately exposing her shoulder and then the full curves of much of her breast.

“Once I have had you in my bed, how can you refuse to accept my protection, Elizabeth?” he whispered in a husky voice as he gazed at her. “I have the money and the power to force you to stay, and I am determined to have you!” He kissed her on the lips, roughly and possessively, and then let his lips trace down the side of her neck and down to the soft curves below.

Elizabeth, her head spinning and ears ringing, felt herself mercifully starting to fade into a blackness that shut out the sight and feeling of his embrace. With the little strength left to her, she whispered as defiantly as she could, “I do not submit to you, Everton. And I never will!”

Everton heard her words, and whispered in reply, “And that is why I will never let you go, my lovely Elizabeth!”

He pulled back and gazed greedily at her, and then smiled and began to slowly push down the other shoulder of her gown. And with one last sigh, Elizabeth closed her eyes and willed herself into the merciful oblivion of her exhaustion.

Chapter Twenty Four - in which Mr. Darcy learns the unhappy truth


Rosings, late Sunday afternoon, several hours earlier

As his aunt closed the study door, Darcy slammed down his fist on a pile of papers on the desk in front of him, both in anger at Lady Catherine and frustration at the fruitlessness of the search for Elizabeth. Several papers were knocked out of place by his sudden movement, a few drifting down to the floor. Darcy stared angrily at the desk for some time, but then, with a sigh, his instinctive meticulousness in such matters drove him to slowly lean over to pick up the papers and return them to their original place.

He glanced at each one as he did so, and was suddenly struck with the content of what he held in his hand. He stared almost blankly at the sheet for several moments, and then gripped it firmly, held it directly before him on the desk and read it yet again. What he saw both angered and astounded him, and he fought for control of his furious response, before rising and striding out of the room.

Upon seeing the butler in the hall, he demanded to be informed of the whereabouts of his aunt. On being told she was presently in the drawing room, he strode to the room and bursting in, with no other words, held up the paper to his aunt and angrily demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“How dare you march in here and speak to me in such a way!” retorted Lady Catherine in great haughtiness. “Whatever are you speaking of?”

“I mean this bill of sale and exchange for the Delesford estate, Aunt,” Darcy replied coldly. “When I left here last week it was with your promise and assurance that you would not agree to Everton's proposal, not even for the additional moneys he proposed. And now I see you have not only agreed, but signed an agreement that is in Everton's favor by almost a thousand pounds! What were you thinking of? What did Everton do to make you agree to such a senseless thing?”

Lady Catherine went white for a moment. She then shook her head and muttered some incomprehensible words, and finally rose to her feet and exclaimed heatedly, “You are not to speak to me in this way, sir! I will not tolerate such insolence, even from my own nephew!”

Darcy stared at her coldly. “You do not answer my question, Aunt! What could Everton possibly have said or done to convince you to agree to this? You knew what Delesford is worth! This agreement does much harm to your own daughter, Anne's, holdings. Why would you agree to practically pay Everton for this arrangement? What did he do that you would reward him, of all people, in such a way?”

Lady Catherine pursed her lips and shook her head, clearly growing distraught and uncomfortable, but said not a word. Darcy was struck by the unusualness of her behavior. He stared at his aunt, and then at the piece of paper in his hand. And a sudden, cold thought gripped his soul.

He looked up slowly and stared fiercely at his aunt. “What has Everton done for you, madam?” he repeated in a voice that was grim and cold.

“He has done nothing…”

Darcy interrupted her, another thought suddenly striking him. “And why just now did you say that Elizabeth would `be returned'? She is thought to have fallen or to be lost…your words sound like you think she ….” His voice failed him at the thought. He swallowed and continued, “That she was taken by someone.”

“I said no such thing, and…and there is talk of gypsies, is there not? That is what I meant!” replied his aunt in growing consternation.

“No, Aunt, there is no talk of gypsies!” retorted Darcy, his voice growing harsher and louder. “You spoke of gossip at Elizabeth's return, of talk and speculation that I must stay clear of.”

Darcy took a step closer to tower over his aunt. “Tell me Aunt, why do you warn me of gossip and speculation, unless Elizabeth is in danger of some person's action that could bring about such things?”

“This is not to be borne...” Lady Catherine began to stutter when Darcy suddenly grabbed her by both shoulders and shouted at her, “Tell me what Everton has done for you, Aunt! What could he possibly do to merit a reward of over a thousand pounds?”

“He is ensuring that chit of a girl will never ensnare you, and cheat my Anne of a husband, and our family of its illustrious name!” screamed out Lady Catherine.

There was silence as Darcy immediately released his hold on his aunt, and simply stared at her, not believing what he had heard.

“He is merely showing you how easily she can be seduced by money, Darcy!” Lady Catherine continued in an almost pleading voice. “He said it would take little effort for him to convince her to go away with him for a few days! He will return the girl in a day or two to her family, well rewarded for her time, and all this fuss will be over. Her family will keep the affair quiet, and that scheming woman can be packed off out of the way to some quiet place. But you will have seen her for what she is: a fortune hunter who is easily seduced by any man with money, and a woman whose low connections make her completely unworthy to have her name coupled, even in rumors, with yours!”

Darcy remained silent, stunned.

“You will thank me, Darcy!” cried out Lady Catherine.

“Do not try to tell me you truly believed Everton, that you honestly thought it possible that she would go with him willingly, Aunt!” Darcy finally spat out, his voice ringing in contempt. “Do not lie to me - or to yourself! - that you do not realize, no matter what Everton said to you, that Elizabeth was taken against her will!”

Lady Catherine turned red, but said nothing.

“Where did he take her?” demanded Darcy in a cold, seething voice.

“I do not know -“

“Where did he take her? Where does he now hold her?” Darcy was shouting again, and had seized Lady Catherine once more.

“I do not know!” whimpered Lady Catherine in fear at such burning anger.

“What do you know?” barked out Darcy, releasing her.

“Only that he planned to try to convince her to leave with him on the day of the trip to Bayham Abbey, knowing he would have several hours before her disappearance was noted. But I know not where he planned to take her...”

Darcy turned and strode out of the room. Lady Catherine called after him, “Everton will return her, Darcy! There's no need for you to be involved! It will all be right in a day or two! There's no need for you to sully your name!” The door had long since been slammed behind him, and Lady Catherine was crying out to only a door.

If Darcy's ride from London to Rosings was a dark memory, the next several hours were the blackest hell of rage and cold fear. He met up with the newly returned Colonel Fitzwilliam as Darcy strode towards the stables to have his horse saddled. Quickly apprising his cousin of what he had just learned, they spoke hurriedly and almost dispassionately of where Everton could be holding Elizabeth.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had quickly thought of Everton's Blackmore Hall, a several hours ride away. Everton's large estate in Somerset was quickly ruled out as unlikely and too far, and one or two other of his known holdings considered. But both men quickly agreed Blackmore seemed the most likely: it was the right distance, and was remote and private, on a considerable holding of woods and private lands. “Ideal for holding someone prisoner without detection,” Darcy said grimly.

And then had begun the long, hard ride and hours of Darcy thinking in agony of Elizabeth: Elizabeth in fear. Elizabeth assaulted by Everton. Elizabeth in pain. Elizabeth.

While not all of Fitzwilliam's men had yet returned, three had ridden with the two cousins. The ride was grim and silent, the riders pushing their horses as hard as they dare, given the distance and the growing darkness. Fortunately, both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy knew the country well and unerringly chose the lanes and byways that would bring them most quickly to their goal.

Now and then Colonel Fitzwilliam glanced Darcy's way; he had not thought it possible to see such stark, cold rage in his cousin's expression.

And then, finally, after dark, Blackmore Hall was reached. The men rode silently up the lane that led to the Hall and drew near to the building. And as they dismounted, Colonel Fitzwilliam suddenly grabbed Darcy's arm and pointed upwards. Darcy looked to where his cousin pointed, and saw a window on an upper floor with shutters boarded shut.

“Oh G-d!” Darcy swore, and strode up the entry stairs, two at a time. He flung open the unlocked front door, and began to race up the central stairway long before an anxious looking servant had stumbled into the hallway from the back of the house. One of Colonel Fitzwilliam's men remained behind to deal with the servant, as the Colonel and his other men followed in Darcy's wake.

Darcy raced up the double flight of stairs, and quickly ascertained which door he sought, and grabbed at the door, only to find it locked. He swore again, and then with two fierce attempts, forced the door open.

He almost fell into the room with his momentum, and then came to a dead stop at the sight of Everton holding a dark haired woman in his arms.

“By G-d, if you have harmed her…!” Darcy shouted as Everton turned in his surprise at the sudden explosion into the room. And as Everton turned, Darcy saw the agonized eyes of Elizabeth, and lost all awareness but of the need to break the body of the man who could cause his beloved such pain.

His rage possessed him like a madman, and he fought like a wild animal. Everton had no chance to return even a single blow, but was pummeled and beaten within an inch of his life by the dark, cold fury of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

It was only the intervention of Colonel Fitzwilliam and one of his men who literally pulled Darcy off Everton that prevented him from killing Everton. But Colonel Fitzwilliam's quiet words “you must go to Elizabeth, Darcy!” broke through his rage in a way nothing else could.

He turned wildly and looked for her. She lay huddled on the floor, desperately trying to pull a robe up to modestly cover herself. Her expression was one of utter agony. With a gasp, Darcy quickly moved to her side, and pulled her into his arms and held her tightly against his heart.

“You are safe, my love,” he whispered. “I have come for you, and will never let you go!” He looked down, and saw she now lay almost lifeless in his arms. He reached for her wrist, felt her weak pulse and knew she was in a state of shock and exhaustion. And then he noted with disgust her attire and exposed curves. Without another word, Darcy removed his great coat, wrapped her tightly in it, and lifted her into his arms and strode to the door.

“Morland Manor is less than an hour's ride from here, Darcy,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, looking up from bending over Everton. “You know my father would gladly allow you its use! Take the freshest horse and bring her there. You can get her medical care there, and what ever else she may need. I will see to…things here.”

Darcy nodded grimly, and with one final cold look at Everton's prone and bloody body, strode out of the room cradling a precious burden in his arms.

Well?

END VOLUME II

VOLUME III

Chapter Twenty Five - in which Mr. Darcy is forced to wait


Morland Manor, late Sunday evening

Darcy paced anxiously back and forth before the unlit fireplace in the entry hall of Morland Manor. He occasionally stopped to glance up the stairs in the direction of the room where he knew the doctor was examining Elizabeth, and then began his nervous pacing again. The doctor had been in her room for a good thirty minutes, and yet there was still no sign of him. This was impossible, to be forced to wait here so helplessly and impotently, while Elizabeth was in pain and distress!

He strode over to the doorway that led to the drawing room. Flinging the doors open in frustration, he entered the darkened room. Dust cloths covered the furniture, and the room smelled closed and stale. His uncle's small manor house had been closed up for several months now, with only the Biddles and an errand boy staying on to care for the place.

Darcy reflected on how, only a little more than an hour before, he had pounded insistently at the Manor's front door. It had felt like an eternity before Biddle, in nightclothes, his white hair rumpled, and looking somewhat shaken, had come to the door. Darcy had been cradling Elizabeth's still form in his arms, and had resorted to kicking at the door to try to raise someone. Biddle had held up a candle and stared at him in some confusion and suspicion. But an instant later Biddle recognized him, exclaiming, “Mr. Darcy! At this hour! Can I help you, sir?”

Darcy had stridden past him into the hallway, given a quick glance around, and then started up the staircase, calling out in a commanding voice, “Send for a doctor quickly, Biddle! This lady is in great distress. And send Mrs. Biddle up immediately with some light!”

“Yes, sir! At once, sir!”

Darcy had been a frequent guest of his uncle at Morland Manor, and knew the principal rooms well. He quickly mounted the stairs, and strode to the door that he knew led to the room used by his aunt. Biddle had hurried away down the hallway to call out to his wife, taking his candle with him, and for a few minutes Darcy stood in darkness.

There was no sound but his pounding heart and ragged breathing. He bent his head, and held his breath for a moment. Elizabeth lay still in his arms. Though he could not see her face, he could hear Elizabeth's quiet breathing and feel her soft, warm breath against his face.

“Oh Elizabeth!” he whispered in almost a sob. “Oh my love, what has he done to you?”

A light appeared below, and grew steadily brighter, and he made out the figure of Mrs. Biddle hurrying across the entrance hall and up the stairs. She had obviously just arisen from bed, her short, plump figure wrapped in a heavy wool robe, a long grey braid of hair hanging down her back. She looked up anxiously at Darcy as she came to the top of the stairs.

“Mr. Darcy, what has happened? What ails the lady?”

“Help me put the lady in my aunt's room, Mrs. Biddle,” he ordered in a low and urgent voice. Mrs. Biddle gave him one searching look, but then briskly moved forward to open the door. With a quickness somewhat belied by her short, plump form, she turned down the covers of the bed, and then began to light several candles that stood on tables about the room.

She had moved over to the fireplace as Darcy had gently lain Elizabeth down on the bed, and began to remove his great coat from around her still form. Mrs. Biddle came up beside him, saying, “Let me help you, sir.”

At that moment Darcy, carefully keeping one arm about her as he removed the coat, had gently lain Elizabeth back down against the pillows. Mrs. Biddle gave a sharp, shocked gasp. Darcy turned to look at her, and seeing a shocked look upon the woman's face as she looked down, quickly turned back to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was covered now only by the low-cut sleeping gown. The shoulders of the gown had slipped completely down to her side, revealing dark blue and brown bruises on her upper arms, as well as the curves of most of her breasts. Mrs. Biddle immediately pushed Darcy aside, and briskly pulled the bed covers up over Elizabeth's body. She then turned and firmly said, “You must leave now, sir. I will care and tend to the lady now.”

“But Mrs. Biddle -” Darcy had begun to protest, but she stared up at him with a fierce, reproving glare and interrupted him in a voice that would broker no opposition. “You've no further business being in the lady's bedchamber, sir! She needs some tending, but I won't do it with you in the room. Now, go fetch Biddle and tell him to bring me some warm water and some linens!”

Darcy had seen there was to be no argument with the fiercely determined housekeeper staring defiantly up at him, and had meekly turned and left the room to find Biddle.

After being informed by Biddle that the young errand boy, Henry, had already been sent off to fetch the local doctor, Darcy had taken up his post in the entrance hall. And thus began his long wait of frustrating uselessness. Mrs. Biddle had remained in the room with Elizabeth, while her husband had hurried up and down the stairs at Mrs. Biddle's bidding. At one point Biddle had asked if he could make up a room for Mr. Darcy, or start a fire in one of the parlors. Darcy had merely waved him away, only asking for some brandy to be brought when Biddle had some spare time.

It seemed an eternity, but in actuality was probably closer to three quarters of an hour when the doctor had ridden up to the house. Darcy himself had flung open the door, and hurriedly explained to the doctor as he led him up the stairs that the young woman needing attention had been held captive for several days, and appeared to be in a state of shock.

The doctor had merely grunted acknowledgement, and disappeared into Elizabeth's room, Mrs. Biddle firmly closing the door after his entry on Darcy's frustrated face. Darcy had stared for a few moments at the closed door, listening intently, but could hear nothing. Eventually, he had turned and paced in the hallway before the door.

Mrs. Biddle had come out after several minutes, seen him, and shooed him to wait downstairs with the words, “The doctor will need some time to examine the lady, sir. You can do no good here. Now take yourself downstairs and get some rest, or at least a bite to eat! I'll have Biddle bring you some cold things from the kitchen.”

So Darcy had continued his agonizing vigil in the entry hall. When Biddle had come with some wine and cold meats and bread, Darcy had him put them down on a side table, but found he could not bear to eat or drink anything.

He strode now, silently, over to one of the large drawing room windows that opened up to the broad expanse of the lawn and drive that led up to the manor house. He stared out into the darkness, and silently prayed for the woman who lay in the room immediately above him.

And then, finally, he heard the sound of a door opening and closing above him. The doctor's voice could be heard speaking in a low murmur, followed by Mrs. Biddle's answering tones. Darcy moved swiftly to the open door of the drawing room, and saw the doctor beginning to descend the stairs.

“What word, doctor?” he asked in an anxious voice.

The doctor sighed as he came down the stairs. Darcy's entire body tightened in anxiety, but then the doctor met his searching gaze and gave a weary smile. He reached the bottom of the stairs and said quietly, “I do not believe the lady is in any lasting danger, sir.”

“Thank God!” Darcy exclaimed, leaning back against the doorframe in relief. The doctor came over to him and put one hand on Darcy's shoulder.

“The young woman is in shock, and in a state of extreme exhaustion, sir. She is still unconscious, and I believe will remain so for many hours. As I examined her, I found some ugly bruising on her shoulders and arms.”

Darcy grimaced as he remembered the sight.

The doctor continued. “But she has sustained no wounds. She is extremely weak, with a very faint pulse. I believe the greatest threat to her health is her body's utter exhaustion…it is almost as if she was starving. The pallor and looseness of skin and the appearance of sudden weight loss: she would appear to have been both extremely dehydrated and lacking in nourishment.”

“Was she was given no food?” Darcy exclaimed with some horror.

“It would appear so, but I will not be able to completely determine that until she awakens and I can question her. I will return in the late morning, towards midday. I believe she will have awoken by then. I have left Mrs. Biddle with directions for the lady's care in the meantime, and instructions on what to do should she awaken. She needs water and nourishment, but nothing too rich, or her body will reject it.”

Darcy nodded somewhat woodenly.

The doctor paused, and then looking at Darcy seriously in the eyes, continued. “Sir, I believe the most lasting and serious danger to the young woman is the shock to her spirits from her experience. You tell me she was held against her will. The bruises on her arms indicate that-” the doctor paused awkwardly.

His voice dropped and took on a neutral tone, “- that she may have been assaulted. When she comes to, and in the days ahead, she will no doubt experience a great deal of anguish and fear at the memory of what has taken place.” Darcy nodded, biting his lip in frustrated anger at being unable to spare Elizabeth the anguish the doctor described.

The doctor continued. “Sir, if you could send for the lady's family, a mother or a sister, or a dear and close woman friend…she will need comfort and love from someone to whom she can confide her feelings. To give her that would be by far the best thing you can do for her now.”

And so Darcy had sat down immediately, and penned several letters to be sent express at the earliest light. One was to his uncle, alerting him to Darcy's presence in his home. A second was sent to his man of business in London, and the third to Mr. Bennet at Hunsford parsonage. In the letter he briefly wrote that Elizabeth was found and safe, and urged Mr. Bennet to travel immediately to Mr. Gardiner's home in London. Darcy's man could then make arrangements for one of the Darcy carriages to bring both Mr. Bennet and Miss Jane Bennet to Morland Manor as soon as they could possibly come.

It was only after the letters were written and sealed, and firm instructions given to Biddle that they were to be sent at the earliest opportunity, that Darcy allowed Mrs. Biddle to shoo him to bed. She had made up his usual chamber, and he saw that a small fire was set in the room and the dust coverings removed from the furniture. With an exhausted sigh, he sank into an easy chair by the fire and stared at the fire for several moments, suddenly bereft of any strength.

`Elizabeth is safe,' he thought, almost woodenly. `Thank God, I have found her, and she is safe.' And with a solemn resolve that he would do everything in his power to keep her safe from that moment forward, he moved over to the bed, removed his boots, loosened his neck cloth, and sank back on the bed, falling asleep atop the covers in utter physical and emotional exhaustion.




Chapter Twenty Six - in which Mr. Darcy receives a scolding

A bright golden beam of sunshine warmed Darcy's face and woke him from his exhausted sleep in the mid morning. He arose, and, splashing some water on his face to freshen himself, strode out of the room, oblivious to his rumpled clothes and bare feet.

He immediately came to a stop outside Elizabeth's door. He could hear nothing, and he half wavered at the thought of opening the door and looking in on her. But even as his hand reached out towards the door, a sharp voice called out from the stairs, “Now Mr. Darcy, you are not to go in the lady's bedchamber! She is still sleeping soundly, sir, if that's what you're wanting to know.”

Mrs. Biddle stood at the top of the stairs with a disapproving look upon her face, her arms crossed, and one foot tapping slightly in irritation.

Darcy felt like a young schoolboy caught by a stern governess at some mischief. He flushed a little in irritation, and somewhat weakly began to protest, “Mrs. Biddle, I understand your concern for propriety - ”

“- Yes, sir, exactly. Your uncle, the Earl, holds Mr. Biddle and me accountable for the care of this house and what goes on under this roof. The young lady is my responsibility. And I won't be having you invade her privacy or being where you ought not to be, even though things are so irregular, with you coming here in the middle of night with the young lady in your arms.”

Darcy had to smile a little at the fiercely loyal propriety of his uncle's housekeeper. “Yes, you are quite correct, Mrs. Biddle. It is just that I am so concerned to know of Eliza - of Miss Bennet's current state of health. Has she awoken at all during the night?”

Mrs. Biddle's expression softened a little as she came to stand by Darcy. “No, sir. I sat watch all these hours, and she never stirred. Mary, the day maid, has come and sits with her now, and she'll ring as soon as there's any sign of the young lady's stirring.”

She paused, and then asked, “Her name is Miss Bennet, sir?”

“Yes, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“She seems a lovely young lady, sir, if I may say so.”

“Yes, she is indeed,” Darcy replied softly and almost wistfully. He shook his head, and then said, “I have sent word to my uncle of what has occurred, and I have mentioned what enormous help you and Mr. Biddle have been under such unusual circumstances.”

“Oh, sir, we are both glad to be of what help we can. Mr. Biddle says you anticipate that the Colonel may arrive sometime today?”

“Yes, and a gentleman and young lady likely within another day. They are Mr. and Miss Bennet, family to Miss Elizabeth.”

“Ah, then her people will hopefully bring some of Miss Bennet's clothing with them,” Mrs. Biddle remarked.

Darcy was suddenly reminded of the sight of Elizabeth in the revealing sleeping gown, and realized he and Elizabeth had arrived at Morland Manor with only the clothes on their backs.

“Ah yes, I realize I must send for my valet to bring my things,” he said, looking down at his rumpled appearance with some ruefulness. He glanced once again at Elizabeth's door, and then impulsively said, “Mrs. Biddle, I only wish to have a quick look at Elizabeth. I have been in such fear for her -”

“No, sir, I must forbid you from her chamber!”

“But I am going to marry her, Mrs. Biddle!” he protested half amused, but also with some irritation at this frustration at not getting his way on such a harmless request. “Surely I can look in on my future wife with no harm to her reputation!”

“And what would her father say to that, sir?” demanded Mrs. Biddle narrowing her eyes.

“Well, I have not yet-”

“- so you have not yet asked the gentleman's permission to wed the lady, sir?”

Darcy gave an exasperated sigh. “I have not yet had the opportunity, Mrs. Biddle! I full intend to-”

“- and I fully intend to act the part of the young lady's guardian while she is under the Earl's roof until such time as a better guardian is here. And since you are not her publicly acknowledged betrothed, then that is not you, sir.”

“But we have -” Darcy, in great frustration, searched for words. “…an understanding, an agreement that I may court her….I have declared myself…!”

“There's much that can happen between declarations of love and the banns being published, sir! Once her father arrives, I'll let him be the judge, and you can ask permission from him. But you're not to step a foot inside the lady's chamber until then. Do you hear me, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy stared back at her in utter exasperation.

“Do you promise me this, Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Biddle doggedly demanded.

He finally gave her a curt, exasperated nod, and stormed back to his room, slamming the door behind him.



Chapter Twenty Seven - in which Elizabeth cries and receives comfort


Morland Manor, Monday morning

Elizabeth gave a little sigh and thought with some pleasure how warm and content she felt. Her cheek was resting on something soft and smooth, and she caught the faintest whiff of lavender. She snuggled under the covers a little further and thought, `how delightfully soft my bed feels this morning, and how perfectly content I would be to lay here for hours!' She kept her eyes tightly closed, willing herself to stay in this lovely, half-dreaming state.

But the cheerful sounds of bird songs began to make their way into her consciousness, as well as the soft crackle of a fire. These were sounds of morning, and she knew she was rapidly losing the battle of remaining asleep. Very unwillingly, she opened her eyes to gaze sleepily about her room.

Her drowsy gaze fell first on a large, upholstered chair placed just a few feet from her bed, and then took in that a young woman with the appearance of being a serving maid was sitting in the chair and working on some mending.

Elizabeth looked at the woman in some puzzlement, but with no real alarm, even though the woman was unknown to her. She felt so strangely tired, she did not believe she had the energy to feel anything beyond her puzzlement. So Elizabeth simply lay on her side, looking at the woman for a few moments. Perhaps once her head was clear from her morning grogginess she would remember who this servant woman was.

Her growing curiosity seemed to feed her mind the energy it needed to start puzzling through her current surroundings. She turned her head to look about and realized she did not recognize the room she lay in, nor have any idea how she came to be here. She began to slowly rise on one arm, and her movement caught the attention of the serving woman.

“Oh, miss, you're awake!” the woman exclaimed.

Elizabeth turned to look at her, and said in a puzzled voice, “I am very sorry, but I have no idea who you are, or where I am. Could you tell me -” She stopped with a sudden gasp.

Suddenly, memories came flooding back of Everton's gloating face, of his hands on her body, and his lips on her skin. She shut her eyes and shuddered. She then opened her eyes to stare almost wildly at the maid who by now was standing. In a voice full of anxiety and fierceness, Elizabeth demanded, “Where I am? And where is Everton?”

“You're at Morland Manor, ma'am,” hurriedly replied the woman. “I…I don't know who Mr. Everton may be…I was told to fetch Mrs. Biddle as soon as you woke, miss. She can tell you what you want to know!” and with a quick dip at an awkward curtsey, the maid scurried across the room and out the door.

Elizabeth lay back in the bed and searched her memory for an explanation of what was happening. She remembered the agony of enduring Everton's touch, but what then?

In her mind she was back in her prison room, closing her eyes to block out the sight of Everton, and willing herself into oblivion. But even as she let the darkness and silence enfold her, she had somehow registered a muffled noise from somewhere far away. She had been past caring what occasioned the sound; she had felt only a desire for her mind to escape from what she could not bear to acknowledge was happening.

But the noise had come again, louder. Indeed, loud enough that Everton must have heard it also, for she had felt him loosen his hold on her slightly. And at that instant she had heard a loud voice and then felt herself flung to the floor, as Everton had unexpectedly released her. It had seemed to her clouding vision that he was pulled violently backwards, and then she had heard the sound of fist hitting bone.

Elizabeth's head had been spinning and her heart pounding as the room seemed to swirl madly around her. She had tried with all her might to make out what was happening, but could only determine that two figures seemed to be in a deadly struggle…or rather that one figure - Everton - was repeatedly taking blow after blow from a tall, dark figure. Everton had sunk to the floor, and the other figure pounced upon him, roughly grabbing him by the head and making ready to land yet another blow, when a man's voice called out and other figures had intervened.

Everton's attacker had suddenly swung around. With her vision rapidly fading, Elizabeth remembered seeing the sweating, dark eyed, almost wild expression of Fitzwilliam Darcy. He had looked directly at her, and his expression was one of utter revulsion and disgust.

Elizabeth remembered now the chilling wave of freezing cold wash over her and grip her heart, as she saw how he looked at her. She had struggled to find her voice, but could not speak, could not even open her mouth. With a final feeble effort at pulling the robe up to cover herself, she had searched his eyes for some sign of softness, but finding only blackness staring back at her, she had uttered a forlorn little sigh and let the blackness of her own mind mercifully envelope her.

And now, where was she? How much time had passed? Oh, surely Mr. Darcy had taken her away from that awful place! No matter what disgust he had had for her in seeing her in Everton's embrace, Mr. Darcy would surely still have seen that she was returned to her family!

What must he think of her, to have been dressed so! To have been found even as Everton had been-- She bit her lip and shook her head at the feelings of revulsion that came up in nauseating waves at the memory of Everton's hands and lips upon her body.

She looked down and saw to her great relief that she no longer wore the revolting gown. She had somehow come to be clothed in a soft, cotton nightgown, primly buttoned all the way up to the neck. It was far too large for her, though she also saw the arms were several inches too short. Clearly, she was wearing a gown of someone much shorter and far plumper than herself.

She gave a little tearful laugh at the sight of how the bodice of the gown billowed about her, but then blushed at the thought of someone removing the other gown, and dressing her in this one.

Who had tended to her? The maid she had just seen? What could the maid have thought at the sight of her previous attire? Oh, where was she?

The door opened, and Elizabeth looked anxiously up to see a short, plump matron of her mother's age or perhaps somewhat older, enter the room. Seeing Elizabeth looking anxiously at her, the woman smiled, and came forward quickly, saying,

“Ah, you have awaken Miss Bennet. I am glad! I am Mrs. Biddle, the housekeeper here at Morland Manor. We have all been anxiously waiting for you to awaken!”

“I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Biddle,” Elizabeth replied, automatically falling into her normal pattern of manners despite such unusual circumstances. “I am afraid I feel most confused, ma'am. Can you tell me where I am, and how I came to be here?”

“You're at Morland Manor, my dear. Mr. Darcy brought you here late last night. You can't remember because you have been unconscious for some time. The doctor saw you last night and said you were in a state of shock, and very weak indeed!”

Mrs. Biddle by now had come to stand directly beside the bed and looked down somewhat anxiously at Elizabeth. She studied Elizabeth's face briefly, and then gave a reassuring smile. “I have orders to see that you drink plenty of water, and start getting some nourishment as soon as you came to. I've sent Mary to bring up some broth, and a piece or two of plain bread. The doctor says you probably won't be able to take much more than that. Are you hungry, Miss Bennet?”

“Oh, Mrs. Biddle, I believe I am ravenous!” exclaimed Elizabeth, suddenly realizing her great hunger.

“Let me plump up these pillows then, and you just sit back and rest yourself, Miss Bennet. The doctor gave very strict orders that you are to rest and not exert yourself in any way, at least not until he comes and examines you again.”

Mrs. Biddle searched Elizabeth's face again and with a slightly anxious tone to her voice asked, “Do you feel any pain, dear? I saw the bruises on your arms...”

Elizabeth blushed a little, and hurriedly shook her head. “No, Mrs. Biddle, other than feeling rather weak, I believe I feel…” her voice caught, and she finished very softly, “No, I feel no pain.”

But this was a lie. She felt no physical pain, but she was suddenly overwhelmed with her sense of revulsion at what Everton had attempted, and felt a sudden welling up of all the emotions of fear and anger and helplessness that she had somehow managed to keep in check all during her imprisonment. Tears came to her eyes, and she bit her trembling lip to keep herself under some measure of control.

At that moment, she felt a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder, and a soft, caring voice saying, “Ah, my poor dear, I fear you have suffered a great deal these past few days! I do not know all that you have been through, but I know that you must have been in great fear and terror. It is natural and good for you to shed some tears. Everyone here will understand.”

“Oh, Mrs. Biddle!” Elizabeth had managed to stutter out, when tears began to stream down her face, and she felt herself caught up in a warm, strong, motherly embrace. Elizabeth sobbed and sobbed onto the shoulder of this woman she knew not at all, but who was the first source of comfort and kind companionship that she had experienced since she had been abducted from Rosings Park.

Mrs. Biddle said nothing but the occasional, “Dear, dear,” holding the sobbing woman tenderly, eventually rubbing her back, and softly stroking her hair. The older woman was reminded of giving comfort to a small child, Elizabeth clung so woefully to her. But eventually the storm of tears began to subside, and Elizabeth simply lay motionless against her shoulder, breathing heavily.

Mrs. Biddle finally pulled back a little to look in Elizabeth's eyes, pushing back a few errant curls that had fallen forward. “You needed a good cry, my dear,” she said in a quiet voice. “Do you feel a little better, now?”

Elizabeth gave Mrs. Biddle a wobbly smile and nodded her head a little. At that moment a quiet knock on the door was heard, and Mary entered the room with a tray of food. Mrs. Biddle took out a handkerchief to wipe Elizabeth's eyes as well as her own, and then helped her to sit up against several thick fluffy pillows that she plumped up against the headboard.




Chapter Twenty Eight - in which Mrs. Biddle says some disturbing things

Elizabeth had eaten what she could of the broth, and eagerly drank several glasses of water, and even a little mild chamomile tea, but her stomach had somehow rebelled at the sight of the bread. Mary was just removing the tray when a knock sounded at the door, and a man entered, and she was introduced to the doctor.

Blushing a little under his examination - all during which Mrs. Biddle stood vigilantly by with a slight frown upon her face - Elizabeth maintained her composure enough to try to calmly answer his questions and speak of what had taken place.

But the effort drained her of her energy. As the doctor rose to leave her, he glanced down at her pale face, and said, “You need some rest now, Miss Bennet. I will call on you again tomorrow morning, but until then, I am ordering complete bed rest, and taking as much broth and plain bread as your body will allow you.”

After the doctor left the room, Mrs. Biddle had quickly pulled the curtains and then tucked Elizabeth in. “Sleep now, Miss Bennet. Remember you are safe, and that your father and sister will arrive tomorrow to comfort and care for you.” And with a grateful sigh Elizabeth had sunk into the soft pillows, and fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**

It must have been quite late in the day when she awoke. As she opened her eyes and saw her surroundings, a sense of comfort and peace immediately enveloped her. She was safe. Mr. Darcy had rescued her from Everton, and her father and Jane were on their way to her.

Unbidden, the picture in her mind of her last memory of Mr. Darcy, with his look of disgust and revulsion as he looked at her, came to mind. She gave a sad sigh.

Yes, she was safe, but Everton's and Lady Catherine's intended damage had been done. Mr. Darcy would never forget what he had seen. He knew how long she had been alone with Everton, and given what he had seen when he burst into the room, had no doubt drawn conclusions on what Everton had done.

She desperately wished to speak with Mr. Darcy to let him know how deeply grateful she was to him for his aid, and yet she also dreaded to see his face and the look of - what? Would she see pity in his eyes? Would he smile politely - and no doubt kindly - but in his gaze show he knew he was looking upon a woman whose reputation Everton had completely ruined?

She did not think she could bear to see his polite pity. Oh, she knew he would never accuse her of indecent behavior, he knew she was the innocent victim of Everton's machinations. But it did not change the fact of what Mr. Darcy had seen. And what that must mean to his former intentions to court her.

She gave another sigh at the sadness of knowing that he would always now think of her with pity and perhaps even some disgust. And that once he had been able to think of her with admiration and love. Elizabeth felt an almost physical pain in her heart: how close she had been to fully returning his regard! But that was a dream that was completely over and gone.

She could not let herself dwell on her regrets. Everton and Lady Catherine may have succeeded in their aim of ruining any possibility of marriage between Mr. Darcy and herself, but she would not let them completely ruin her happiness and peace of mind.

She reminded herself that she had not let her will or her spirit be broken throughout her captivity. “I did not submit!” she fiercely whispered to herself. “Even Everton admitted I had won our battle of wills. I will hold my head up high, despite what I know will be whispered about me by those who hear of my captivity. I will always know that I never betrayed my honor or my conscience!”

She eventually sat up and leaned against the headboard, glancing about the room. It was lovely, decorated in an elegant, feminine style, and she wondered to whom it belonged.

Mrs. Biddle had said she was at Morland Manor, but Elizabeth had no idea whose home it was, or why Mr. Darcy had brought her here. She suspected it must belong to someone in his family or a close acquaintance, and prayed it was someone who would be discrete about her presence here.

But then she chided herself that there would be no question that Mr. Darcy would see to that. In the short time of looking at Mr. Darcy with newly opened eyes, she had no doubt that he would do all in his power to keep this affair quiet and known by as few people as possible.

She thought, with a small measure of hope, it might even be possible that her circle in Meryton might never become acquainted with the true and full nature of what had happened. Oh, no doubt her disappearance would have been heard of by now. But the full extent of what had taken place might be able to yet be hushed up, and an explanation given to account for her absence that might somehow preserve her public reputation. Lady Catherine would hold her peace, most certainly once she learned there was no danger of Mr. Darcy making an offer to Elizabeth. And Everton? Elizabeth shuddered.

No, she would not think of the man. The memories and fears associated with him were still too fresh, too painful.

Tomorrow, her father would arrive. And in time she would need to speak with him to understand what kind of possible future lay before her now, given what had taken place and the damage done to her reputation and her name by her experience. But for now, she would wait and not think of such things.

Mrs. Biddle had returned not long after this, and asked after her. Elizabeth was able to give her a grateful smile, and answer she had slept well, and that she had a small amount of hunger. Mrs. Biddle smiled and rang for Mary to bring some fresh broth, and then asked if there was anything else she could do for Elizabeth.

“I might enjoy some conversation and company here in my room,” Elizabeth replied with a smile, indicating that she would like to converse further with Mrs. Biddle.

To her surprise, Mrs. Biddle grew a little flush, and pursed her lips at this. “I am sorry, Miss Bennet, but I can't allow that,” she replied with a note of strong disapproval in her voice.

Elizabeth looked back at Mrs. Biddle in some surprise.

Seeing her reaction, Mrs. Biddle continued in a firm voice, “Now I won't listen to any more arguments, Miss Bennet. I have just come from talking with him yet again in the hallway, and won't hear any more of this from either of you!”

“Mrs. Biddle, I -”

Mrs. Biddle was obviously wrought up about something, and she continued in a firm, unyielding voice, “Mr. Darcy has already told me of your - of your agreement, Miss Bennet. But I don't mind telling you I don't like it! I don't hold with such things, and I am sure if your father were here, he would be most unhappy about it.

“Oh, I know that things are done differently in town Society, but we're not that kind here. We're at Morland Manor, and I abide by the rules and morals of his lordship, and won't let such things happen under this roof, not while I'm in charge!”

Elizabeth sat staring back at the obviously ruffled Mrs. Biddle in some amazement. What was she speaking of? What had Mr. Darcy said, and of what agreement?

Mrs. Biddle moved to the door, and then turning, said in a firm voice, “I don't hold with such goings on, Miss Bennet. Mr. Darcy is not to visit you here in your bedchamber, no matter how much you or he pleads. When you leave here, you are free to act how you deem fit, but not here. I know how much Mr. Darcy has done for you, and perhaps you think it is right because of what you think you owe him, but I won't allow it. And that's an end to it!”

Mary had entered then with the tray of food, and Mrs. Biddle had exited in no small amount of outraged propriety. Elizabeth sat back in complete bewilderment at the intensity of Mrs. Biddle's reaction, and quite mystified as to her meaning. She felt a little tug of amusement at the display of such high indignation, but whatever could Mrs. Biddle have meant?

After Mary had arranged the tray on her lap, and left the room, Elizabeth tried to puzzle through Mrs. Biddle's words and meaning.

She spoke of `an agreement' that Mr. Darcy had informed her of, and seemed to be thinking that Elizabeth had wanted Mr. Darcy to come to her room. But, heavens, why would Mrs. Biddle think such a thing? What kind of agreement…?

A chill suddenly gripped Elizabeth's heart. Something had clearly offended Mrs. Biddle's sense of propriety, and she seemed to believe that there was an “agreement” between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth that was somehow not proper. And with a gasp Elizabeth realized what kind of improper agreement Mrs. Biddle must have been referring to: she thought Elizabeth had agreed to be, or already was, the mistress of Mr. Darcy. And she thought so, Elizabeth thought with a great sigh, because Mr. Darcy had told her so.

`Mr. Darcy told me about your agreement,' Mrs. Biddle had said. And he had wanted to come to her bedchamber!

Elizabeth shook her head. No! It wasn't true…but Mrs. Biddle's words kept echoing in her mind: `I know how much Mr. Darcy has done for you' `what you think you owe him' `Mr. Darcy is not to visit you in your chamber, no matter how much you or he plead'. Her mind's eye then filled with the memory of Mr. Darcy's eyes staring at her in admiration, his kiss on her hand, the look of longing and desire on his face as he left her at the door of Hunsford parsonage.

He had made no secret of his admiration for her. He had praised her beauty, she knew now he - she blushed - that he looked at her with physical desire. He admired her, and long had, so much so he had made an offer of marriage to her despite her low connections and lack of wealth.

But he could not marry her now, now that her reputation was ruined, and with the memory of seeing her in Everton's arms. But he still wanted her. And so, had he overcome his repulsion of the dishonorableness of taking her as a mistress, now that it could be the only way to have her? Or perhaps he felt his offer of protection was even a kindness to her, as it would at least ensure she would be taken care of, now that she might never marry.

Elizabeth gave a sad sigh. Was it all to be as Everton had once insinuated it would be, back that fateful day when he walked with her in Rosings Park? That was not so very long ago, less than a fortnight, and yet how much had changed since then! What she had thought to be impossible was actually coming to be.

Not that she could ever agree to such a thing, she immediately chided herself. She could not deny she was learning to long for Mr. Darcy's affection, for the soft look in his eyes and the gentle warmth of his touch. But she could not, would never, go to him in a dishonorable way!

Now, more than ever, she dreaded the inevitable encounter with him. She knew she owed him so much, and was deeply grateful to him. Grateful for what he had done for her, but also deeply grateful for his love. But to hear him make such a dishonorable proposal to her would surely break her heart!

If she could only keep him from speaking to her of his offer of protection, then perhaps she could end their acquaintance without the pain of actually hearing him propose such a thing to her! If she only met him here at Morland Manor in the company of her father and Jane, she could sincerely thank him for all he had done, and then leave without any further private exchange between them.

If things developed as they promised to between Jane and Mr. Bingley, their paths might occasionally cross in the future. But she could carefully ensure that it seldom happened, and could take great care that there would be no possibility that they would ever be left alone together. Mr. Darcy would soon learn to forget her, and all that had passed between them those few days in Kent would soon be consigned to the past.

It was all she could think of to face her distress. She slowly sank back against the pillows, and silently prayed for strength to keep her emotions in check when she did eventually have to face Mr. Darcy. She sighed sadly, and forlornly clung to the one small comfort left her: that her father - and dearest Jane - would come soon and take her home to Longbourn, where she could once again feel safe and loved.

Chapter Twenty Nine - in which Mr. Darcy makes a resolve


Morland Manor, Tuesday

Elizabeth had spent a miserable night. Her dreams were filled with threatening images of Everton, of Lady Catherine's sneering face, of people she had long known around Meryton looking away from her and avoiding her, of Darcy holding out his hand to her and knowing she could not take it, but not being able to stop herself from going to him. She woke up with a pounding heart more than once, and lay still with miserable and unhappy thoughts, only to fall asleep to more tempestuous dreams.

She ate very little of the porridge brought her by Mrs. Biddle, and was clearly worn out and subdued when the doctor came to examine her in the morning.

When the doctor met up with Darcy, who had kept an anxious vigil outside Elizabeth's door, Darcy saw a worried look in the doctor's eyes.

“What is it?” Darcy exclaimed, his emotions wearing thin from the past days of anxiety, and now with the mounting frustration at being unable to see or speak with Elizabeth.

“Miss Bennet slept ill, and seemed in very poor spirits this morning,” the doctor replied as the two men made their way down the stairs. “Mrs. Biddle says Miss Bennet did not eat much this morning, and her eyes…there was a look in her eyes that worries me.”

“She has been through hell these past few days, at the mercy of a monster!” Darcy growled.

“Yes, and as I said before, the effective on her spirits from what she has gone through, especially for an innocent woman of her upbringing, is no doubt very great…” The doctor shook his head in concern. “You have sent for her family?”

“Yes, I would hope they might arrive by late this afternoon. Her sister, with whom she is very close, will be one of those who come.”

“Good, good…I will be honest sir: I can do little more for Miss Bennet physically. The healing must now be in her spirits. She needs comfort and peace, security and love. She will never regain her physical strength until she is at peace.”

Darcy saw the doctor to the door, and then paced restlessly in the parlor, thinking on the doctor's words. Comfort and peace, security and love. All of these things he had to offer Elizabeth, all of them he was longing to assure her were hers for the remainder of their lives. She was aching, in pain, and he wasn't there to comfort her. Her beautiful eyes were clouded in tears, and he would so eagerly kiss them away, hold her tightly in his arms, and whisper words of comfort and love until she rested secure and at peace.

It would quite possibly be many hours before the carriage bringing the Bennets could be expected to arrive. He could not allow Elizabeth to lay upstairs alone and suffering until then! He marched to the bell pull and pulled on it sharply. Biddle appeared within moments.

“Send Mrs. Biddle to me!” Darcy ordered sharply. He could respect Mrs. Biddle's care for propriety, but he would no longer be denied seeing Elizabeth. He had a proposal that perhaps Mrs. Biddle would not much like, but to which she could not, in the end, say no.

As Mrs. Biddle came into the room, Darcy pulled himself to his full height, cleared his throat, strengthened his resolve, and began to explain to Mrs. Biddle what he expected - no, demanded - to take place.

**

Elizabeth looked up listlessly as Mrs. Biddle entered the room. Mrs. Biddle carried a bundle of clothing in her arms and wore a peculiarly flustered expression on her face.

“Miss Bennet.” Elizabeth could hear some slight exasperation - but also resignation - in Mrs. Biddle's voice. “The doctor mentioned that it is safe for you to move about now. Indeed, he thought it wise that you stretch your legs and try to walk about for a few minutes. Do you feel you would be able to do so?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I believe so, Mrs. Biddle. Though I fear I may not be too steady on my feet.”

Mrs. Biddle nodded in approval. She gestured at the clothing she was holding. “I have had Mary bring me a few of her things, Miss Bennet. She is a bit larger than you, but nearer in size than I am. I thought you would like to put these things on, so you could perhaps walk about in the sitting room next door. The countess has had it done up in such a lovely style, and it looks out over a view of the lake. I think it might help to lift your spirits.”

Elizabeth heard concern in Mrs. Biddle's voice, and, though she felt little interest in what was suggested, she had to agree a little exercise and movement would do her good. She was normally an active person and for almost a week now had been shut up in a single room and prevented from her usual routine of brisk walks and fresh air. Yes, it would do her good, she thought to herself, and expressed her agreement to what Mrs. Biddle suggested.

Mrs. Biddle helped her into Mary's clothing, all of which was several sizes too large for her. The arms of Mary's simple dress were mercifully short, and so caused little problem, but the length of the dress trailed on the floor, and Elizabeth, catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror, gave a little laugh at the sight of herself.

But she did find it felt good to be moving about, and dressed in something at least somewhat resembling her normal apparel. Mrs. Biddle used an extra sash to fasten the dress a little more securely around Elizabeth's slim torso, and tucked a pretty slip of lace in the bodice which hung loosely at the neckline and through the shoulders.

She then placed a lovely cashmere shawl around Elizabeth's shoulders. “Mr. Biddle gave this to me,” Mrs. Biddle announced with some pride and with clear affection for the giver.

Elizabeth cast Mrs. Biddle an appreciative smile.

“It is truly lovely, Mrs. Biddle, and I thank you dearly for loaning it to me. Though I must admit I will be very glad when my sister Jane arrives and brings me a change of clothing. I long to wear something again that does not look quite so queer on me!”

She gave a little self-deprecating smile and then followed Mrs. Biddle through a door that led into the adjacent sitting room.

She gasped softly in delight at the sight. A lovely, elaborate blue wall paper of an oriental style, with birds and exotic flowers, covered the walls, and exquisitely feminine furniture adorned the room.

Elizabeth moved to the large window, and smiled at the lovely view. A small lake with a picturesque island stretched out before her, with a small stream running into it from one side. A beautiful stretch of lawn ran down from the house to the lake's edge, with a curved, graveled walking path and several benches. Weeping willows lined part of the bank before her, enveloped in a verdant spring green.

“Oh, it is indeed lovely, Mrs. Biddle!” she whispered in appreciation.

“I will see to some tea, Miss Bennet. Can I convince you to take some bread with tea? The doctor is concerned that you need to regain your strength, and yet eat so little!”

“I will try, Mrs. Biddle.”

Mrs. Biddle left the room, and Elizabeth began to move about, inspecting with some delight the lovely wall paper, and then came to a stop to admire an elegant little spinet that stood in one corner. She smiled and plucked a key or two.

“Do you not feel a great inclination to seize this opportunity of dancing a reel, Miss Bennet?”

Elizabeth whirled about in surprise and shock. Mr. Darcy stood in the open doorway, gazing at her with a delighted smile on his face.





Chapter Thirty - in which Mr. Darcy is rebuffed

“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Elizabeth, reaching out a hand to the spinet to steady herself. Seeing her unsteady movement, Darcy quickly moved toward her, a concerned look upon his face.

“Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I have startled you.” There was deep chagrin in Darcy's voice.

Elizabeth shrank back a little at his approach, and feeling herself unable to meet his gaze, dropped her eyes to the floor. She was shocked that, along with her surprise, she had felt such a strong pull of physical attraction to him. The look in his eyes had instantly warmed her, and she felt that her heart must be beating several beats faster than normal. She nervously pulled Mrs. Biddle's shawl somewhat tighter about her, as if in protection from his eyes.

Darcy, looking at her, saw with concern her pale complexion and the startled and fearful look in her eyes. Thinking once again of the doctor's words on her need for comfort and reassurance, he strengthened his resolve to assure her of the depth of his love for her.

“Please, you should be seated, Miss Bennet.” Darcy spoke gently and gestured toward an elegant Grecian chaise-lounge that stood before the fireplace. Feeling a bit faint at this unexpected encounter with Mr. Darcy, she moved as he indicated and took a seat.

Darcy walked over to stand by the fireplace and looking down at her, said quietly, “Miss Bennet, I am so very glad you are feeling well enough to enjoy my aunt's sitting room. She took great pains on its appointment, and I know would be glad to hear it gave you some enjoyment during your recuperation.”

He paused, and then hurriedly continued, “I must admit I urged Mrs. Biddle to encourage you to venture here, so I might have an opportunity of speaking with you. I am eager to speak with you on…on several things.”

Elizabeth, with a sinking feeling, looked up at him with solemn eyes, and realized he was about to speak to her of his offer of protection. She could not avoid it now. She swallowed back a little sob of protest, and resigned herself to what was to come.

Darcy continued. “The doctor says that physically you need only time and care to regain your strength, but he expressed concern about your spirits. He said that what you need most now is the comfort and security of being surrounded and supported by people who love you. I assured him that your father and your sister, Miss Jane Bennet, would arrive later today, and he seemed to be reassured that this would bring you relief.”

“It will, indeed, sir, and I am most grateful that you have offered your carriage and made arrangements so they could come so quickly and in such comfort!” Elizabeth managed to breath out in reply.

“Oh, Miss Bennet!” Darcy replied with great feeling. “It is agony for me to stand here and look at your pale face and sad eyes! I know I have not yet earned the right to do so, but I long to also be one who offers you the comfort you so much need. I have spoken to you before of my admiration and love for you, and I want to assure you that my feelings for you - ”

“Oh please, Mr. Darcy - ” Elizabeth began to protest and stop him, but he paid no heed to her words.

“I love you Elizabeth! I was in agony every hour you were missing! I can not bear the thought of life without you, without being able to love you and protect you -”

“Sir, please, I beg of you, do not speak to me of this!” cried out Elizabeth in great turmoil.

Darcy stared back at her with a sad look of pain in his eyes.

Seeing his hurt expression, she gave him a tender look and said softly, “If only I could let you know how deeply, deeply grateful I am to you! To thank you for rescuing me from Everton! I owe you so much!”

Darcy frowned. “I do not want your gratitude, Elizabeth; I do not want you to merely feel a sense of obligation to me!”

“What I feel for you is so much more than gratitude or obligation, sir!” Elizabeth choked out near tears.

Darcy stared at her at these words. He took a step towards her. “Are you saying that you feel at least some beginning of affection for me, Elizabeth?”

“Oh sir, I feel, I feel…my feelings are so much more than simple affection! I feel admiration, respect…”

“Love, Elizabeth?” Darcy rasped out. “Could you at least begin to feel love for me?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth whispered, unable to deny the truth.

At her words, Darcy was by her side on the chaise. “Elizabeth?” Darcy's voice was soft and gentle, but his gaze intense as he searched her face.

Elizabeth forced herself to meet his eyes, which she saw were so full of love and shining hope that she could not bear to turn away. She gave him a shy, tender smile.

Seeing that sparkle of tenderness in her eyes, Darcy lost the tight hold he had been struggling to maintain on his emotions and desires. The past days of fear and anger and frustration had worn his control down to a slender thread, and the combination of relief at finding Elizabeth and the flood of joy at seeing an answer of affection in her eyes, broke down Darcy's last check on his emotions.

With a groan, he pulled her into his arms and began to fervently and passionately kiss her. His arms sheltered her and held her close, and Elizabeth, feeling warm and secure in his arms, closed her mind to her fears, and relaxed into his embrace. Mrs. Biddle's shawl slipped down about her.

She closed her eyes, and reveled in the feeling of his ardent kisses, and then found herself tentatively and shyly returning them. This only served to stoke his desire, and his hands began to mold her body ever closer to his. He gently laid her back against the tall curved arm of the chaise-lounge, and, his lips never ceasing in their fervent kisses, his hands began to explore the soft curves that were gently pressing against him.

One of his hands came to rest at her shoulder, lightly caressing her smooth skin. It moved lower, and easily found its way under the shoulder of her loose fitting dress. The shoulder of her gown was gently pushed to the side, and his lips came to caress the warm skin now revealed.

Elizabeth felt a shiver of pleasure, and found her hands drawn instinctively to lightly play with his thick curls and entwine around the back of his neck. She opened her eyes to gaze up at him with wonder and tenderness. He pulled back a little, looking down at her flushed face and rosy lips, and then found his eyes drawn to the loose lace at her neckline.

It had been pulled loose at their embrace, and in a moment, he had pulled it away. “Oh, Elizabeth, my love!” he whispered, and his lips sank to kiss the soft curves now revealed. Both his hands came to cup her breasts, lifting them to his eager mouth which kissed and caressed the soft skin exposed by her décolletage.

Elizabeth gasped in her pleasure, closed her eyes, and gave a little sigh, leaning back further against the chaise lounge. This movement gave him yet more access to her body, and a hand moved down and further pushed aside her loose bodice. His mouth lowered and he began to lightly kiss and suckle at the aroused breast gently cupped in his hand.

It was the sound of her cry of pleasure at this that brought her back from the edge of passion. She started, and opened her eyes. Seeing the desire in Darcy's face as he gazed at her and caressed and kissed her exposed curves, she felt suddenly all the shame at how very wrong this was. With a wave of remorse she realized how easily her body was betraying her resolve; but she could not allow herself to love him without honor!

“No, no!” she whispered, and moved her hands to cover herself.

Darcy immediately pulled back, aghast at how his desire had overcome his control.

“Elizabeth, forgive me! I had no right, this was too soon!” he exclaimed with great remorse. He moved over to the edge of the chaise, not touching her, but looking at her with anxious eyes.

“My love, I am sorry!” he continued in a low, abashed voice. “My desire for you is so strong…I have frightened you, and this comes too quickly for you!”

Elizabeth, in great consternation, tried to pull her dress to some semblance of order. Not able to meet Darcy's eyes, she said in a low, trembling voice, “Please sir, this is very wrong! I must ask you to leave me…”

“No, Elizabeth, I cannot leave you so! Look at me my love!”

Elizabeth obeyed him, startled at his command.

“Elizabeth, we love each other. We desire each other. That is natural and right when there is love between a man and a woman. What just happened was, perhaps too soon, but it will not always be so. When we come together…”

“But we cannot come together, sir!” cried out Elizabeth miserably. “I cannot come to you so! I cannot agree to…I could never agree to what you want! And if there is any kindness in you, you will leave me now!”

“But Elizabeth…!”

Elizabeth gazed at Darcy with tear-filled eyes and in a voice that bespoke great agony cried out, “I beg of you, sir, please leave me! And do not speak to me of this ever again!”

Chapter Thirty One - in which Mr. Darcy leaves for town, greatly troubled


Darcy stared at Elizabeth in shocked disbelief. “But Elizabeth, you have told me that you begin to return my affection!”

“And I do sir, but I cannot agree to this, and it is not right that you touch me so!” A look of deep pain came to Elizabeth's face as she added in a sad whisper, “do you think so little of me now, that you do so?” her voice broke and she turned away from him, tears streaming down her cheeks in her shame and distress.

Darcy stared at her weeping form, his face white, his expression aghast. What had he done?! He had lost all thought of what she had just been through, he had only meant to hold her and comfort her, and somehow he had lost control…Oh G-d, what had he done!

He immediately stood up and walked over to the window, putting space between them.

“Elizabeth, forgive me!” he said in a low, penitent voice. “What I did just now was wrong, was unthinking, was selfish. You must think me as much a brute as…” Darcy stopped, hating to even say Everton's name. “Forgive me, my love!”

“Sir, I beg of you, speak no more of love to me!” Elizabeth sobbed out. “Can you not see that what you offer now is not truly love?”

Darcy stared at Elizabeth, stunned and near tears.

“Oh Elizabeth!” he finally cried out in great agony. “Have I failed you yet again?”

Elizabeth's heart ached as she heard the anguish in Darcy's voice, and she lifted her head to look towards him. He stood staring mutely at her, his whole posture denoting his pain and self reproach.

“Oh sir, you have not failed me,” she said softly.

“I have, Elizabeth!” Darcy's voice was raw in despair. “I did not protect you from him…and now I can not protect you from my own selfish desires! What I did just now was truly no better than…”

“No, I will not allow you to say that, sir!” Elizabeth interrupted him, almost angrily, and rising to her feet. “You have assured me of your…of your feelings for me. You did not force your kisses or caresses upon me. And you stand before me now, begging my forgiveness. Everton did none of these things. I will not allow you to think or say that you in any way have done what he has done!”

She took a deep breath, struggling to find words. She could not bear to see such pain in Darcy's eyes, and yet knew she must be strong and firm in her resolve to refuse him. She swallowed and then in a voice that was only barely under control, continued.

“Sir, I believe that you make your offer to me out of…of your love for me. But I cannot agree to what you ask! Can you not simply accept my words, and leave me to the care and support of my family? If you truly love me, you will do what I ask of you: you will leave me now, and never speak to me of your offer again.”

Darcy gazed at Elizabeth solemnly. “Elizabeth,” he replied in a earnest, remorseful voice, “after what I have just done, after such an embrace, I think I am in honor bound to immediately confess to your father when he arrives, and offer to -”

Elizabeth gasped. “You would think to speak to my father of your offer? No!!! Can you not see that would only add to my shame and humiliation?”

Darcy stared back at her from across the room in growing despair and desperation.

Finally, in an anguished voice, he asked softly, “Why do you feel such shame at my love, Elizabeth? Why can you not bring yourself to accept me, at least in time? I know what I have just done was wrong. I know that I must allow you time. But why do you say you could never agree? Is there no possible way for me to gain your trust and your good opinion? I know that I displease you now, but can I never - ”

Elizabeth's heart was touched at his obvious pain and in a tender voice she interrupted him, “Oh no, sir! You do not displease me! My feelings for you now are so different than they once were. If I knew how to tell you…” her voice trailed off.

Darcy gazed back at her sorrowfully and in a voice stark in its misery asked, “But why then do you say so vehemently that you can never say `yes'?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and looking earnestly at Darcy, began to speak.

“Sir, I know that in society's eyes I have been thoroughly compromised, and my reputation ruined, by what Everton has done. But my honor is mine alone to keep or throw away, by the actions I take and the choices I make. Everton could do nothing to lessen my honor, and he never could force me to besmirch it, through all the time he held me prisoner. And I will not, I can not, lose my honor now!”

Elizabeth paused to gaze solemnly at Darcy. She swallowed, and then continued in an low voice. “To say `yes' to you is in violation of what I have been raised to believe in, it would shame my family, and would mean I would be separated from them - from my dear Jane - perhaps forever! I cannot sir! It pains me to deny you, and I begin to believe it will, indeed, break my heart to reject your love, yet I must! I cannot agree to be your mistress, for I will not love you without honor, sir!”

With this Elizabeth turned, slowly walked over to the fireplace, and leaning against the mantel piece, began to weep softly in her utter misery.

She heard movement, and lifting her head, and through tear-stained eyes, saw Darcy had come to her, and was kneeling down on one knee. She turned slightly to look at him in surprise, and he reached out and grasped each of her hands, forcing her to turn to fully face him.

Firmly holding each of her hands before his bowed head, he said in a fierce, yet quiet voice, “Elizabeth Bennet, I kneel before you declaring how much I honor and respect you. I would wish to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of your love. I ask you, I beg you, to be my wife, with all love, and in all honor.”

Elizabeth stared down mutely at his bowed head. “But you cannot think to marry me now, not after what Everton has done!” she finally whispered in shocked surprise, her eyes wide.

Darcy rose to his feet and tenderly pulled her into his arms.

Looking at her with dark, glowing eyes he exclaimed in a voice thick with emotion, “There is nothing Everton could do, do you hear me nothing, that could make me love you any less, or not desire to win you as my wife! Do you hear me, Elizabeth? Will you believe me?”

Darcy's gaze upon her was intense and earnest, and, for a moment, Elizabeth could only stare back at him in wonder and disbelief at his words. But as she saw the depth of love shining out of his beautiful brown eyes, she slowly felt a wave of warm happiness sweep over her, and at last she gave a shy little nod.

As he saw this, his lips struggled between a smile and frown as he continued in an uneven voice, “My wonderful, foolish, adorable Elizabeth! When will you stop maligning my character? Do you think me so lacking in honor, that you now twice have believed that I would ask a lady of quality to become my mistress? Though you tell me that you are beginning to learn to love me, madam, I believe you sorely need to study my character better! And I intend that you should do so daily, until you can consent to be my wife!”

And with this he began to kiss her sweetly and tenderly, softly placing kisses on first her nose, then her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, and finally, and most tenderly, her trembling mouth.

Elizabeth was gasping when he finally pulled away. “Can you say `yes', Elizabeth?” he asked in a soft whisper, gazing at her with eyes full of hope. When she did not immediately respond, he gently pulled her to him and began showering her face with tender kisses yet again.

Finally, half laughing, half gasping, Elizabeth managed to pull away long enough to exclaim, “Yes! Yes! Only let me go, sir! I think you presume too much at this stage of our courtship!”

She smiled tenderly at him as she said this, and gave him such a loving look as she spoke, for a moment she thought he would ignore her protestation and continue in his kisses, but at last he slowly began to release her.

As he did so, the door opened, and Mrs. Biddle entered the room with tea. Taking one look at Darcy's arms still encircling Elizabeth, she sternly called out in a disapproving and scolding voice, “Mr. Darcy!!! I will not allow this behavior, sir! You are not yet married to Miss Bennet!”

“No, Mrs. Biddle,” Darcy laughed, looking at Elizabeth with loving eyes. “Not yet, but I pray God I can convince Elizabeth soon. VERY soon!”


Publisher's Note to all readers: due to some errors sent to us in the original manuscript, an incorrect title was associated with this chapter. Although there was ample time to make corrections before publishing, the authoress chose to leave the title as printed, and requested instead that the correct title to Chapter 31 be included here, at the chapter's end:


Chapter Thirty One - in which the humble authoress takes pity on her angst-exhausted readers crying out in anguish “Fix this now!” and resolves everything to everyone's satisfaction - well, except maybe for the most blood-thirsty of you - and naughtily changes the chapter's title to describe what is really about to happen…but won't let you see the true title until you've reached the end, so as not to spoil her surprise ending!



EPILOGUE

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood leaning against the doorframe of his dressing room, his arms crossed, gazing with loving eyes at his wife.

His wife! The thought still caused him pause at the feeling of peace and joy that seemed to flood his heart when he spoke or even thought those words.

His wife of one month, twenty days, and several hours was standing by an open window, her back to their bedchamber. She was attired for bed, her hair cascading down her back in long, thick waves. A soft, late August breeze wafted through the window, lifting a tendril of hair that had fallen forward. She seemed deep in thought and had as yet not noticed her husband's presence.

Darcy treasured these stolen moments of gazing at his wife when she was unaware. He was making a habit of entering their bedchamber quietly, in hopes of finding her employed in some such mundane or simple act. Once she had been seated at her dresser, briskly brushing out her hair, another time she had been curled up, reading, in a chair, and one of his favorite moments had been finding her in the act of swinging by one arm around the tall poster at the end of their bed, looking every bit a mischievous little girl.

But while seeing his wife in any simple act was to be treasured, it was the moment when she turned - upon his making a noise or her simply sensing his presence - that was his greatest delight. For then, as Elizabeth Bennet Darcy would look up and see the Master of Pemberley, a look would come into her eyes that he knew was there only for him.

A day or two after their wedding he remembered thinking, `I would give every penny that I possess to know I would always see that look in her eyes!' But he had soon chided himself for the thought.

That look was not something that could ever be bought by any amount of money, or forced or possessed. No, every day Fitzwilliam Darcy had the opportunity to continue to try to be worthy of her love. And every time he saw his wife gazing back at him with that look, he felt humbled that she could accept the flawed, broken offering of love he offered her, and love him so deeply and perfectly in return.

Darcy walked quietly across the thick carpet, and was able to come to stand behind her without her notice. His arms reached out and gently wrapped around hers, pulling her slowly back to lean against his chest. She turned slightly to gaze up at him. Ah, there was the look!

Elizabeth smiled gently, and leaned her head back against his chest. She turned to look out of the window once again.

“You are deep in thought, Elizabeth,” Darcy said softly.

She merely smiled, but said nothing. Darcy looked down and saw she held a letter in one of her hands.

“Have you a received a letter from Jane?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, it is from Kitty,” she replied in a quiet, peaceful voice. But then she gave a quick little laugh, and continued in a livelier tone, “Kitty is growing to be a most faithful and diligent correspondent! Though I fear my little sister may be using the letters of my new, dear brother Bingley as a standard to model her letters upon. For while she writes a great deal, she leaves out half the words and blots the rest, and I am not always sure I have any idea of what she is trying to convey!”

Elizabeth gave a quiet, amused laugh. She swung around, remaining in the warm shelter of her husband's arms, but now facing him. Her eyes sparkled in amusement as she looked up into his face.

“Kitty writes that a young Mr. Jones, who is a clerk in my Uncle Philips' office, spent the entire evening at Aunt Philips' dinner party making calf eyes at Mary…and that Mary spent the entire evening making them back!”

She laughed again. “But Kitty writes that poor Mary is in great distress. For Mama is quite convinced that poor Mr. Jones can only be after Mary's dowry, now that it is so much enhanced by the Delesford estate that you settled on my younger sisters. Poor Mama, her nerves are quite strained by her anxiety of fending off the fortune hunters that she sees everywhere after her three unmarried daughters! But at least at the moment she can limit her energies to Kitty and Mary!”

Elizabeth paused, and then continued in a more serious voice, “Aunt Gardiner has the goodness of a saint to willingly have Lydia stay with her this summer and for the coming winter. Imagine, Lydia in London! My poor aunt and uncle Gardiner will quite have their hands full….though I believe it very wise for Lydia to be under firmer and wiser hands for a time! And it can only do both Kitty and Mary good to be separated from Lydia's more undisciplined influence.”

“In the part of Kitty's letter that is legible, does she send any news of Jane and Bingley?” Darcy asked quietly. “What trials do they experience at Netherfield as newlyweds?”

“You are referring, I presume, to my mother, sir?” Elizabeth replied in a mock chiding voice, and with a gentle slap on his chest in reprimand. “Kitty says they are as happy as lovebirds…or loud burps…her lettering was not quite clear at that point!”

Darcy smiled. “And your father?”

“He is well.”

Elizabeth fell silent. She glanced up at her husband with an appraising look, and bit her lip.

Gazing down at her, Darcy remarked dryly and with a sigh, “I am still learning to read all your expressions and moods, madam, but I already am quite familiar with the look that is upon your face at this moment.”

He continued, with an attempt at a stern look. “You intend to ask me something, and are mentally endeavoring to determine how to best approach your assault on my good will and patience. You will, no doubt, soon ask something of me that I suspect I will not readily wish to do. But you will look up at me in such a way, and toss your pretty head and then smile at me with such impudence, that I shall loose all rational thought and agree to whatever it is you ask of me. So, my love, what do you think so deeply about?”

Elizabeth smiled at his teasing, but did not immediately answer him. She turned to look out the window once more, leaning back into Darcy's arms which once again warmly enfolded her and held her tightly against his chest.

“I have been thinking of how dearly I love my family, my love,” she replied. “Even though their society can at times be so little pleasing, yet for all their whims and failures they are still truly dear to me….and I am saddened to think there is such a …hole …at the moment in your relationship with part of your family.”

Darcy straightened uncomfortably. He knew Elizabeth referred to his break with his aunt, Lady Catherine.

Elizabeth continued softly. “Will there ever come a time when you could consider writing to your aunt? Is there some way that a reconciliation might someday be made? For if you do not, you know that the rest of your family most certainly never will.”

“Have you forgotten what she did?” exclaimed Darcy with great emotion. His arms dropped to his side, and he turned and strode away from Elizabeth to stand at a window to the side of the room, staring blankly out at the lawns and gardens below.

Elizabeth softly followed him, and came to stand beside him. She placed one hand gently on his arm. He turned to look down at her, and she said quietly, “I have not forgotten. I do not believe I will ever forget…but I will attempt to forgive.”

Darcy shook his head and released a loud breath of exasperation, but Elizabeth steadfastly continued. “Everton knew how to manipulate her, my love! He used her anger. He used her fierce but too controlling love for Anne. He used her pride in her family name. He used all these things when she was most vulnerable, and tempted her to collude in what, under other circumstances, she would - I am sure - see to be most repugnant.”

“Think of Anne!” Elizabeth urged as she saw Darcy angrily shaking his head. “To so totally break the family connection can only do her harm, to leave her alone at Rosings with only her mother and her companion. While your anger at your aunt is both understandable and just, yet to let it brood and grow can not be good or right. It is wrong for you, wrong for Anne, wrong for your aunt.”

There was a long pause, and then Darcy finally replied in an unsteady voice, “I cannot forgive her for what she did to you, for what she allowed him to…” His ragged voice broke off, and he turned away from her, his body rigged and tense.

Elizabeth slowly put out a gentle hand on his arm, turning him to look back at her once again. She then lifted her other hand to his face, and gazed with great concern into his eyes.

Deep pain, anger and outrage swirled in the depths of those beautiful brown eyes. And unshed tears. She knew he felt deeply that he had once failed to protect his young sister Georgiana, and had then failed even more miserably in protecting the woman he loved. The anger that still raged in his heart against his aunt was, in part, an anger and rage against his own perceived failure.

Elizabeth saw it was still too soon. Darcy's anger and pain were still too raw to speak more on this. So she wisely chose to instead comfort her aching husband with the language of love that needed no words.

She entwined her arms around him and pressed her body tightly against his chest. He immediately enfolded her in his arms, and tenderly kissed the top of her head. They stood embracing so for several moments, and then began to slowly explore each other's bodies as their lips met in a passionate kiss.

After several moments, Darcy leaned down and swept Elizabeth up into his arms, and began to slowly carry her to their bed. His gaze stayed intently on her face. For he could not bear to lose sight of the look of passion, comfort, and deep and enduring love sparkling up at him from the depths of his wife's beautiful eyes.


**


Lord Everton was strangely absent from town the remainder of the Season and beyond, and there was no small amount of speculation on the reason for his absence. None of his usual cronies at the gentlemen's clubs of Brooks's or White's knew anything of his whereabouts, and even the denizens of the gaming hells where he was normally sure to be seen had heard nothing of him.

The shutters of Everton House remained tightly closed, and the knocker never appeared upon the door that autumn, winter, or even into the next Season. Adding to the speculation, Viscount Marling - whose estate in Somerset lay not far from Everton's - reported when he came to town that Everton had not been seen in that locale, either.

Rumors of the reason for Everton's absence ran rampant for quite some time. The most prevalent tale eagerly whispered in the drawing rooms of society being that Everton had entangled himself in a matter of honor having to do with a lady, and had found it most convenient to be absent from the country for the time being. The identity of the lady in question was of great interest and speculation, but to the great disappointment of all, her name was never known.

But the eyes and ears of the ton had many such intrigues and scandals to occupy their attention, and Everton's presence - or lack thereof - in time ceased to be a matter of speculation and the rumors gradually faded away.

But early the following summer, the Honorable Freddie Carstaires returned from a tour in Italy and reported at his club that he had briefly seen Everton in Rome some months back. Everton had been his usual urbane, sardonic self, though perhaps a little restrained, Freddie reported.

“Odd, that,” Freddie commented to his cronies as he sank back in a leather armchair at Boodle's, taking a sip of brandy. “I've never quite felt at ease with the fellow, always so haughty and disdainful, you know? But he seemed oddly civil when I spoke with him.”

Freddie took another drink, and continued his tale. “I bumped into him quite by accident one evening, and he invited me to sit and share a bottle of vino with him at a little outdoor cafe. Didn't talk much about where he'd been, just said something vague about traveling about here and there. He asked about some of the goings on here in town, and seemed strangely interested in hearing about that Darcy fellow…you know, the one with the large estate up north.”

“Why would Everton want to talk about Darcy?” laughed a friend. “Those two have detested each other for years!”

“Well, he seemed to be particularly keen to hear what I knew of Darcy's new wife. Had I seen her in town and at what balls, and all that,” Freddie answered. “I asked him if he was acquainted with her, and d-mnd, but I swear I saw a look of - well - almost regret on his face for a moment. `I know the lady,' he said. `She has the most beautiful eyes….' And d-mnd, but I don't believe I've ever heard him speak more gently in my life!”

“Everton, gentle?” exclaimed one of his companions in disbelief.

Freddie shrugged. “Everton got up and left quite soon after that. I've no idea where he was off to from there…and never saw him again in Rome while I was there.”

Freddie looked somewhat pensive (which, with Freddie, was a look often brought on by an excess of liquor), and then added thoughtfully, “Everton looked like a man who was lost…or who had lost something or someone that was very dear to him.” Freddie leaned back in his chair, reflecting philosophically for a moment.

But as philosophical reflection was a state completely unnatural for the Honorable Freddie Carstaires, the moment passed very quickly indeed.

Freddie's eyes lit up suddenly, he leaned forward, and exclaimed in a jovial voice, “I say, did you see that bang up pair of matching grays I snatched up for a song at Tattersall's last week?”

The conversation drifted on to other things, and the curious behavior of Lord Everton was soon forgotten.

END VOLUME III

---