The Governess

By LizK

Section I, Next Section

Chapter 1

Posted on Monday, 16 May 2005

Elizabeth Bennet gasped as the coach rounded the final bend of the tree-laden hills and Pemberley in all its majesty was displayed before her.

"Truly that is a magnificent sight," she murmured. The yellow rays of late evening sun gilded the imposing mansion, lush woods and towering white clouds behind them with gold. Elizabeth inhaled deeply the scent of recent rain, not once taking her eyes from the view. She was alone in the carriage, and in the world, or at least so it seemed to her at the moment. She had never had a multitude of close friends, and the recent events had revealed that she had even less. Jane, her sister and truest friend was now separated from her by miles. Who would have thought that life would part us in such a cruel fashion! Elizabeth thought, fighting down the tears that immediately brimmed into her blue eyes. But I will not cry now. There have been enough tears these past months. It will not do to arrive with puffy eyes and a red nose!

It had been almost four months now since Mr. Bennet had died. It had not come as a shock, although the expectation of it had not lessened the family's grief. Mr. Bennet had been suffering from poor health for many years and had been virtually bed-ridden almost a year before his passing. Elizabeth had taken it upon herself to nurse him, against her family's admonition. It had been a small sacrifice for her. It would have been impossible for her to attend to the glitter and gossip of another London season while her father lay dying. She had made her London debut two years ago, and while her beauty and fortune had made her a huge success among the ton, she had received surprisingly few proposals. The few she had received she had not cared to accept, for then there had been no doubt of her being adequately cared for without entering into a loveless marriage.

Elizabeth's lips twisted wryly as she considered the "fortune" that had vanished into thin air upon her father's death. Mr. Bennet's death had not come as a surprise, but the state of his affairs had. The Bennets, who had long been considered one of the most important families in Hertfordshire, found themselves penniless. The estate, the manor, the girls' dowries-all had gone to pay the creditors. Elizabeth frowned again at the enormous debt supposedly accumulated by mismanagement of the estate. It was true her father had neglected the affairs, but he had left everything in the hands of a very trusted steward. He had mentioned it before he died, and had not seemed worried about the state in which he would leave his family. Perhaps he was absentminded, but it was not like him to disregard anything to do with the well-being and security of his wife and daughters. She shook her head at the futility of worrying over a matter so beyond her reach. She had made a few attempts to go through her father's papers in an effort to understand what had happened, but had been immediately shooed away by Mr. Fallworthy and the lawyers, saying that these matters had nothing to do with women.

Elizabeth's thoughts shifted to her mother. Mrs. Bennet had been particularly devastated by the unfortunate turn of events. She was a weak woman with a fanciful disposition, and the sudden vanishing of their fortune had plunged her into near hysteria. Jane had been forced to attend to her day and night while Elizabeth searched for a suitable place to live. At last a small cottage in Middlesex had been found, and the Bennet family, now consisting of Mrs. Bennet, Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, took up residence there. It seemed a mortifying change at first, considering the grandeur of their estate at Longbourn, but necessity soon required them to adjust to the new lifestyle. Mrs. Bennet at last quieted and began to interest herself in the surrounding society, Jane was as serene as ever, Mary returned to her books, and Kitty and Lydia made easy friends with the neighbouring families. Only Elizabeth remained dissatisfied. Try as she might, she could not be comforted, nor could she take any interest in their new acquaintances. Her grief for the loss of her father made her restless, and she had found the confines of the cottage suffocating. If only I could do something, find some employment. Anything at all...I shall go mad here! she had fretted for days.

At long last, and at the counsel of Jane and some family friends, Elizabeth had decided to apply for a position as a governess. Her education had been impeccable, and as an unusually gifted musician, her skills easily recommended her. After many offers, one had finally come from a Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire, who desired a governess and companion for his charge, a Miss Georgiana Darcy. The salary was unusually generous, and the inducement of tutoring a young girl held much more appeal than disciplining an entire family of ill-behaved children. The offer had been accepted without delay.

Elizabeth watched the sun sink below the hill, leaving the Derbyshire countryside in a grey swath. What kind of people will the Darcy's prove to be? Elizabeth wondered for the hundredth time. She conjured up the image of an only daughter whose character had been ruined by years of indulgence. A father, with but one child, of the ilk of the men of property and wealth she had encountered. Middle-aged, portly, balding, with an air of conceited self-sufficiency she despised. An inclination to scorn those who had not come into their wealth and station with the same luck. Proud, insufferable men. So unlike her father.

Elizabeth sighed at his remembrance. He had been an introverted man, at the same time kind yet witty, generous yet reserved, with a tendency to lock himself in his library with his books rather than attend to the practicalities of life. Elizabeth had loved him thoroughly, although being rather painfully aware of his lack of resolve, and sometimes, character. She alone had inherited the quickness of perception that he so prided himself on. Finding his second daughter eager and clever, he had taken her education upon himself, and had taught her well above and beyond what was normally expected of a young lady of breeding. Mrs. Bennet had complained that Elizabeth would never get any proposals after Mr. Bennet had finished with her, and that had proven to be pretty much the case. Elizabeth's golden hair, and laughing eyes had enticed many into the ring of courtship, but one by one the young men had found her distasteful as a future wife. Her quick wit and idealistic tendencies rather frightened than recommended. Jane had also received many offers, but both girls held firmly to their desire to marry for love.

Elizabeth started as the carriage came to a stop in front of Pemberley. She took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach and attempted to smooth her appearance. Alas, the dampness of the air made her golden curls incorrigible, and nothing could be done about the shabbiness of the pelisse and gown. So perhaps they wouldn't be quite the thing if I was being introduced at court, Elizabeth attempted to cheer herself, but they are clean and modest, and should do very well for a governess. Despite her reasoning, Elizabeth could not help feeling slightly mortified at arriving at such a grand place wearing a faded blue dress and pelisse, especially considering that only a few months ago she would have appeared in the latest fashion. You musn't forget that you are no longer one of them, Lizzy warned herself for the millionth time as she descended. You are now an employee, a governess, and your manners must reflect it! There will be no place for liveliness of mind, or "impertinence", as Mama prefers to call it.

To her surprise, Elizabeth was shown directly to her bedroom by the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, without meeting any member of the Darcy family. She was able to briefly take in Pemberley, and had to admit that thus far it surpassed all the grand houses that she had been privileged to be in. It was structured and furnished on a grand scale, with all the high ceilings, carved cornices, oak doors, marble fireplaces and guilt furniture an aristocrat could wish for; yet she found it all very tastefully and elegantly done, without the usual ostentation such places were prone to.

Her room was what she expected the governess's chambers to be. It was still generous as to space, but more modestly furnished. There was a four-poster bed with matching furniture, and a lovely window-seat, all decorated in light feminine colours. Even this seems luxurious compared to the draughty closet I shared with Jane, she thought. Elizabeth peered out the large windows curtained with white brocade. She could see very little in the dimming twilight, but the view seemed to be potentially lovely.

A knock at the door put an end to her fruitless squinting. Elizabeth opened it to a young maid, smartly dressed in the uniform required of Pemberley servants.

"Excuse me, Miss, but Mr. Darcy wishes to see you in his study."

"Oh, yes, thank you." Elizabeth hastily untied her bonnet and removed her pelisse, berating herself for not having taken the time to make herself presentable instead of staring out the window for the past ten minutes. She glanced ruefully in the mirror as she followed the maid into the hall to Mr. Darcy's study.

At last they arrived before an intimidating pair of oaken doors. Elizabeth found herself feeling unusually nervous, and took a deep breath. This may be my first post, but I must portray the confidence of an experienced governess, she desperately resolved. The maid knocked, and a deep voice called,

"Come in."

"If you please, sir, Miss Bennet," the maid breathlessly announced, and then hastily retreated. Elizabeth noted the maid's uneasiness and her heart sank. She steeled herself for the pompous, portly Englishman awaiting her. She entered and received a great shock, for standing in front of her was the best-looking man she had yet seen in her twenty-one years. He was tall, dark-haired, with an imposing figure and a strikingly handsome face. He did not appear to be much older than thirty, but Elizabeth immediately understood the maid's uneasiness, for he had an intimidating presence...the commanding air of a man who was accustomed to people being under his direction, accustomed to getting his own way.

Elizabeth suddenly keenly regretted her appearance. He himself appeared to be somewhat in a state of shock. He said nothing for several moments, his dark eyes taking in her disheveled curls, her face, then sweeping down the length of her figure. After taking one last look at her face, he turned away in obvious disgust. Elizabeth flushed in anger and embarrassment. He beckoned to her to be seated.

Frowning, Mr. Darcy turned to the window. Elizabeth seated herself gingerly on the edge of her seat, unsure of how to interpret the silence that ensued for a number of minutes. Mr. Darcy's face seemed to grow in irritation each time he glanced at her, his jaw clenching in displeasure. Elizabeth's heart beat fast in fear of him and fear of the newness of the situation. Oh dear, I have not spoken one word and have already incurred his displeasure, she thought. She racked her brain for some kind of protocol she might have missed, but could think of nothing. At last he spoke.

"Miss Bennet, I understand this is your first post as governess," he said, regarding her coolly.

"Y-yes, sir, that is correct," Elizabeth responded. She cleared her throat lightly and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Darcy inclined his head slightly as he watched her shift uncomfortably and addressed her in a tone of condescension.

"Miss Bennet, there are some rather unusual circumstances regarding Miss Darcy that I did not touch in our correspondence. I will not explain the circumstances due to their sensitive nature, and I ask that you do not inquire among the staff for more information-I assure you they will be unable to tell you anything, as the details are not known even among the immediate family. Suffice it to say, that last summer there was a most unfortunate incident regarding my sister, and she has since fallen into a ... despondency. I am afraid that her youth and disposition have prevented her from fully recovering. Her formal education is, for the most part, complete. I have hired you more as a companion than a governess in the hope that such an arrangement will allow her to regain her confidence, and to prepare her for her entrance into society. I will not dictate to you how you spend your time with Georgiana; that is something I expect you to discuss with her, guiding her preferences with wisdom and sensitivity. She is a very disciplined young woman, and I assure you, you will not find it difficult to make her attend to her studies. She has a particular love for music, which is why I have employed you, in spite of your inexperience." Elizabeth cringed at the disapproval etched in his voice. He might as well have said 'leprosy', she thought mutinously. She began to be annoyed with this man for meaning to intimidate her and succeeding. While still maintaining the posture and countenance from years of perfect breeding, she observed the man before her. So she is his sister, she thought. I wonder how he came to be her guardian? He certainly is not portly and balding, she thought, and could not help the corner of her mouth turning up impishly at the contrast of masculine beauty now displayed before her. Darcy, who had not ceased speaking, stopped suddenly and glared at her. Elizabeth's eyes widened. She immediately schooled her features, despite the annoyance welling up in her.

"As I have just mentioned, what Georgiana lacks is confidence. It is my hope that through your tutelage, specifically musical, she may regain it. I understand you have a considerable musical reputation, Miss Bennet-this was my chief motive in employing you. I expect this is what Georgiana will wish to pursue. Do you have any further questions?"

"No, sir." Elizabeth responded curtly. Did he have to say 'chief motive' as if it was his only motive? Elizabeth resolved to keep her verbage to a minimum, afraid that if she spoke she would be unable to curb her tongue. She was unaware that her expressive eyes were communicating far more than she intended. Truly he is a proud man, she thought as he continued to explain details of the arrangement. Is this how most men address their governesses? How unbearable! I hope Miss Darcy, as he says, does not posses such an overbearing nature.

"If you haven't any enquiries," he continued, leaning forward slightly over the desk where he was seated, his eyes challenging hers, "I have one last matter to speak of. There is the problem of your attire." Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but he continued before she had the chance. "As Georgiana's companion, you will be expected to mingle in society much more than you would as a governess. I will have you looking presentable. The monthly sum I had previously stipulated will be further subsidized by thirty pounds per annum. I realize that you are probably intending to send a portion of your earnings home to your family-however, this amount I require you to use on the necessary accoutrements to your new position. Think of it as a uniform," he smiled condescendingly. Elizabeth flushed at the implications of his statement-his stated disapproval of her appearance, his insensitive reference to her family's newly impoverished state, his expectations that she would disregard him and send the money home. Elizabeth's eyes flashed at him. She found her defiant gaze returned openly by him. She immediately recognized the intelligence, perception, and calm acknowledgement of her insubordination in his dark eyes. She flushed and lowered her gaze.

"Miss Bennet," he commenced rather abruptly. "I feel it wise, under the circumstances, and considering your inexperience, among other things, to make this a trial period rather than a permanent arrangement. Let us say, one month from today, we will meet again to discuss your performance and the possibility of a more permanent contract." Without consulting her, he stood from his desk and walked to the window. Elizabeth was speechless. How had she managed to offend him already? She had only spoken four words! Elizabeth seethed at the injustice of it, but was determined not to let him see it-this post was far too important to her and to her family.

"You will, for the most part, dine with the family, unless otherwise requested."

"And of whom does the family party consist?" Elizabeth inquired in as polite tones as she could muster.

"Only of me and Miss Darcy," he replied shortly.

"Oh, I see." Elizabeth could not prevent the note of sarcasm.

"My father died several years ago, leaving my cousin and I the sole guardians of Georgiana," he explained flatly.

"Do both you and Georgiana reside here for the time?"

"Georgiana is currently in London, but Pemberley is her permanent place of residence. She will arrive tomorrow afternoon. I am here for the most part, although I am frequently called to London on business." Elizabeth was silent after this declaration. Darcy waited until it was clear she would not speak, then impatiently dismissed her.

"I hate him!" Elizabeth could not help exclaiming as she made her way to her rooms, surprising herself at the violence of her feelings. How dare he change the arrangements without even consulting me? As if my feelings or inconvenience were absolutely irrelevant to the situation! His condescension was unbearable! Does he think that just because I am his employer I am devoid of rights, of feeling, or of an opinion on the arrangements of my life? Elizabeth cried out in vexation, and in that mood unpacked her trunks.

Chapter 2

Posted on Monday, 16 May 2005

After the door had closed behind her, Darcy stalked to the window, and leaning one elbow on the window frame, uttered a most ungentlemanlike but sincere oath. After some moments of glaring murderously out the window, he clenched his fists and seated himself abruptly behind the huge antique desk that had once belonged to his father. "Now what," he asked into the empty room. As no answer was forthcoming, he answered himself, "I should have bundled her right back into the carriage and sent her back to Middlesex, or wherever it is she's from. Instead, I give her a thirty day trial." He thought in annoyance of his own lack of firmness that had balked at sending her back so quickly when she was obviously in dire straits financially, and trying so nervously to appear as an accomplished, experienced governess.

"Tough luck, my girl," he muttered as he sat abruptly in his desk. "You will never make it as a governess as long as you look like that." Darcy thought back to his shock upon seeing her. She was, without exception, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Not that he had not seen many beautiful women, but never ... Darcy's mind involuntarily went over her appearance. The thick blonde curls, full lips, long, slender figure that also promised the curves of a woman, and those eyes, so blue, so full of life-but disregarding all of this, there was something about her that had almost moved him physically. He tried to place it ... something about her that communicated itself immediately. An intelligence, a warmth, an impishness, a vulnerability, a childlike desire to please but a protective defiance if anyone did not find her thus ... Darcy snorted and shook his head.

I am already waxing poetic about her and she has not been gone five minutes. Why do I have this penchant for hiring problems? Why cannot being Georgiana's guardian come as easily as running an estate? or anything else I have ever tried. I hope I did not betray any admiration... Darcy thought back to his immediate instinct, which had been to sit her down and get right to the bottom of that impish quirk in her lovely mouth, to have fully explained to him the expression in her eyes, which vacillated between keen perception and fear of the inexperienced, but which soon changed to irritation at his purposeful condescension. He wanted to inflame the ire that then flashed at him, if only to have the pleasure of placating it later...but most of all he wanted to sooth the sadness that underlay all of it, to protect her from whatever had hurt her ... Darcy broke himself from his reverie, and swore again.

"Miss Bennet returns home tomorrow," he muttered through gritted teeth. And I must not forget that she is the governess, and therefore not betray any admiration for her unfortunate appearance.

Chapter 3

Posted on Monday, 16 May 2005

The next day Elizabeth did not see any of the family. She was kept busy with Mrs. Reynolds, who informed her that Mr. Darcy had gone out quite early as there had been an emergency with one of the tenants. After she unpacked, the housekeeper gave her a brief tour of the house, and then the two of them went into Lambton to do some errands, which included ordering some new clothes for Elizabeth. Elizabeth thought briefly how much this money would help her mother and sisters, but Mr. Darcy had been very explicit about how he wanted the money used. If I must spend it on clothes, I might as well enjoy it, she thought. It would be a relief to wear something other than the shabby thing she had arrived in.

She found Mrs. Reynolds to be a chatty older woman, with a tendency to ramble on in an archaic fashion. She liked her very well, and especially appreciated the tidbits of information she let drop concerning the Darcy family. Elizabeth found herself full of curiousity about Miss Darcy, and hoped that Mrs. Reynolds might betray something about the mystery of her past.

"When do you expect Miss Darcy to arrive?" Elizabeth asked her on their way home, hoping the question might lead on to further information.

"Early this evening, Miss Bennet, about five o'clock, I should think. Such a lovely young woman! So accomplished! She sings and plays all the day long!"

"Is she at all like her brother?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Miss Darcy does resemble her brother-she has the same handsome features and dark hair. They are both the most generous of human beings, so gentle and well-mannered. I fancy Miss Darcy is perhaps a little quieter than her brother, but I have never had a cross word from either of them in my life ... No, indeed, Miss Bennet, you should consider yourself very lucky indeed to be employed here. There is no better master in all the land. And so very handsome. Do you not find Mr. Darcy handsome, Miss Bennet?"

"Handsome, yes," Elizabeth muttered. Agreeable? No. She was somewhat astonished at the description of him the housekeeper had just painted. Gentle? Well-mannered? Is it possible that Mrs. Reynolds could be so unperceptive? It seemed unlikely that someone who had been with the family for so many years could mistake pride and abruptness for gentleness and generosity. And yet, the Mr. Darcy she had encountered had portrayed nothing that matched this description! If that was Mrs. Reynold's opinion of Mr. Darcy, how might Miss Darcy turn out to be? She imagined a tall, handsome girl, proud, unwilling to be guided by someone so close to her in age ... Elizabeth trembled at the thought.

"How long has Mr. Darcy been the guardian of Miss Darcy?" Elizabeth continued carefully.

"The late Mr. Darcy passed away some five years ago," Mrs. Reynolds said reverently. "Their mother died when Miss Darcy was a very small child. When Mr. Darcy passed away, the entirety of the estate went to his son. The current Mr. Darcy shares the guardianship of Miss Darcy with his cousin. It was a huge responsibility to fulfill for such a young man, but he has accomplished it admirably." Elizabeth was silent. She would just have to wait to until she had met Miss Darcy to form an opinion. There were too many discrepancies. For if Miss Darcy at all resembled her brother, she could have no need of confidence, as he had said she did. And what sort of occurrence could push a young girl, at the bloom of life, into a depression? Could it be repercussions of the death of her parents? No, for Mr. Darcy had said that the cause of that had occurred last summer. Elizabeth shook her head. It was all so perplexing!

Elizabeth's curiousity was answered soon enough. Miss Darcy arrived that afternoon at precisely five o'clock. Elizabeth's eye caught a glimpse of the carriage rolling into the park from an upstairs window. She watched as a slender young woman emerged from the carriage and disappeared inside the house. Elizabeth waited apprehensively in her room until she was summoned about an hour later.

As she entered the parlour, Elizabeth was immediately aware of the presence of Mr. Darcy. She could not help but notice that he was as handsome and intimidating as he had impressed upon her the day before. He managed to project an aura of command, now coupled with that of a protective brother. Elizabeth turned her attention to the young girl standing slightly behind. Miss Darcy was tall for her age, about the same height as Elizabeth. Her features were like her brother's, well-formed but slightly aloof.

"Miss Bennet, allow me to introduce my sister, Georgiana..." As Darcy made the introductions and the two women curtsied, Elizabeth was relieved to perceive that Miss Darcy was actually quite nervous. Behind the aloof features was a young and vulnerable young woman. Elizabeth's confidence returned. She smiled warmly at Georgiana and stepped toward her encouragingly.

"I am so glad to meet you, Miss Darcy. I have heard that you are a very accomplished musician!" Miss Darcy blushed.

"I am not so very accomplished, Miss Bennet. I shall be so intimidated to play and sing before you, for I have heard that you are the most accomplished woman in London..." Miss Darcy looked anxiously at Elizabeth.

"Well, then, let us agree to be equally intimidated by each other's reputations and then perhaps we will both be put at ease," Elizabeth laughed, and was gratified to see dimpled smiles appear on the faces of both brother and sister.

"Is it true you studied with Madame da Callas?" Georgiana asked shyly, encouraged by Elizabeth's open manners.

"It is," she replied, smiling.

"Oh, I should so like to know about her! Is she as wonderful in person as she is on the stage?"

"Yes, and quite as dramatic." Elizabeth could not have been more delighted at Georgiana's interest. "Her methods of teaching are most unconventional, but the results she is able to procure are astounding! I can teach them to you, if you like."

"Oh! Can you? That is, I should like that very much." A small 'ahem' from Mr. Darcy caused them to turn.

"Perhaps we can continue the conversation over dinner," he said. "If we wait until Georgiana is satisfied with every particular, I am likely to fade away from starvation." Miss Darcy giggled and exclaimed at her brother, glancing shyly at Miss Bennet. Elizabeth could not help but wonder at his easiness of manner as he led his sister in to dinner. So different from the previous night! Perhaps he is only stern with new governesses, she thought with raised eyebrows.

Dinner proved to be an awkward affair for Elizabeth. Despite Darcy's easiness with Georgiana, he retained a marked aloofness from her. As he was seated at the head of the table, with Elizabeth and Georgiana on either side, Elizabeth found it extremely awkward to address them both. She desired to be open and encouraging with Miss Darcy, but found it impossible to do so with Mr. Darcy's aloof, keen observation. She found his physical presence agitated her and made her feel defensive. Elizabeth knew she needed to keep maintain the good impression she had already made with Georgiana, whom she sensed was still a little wary. How am I to build her confidence when he is constantly undermining my own? she thought in frustration as the dinner wore on.

At last she resorted to polite enquiries about the surrounding countryside, hoping to have time alone with Georgiana later. As she expected, Georgiana lapsed into a shy silence when she was not addressed directly, leaving Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth to carry on the conversation. Mr. Darcy responded with equal politeness and distance to Elizabeth's questions, but provided little stimulus to the conversation. By the time dessert was served, they had fallen into complete silence. Elizabeth's nerves and patience had just about run out when Darcy spoke.

"I hope I can apply to both of you for some music after dinner."

"Fitzwilliam!" Georgiana looked imploringly at her brother. "Please do not make me sing before Miss Bennet ... at least not tonight."

"Of course not, my dear. It was insensitive of me to ask you. You must be exhausted. Perhaps Miss Bennet will oblige us, then." Elizabeth smiled her acquiescence, although the prospect held no appeal for her either. She imagined a replay of dinner, with Mr. Darcy glaring at her in disapproval while Georgiana tried to fade into the furniture. She had further reason to be uneasy, as she had not sung a note since her father's death four months ago. There had been no place for it in all the commotion, nor had she had any desire to sing in her grief. Her father had delighted to hear her above all other things, and it was his sole comfort in the last months of his death. Elizabeth felt a sudden depression as she thought of it, and it was with great trepidation that she moved toward the music room.

Upon entering, however, there was a small occurrence that lightened the atmosphere. On the opposite side of the elaborate gold and cream music room stood a new pianoforte.

"Oh!" Georgiana exclaimed, her surprise causing her to forget her shyness as she ran across to it. "Oh, Fitzwilliam, it's beautiful!" she cried, gazing at him adoringly. He had crossed the room and stood across from her.

"Do you like it?" he asked, obviously taking great pleasure at her surprise.

"I love it," came the answer. "Thank you so much, brother. You are too kind. It is more than I deserve," Georgiana finished softly, her eyes downcast.

"Nonsense," Darcy replied, concern crossing his face. "You deserve the very best, as would befit the very best of sisters."

Elizabeth watched from across the room, engrossed by the scene. There was a distinct awkwardness in the room. Georgiana still remained downcast and Darcy looked on her with distressed earnestness. Elizabeth began to feel intrusive at witnessing the moment, and had almost resolved to leave when Georgiana turned awkwardly to her.

"Miss Bennet, although I have not the courage to sing for you, (here she blushed), I find I cannot resist trying the pianoforte. I would be delighted to accompany you in a song, if you wish..."

Elizabeth smiled and accepted-impossible to do otherwise! although she felt less like singing now than ever. She carefully smoothed the wrinkles in her light pink dinner dress, an old one that she and Jane had carefully manicured. Mr. Darcy sat in a chair opposite them. As she glanced briefly at his handsome, but brooding face, Elizabeth felt an inordinate amount of anxiety. Would she please this man, who had hired her solely because of her musical reputation? Don't be silly, she scolded herself. You have sung before some of the most illustrious people in England. There is no reason to be nervous.

Yet she knew her colour was high and her hand trembled slightly as she handed the score to Georgiana. She remained facing the instrument as Georgiana attempted a few chords, commenting at the brilliance and clarity of the sound. Elizabeth said nothing, dreading the moment she must turn and face him. If only it were a room full of people, instead of just him.

She turned when Georgiana began to play the introduction to Mozart's 'Vedrai Carino.' As she sang the first lilting notes, Elizabeth was surprised and grateful to find that her voice was still in good condition. It had perhaps lost some of its flexibility, but the resonance and colour that had made her famous among the ton that season in town still remained. Although Elizabeth was keenly aware of Darcy's eyes on her, she also found to her amazement she was deriving much pleasure from singing once again-joy, even, and healing; and as she recognized it, more joy infused her heart, and her voice resonated with it. She let her voice caress the melody, revelling in the perfection of the line and the balm of its beauty. She was careful not to look at Mr. Darcy-she found she could not, until the last note had been sung. She looked at him then, and found she could not look away-there was a haunted intensity in his dark eyes that frightened her. She could not determine the emotion behind it, whether it was of hatred or admiration, but whatever it was frightened and mesmerized her. She was unable to breathe, the entire room seemed filled with it, like an electric current passing between them.

Georgiana finished the coda with a flourish. "That was lovely, Miss Bennet. You truly have the most beautiful voice, don't you agree, Fitzwilliam?"

"It was very nice," he replied after a brief pause. His voice was calm, almost bored. Elizabeth's eyes widened at his polite dismissal. She raised her brows slightly and turned away from him, saying to Georgiana with an amused twist of her lips,

"Thank you for the lovely accompaniment, Miss Darcy. You play wonderfully. I'm afraid I shall have little to teach you. And such a stunning instrument!"

"Isn't it? I cannot wait to practice on it. Thank you again, Fitzwilliam."

"You're welcome, Georgiana," he responded quietly. He reached out and touched her cheek briefly with one finger. Georgiana looked up at him in adoration. Elizabeth watched the exchange, surprised at the tenderness of his small action, which seemed so inconsistent with the insensitive man she had met the day before, then announced,

"If you'll excuse me, I find I am rather tired, and I am sure that you would like to have the evening alone together. I beg leave to retire ... Good-night Miss Darcy, I shall see you in the morning ... Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth could not help meeting his look with an arch expression. She found an answering challenge in his own eyes that caused her to blush. She calmly walked to the door, and then fled to her own room.

Chapter 4

Posted on Monday, 16 May 2005

The next morning Elizabeth was relieved to find Georgiana alone in the breakfast room.

"My brother has gone to London for three weeks," Georgiana explained, unable to keep the look of disappointment from her face. "He says he will return with a large company." The disappointment on her face gave way to terror.

"Does that worry you?" Elizabeth asked gently.

"I find it terrifying!" Georgiana almost whispered, her eyes wide with fear. "It is not as if I have never been in company before, but now Fitzwilliam expects me to begin to assume the role of hostess. I do not think I can do it," she choked. Elizabeth wondered again what kind of disaster could have happened to this sensitive young girl. She reassuringly squeezed Georgiana's hand.

"I'm sure you will do just fine and your brother will be very proud. And I promise I shan't leave you for a moment. Together, we could conquer all of London, or Derbyshire, in this case." Georgiana smiled gratefully.

"What is it like in London?" she asked timidly. "I mean, once you have made your debut?"

"Oh, it is a bit of a blur, even now. Parties, balls, beautiful gowns, suitors, music, theatre ... You will like it immensely. The crush of the assemblies does become tedious, but I confess I never tired of dancing with handsome young suitors!" Elizabeth smiled facetiously, and was glad to see Georgiana smile, her adorable dimple making a brief appearance.

"But did you never find anyone who suited you? I am sure you must have had proposals, for you are so very beautiful!"

"That is kind of you to say," Elizabeth laughed. "I did, in fact, receive a few, but I am, for better or for worse, a hopeless idealist, and determined to marry for love, or not at all." Elizabeth paused. "Perhaps if I had been able to foresee the future, I would have amended my views, for I have four unmarried sisters, and it is unlikely now that any of us will marry."

"Do you have four sisters?" Georgiana repeated in astonishment.

"I do."

"Oh, Miss Bennet, I have always longed for a sister. I cannot imagine having four. It must be delightful."

"I assure you, there have been days I would have exchanged all of them for a brother!"

"I do not know what I would do without Fitzwilliam. He is so good to me. He always encourages me, although I have not his natural ability to deal with things, to always know how to act..."

"Such things take time, Georgiana. They are not learned overnight."

"Did you have to learn, Miss Bennet?"

"Of course. I remember the first time I sang for a dinner party. I was so terrified, I thought I would faint! But I got through it somehow, and it got easier and easier over time."

"Can you teach me to sing as you do?"

"That is why I am here! I thought we might begin the day with a music lesson, and then spend some time studying Latin."

"You can teach me to read Latin?" Georgiana asked in wonder.

"Well, I am no scholar, but my father taught me to read Latin and a little Greek. He thought it cruel to deprive women of reading the great philosophers. Do you think your brother would disapprove?" Elizabeth inquired tentatively.

Georgiana's young brow furrowed. "I don't see how he could, as he so enjoys reading those sorts of things himself. He will sometimes close himself in the library for hours."

"You have a library?!" Elizabeth exclaimed in excitement.

"Yes, and it is Fitzwilliam's pride and joy."

"I wonder that Mrs. Reynolds neglected to show it to me. I thought it seemed odd that there could not be one."

"She probably did not show it to you because Fitzwilliam was there. He dislikes being disturbed."

"Perhaps you could introduce me to the library then this afternoon. Your brother is not at home, so we can have it all to ourselves! However, I must confess that I am dying to explore the woods! Do you enjoy walking, Georgiana?"

"I do."

"I would be delighted to have you show me all the best spots this afternoon before we retire to the library. For now, shall we move to the music room for your lesson?"

The next hour was a delightful one for Elizabeth. Georgiana was shy at first, but Elizabeth was even more encouraging, and eventually Georgiana was able to sing with some, if not complete, confidence. Elizabeth was not sparing in her praise. She found that Georgiana was in fact a very accomplished young woman, and it was obvious that her training had consisted of the very best of teachers. Elizabeth was able to help her use her breath and posture effectively to produce a more resonant sound. As they worked, Elizabeth found that she felt happier than she had in months. It felt so good to be helping someone, to keep her mind off her own trials. She was especially gratified to see an improvement in her pupil even over the short space of an hour.

"There! If you continue to improve this quickly, you will have no need of my services by the time your brother returns!" Elizabeth said at the end of the lesson.

"I fear I shall never be able to sing as beautifully as you did last night, Miss Bennet. My brother was very impressed, and he is...that is, he has a tendency to be rather critical, never of my performance, he is always kind to me..."

"Was he indeed?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "He did not seem very impressed."

"Oh, but he was, for when I asked him what he thought at breakfast this morning, he said you had the voice of an angel."

"Oh." Elizabeth could not prevent a tiny bit of colour from appearing on her cheeks. After a slight pause she changed the subject by asking Georgiana if she would like to prepare a song for the company that would arrive in a few weeks.

"I don't think I would be brave enough," Georgiana replied uncertainly. "There will be so many accomplished ladies present..."

"Well, I have a confession to make. Last night was the first time I had sung in over four months, and I was very nervous. Sometimes all it takes is a bit of courage."

"Why hadn't you sung in four months?" Georgiana asked curiously.

"My father died recently, and as listening to me gave him such pleasure in his last months, I found that I have had no desire to sing again." Georgiana's young face filled with compassion.

"Miss Bennet, I had no idea you had lost your father," she cried. "I, too, know what it is like to lose a father." She spoke softly, and moved closer. The two exchanged a look of mutual empathy.

From that point on, the two young women were more like sisters than governess and pupil. Elizabeth sometimes wondered if Mr. Darcy would approve, but as she had never had a governess or a companion after which to model her behaviour, she was left to act upon her intuition. Mr. Darcy had stated correctly that Georgiana required very little in the way of formal education. Elizabeth sensed immediately that what she needed more than anything was a friend. Elizabeth had a warm and nurturing nature, and Georgiana seemed to crave the affection Elizabeth was delighted to give in abundance. Elizabeth realized that Georgiana's mother had died when she was very young, and although Mr. Darcy had been the best of brothers, Georgiana had been deprived of the nourishment needed by a mother during the trying years of adolescence.

The friendship was equally satisfying to them both. Elizabeth found that it eased her loneliness for Jane, and Georgiana blossomed under Elizabeth's guidance. Elizabeth knew it would take a long time before Georgiana would be at ease in society, but she was pleased to see the countenance of her charge lighten considerably. For three weeks they studied music, picnicked, visited tenants, explored the expansive grounds of Pemberley, which were now in the verdure of summer, and spent hours reading and studying in the library. Elizabeth found the library surpassed all her expectations, and it soon became her favourite room in the house, after the music room. It was large, its furnishings rich and masculine. Large windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling let in the sunlight during the day, and showed a magnificent view of the lawns leading down to the lake. Georgiana and Elizabeth would retire here after dinner before the huge fireplace and study works of Greek and Latin poets, or Elizabeth would read to Georgiana from Shakespeare, or whatever would strike their fancy. Thus the three weeks passed more quickly than either of them had anticipated. Elizabeth tried to keep her mind off the return of Mr. Darcy, and the dreaded interview he had promised her. How can I please a man who was so determined to disapprove before I had even spoken a word? She asked herself in rare moments.

One rainy evening, the women sat before the fire, having put aside their books for the pleasure of intimate conversation.

"I am so glad you came to be my companion!" Georgiana said.

"I have never had a governess like you. They have always been very strict and stern. There was one, a Mrs. Turner, of whom I was terrified! None of them were my friend, as you are."

Elizabeth laughed. "I suspect it is not the fashionable thing for governesses to befriend their pupils! But this is my first post, and so I am left to my own devices. Perhaps as I become better at it, I shall gradually acquire that look of stiffness, as if I had been born with perfect posture, and be able to speak with a consistently disapproving tone!"

"You could never be like that!" Georgiana giggled. "Is this really your first post as a governess?"

"It is."

"Why did you decide to become a governess? Perhaps it is impertinent of me to ask."

"Not at all. I have nothing to hide. I grew up in a situation almost as privileged as your own, for my father owned a large estate in Hertfordshire. It never crossed our minds that it would ever change, there seemed to be resources to spare. All of us had a substantial enough dowry that it would not matter if we never married. But upon my father's death..." Elizabeth shrugged. "There was nothing left. The estate was entailed away, and my mother and sisters were forced to move to a small cottage in Middlesex. I decided to apply to be a governess in the hope of augmenting our limited resources, and also to keep myself from going mad!"

"I don't understand how it could all vanish suddenly." Georgiana said in confusion.

"Neither do I, to be quite honest with you. And yet, it is gone. My father was never one apply himself to more practical matters, and according to Mr. Malfer, my father's lawyer, the debts the estate had accumulated were so astronomical, all of our dowries, and the auctioning of most of our possessions were barely enough to cover it." Elizabeth stared into the flames. "As hard as it was to give up all our belongings, it was even more difficult to realize that our hopes for marrying well were gone. Our chances for marriage vanished with our fortunes!"

"I am so sorry. It doesn't seem fair at all."

"It isn't so bad," Elizabeth smiled. "Besides, I would never have known you otherwise!"

"That's true," Georgiana replied. "I can't imagine not knowing you-it seems like you've always been here. It seems strange that three weeks ago I didn't know you at all!"

Elizabeth looked affectionately at the young girl, whose face flickered pensively and innocently in the firelight. Ignoring the nagging feeling that in a few days, this would likely be dismissed, she thought instead of the unknown tragedy of the summer previous. She wondered that, in spite of the intimacy that had developed between her and Georgiana, the young girl had not yet spoken of the incident Darcy had alluded to. Elizabeth never hinted at it, knowing full well that to force Georgiana's confidence would mean destroying all the trust that she had carefully cultivated in the past weeks. She frowned slightly. Elizabeth knew that Georgiana trusted her now almost implicitly, and she marvelled that the wound inflicted was still too painful for Georgiana to confide.

Chapter 5

Posted on Monday, 16 May 2005

The day before the company was expected to arrive was an especially hot day. As Georgiana was not as inclined to walk at all costs as Elizabeth was, and had much rather stay indoors with her new novel, Elizabeth took her letter from Jane and set out alone into the park.

She was wearing a white floral print dress and light-coloured bonnet. To Elizabeth's relief, her new clothes had arrived a few days before. She now saw the wisdom of Mr. Darcy in having her order them-if she was to stay, that is. Elizabeth shrugged at the contradiction of Mr. Darcy's obvious disapproval and yet his orders which seemed to imply that she would be staying. Whatever happened, it would be impossible for Elizabeth to appear as Georgiana's companion, to guide her in her duties as hostess before a fashionable company dressed in the clothes she had brought. The only item left to arrive was a ball-gown that she was having made at Mr. Darcy's request. Apparently there was to be a ball later in the summer in London. Mr. Darcy had informed her that Georgiana would be allowed to attend, as it was a family affair hosted by his aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Matlock. Georgiana was breathlessly excited and nervous, and it had been the subject of much discussion between the two girls. Together they had picked out the material for the new gowns.

"I cannot wait to try on my ball-gown. I have never worn long gloves before," Georgiana had said one afternoon.

"I confess I am very relieved that I will have a new one as well. I thought I would make due with my own threadbare wardrobe, but I find I would rather face the French army alone than appear anywhere in the old blue thing currently hanging in my closet!" The girls had giggled, Georgiana claiming that Napoleon himself would have proposed to her, even in her old blue dress.

Elizabeth smiled at the remembrance, and reflected how Georgiana was quickly becoming a mature young woman of sense and compassion. She sighed as she thought of her own sisters, three of whom were very silly indeed. It was painful to realize that she valued her friendship with Georgiana more than she did with all three of them. She crossed the wide sweeping lawn down to the lake and followed a path that led past it into the woods.

After thirty minutes of walking through the verdant greenery, Elizabeth stopped at her favourite spot. Georgiana had shown it to her in one of their rambles. It was a small clearing in the woods, filled with long soft grass and wildflowers. Often a deer or a rabbit would appear at the edge, or stop to drink at the stream that serenely wound through the overhanging willows. Elizabeth settled down in the soft grass in the sun, her back against a fallen log and opened her letter.

The letter was a long one, and Elizabeth was pleased to discern that Jane sounded happier than she had in her previous letter. It had been a trial for Jane to deal with their mother, but she had bourn it like a saint. Jane mentioned that the family was beginning to dine out more frequently, and that a friendship had been formed with a Mrs. Jennings. Mrs. Jennings was a rich old widow, well-established in the county, who had taken a liking to the family; and upon discovering that there were five unmarried girls in the family, had taken it upon herself to see them all married within the year. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows slightly at this.

I confess I find it tiresome at times, as she is constantly attempting to make some man dance or enter into conversation with me, regardless of his wishes. However, I know she means well. She has now invited us to stay with her in London at the end of the summer. My mother is delighted at the prospect, for our sakes. The party will likely include only Kitty and I, as Mama says Lydia is too young and Mary refuses to go. I find I am looking forward to it immensely, if only for a change of scene

Elizabeth read these words in great excitement, for it was likely that she would be in London at the same time. She would be able to see her beloved Jane much sooner than she had anticipated! Mrs. Jennings certainly sounds like an intriguing woman, she mused as she folded up the letter. Tiresome, indeed! She sounds downright meddlesome! Still, it will be good for Jane to have some time away from Mama. The trials she has put up with so patiently in the last months! Elizabeth sighed and dropped the letter into the grass, wishing it was possible to have Jane with her at that very moment. Perhaps this time she will chance upon a young man of fortune and breeding who will appreciate her goodness as well as her beauty. Elizabeth smiled ironically. The ideals she had held to for so long seemed ridiculous now, like fairy-tales. "Jane, dear Jane," she said aloud, "I would sacrifice a hundred rich kings to see you well-settled."

Elizabeth stood and glanced up at the sun that was beating down with the intensity of mid-day. She found she was uncomfortably warm. The perfume of greenery and wild-flowers hung heavily in the air, and the stream gurgled delightfully, its cool surface reflecting the over-hanging willow branches. Elizabeth thought how lovely it would feel to wade in it. She knew there was nobody around for miles, and it was so warm! The brightness of the day and the prospect of seeing Jane in a few weeks time made her heart feel light, and she could not help laughing aloud. Why not pretend that I am fifteen again? She thought mirthfully. That I have the whole world ahead of me, that I still believe in the reality and inevitability of true love, that I have all of the confidence of youth and inexperience? Elizabeth removed her sandals and stockings, gathered her skirts, and walked to the edge of the water. She stepped with relish into the edge of the stream.

"Ah, this is delicious!" she cried. She smiled up at the sun, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time, revelling in the feel of the sand squishing beneath her toes. After a few minutes of wading in the edge, she looked across the stream and noticed a single white rose growing in the foliage. It was in the first innocent stages of bloom, and a gentle shaft of light illuminated it, causing it to glow against the darker greenery. Elizabeth gasped at the sheer beauty of it.

"I must have a closer look! I wonder if I could get across...,"

She gathered her skirts higher up around her legs and carefully began to make her way across the stream. The streambed deepened, the bottom changing from sand to smooth rocks. Towards the middle, the water was high, but she was able to make it across the deepest part without getting her dress wet. She smiled triumphantly, stepping quickly up the inclining bank, her eyes upon the rose. In her eagerness, she stepped on a slippery rock, lost her footing, and with a shriek, fell backwards into the water.

"Oh!" she exclaimed once she had righted herself. She had been totally immersed for a brief moment, and the cool water felt shocking. She looked down in dismay at her soaking wet dress and pulled the pins from her sodden curls, which had loosened in the fall. Then she froze as a most horrifying sound rang in her ears. Hoof beats.

"Please, no," she whispered. Her worst fears were realized as Mr. Darcy atop a massive black horse came into view, stopping on the opposite bank in astonishment.

"Miss Bennet!" he cried. He looked incredulously at the young woman who stood dripping wet, up to her thighs in the middle of the stream. Rivulets of water streamed down her dress and dripped from the tips of her sodden curls. She returned his gaze with one of horror and mortification.

"May I ask what you are doing?" he demanded. Elizabeth could only stare speechless at him in horror.

"No you may not!" Elizabeth at last cried piteously. She turned and tried to storm with dignity up the side of the bank, but her foot slipped again and she shrieked as she splashed again into the cold water. This is it! My life as a governess is over. What a picture I am presenting to him! Her mortification at this point was extreme, and realizing it was hopeless to remove herself with any semblance of dignity, it became her utmost priority to get away as quickly as possible. It did not help at all to hear Mr. Darcy erupt in laughter at her predicament.

"Miss Bennet," he called in a voice riddled with amusement as she stalked away. Or would have stalked away, if her dress had not been clinging to her legs in a most abominable fashion, making it difficult for her to walk.

"Miss Bennet, please allow me to be of service," he said as politely as he could, however, as yet unable to keep the grin from his face. He approached her on his horse, but Elizabeth ignored him and continued to walk away as fast as she could manage.

"It will take hours for you to get home at that rate," he called from behind her. "And besides, you have forgotten your ... things."

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and turned. Her shoes, bonnet, stockings, and letter lay in a pile. Without a word she turned to retrieved them, but Darcy was already there. He dismounted, and with only a slight hesitation, scooped up the items, including the pink stockings. This cannot get worse, Elizabeth mourned. He smiled as he approached her, his dark hair glinting in the sun.

"Would you like me to retain the letter so that it isn't spoiled?" he asked in the politest of tones.

"I would be much obliged," Elizabeth said flatly. Darcy's lips twitched in amusement as he delivered her shoes, stockings and bonnet.

"Miss Bennet, I am afraid you are not fit to be seen," he said, his eyes traveling over the wet dress still moulded to her form.

"Thank you for notifying me, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied haughtily, which rejoinder caused him to laugh aloud. She turned to go, but he placed his hand on her arm to retain her.

"Stop," he called, or commanded, Elizabeth thought as she reluctantly obeyed. She realized that she was at his mercy, for she could not walk home barefoot, and to wear her shoes over wet feet without stockings would likely give her blisters. The thought of putting on her stockings underneath a wet dress wasn't very appetizing either. She resignedly turned to him and waited. He stopped directly in front of her and directed her to hold the reins to his horse. He then pulled off his coat, his amused eyes never once leaving her face, which indeed looked enchantingly wet and miserable, while desperately trying to maintain its dignity. Elizabeth tried not to notice how tall he seemed, or the definition of his shoulders beneath his white shirt. Darcy wrapped the coat around her and lifted her up onto the massive horse. He did not mount after her, but instead took the reins and proceeded silently to lead them down the path towards Pemberley.

Several minutes later, Elizabeth found herself shifting uncomfortably beneath the hot sun. She looked at Mr. Darcy, striding purposefully in front of her, then up again at the blazing sun. She sighed and called,

"Mr. Darcy, if we were both to ride the horse, I think we might make it back to the house in time for tea." The gentleman did not require further encouragement.

"Thank you," he replied and swung himself up behind her. Elizabeth caught her breath at his sudden proximity. He pushed the horse into a fast trot, holding the reins on either side of her to prevent her from falling off. As they descended a small hill, Elizabeth cried out, this time in a panicked voice.

"Stop! Please! ... Mr. Darcy."

"What is it?" he demanded patiently, halting the horse.

"Excuse me, sir, but I am ... not ... accustomed to horses, especially one as large as this, and as you can see, my hands are occupied so that I cannot hold on very well, so if you don't mind waiting a moment, I'll just, um, slip on my shoes..." Elizabeth finished lamely, blushing at her inarticulate speech. Darcy silently acquiesced, and Elizabeth proceeded to squirm in the saddle in an attempt to put on her shoes in a modest way. It was no easy task, as the horse fidgeted beneath her, and Mr. Darcy was sitting so closely behind her that she had little room to manoeuvre. Finally it was done, although not without exposing a pair of very slender ankles to the gentleman's view.

Mr. Darcy now spurred the horse into a faster gallop, holding onto Elizabeth with one arm to prevent her from slipping off the horse, which to Elizabeth seemed likely to happen at any second. They were silent, each keenly aware of the other, for several minutes. Finally Darcy spoke.

"You still haven't told me what you were doing in the middle of the stream." His voice came from close behind her ear.

"I fell," she said acridly.

"You fell?" he repeated.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy, I fell in the stream while attempting to cross it in order to get a better view of a white rose that was on the other side." Elizabeth finished bitterly, knowing there was no point in postponing the inevitable. Why does it sound like such a ridiculous idea now?

"You went through all this for the sake of looking at a flower?" he said incredulously.

"Well, Mr. Darcy, I did not plan to fall into the river, nor did I plan for you to chance upon me at that very moment. You might tell me what you were doing in the middle of the woods when you were supposed to be in London?"

"I returned a day earlier to complete some business. I often stop there to water my horse," he replied in amusement, not a bit intimidated by her impertinence.

"Oh, How very reasonable of you." He gave a snort of laughter at this, sending the curls around her ears dancing. They were silent until within sight of the house. Elizabeth noticed that he kept inconspicuously behind the shelter of the woods, and although she was grateful for it, she wondered whether he did it for her benefit or for his. As they approached the end of the trees, Elizabeth spoke,

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I believe I can walk from here. I would rather slip in the back instead of making a grand entrance at the front door."

"As you wish." Darcy dismounted then turned to help her. Elizabeth's eyes widened at the feel of his large hands on her waist. Their eyes met in an expression of mutual wonder as her feet touched the ground. Darcy did not immediately release her, and she looked up at him in confusion, speechless at the effect his touch had on her. Darcy dropped his hands as if he had touched a hot surface, stepped back and assumed a more formal manner. Elizabeth removed the coat and handed it to him, shivering beneath the cooler air of the shade.

"Miss Bennet, are you sure ... you may catch a cold."

"Mr. Darcy, it would be infinitely worse to be the governess caught wearing her master's coat." He said nothing, agreeing with her by his silence. "Goodbye sir, thank you for your assistance." She ventured one more look at him as she walked away. He looked very serious, his brow knit sternly. Goodbye Pemberley, Elizabeth thought.

Chapter 6

Posted on Monday, 16 May 2005

Elizabeth morosely stripped off the wet, clammy dress. She tried to prepare herself mentally for what was to come as she prepared for dinner. Every attempt to rally her spirits and accept her impending dismissal with a positive outlook failed. The memory of how she must have looked to Mr. Darcy in the wet stream continually intruded, and she blushed violently again and again.

How could fate be so cruel as to chance him upon me, in that very spot, at that very moment! She mourned. Why could he not have delayed his journey even by half an hour? Mr. Darcy, of all people! But it is completely my fault. This would never have happened if I had behaved as a lady. Why must I always be running off after the unattainable? Why couldn't I be content to view the rose from the other side of the stream, instead of waltzing directly into it-Oh! Elizabeth covered her face in anguish. Never had she experienced such humiliation. She wondered painfully what she would announce to her family upon her arrival home. Mr. Darcy found me swimming in the stream...I was trying to get to a flower, but you see, Mama, there was a stream in the way...I am so sorry, Georgiana, but your brother has decided that a lady who swims in streams is not quite the example he wishes for his sister... Elizabeth shook her head and finished her toilette. There was nothing to do now but accept the consequence of her actions. With a sigh, she rose and walked with a heavy heart toward the parlour.

As she approached the doors, she could hear Georgiana's animated voice floating down the hall. With a deep breath, she walked into the room. Mr. Darcy immediately stood, and bowing slightly, inquired how she was.

"I am very well, thank you," she spoke quickly, wishing to avoid contact with him. She could not bear to feel his dark eyes upon her.

"How was your walk this afternoon, Elizabeth? I must say I am very glad I stayed in doors, it was so hot today!"

"It was very ... pleasant," Elizabeth smiled weakly, and blushed. Thank goodness he has not informed Georgiana, although, to be sure it is only a matter of time!

"How did your enjoy your book?" Elizabeth asked, wishing she could be buried beneath a hundred feet of earth.

"Oh, I am enjoying it immensely. I'm glad you recommended it to me. I can scarce put it down. Fitzwilliam, you will never guess what Elizabeth has taught me since you left..." Georgiana continued to talk animatedly throughout dinner, so delighted to have her brother's full attention she failed to notice Elizabeth's lack of spirits. Elizabeth herself paid little attention to the conversation, being still distracted by her mortification. She was grateful that she was required to say very little. She kept her eyes downcast, only responding briefly when Georgiana applied to her. She glanced at Mr. Darcy every so often, and although he was warm and engaging with Georgiana, Elizabeth was sure she detected a note of seriousness in his expression.

After dinner, Georgiana asked Elizabeth if she would not sing with her. Elizabeth declined, saying she felt indisposed to sing, and would much rather listen to the songs Georgiana had prepared over the past few weeks. Georgiana played and sang for quite some time, interjecting each piece with an enthusiastic commentary about what she had learned. Darcy was mostly quiet, praising Georgiana when it was required, otherwise watching her with a thoughtful look gracing his features. When Georgiana had finished playing, she announced that she would like to finish her novel, and so the three sat and read. Or at least, pretended to read, as it was in Elizabeth's case. She could not attend to the book she was reading, she didn't even know what it was. As the evening drew on, her heart beat faster within her. She knew that soon Darcy would ask her for a private word.

As she expected, as Georgiana retired, Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth and asked her for a private interview in his study. Elizabeth meekly agreed. After she had entered, he closed the door behind him and walked to the window. For a time he said nothing. Elizabeth sat in a state of extreme discomposure.

"Miss Bennet," he said at last. "I find your method of being a governess somewhat unconventional ... to say the least." Here he turned to give her a piercing glance. Elizabeth closed her eyes miserably.

"I had certainly not expected to hire someone to teach Georgiana to read Latin or Greek, accomplishments not looked upon favourably by fashionable society. Furthermore, your manner with my sister is alarmingly familiar. You do not maintain any semblance of formality normally expected in this situation, from what I can perceive." He looked at her then, as if waiting for her to defend herself.

"It is as you say, Mr. Darcy. I have treated Miss Darcy with the familiarity I would give to my own sister, rather than a pupil." Elizabeth stared at the hands in her lap.

"Then, of course, there is the problem of this afternoon's incident. You certainly must agree with me that your conduct is not the kind of behaviour I would wish to see my sister exhibit," he said coldly.

"Of course not," Elizabeth replied in mortification.

"But perhaps I judge you unjustly, not knowing all the particulars. Do you have any defense to make for yourself regarding this afternoon?"

"None, sir. My reasons remain the same as what I said this afternoon. I was simply attempting to look at a ... flower..." Elizabeth faltered.

"Hmm..." Darcy turned sternly again to the window, and Elizabeth awaited the final sentence.

"Miss Bennet, I left three weeks ago with definite reservations about your abilities, considering your inexperience, among other reasons, and now I find that upon my return..." he paused to look at her, "I still have strong doubts about your methods, but I haven't seen Georgiana this happy for a very long time. For that I acknowledge my gratitude to you."

Elizabeth sat stunned, wondering if she understood him correctly.

"Are you not going to dismiss me?" she blurted.

"No, I am not," he said, his lips twisting briefly. "In fact, I hope you will stay. If you can effect such a change in three weeks..." he waved his hand, "Georgiana is hardly recognizable. I should probably ask you what sort of sorcery you have employed." He looked sternly at her. Elizabeth, the relief washing over her features, replied,

"It was nothing but friendship, Mr. Darcy. Unconditional affection from a member of her own sex that girls her age require so abundantly."

"I see," he said, his face assuming an enigmatic expression. "Miss Bennet, I have nothing more to say to you on this matter, except that I would appreciate it if you would try not to wander into any streams while there are guests at Pemberley."

"Mr. Darcy, I think I can safely promise you not to go within twenty feet of one!" Elizabeth cried with emotion. "You will have no reason to be ashamed of me while your guests are here. I swear to behave with the utmost decorum."

"Thank you, Miss Bennet. I shall not detain you any longer, except to return your letter." He handed her the document which had been lying on his desk.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth hesitated, her face looking up earnestly, "I neglected to thank you properly for your assistance to me this afternoon. My performance was...regrettable, as we have just established, but I assure you, I was most grateful for your...condescension." She was surprised when he turned abruptly, his dark eyes clouding over. His handsome features grew distant, and when he spoke his voice was as proud and formal as it had been the first day she had met him.

"You're welcome, Miss Bennet, see that it doesn't happen again," he said brusquely. "Now, I think you had better retire."

Elizabeth gasped in fury at the sudden change. She felt as though she had been doused all over again in cold water. She felt her pride rising, and forgetting that she was no longer Miss Bennet of Longbourn, she rose.

"Good night, sir," she said. Her eyes flashed at him haughtily as she swept from the room.

Chapter 7

Posted on Wednesday, 18 May 2005

Carriages began to roll into the yard the following afternoon. The house was filled with an atmosphere of preparation and expectation as various guests were greeted and settled in their rooms. Elizabeth had felt somewhat apprehensive when it came time to meet the guests. She wondered if any would recognize her, and if she would behave as she ought. Her uneasiness was nothing compared to Georgiana's. Georgiana was extremely nervous, but managed to acquit herself admirably, with the support and prompting of Elizabeth and her brother. Elizabeth found it at first awkward and infuriating to play the appropriately demure governess when she was used to being treated with deference. However, she watched the guests with interest, amused at the various vanities and follies she perceived among them.

There were a number of families from the surrounding countryside, including a Mrs. Whitman, with her two daughters. The Dartmores, a very fashionable married couple, were among the first to arrive. They were followed by a large group from London, the names and titles of which were impressive. Elizabeth dismissed most of them as the vain, self-centred people with fashionably bored manners. She had been in the company of such people frequently in her past, but now, after two years absence from society, their manners seemed more blatantly superficial. There were some sympathetic characters in the various guests. One was a Mr. Bingley, who was there with his sisters, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and her husband. The sisters were elegant women, although Elizabeth thought she detected a touch of eagerness in their otherwise impeccable manners. This was especially true of Miss Bingley, who looked at Darcy more often than an indifferent woman would, and fawned over Georgiana as if they shared an intimate relationship. Not that that was unusual, Elizabeth noticed. She had watched as all the young ladies made love to Mr. Darcy, simpering and batting their eyelashes, sometimes so obviously Elizabeth wanted to laugh out loud. Much to her amusement he behaved as if he was either completely unaware of their aspirations or totally indifferent.

Mr. Bingley she liked immediately. He alone seemed without duplicity in his expressed pleasure at being there. He was about the same age as Mr. Darcy, perhaps slightly younger, with an openness and genuine manner that pleased Elizabeth. Of all the company, he was the first to inquire into her past and family. Like all the men, he took a second look at her, but his eye was tempered with a respect and decency that often was lacking in others.

Elizabeth's reception among the ladies was marked with coolness. The single women, particularly Miss Bingley, looked suspiciously at her graciously formed figure, the aristocratic face with its expressive, thick-lashed eyes and high cheekbones, the lips enticingly full yet often mischievous in expression, the blonde curls escaping over her slender neck. The older, married women dismissed her immediately, or treated her with an unbearable condescension. There were several of them she recognized. She had been introduced to Lord and Lady Hilton, and even remembered singing at a dinner party given by the Watsons. She was sure they recognized her, but to her amazement, none of them claimed any acquaintance with her, instead passing over her haughtily.

The last group to arrive brought with it the most pleasure, both for Elizabeth and for the Darcy's. Their cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, had come with an older couple, Admiral Bond and his wife. Elizabeth recognized the couple at once, they having been friends of her father. She waited uncertainly, half expecting them to pass over her as the others had done.

"Miss Bennet!" the Admiral exclaimed warmly upon seeing her. "How do you do? It has been so long! How is your family?"

"They are very well, thank you."

"I am very glad to hear it. My dear," he called good-naturedly to his wife, who was speaking with Georgiana, "You remember Miss Bennet, do you not?"

"Of course! How could I forget that remarkable voice? How do you do, Miss Bennet?" The admiral's wife was a handsome, still vivacious woman. Elizabeth remembered that she had a tendency to scold her husband in a delightfully affectionate manner.

"How come you to be at Pemberley?" the Admiral asked kindly. "I was not aware you were acquainted with the Darcy family."

"I have been employed as Miss Darcy's governess and companion this past month," she replied, again waiting to see if any flicker of censure appeared in his fine old face. None appeared. Turning to Georgiana, the Admiral said,

"You could not find a better one in all the land, Miss Darcy. Our Miss Elizabeth, you know, is quite a scholar!"

"She is the best governess I have ever had," said Georgiana sincerely. The Admiral leaned closer to Elizabeth.

"Your father was the best of men, Miss Bennet," he said, patting her hand. "I was heartily sorry to hear of his passing."

"Thank you, sir," Elizabeth replied gratefully. She was surprised to find tears spring to her eyes at his kind words. She turned her face away, hoping that her emotion had gone undetected.

Elizabeth also found another sympathetic character in Colonel Fitzwilliam. He seemed to be quite taken with her upon their introduction. He was not a handsome man, but his care-free manners easily recommended him. Elizabeth was relieved to find herself often seated beside him at dinner. Their conversations tended toward liveliness, and while Elizabeth knew she should not draw attention to herself, it was a test to her playful nature.

"Miss Bennet, I am so delighted to discover you are a woman of many opinions," the Colonel had teasingly remarked one evening after a discussion they had had about books. Elizabeth laughed.

"Thank you, Colonel. You certainly know how to flatter a woman."

"You are catching onto me ... You will notice that I resort to something original, as I am sure to be told one more time that you are unusually beautiful would probably bore you." Elizabeth had been embarrassed by this comment. Her eyes instantly flew to Darcy, whom she found looking at her with raised eyebrows. The Colonel sensed her awkwardness, and cleared his throat.

"Perhaps we should talk of something a little more sober. My cousin prefers his company to keep to serious topics," he said, knowing perfectly well Darcy could hear every word.

"Does he indeed?" Elizabeth asked, amused. "Do you think he keeps such stringent rules himself?"

"Darcy only talks of politics, the war, or books written before 33 B.C., I am absolutely convinced."

"I am afraid our conversation will amount to very little, then, for I know nothing of politics or war, and I never discuss philosophy during the main course."

"Only during dessert, I suppose?"

"Yes, exactly," Elizabeth replied, her eyes twinkling as they laughed together. Darcy did not look at them, and appeared to be attending to something Mrs. Watson was telling him. However, he had looked less than pleased, and Elizabeth noticed Colonel Fitzwilliam glance a little uneasily at his cousin. For the rest of the dinner, the Colonel was more distanced, although still polite. Elizabeth was glad. She sensed that the Colonel liked her a little too much. She did not wish to lead him on, nor did she wish to make either of them the subject to the gossip of the small party-she was, after all, the governess. She had noted the glint of suspicion in the eyes of Miss Bingley, as well as the other eligible women. She knew all too well of the kind of malicious scandal that could be caused by jealousy. Miss Bingley was not stupid enough to wave away Miss Bennet as a potential adversary. She knew that there were other inducements than fortune to tempt a man. On the whole, however, Miss Bingley felt quite satisfied, for she was herself a handsome woman, and in her mind, the advantage of her fortune over Elizabeth's poverty made herself infinitely more desirable.

And so, as yet, Miss Bingley had no reason to treat Elizabeth disdainfully. She had watched Darcy closely, but could not discern any regard or infatuation on his part for the dangerously attractive governess. Indeed, Darcy rarely looked at or even talked to Elizabeth. This was not lost upon Elizabeth herself. In fact, as the days wore on, she found it an incredible source of frustration. At first she discarded it as the result of her starved vanity. I have been locked away from society for too long. I mustn't expect the same response now. I am no longer a rich heiress, she scolded herself. Thus she tried to reason her way out of her displeasure at his avoidance. For it certainly seemed like the man was avoiding her. He was never obviously rude, but he never spoke to her unless it was absolutely necessary, and when he did, it was with great formality and distance. If there was a seat available next to Elizabeth, he would go out of his way to procure another. Elizabeth, greatly to her annoyance, found herself fretting about it. She could not reconcile the cold, guarded look in his eyes with the warmth and easiness she had sometimes seen there. What is it about me that displeases him? She agonized, recalling the look of disgust at their first encounter. Who is this man? Why should I care so for his approbation?

She did not care to answer that question. She did know that her frustration seemed greatly out of proportion, and seemed to be growing worse each day. Sometimes, at the end of an evening, she thought she would explode if he did not look at her. She found her eyes constantly wandered to locate him, that she watched surreptitiously those with whom he conversed and that the minute he was in the room she could think of nothing else. She saw how the single women vied for his attention, how they revelled in it when he bestowed it upon them, how they detested the others when it was turned away. Nor were the married and older women indifferent to his attentions, although their manner with him was different. Instead of an eager fawning, they treated him with a sense of condescending ownership, and conversed with knowing looks and an exaggerated empathy.

All of this Elizabeth perceived as she quietly attended to Georgiana. She could not help secretly despising many of their methods, at times tempted to laugh aloud at their methods of winning his favour. Poor Miss Bingley! she smiled. Why can't she see that every attempt to flatter the man, his estate, or even his style of writing is only driving him further away from her? And the Misses Whitmans are perversely wide of the mark...giggling, affecting a childish ignorance, facetiously appealing to him to help them at every turn. He smiles and humours them, but I am sure he despises them! Can't they see that that is certainly not the way to win the heart of such a man? He needs a woman, not a ninny! Elizabeth blushed but could not help thinking that she knew how it was to be done, that she could have succeeded where they failed. She saw that his intelligence would be stimulated by intelligence, that his interest would have been aroused by a woman who could affect resistance to his charms, difficult as that may be. She sighed, thinking that however much she despised these women and their fruitless efforts, she certainly could not blame them.

Once, after Miss Whitman had dramatically exclaimed that she had never seen such elegant shoes as the ones Mr. Darcy was wearing, Darcy had met her amused eyes across the room. He had arched one eyebrow, as if to say, 'Don't ask me about the strangeness of your own sex." Elizabeth had grinned and responded with a 'congratulations on your latest admirer.' Darcy's handsome mouth had turned up at one corner and he looked away. The moment had been brief, but Elizabeth sat startled, her heart beating quickly. It was the first time he had looked at her without the expression of guarded severity she found so unbearable. She bent over her needlework to hide her discomposure. What had just passed between them? Elizabeth paused at the communication of one glance, the perfect, amused understanding they had shared so briefly, the warmth and wit in his brown eyes. But it had been more than that. It had been a brief revelation of the nature of this perplexing man-a revelation that suggested he was her equal; perhaps not in station, but in some other indefinable quality. Elizabeth took a deep breath shook her head. Mr. Darcy is proud, disagreeable, and my employer. It is inappropriate for me to entertain any feelings for him. Such scolding had become daily, hourly.

She had long ago determined that the man was a sort of paragon of male beauty. He was tall, his figure at once powerful, yet more lean than stocky. His length was perfectly proportioned by the breadth of his shoulders and strength of his calves. On the whole he emanated strength, but also an ease of graceful athleticism. Elizabeth had once (she assured herself) objectively observed him, and had decided that even more pleasing than his handsome face or strong body was the intelligence and perception that gleamed in his dark eyes. There was an expression of intelligence and confidence in his movements, in the gestures of his lean hands-a man inherently capable and in the habit of mastering any situation. His expression did tend to be aloof, and was often unreadable, but Elizabeth was intrigued to discover that there was a spark of humour that would appear in his eye, or in the wry twist of his lips, and also a warmth and compassion in the depths, albeit hidden behind his pride. She found it increasingly irresistible, and longed to know his thoughts, or share in the secret of his humour, to discover the exact balance of what he needed in a woman. Although she did not allow her to dwell on such thoughts, in her heart she knew that if circumstances had been different, she could have challenged his independence, piqued his interest, engaged his intellect, fascinated his masculinity, and most of all, she knew she could have loved him.

"This will not do!" she said furiously to herself one night after she had retired to her room. "I am just as bad as those silly women! What is worse, he does not even notice my existence, while I, the insignificant governess, swoon in the corner." Elizabeth undressed and climbed into bed, her eyes narrowing as she considered again how he continued to overlook her, to dismiss her with his eyes, to avoid her company. This is insufferable! I know I haven't a chance with this man-even if he did find me attractive, which he obviously does not, his pride would prevent him from marrying me. He may be the most desirable man I have ever encountered, but I refuse to join the throngs of adoring women! I am entitled to some pride as well! Before Elizabeth fell asleep, she resolved desperately to be indifferent to him.

Chapter 8

Posted on Wednesday, 18 May 2005

The next day the party had planned an excursion to a distant part of the park. There was to be a picnic and some of the ladies and gentlemen were to perform a short skit they had put together. It was a beautiful day as they set out across the lawn, paired off in groups of two or three. Elizabeth and Georgiana lagged behind, enjoying having the moment to themselves.

"It is a beautiful day, isn't it Elizabeth?" Georgiana smiled. "I wish I had the liberty to take a book and read rather than engage in conversation."

"As do I," Elizabeth replied. "But I must commend you on your performance over the last week. You have acquitted yourself perfectly!"

"Thank you. I have found it is not so bad, as long as I am seated next to Admiral Bond or Mr. Bingley. The company of Miss Bingley still terrifies me. She praises me so, and it makes me feel awkward. I do not know how to respond to it."

"I suspect you will find that to be the case-I mean having women fawn over you, as long as your brother is unmarried. Nevermind them! Your grace and sincerity starkly contrast to their silly affectations." Elizabeth stopped and glanced around. "Where is Mr. Darcy today? I do not see him."

"Oh, he was detained by someone at the house as we were setting out. Some business about a tenant, I suspect." Georgiana glanced over at Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, do you think my brother is ... desirable?"

Elizabeth was startled by the question. She blushed, "Oh, I ... that is, he is certainly one of the most eligible men I have ever met." She smiled at Georgiana. "Of course I cannot answer for every woman, but I would guess there are not many single women in England who would refuse his hand, if offered."

"But what do you think of him?" Georgiana queried.

"Oh, well, I think your brother a most ... a most ... a gentleman, certainly, although sometimes rather intimidating-but this is an unsuitable subject for a governess to engage in about her employer," Elizabeth finished, her colour high. She looked at Georgiana in embarrassment and disapproval. Georgiana was not intimidated.

"But are you attracted to him? Do you find him interesting?" she persisted. Elizabeth sighed.

"Georgiana, I think there are few women who would not find him so. Yes, I do find him attractive and interesting. Are you quite satisfied?" Elizabeth was by now thoroughly embarrassed and annoyed with Georgiana for the first time since her appointment. Georgiana, however, did not notice. Her vivacity only seemed to increase, and when the Colonel, who was walking ahead with a Miss Whitman on his arm called to Georgiana, exclaimed that she must come see something on the path, Georgiana skipped gaily ahead, leaving Elizabeth walking alone. Elizabeth did not mind. She relished the few moments alone, allowing herself to lag further as they followed a winding path through the green woods. What could Georgiana mean, extracting that kind of information from me? She thought fiercely. I must be more on guard, or else I will have Georgiana believe I have gone and fallen in love with him! With these thoughts she lost herself in her reverie. She had fallen behind considerably when she heard a noise behind her. She turned to see Mr. Darcy not twenty feet away. To her dismay, and in spite of all her resolutions, the sight of him plunged her into a state of confusion. She waited as he approached, desperately trying to regain her composure.

"Miss Bennet," he said politely when he had caught up to her, "how come you to walk alone? Are the rest ahead?"

"Yes, the others are a few minutes ahead. I was walking with Georgiana but Colonel Fitzwilliam called her to see something."

"May I?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"Thank you," she replied. She watched his face from the corner of her eye, expecting him to flinch at her touch, but he did not. He closed his eyes briefly, but when they opened she could perceive nothing but politeness in his expression.

"I am sorry you were forced to walk alone. Georgiana should not have left you."

"The solitude was not unwelcome, Mr. Darcy. I was enjoying the few moments to myself in your beautiful woods." Elizabeth blushed. Good heavens, I sound like Miss Bingley!

"In that case, I should apologize for my intrusion. I did not mean to interrupt you."

"It is well that you caught up with me. I am liable to wander into some path as I contemplate the beauty of nature, and miss the picnic altogether," Elizabeth said airily.

"Are you a great lover of nature, Miss Bennet?"

"I suppose I am-although I would not class myself with those who worship nature as a religion. I admire beauty in any form."

"I suspect that you have strong opinions regarding what should be labelled truly 'beautiful' and what should not." Elizabeth smiled briefly.

"I cannot deny it."

"You do not subscribe to the notion that beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Elizabeth looked at him with amused interest.

"No, Mr. Darcy, I do not. I believe true beauty exists in its pure form whether it is perceived by someone or not. Ignorance, prejudice, or misconception can prevent a person from seeing true beauty, but as these are overcome, the true nature of the object will be revealed."

"A strong stance indeed, Miss Bennet. Now that you have stated it, I shall have to insist you prove it, complete with quotations from Aristotle," Darcy said, a hint of tease in his voice.

"But you know very well that I cannot, Mr. Darcy. How does one prove that a sonata by Mozart is superior to one by Hummel? Although I suspect that if I were to play them for you, you would prefer the one by Mozart."

"You are woefully correct. My knowledge of music is so limited, I could not even begin to discuss it-my opinions are based only on what I like."

"And what do you like, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked archly.

"I shall tell you, Miss Bennet," he said, looking down at her. "I, too, am a lover of beauty. Like you, I believe that beauty exists independent of opinion, and that the more a person is informed, the more clearly the beauty is perceived. Unlike you, I do not believe that such an end should be pursued at all costs." Elizabeth blushed and looked away.

"You allude to my attempt to view the rose on the other side of the stream."

"I confess I have to marvel at the inconvenience you went to for the chance of a few moments of pleasure. You were not even guaranteed that the rose would meet your expectations. Tell me, if the rose had upon closer inspection shown to have a blight, or some other flaw, would you have considered the trouble you took worth it? Would you regret having gone to such length for the mere possibility of its beauty?"

Elizabeth was silent. After a moment, she turned to him, and said thoughtfully, "I do not know, Mr. Darcy. I have always pursued my ideals rather recklessly, regardless of the cost. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps, like my escapade last week, all I end up with are disappointment and mortification. And yet, faced with the situation again, I believe I would act in the same manner."

"Would you indeed?" He smiled.

"Yes, not because I considered falling in the stream and having to be rescued worth it," Elizabeth blushed, but continued, "but because as soon as I see another rose, I forget about all of the trouble I endured. I become enamoured with the ideal before me, and do not think of anything else."

"Your goal effaces all other considerations," he stated.

"Yes, I suppose it does ... but what an opinion you must be developing of me, Mr. Darcy! I should be presenting the appearance of someone wise under all circumstances, and here I am confessing quite the obvious!" Elizabeth said.

"On the contrary, you are only confirming the opinion I already had," he replied good-naturedly. Elizabeth turned to him archly.

"Well, Mr. Darcy, perhaps you should instruct me in the ways of wisdom, since you acknowledge yourself an expert."

"I should be glad to." Darcy paused briefly before continuing. "First of all, when an object of beauty is placed before you, it is necessary to think first of the all possible costs to yourself. It may help for someone like yourself to stop and write them all down so that you do not become distracted when the object is before you."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy, I shall endeavour to remember that," she said, amused and a little giddy at the teasing in his voice. Darcy continued, but this time there was a note of seriousness,

"Then it is necessary to think of all the costs to the people closest to you, your friends and relations. You must consider how it will reflect upon the people in your wider sphere of influence, which in my case would include tenants, employees, persons with whom I do business, the people of Derbyshire, and finally, the society I move in." He paused as they ascended a small incline. Elizabeth could not help but be impressed that, despite the air of easy capability he effused, his responsibilities were great indeed.

"All this must be considered before the first step of action is taken, as well as throughout the pursuit, for the circumstances are liable to change, and with it the costs."

Elizabeth responded slowly. "That would, undoubtedly, be the wisest, most circumspect way to go about all decisions in life. However, I wonder if it is right to eliminate spontaneity so completely in the process. For example, in my musical education, it was, more often than not, a spontaneous reaction of delight to the beauty of a piece of music, rather than the careful consideration of how I or anybody would benefit from it that led me to sacrifice a great deal of my time and effort."

"You were lucky, in that case, because the natural beauty of your voice, and the pleasure you would be able to give were bound to exceed the sacrifice you would make." Elizabeth blushed at his compliment.

"And yet, Mr. Darcy, if I were to adopt your methods, I rather doubt I would achieve anything. In my experience, it is seldom that something worthwhile comes without great cost."

"I did not say that an ideal of beauty should not be pursued if there is any cost at all. No-you are correct. Things of true beauty are rarely, if ever, acquired without sacrifice. I only meant that the value of what you pursue should always exceed the sacrifice you are planning to make."

Elizabeth looked up at him as he said this, and her heart constricted at the intensity of expression in his dark eyes. She wondered what exactly they were discussing. They had reached the edge of the clearing where the picnic and the guests were assembled. Elizabeth was hardly cognizant of anything except Mr. Darcy's eyes looking down at her until the Misses Whitmans were upon them.

"Mr. Darcy, where have you been!?" they exclaimed as they extracted his arm from Elizabeth's and escorted him possessively away. "We feared you would never find us, and it would be shameful of you to miss such a lovely picnic! You are always locking yourself away in your study..."

Elizabeth did not attend to what they said, nor did she perceive the jealous glances from the other women at the undeniably striking couple she and Darcy made. She moved quietly to sit beside Georgiana.

"I am so sorry, Elizabeth! I did not mean to leave you stranded. Colonel Fitzwilliam had to show me a delightful little path we had made as children, that I had all but forgotten about, and then we began reminiscing, and I forgot about you! But I am glad my brother was able to escort you."

"Yes, of course..." Elizabeth replied absentmindedly.

"Elizabeth? Are you alright?" Georgiana looked anxiously at her.

"Oh, I'm fine, dear, fine..."

Georgiana eyed her suspiciously, turned her gaze toward her brother, then back again to Elizabeth.

"Hmmm..."

"Pardon me?" Elizabeth asked, startled out of her reverie. "I'm sorry, Georgiana, were you saying something?"

"No, nothing at all," Georgiana smiled and handed her a sandwich.

Throughout the picnic and skit, Elizabeth found herself incapable of attending much to what was going on around her, being distracted by the unfamiliar feeling that was swelling in her breast. It seemed to spread within her, overtaking her faculties one by one. She could not eat a bite, her mind felt bewildered and breathless. Can this have anything to do with Mr. Darcy? she thought in alarm. She did not know, but every time she glanced across at him, or remembered how he had looked at her, she felt a stab of adrenaline course through her. I must stop this, she panicked. She turned her attention to the play that was being elaborately acted out. It was an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, with Lady Dartmore as Juliet and Mr. Bingley as Romeo. Elizabeth followed their movements with her eyes, trying to keep her mind on what they were saying. She found she had ill-succeeded, until the last scene. Mr. Bingley and Lady Dartmore were surprisingly good actors, and Elizabeth was at last caught up in it. Romeo had just discovered Juliet in the tomb.

"Ah, dear Juliet," Mr. Bingley intoned over the lifeless body of Lady Dartmore, his eyes eager with pretended emotion. "Why art thou yet so fair? Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace!" He drank the bottle of poison, and dramatically collapsed. The audience waited breathlessly, until Lady Dartmore arose and discovered the death of her beloved Romeo. Anguish and despair crossed her features.

"Oh happy dagger! This is thy sheath! Oh, my love, I join thee in life and in death!" Lady Dartmore plunged the dagger into her chest and collapsed over the bench. The curtains fell and everyone applauded enthusiastically. Elizabeth could not help glancing over at Mr. Darcy. Their eyes met, and he raised his eyebrows pointedly at her, as if to say, 'you see what happens when people do not carefully weigh their sacrifice'. Elizabeth blushed and looked away. She did not wish for any further interaction with him. She felt a desperate need for space to understand her own feelings.

As it was, she had very little time. On the way back to the house, the Admiral escorted her on one arm, and his wife on the other. Normally Elizabeth would have delighted in their conversation, but this time she found it almost excruciating to have to attend to what they were saying. By the time the party had arrived at the house, it was five o'clock, and the ladies retired to dress for dinner.

Chapter 9

Posted on Wednesday, 18 May 2005

Elizabeth was, for once, grateful to find herself seated between Georgiana and Miss Bingley at dinner. Mr. Darcy was at the other end of the table, much to the chagrin of her neighbour. Miss Bingley made a few polite, supercilious enquiries to Elizabeth, and then ignored her. Georgiana was engaged on her other side in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth found that she still had no appetite. Her mind circled itself in confusion, replaying the conversation she had had with Mr. Darcy that afternoon. Could he possibly have been making reference to her? She could not be sure. But then he had looked at her and there was something in his eyes...Elizabeth shook her head. It is always so easy to imagine admiration when you are desperate to receive it.

Once the company had all reunited in the salon, the ladies were called upon to entertain them with music. This had been a regular affair each night. There were some very accomplished women present, and each had her turn to impress the company. Elizabeth sat as inconspicuously as possible as Miss Bingley began a concerto. She bent over her needle-work, praying that this night they would not ask her to perform. She had been considered an indispensable part of the evening since the first night the Admiral had asked her to sing. Her level of performance far exceeded the others. The younger women did not exactly appreciate this fact, but were reconciled to it. There was an unstated understanding that Elizabeth would always perform last. In this way the comparison would not reflect too starkly on the others.

Georgiana usually accompanied Elizabeth, as Georgiana was still too shy to perform alone. The arrangement worked well, and pleased Elizabeth. She saw that it boosted Georgiana's confidence and accustomed her to performing. However, tonight, Elizabeth felt that it was imperative that she not sing; that it was a fate to be avoided at all cost. She felt too vulnerable; she needed time to sort through the confusion that reined in her, to establish some composure before she exposed herself. As the evening wore on, she grew increasingly agitated. She watched the Admiral, who could be quite obstinate in his insistence to hear her. Sure enough, after Lady Dartmore had concluded her Scottish air, he called to her,

"Now, Miss Bennet, what have you in store for us tonight? I am sure you must have something delightful prepared, for we are to leave tomorrow."

"If you don't mind, sir, I do not think I should sing tonight," she said hastily.

"Not sing? Do you have a sore throat?" he enquired anxiously.

"No, I am in perfect health, Admiral."

"Miss Bennet, you would not deprive us of the pleasure of hearing you," cried Mr. Bingley. "Who knows when we will have another chance!" His sentiments were heartily echoed by many others. Elizabeth arose, helpless against their entreaties and embarrassed at making a scene.

"Let us hear the aria you were practising the other day," called the Colonel. "I think it was Handel?"

"Oh, yes, 'Ah, fors' e lui che l'anima'! You sounded lovely, Elizabeth," said Georgiana as she moved to the pianoforte. Elizabeth blanched.

"Oh, no, I had really rather sing something else," she said earnestly, looking at Georgiana.

"Miss Bennet wishes us all to beg," she heard Miss Bingley whisper loudly to a Miss Whitman. They tittered with laughter. Elizabeth coloured and turned in resignation to face them.

As Georgiana played the introduction, she made a desperate resolve to compose herself. Elizabeth's voice had the richness of a mezzo-soprano, and the technical mastery she had achieved was astonishing. However, the most remarkable aspect of her performance was the subtlety of colour and inflection she conveyed to the words. Elizabeth knew she was an emotional performer; she had always found it impossible to sing while maintaining any pretences. But never in her life had she felt as vulnerable, as exposed as she did at that moment.

"E strano! E strano! in core scolpiti ho quegli accenti!"
How strangely, how strangely,
So deep in my heart his words are graven!
And would it bring misfortune to love him truly?
Guide me well, O my sorely troubled spirit,
for none hath ever so enthralled thee.
O joyful past fondest dreaming, to love and be beloved!
Can I think of disdaining, and choosing folly,
lonely remaining?

Is he the one that my sad heart,
Lonely amid confusion,
Loved to imagine as my own,
Thinking him but illusion?
He that discreetly, carefully,
Mounted by falt'ring footsteps,
Leading me to the threshold,
Stealing my heart away...
Ah, to the love that holdeth sway
O'er all creation eternal!
Strange is its pow'r supernal,
Torment, torment and gladness,
Gladness for aye!

The beautiful soaring tones seemed to come from her soul of their own volition. As she sang the Italian lyrics, it suddenly dawned upon her like a revelation. She loved him. It rang through her like an announcement, an irrevocable declaration against which she was helpless. She did not look at him, although she knew his eyes were upon her. I have fallen in love with a man who will never love me. Her joy at loving and the grief at the knowledge of its impossibility resounded through her consciousness, and her voice displayed it across the room. By the time the last note was sung, she could barely contain her emotion. It was not until she had resumed her seat that she dared glance inconspicuously at Darcy. She could not determine his expression-it seemed at once severe and earnest, maybe even angry. All she desired was to leave as quickly as possible, to be alone. She did not notice that several of the women were sniffling. The entire room heaved a sigh of denouement. Several of the men cleared their throats and smiled awkwardly in an attempt to hide the emotion kindled by the sweeping performance.

The party was somewhat more subdued for the remainder of the evening. Some card tables were put up, and many visited in small groups. The knowledge that everyone would be leaving in the morning served to quiet rather than enliven the atmosphere. Elizabeth sat silently in the corner bent over her needlework. After the realization of her feelings for Mr. Darcy had sunk in, she began to make desperate resolutions. So I love him. How long have I loved him? She shook her head. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters now is to conceal it from him, from everyone. And yet does he not suspect already? What else could he have meant by the conversation we had earlier? His confident affirmation that he never acted before he had consulted what was best in the eyes of his family, his friends, society must have been an effort to caution me against my own folly...Insufferable man! How could he be aware of what I had not even acknowledged to myself? I hate his perception-of course, even if he was not so perceptive, such a man must be aware that he could have his choice of women. Elizabeth pursed her lips. Well, whatever his suspicions may be, I resolve from this moment forward not to give him a moment's doubt. I will not be another name to add to his list of triumphs. Elizabeth sat upright, her eyes flaring in determination.

"Miss Bennet!" a voice called from across the room. She turned to see the Admiral beckoning to her from across the room. She laid aside her embroidery and made her way to him. He was standing with Lord Dartmore and Mr. Bingley.

"Miss Bennet, I want to compliment you on your performance tonight," he said, taking her hand affectionately. "I am not a music lover, hmph! sometimes I think I think the young ladies will never give an old man a moment's silence! But when you sing, my dear, I wish you would never stop."

"Thank you Admiral," she smiled sincerely, unable to resist his gruff charm. "That is very kind of you." Elizabeth glanced uncomfortably at Lord Dartmore, who was looking at her intently.

"Miss Bennet," interrupted Mr. Bingley, "I have just understood from the Admiral that you have seven unmarried sisters! Is that true?" Elizabeth could not help laughing as she replied,

"Not quite, Mr. Bingley. I have only four, although sometimes it does feel like seven."

"And are they ever in town? I would love to make the acquaintance of your family," he flushed.

"As a matter of fact, my eldest sister, Jane, and my younger sister Kitty are expecting to be in London at the end of the summer."

"Indeed!" Mr. Bingley cried. "And are they all as, eh, accomplished as you are?"

"None of my sisters have pursued music as extensively as I have, but I assure you, they far surpass me in other qualities. My sister Jane is a saint, and twice as good-looking as the rest of us," she said in amusement. I wonder if Mr. Bingley would suit my dear Jane?

"Well, Miss Bennet," said the Admiral gruffly, "it has been a very entertaining week here, and I am starting to feel the effects of it. I hope I may have the pleasure of seeing you again sometime. Do give my respects to your poor mother. Now, where is my wife? I think it is time for us to retire..." Thus saying, he bowed his portly figure slightly and went in search of his wife. Mr. Bingley also moved away. Elizabeth, realizing she would be left alone with Lord Dartmore, who she did not like, made to return to her corner of the room. She was surprised when he detained her.

"Miss Bennet," he said in his fashionably bored accents that belied the intensity of his look, "I have not had the chance to compliment you. A most stunning voice, indeed..."

"Thank you, sir," she said coolly.

"Miss Bennet, allow me to take this opportunity to tell you that if you are ever in need of employment to please apply to me. I know that Georgiana, or should I say Darcy , cannot be in need of your services indefinitely. I hope when you are in London we may have the opportunity to meet," he drawled. "I would be delighted to ... further the acquaintance of such a beautiful woman." To her astonishment, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes burning into hers.

Elizabeth flushed angrily at his implications. "I doubt I shall ever have need of your services, Lord Dartmore. Goodnight!" Elizabeth quickly withdrew her hand and whirled away from him. In her anger she did not notice Darcy standing directly in her path until it was too late to avoid him.

"Mr. Darcy," she quipped. Her eyes flashed angrily from the conversation with Lord Dartmore. She realized Darcy had probably heard every word.

"Miss Bennet, is everything all right?" He placed his hand protectively on her upper arm and looked at her with a knowing, and oddly severe, expression.

"I'm fine, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth could not keep the irritation from her voice. She looked up defiantly into his dark eyes. "Why do you ask? I suppose there has been something reprehensible in my behaviour once again." She knew she was overreacting, but her nerves had been tried to their limit. The last thing she wanted was Mr. Darcy's sympathy at the insolence she had been exposed to, or to allow his keen eye to triumphantly view the state of her heart. Her heart was beating rapidly at his nearness, and the hold he had on her arm tightened unwittingly at her words.

"Of course not, but I know that people can be cruel and presumptuous," Darcy snapped. "I simply wanted to ensure that you had not been exposed to anything of that nature."

"And what would you do if I had, call Scotland Yard? I am only the governess, Mr. Darcy. Nothing will ever change that." Darcy's eyes glittered down into hers in anger.

"That does not change the fact that as your employer, your honour and good name are my responsibility." Elizabeth bridled at his domineering tone.

"I certainly do not require your assistance! I am perfectly capable of dealing with such matters myself!"

"Fine," he said, his voice seething in anger. "But know that I expect to be notified of any untoward behaviour directed at you from my guests," he snapped.

Elizabeth simply glared up at him, shook herself free of his grasp and stalked out of the room.

Chapter 10

Posted on Wednesday, 18 May 2005

Colonel Fitzwilliam was the last to leave the following day. Darcy rode with his cousin to the edge of the hill overlooking his estate.

"That was quite a party, Darcy ... can't say I'm not glad to be rid of Miss Bingley or the Miss Whitman's, however."

"I agree wholeheartedly." Darcy allowed his horse to graze leisurely as he surveyed the surrounding countryside. It was a cool day. Rain-clouds could be seen billowing from the east.

"Mr. Bingley seems a decent chap," the Colonel continued.

"If I can keep him from falling in love with every milkmaid that walks past him, he'll do very well," Darcy quipped.

Colonel Fitzwilliam snorted. "I'm rather surprised he didn't fall in love with Miss Bennet, in that case." He looked slyly at Darcy. "It's always nice to know you've got the most beautiful woman on the island as your governess."

Darcy shot his cousin an annoyed look. "Well, she certainly didn't advertise that in her letter of recommendation. I just assumed she'd look how governesses are supposed to look. You know, like the ones you r sisters always had."

The Colonel snorted. "Miss Bennet certainly doesn't resemble any of them ... and when she sings ... I swear she could ask for my inheritance and I'd give it to her ... if I had one." Darcy looked disapprovingly at him.

"Don't get me wrong, Darcy ... I wasn't fool enough to fall in love with her. I'd be afraid she'd turn life into a battle of wits and that I'd lose."

Darcy's mouth twitched. "She's been teaching Georgiana how to read Latin."

"Indeed?" cried the Colonel. He paused. "You know, I'm surprised you did not recognize her name. She made a debut in London a couple of years ago. If I recall correctly, she caused quite a sensation."

Darcy shrugged. "I'd never seen her before, and if I had, how could I have known that she was the same Miss Bennet now applying as a governess?"

They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the cloud shadows race over the hills.

"What are you going to do?" the Colonel asked pointedly as Darcy moved his horse down the hill.

"About what?"

"About Miss Bennet?"

Darcy sighed, his face briefly revealing the weight of his responsibilities.

"I don't know. It seemed like such a good idea at the time-to find a companion for Georgiana, someone closer to her own age, to help bring her out of the depression she'd been in since last summer." Darcy snorted. "When I first saw Miss Bennet I knew I wouldn't be able to retain her. A man can't have such a woman living under his own roof! But it seemed heartless to deploy her on the spot. Instead I went to London for three weeks, intending to send her away when I got back, but by that time the woman had already made herself indispensable. You saw the difference in Georgiana?" Darcy looked pointedly at Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"Impossible not to notice. It's as if she's returned to the Georgiana she was as a child, even before your parents passed away." He shook his head. "I didn't think I would live to see the day."

"Miss Bennet has accomplished this in three weeks. I'm afraid if I remove her now, Georgiana will be in a worse state than she originally was. The two are inseparable." Darcy paused as his horse descended a steep incline. He continued when the Colonel was again alongside him. "So now I find myself faced with the decision of who will reign at Pemberley, Miss Bennet or me. I refuse to be driven from my own home, and yet it is impossible for both of us to remain!" Darcy finished with a dark look.

"Do you require a chaperone?" the Colonel smirked slightly.

"Don't be daft. Having you follow me everywhere would be insufferable."

The Colonel chortled. "Well, Darce, I must commend you on your self-discipline. You didn't so much as half-look at the chit the entire two weeks."

"Yes, sometimes I amaze even myself," he muttered, then more loudly, "Your parent's ball is in a matter of weeks. I promised Georgiana she could go. Of course she was ecstatic, insisting she would be able to face society as long as Miss Bennet was with her."

"You're going to take Miss Bennet to the ball?"

"It will be her last day as Georgiana's governess. My patience is wearing thin. Furthermore, last night Dartmore made some remarks to Elizabeth. I did not hear the entirety of it, but the gist of it was clear enough."

"Did he offer her an indecent proposal?" asked the Colonel in shock. "She is obviously a chaste young woman, a model of decorum! How dare he!"

"You should know Dartmore well enough to know he has no scruples whatsoever. I should have foreseen this. But regardless of that, it has made me aware of the unsuitability of the situation. All I need is half the country believing she is my mistress. While I would not suffer overly from such slander, her reputation would be ruined forever, as would subsequent opportunities for employment or marriage." Darcy frowned and moved his horse down the steep incline.

"You could always marry the girl. She comes from a respectable, if impoverished family. I am sure she could make up for her lack of connections in other ways."

"Marry the family governess? Don't insult me," Darcy shot back. The Colonel smiled to himself at these words, thinking that perhaps Darcy had met his match at last.

Chapter 11

Posted on Thursday, 19 May 2005

Darcy stalked into the darkened library, tore his cravat from his throat and threw it on the chesterfield. He was in a foul mood. It had been five days since his guests had left. For five days he had been bombarded by her presence with no respite. He could not escape her ... her laughter, her scent, her voice seemed to hunt him down to the nethermost parts of the house. There had been some alleviation when the house was full of people-then at least he had been preoccupied with the subtle game of avoiding Caroline Bingley and the Misses whatever their names were. On the down side, he had been possessed by jealousy anytime another man had paid too much attention to her and had been forced to listen to her sing every evening. He raked his hands through his hair in frustration. How could he have gotten himself into this mess? An infatuation with the governess! He wanted to laugh and then strangle something! Yet there was no denying he wanted her. Yes, he wanted her. He sank into an armchair and leaned his head back, closing his eyes briefly in the firelight. The sound of her voice came involuntarily, and even the memory of it intoxicated him. It was a dangerous weapon; winding around him and through him, unravelling his carefully erected barricades, causing his senses to betray his reason. He understood exactly what Fitzwilliam had meant when he said she made him want to give up his inheritance ...And that is precisely what is at stake. He jerked himself out of the armchair and looked around, willing himself to find some distraction. His surveyed the rows of books flickering in the firelight, his eye falling at last upon a book jutting from the shelf. He walked over and picked it up. Milton, Paradise Lost. He smiled, remembering the argument they had had about it the other day.

"Certainly, I agree that it is incredible in its scope and artistry. But Milton was wrong in his portrayal of Eve," she had asserted then looked at him, daring him to contradict her.

"What have you against her?" he had asked. "I thought it seemed remarkably accurate." He smiled in guilty remembrance of how he had taunted her, just to see her eyes flash at him in the way he found so irresistible. He had not been disappointed.

"That is precisely what all men think. It gives them great satisfaction to reduce a woman's sole virtue to physical beauty," she had said.

"And yet, if Milton's Eve was intended to represent the general follies and virtues of your sex, what did he say that was undeserved? For I would wager that most women of my acquaintance value their physical beauty over their intellectual capabilities."

"If that is indeed the case, Mr. Darcy, it is because the men of our society have taught them to do so!" She had begun to be slightly irritated, and leaning towards him, had said provocatively, "Either that or your circle happens to contain a high percentage of very silly women!"

"Miss Bennet, I highly doubt that the main topic of conversation in any sitting-room-even in Hertfordshire-consists of philosophical debate rather than the latest fashion. Come, you cannot deny it."

"And it is men like you who would lock us in our sitting-rooms and deny us any opportunity to improve!" She had stood in disgust, but he caught her wrist as she prepared to storm past him.

"Miss Bennet, wait!" She had paused then, her beautiful eyes gazing at him in arch defiance. "I agree with you," he had said guiltily, then watched in fascination as her face, which was incapable of expressing other than what she felt, turned from irritation to confusion, and finally disbelief.

"Mr. Darcy, are you teasing me?" she had said with raised eyebrows.

"Forgive me," he said, unable to resist smiling broadly. She pursed her lips in an unsuccessful attempt to keep from returning his smile as she sat down.

"You oughtn't to provoke me, Mr. Darcy. I may become violent. " They had both laughed. Georgiana had watched the exchange with much interest, and Darcy berated himself for once again giving into the temptation of her company. He was forced to go riding for two hours to escape when he should have been in his study going over his accounts. But that was not the only time he had willfully sought her company. His steps seemed to direct him to her of their own volition. Not that it was difficult to explain why. Being in her presence was like drinking an elixir, a fine wine. It was pure intoxication. He thought guiltily of the walks on which he had accompanied Georgiana and Elizabeth, justifying it by saying he would never be tempted to give Miss Bennet undue attention in the company of his sister. But Georgiana, that little minx! -had developed a propensity to frequently disappear in pursuit of some wild daisies, or to talk to the gardener or some other nonsensical thing, leaving him strolling around the park alone with Miss Bennet! He thought back to one conversation they had had. Georgiana had disappeared, as usual, leaving the two of them awkwardly alone. They had walked along the shaded path for some time in silence, he vacillating between self-censure and the pleasure of her hand on his arm. He was always acutely aware when she touched him. It yielded a kind of potent pleasure he dreaded and yet yearned for. As they walked he had glanced down at her face, and noted the peculiar blend of wistful sadness that was often expressed there. His heart moved within him; he was possessed by an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. Instead, he gently asked,

"Tell me about your family, Miss Bennet." She had looked up at him and smiled briefly.

"What would you like to know, Mr. Darcy?"

"How many sisters do you have exactly? And do they all reside in Middlesex?"

"I have four sisters, in spite of the Admiral's belief that I have seven. All but two now reside with my mother in Middlesex. The eldest Jane, and the second youngest, Kitty, are now in London staying with Mrs. Jennings."

"I believe you are originally from Hertfordshire?"

"Yes, that is where I grew up. We have only moved to Middlesex within the past year."

"I see." Darcy had stopped there, unwilling to force the disclosure of private family matters.

Elizabeth continued, "The reason for the relocation was the sale of the family estate, which was required to pay the debts incurred upon my father's death."

"I am sorry, Miss Bennet!" he had said in concern. "I was not aware that you had lost your father so recently."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Although it has been a painful transition for us, our loss is not as great as some. At least I have not had to experience the loss of both parents, as you have." To his amazement, she had turned to him then, her face full of concern for his past suffering.

"The greater extent of another's suffering does not lessen the pain of one's own. Nor am I convinced that your suffering has been less than mine. While it is true that I have experienced the loss of both parents, I was not forced from my home as you were, nor was I forced to seek employment in the house of strangers, torn from the society of loved ones when their presence and healing was most needed. I am exceedingly sorry, Miss Bennet!" he declared with feeling. His admiration for this remarkable woman suddenly increased ten-fold. They were both silent for a moment, and Elizabeth seemed not unaffected by his words.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy, it is most kind of you! But it is not quite as bad as that, for I have been blessed in the separation from my dear family with the companionship of one who has become equally as dear to me. Georgiana..." she had hesitated, "has brought healing that did not come even in the presence of my closest family. I can assure you, sir, that whatever good I have been able to affect in her has been reciprocated twice as much in me." She had been silent then, and embarrassed at the personal nature of her disclosure. Luckily Georgiana had reappeared then, and they had turned back to the house. Georgiana had prattled on, not noticing the silence of the other two-Elizabeth, undoubtedly out of embarrassment, and he because of the powerful feeling that was generating in his breast toward her.

Darcy stared into the flames of his darkened library. His mind went to another incident that had occurred in the library earlier that day. He had been out with his steward, determined to avoid her all day, and had returned only to retrieve something from the library-he could not even recall what it was anymore. As he opened the door, he was accosted by the sight of Miss Bennet standing alone in the corner with a rather startled look on her face.

"Miss Bennet!" he had said in surprise.

"Mr. Darcy," she replied in some discomposure. "I did not expect you. I will leave you to your library at once, sir."

"May I be of any service to you, Miss Bennet?"

"Oh, I simply came to get a book for Georgiana. It is of little consequence," she said hastily.

"Were you unable to find the book?" he asked, noting her empty hands.

"Oh, no, it is here, it is just that, well, I cannot reach it," she said, flushing apologetically. He had smiled and made his way over to her.

"Which one is it?" he asked. She pointed to a book in the corner a few feet over her head.

"The green one, Lives by Plutarch." He knew he should not have, but almost in spite of himself he stood behind her so that she could not easily move, and reached up to take the book. He had not touched her, but he had stood close enough that a slight move on either part would have brought them in contact. He had been overcome with a desire then to run his hand down her slender arm, to feel the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders under his lips, to feel her tiny waist again in his hands! He pulled the dusty green book off the shelf and wordlessly handed it to her.

"Thank you," she had said breathlessly.

"You're welcome," he had replied softly, his breath sending curls dancing around her ear. He had spent the day with his steward, not that it had done any good. His mind circled on itself, refusing to allow him to push her memory away. Every time he attempted to concentrate on something, she would intrude on his thoughts. He could see her now before him, the willowy grace of her form, the thick golden curls caressing her white neck, her eyes, as intelligent as they were beautiful, her perfect lips...

"Good grief!" Darcy spoke aloud into the room. He shoved the book back onto the shelf and stalked over to the table containing a decanter of brandy. He poured a small glass and emptied its contents in one movement. The contents burned down his throat and caressed the knot of frustration in his stomach. Grabbing the decanter, he made his way back to the armchair and pressed his pulsing temples. He knew he was in danger. Elizabeth Bennet-he couldn't have designed a woman more to his taste, he could not deny that he was falling for her in spite of himself, that although he would not admit it to himself, he probably loved her. He wondered what it would be like to have her as a wife; to come home to her delightful presence and conversation; to give in to the intoxication of her voice instead of fighting it; to discover all her secrets, to offer her his protection and care; to love her as only her husband would ever do. Darcy shook his head and took another swig of the brandy. None of that changed the reality of the situation. She was out of his reach; he would not make a mockery of himself before the world. He stared into the flames and made himself repeat, 'she is the governess' ten times.

Elizabeth kicked the blankets off her and sat up in annoyance. Down the hall she heard the faint chime of the grandfather clock.

"Two o'clock in the morning," she whispered into the darkness. She had been lying awake for four hours. Her room felt stifling in the heat, and thoughts of him restlessly dwelt in her mind. It was only in her room at night that she allowed herself to fully dwell on them, often robbing her of sleep. Was he indifferent to her? She asked herself for the hundredth time. The past week had provided her with a better context for determining his character, but with little result. His heartfelt expression of sympathy at the death of her father had moved her deeply, and had testified of the compassion and warmth that underlay his sometimes-severe exterior. She could not as yet resolve the discrepancies in his behaviour, for at times he would look at her in such a way that her heart would stop beating and her stomach would tighten; she thought she would be overcome by the intensity and warmth of his gaze, yet at other times he was aloof and indifferent, and seemed displeased or angry with her. At times it seemed he purposely sought her company and delighted in teasing her, at other times he would avoid her or speak not a word to her for the entire evening. Yet she could not perceive any particular sign of admiration in his looks. The something in his looks was surely due to her own feelings rather than his. As the days passed, she found she lived for a look, a word, a conversation like a dog licking up crumbs from under a table. Elizabeth thought again to the moment in the library. This she could not reconcile as being due to her own imagination. He had stood so close behind her she could feel his warm breath on her bare neck and shoulders. It was impossible that it could have happened except by his express wishes, for she had made to move out of his way, but he had prevented her from it by reaching around her, blocking her path and then had spoken in a voice so low, so ... intimate. What had he said? "You're welcome."

Elizabeth groaned and sat up in bed. "This is ridiculous," she cried in anguished frustration. "The man says 'you're welcome' and I contort it into an expression of passion!" She flopped back on her bed and buried her head in a pillow. Almost unbidden came the sound of his voice again to her. She envisioned herself wrapped in his arms as he whispered words of love in the same low, passionate voice. Elizabeth sat up again, enraged at herself. She knew she had to put a stop to this obsession. She had increasing difficulty attending to Georgiana, and there had been several times when Georgiana had had to call her attention back to their study. Thankfully Georgiana had been more amused than offended at Elizabeth's absence of mind. Elizabeth felt she was caught in an endless cycle of loving him and then berating herself for loving him. She knew she should leave, that it was her duty to leave if she could not overcome her feelings, but the idea of never seeing him again was unbearable.

"I might as well read as lie here," she thought in exasperation, and flung her legs over the side of the bed. She was wearing a light sleeveless nightgown-the coolest one she owned-in an effort to overcome the heat. She grabbed a chemise, thinking she would throw it on in the unlikely event she met someone. The cool air of the hall felt good on her fevered skin as she made her way silently through the dark corridors to the library. As she slipped into the room and closed the heavy oak door gently behind her, she noticed that someone had left the remnants of a fire burning. She crackling coals cast a red glow on the dark rows of books. She made her way over to the far wall, and squinted through the dim light, hoping something would catch her interest.

A sudden noise from across the room caused her to gasp in fright. With a start she saw someone rise from a chair in front of the fire. The silhouette was dark, but she knew from the height and breadth that it could only be one person. Elizabeth stood stunned, gripping her chemise to her bosom as he paused, leaned against the chair, then slowly began to cross the room toward her. Her eyes flickered briefly over his dim appearance-he wore the trousers he had worn at dinner, but his shirt was open to his chest, and his dark hair was awry, as though he had raked his hands through it too many times. Elizabeth had never seen him other than impeccably attired. His eyes were like black pools-she recognized the look that had before frightened and confused her. Now there was no mistaking the admiration and haunted passion that diffused from his countenance.

"Elizabeth." His voice was deep and tender, just as she had imagined it would be. Elizabeth shivered involuntarily and backed against the bookshelf as he came to her. Her heart beat furiously, and she had resolved to run when he reached out suddenly and covered her hands with his own. His intense gaze held hers as he slid his hands down her arms, up her bare shoulders, then around the curve of her neck. His eyes then dropped to her lips, and he tilted her face up to meet his. Elizabeth closed her eyes in anticipation, her skin electrified at his touch. She could not move or breathe. To her surprise and wonder, when his lips finally touched hers, the sensation was gentle and infinitely tender. As he continued, his kisses increased in intensity. His mouth expertly caressed her own. She found the sensation more infinitely pleasurable than anything she had ever experienced. She sighed, dropped the chemise to the floor, and hardly knowing herself, slid her hands up his chest and around his neck.

His response was immediate. His hands dropped to her waist as he pressed her body to his. His lips became urgent. Elizabeth didn't dream of resisting as she melted into him. A flood of emotions engulfed them both as they partook of what they had so long needed and so long been denied. How long they stood entwined there, his hands sprawled on her back, his mouth demanding hers, she did not know. It ended abruptly when he pulled away, disengaged her arms from his neck and pushed her back. Darcy leaned his arm on the shelf behind her as he attempted to regain his breath. Elizabeth knew not how she remained standing, and was also grateful for the support behind her. She stared breathlessly into his eyes which were roiling with emotion. For a moment neither spoke, each struggling to regain their breath and composure.

"Leave me," he pleaded at last. Elizabeth fled, willing her knees, which felt like collapsing, to carry her out of the library into the dark.

Chapter 12

Posted on Thursday, 19 May 2005

The next morning she awoke late, having fallen asleep at long last. She felt groggy and strange. When the memory of the previous night fully dawned on her, she froze in her bed.

"He kissed me," she said in shock. She touched her lips with her hand, where his lips had been, as the feelings of the previous night washed over her. Her heart stopped again as she recalled the feel of his hands on her waist, caressing her back, his lips on her mouth. It had been like heaven. She shook her head. It had been more than a simple kiss ... it had been an expression of barely contained passion. The full weight of shame and guilt descended upon her.

"I cannot face him," she whispered. "What must he think of me?" The cognition of what had occurred between them paralyzed her. She wished she could sink into the earth. How would her conduct appear to him? The governess shows up in his library in the dead of night in a scanty nightgown and throws herself willingly into his arms. Of course he had not restrained himself, what man would? He must consider it a deliberate offer on her part. And yet he had shown himself to be the honourable one, by asking her to leave. Elizabeth made a strangled cry of shame and frustration. Of course she knew that she had not intentionally sought him out, that her designs, although easily misinterpreted, especially considering what had happened, had nonetheless been innocent, and that, even if he had not asked her to leave first, she would have left eventually of her own volition. Or would she? Elizabeth struggled within herself. She had felt almost powerless against the strength of his embrace. Perhaps such feelings were proof of her true nature. Perhaps she was in essence, if not in fact, a fallen woman. Tears came unbidden to her eyes, and an inexpressible pain pierced her heart. Elizabeth wiped her tears and miserably concluded that, whatever her state, she had certainly proven to him that she was no lady.

She knew that she would have to leave; today, if possible. The thought of wounding Georgiana brought on another bout of tears, but, as she told herself, this was the result of her own actions. I have done enough damage with my foolishness, it is time to act as I should, regardless of the costs. If I had not fallen in love with Mr. Darcy, this would never have happened. How could she have prevented her falling in love with him? She shrugged. She did not know, and it was too late to think of that now.

Her resolve concerning him was firm, although she dreaded the confrontation. She thought he might feel an obligation to marry her, and if that was the case, there was no doubt that she must refuse him. She could imagine nothing more horrible than trapping Darcy into matrimony against his will. She knew the expectations of a man of his class and wealth regarding marriage, and she would not stand in the way of it for the world. She did not expect that he would protest her demand to leave as soon as possible, but if he did, she was prepared to stand firm at all costs. She quickly dressed, arranged her hair, and went in search of Mr. Darcy.

In far too brief a time, she found herself standing without the door of his study, where she had been informed he had been all morning. She paused, and could feel herself shaking. She thought she might be sick. However, she knew she had to face him sooner than later, and it might as well be now. After a deep breath, she held her chin up and knocked.

"Come in," the familiar bass voice resonated. When she entered, Darcy, who had been writing at his desk, dropped his pen and silently came around to close the door behind her.

"Miss Bennet," he said quietly, "Please, have a seat."

Elizabeth, however, shook her head and merely walked to the other side of the room. She could not meet his eye or face him directly, so great was her embarrassment. He intuited that she did not wish him to speak, and so remained silent.

"Mr. Darcy, I have come to inform you that I intend to resign. I would like to leave as soon as possible-today, even." Elizabeth's voice was barely above that of a whisper.

Darcy looked at her. "Because of last night?" he inquired softly. Elizabeth felt the heat of her cheeks burning.

"I had intended to resign some time ago, but had originally planned to wait until after the ball to inform you. What happened last night ... has made my resignation imperative." Elizabeth closed her eyes in mortification.

"I see ... and do you mind telling me what caused you to wish to resign in the first place?" Darcy stood before her, earnestly searching her face.

"Please do not ask me," she whispered and turned her face away from him. He sighed deeply and walked to the window.

"Miss Bennet, I confess I did not expect anything less than your offer for resignation. Now let me speak. I am fully prepared to act honourably by you. My behaviour to you last night-"

"Please stop, Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth cried desperately. "I forbid you to offer a word of apology. Nothing would induce me to marry you. I beg you to allow me some dignity in my resignation, especially after my shameful conduct. I assure you it was not my intention to force you into matrimony!"

"Do you blame yourself for me kissing you?" Darcy asked incredulously.

"Of course," came the hurt reply. Darcy knew not whether to laugh or shake her.

"First of all, that is ridiculous," he said evenly. "A man cannot be forced to kiss a woman if he does not desire it, I don't care if they happen to show up in his library in the middle of the night. You will not take responsibility for my breach of conduct! I am obviously not to be trusted with you. As you refuse to resolve this through matrimony, I must agree that your removal is necessary. I will of course do everything I can to secure another position for you. However, I do not think it crucial for you to leave today. In fact, I would ask you to stay until after the ball." He held up his hand as she began to protest. "There are more people involved than just you and me," he said. "I must think of Georgiana. I am very reluctant to interrupt an arrangement that has been so beneficial to her..." he paused. "Unfortunately, circumstances dictate otherwise. Miss Bennet, will you consider staying three more weeks? You know Georgiana will not go to the ball without your escort. She has been anticipating it for so long, and I hesitate to deliver two such disappointing blows."

Elizabeth hesitated. "I am also concerned for Georgiana's welfare, sir, but considering all that has passed, I do not think it wise for me to remain here any longer."

"Miss Bennet, I would not ask you to remain under the same roof as myself another night. If you will agree to stay, I will depart for London this very afternoon, and remain there until you and Georgiana join me in three weeks time."

Elizabeth wavered. Despite her resolve, she did not think she could refuse such a request, especially considering that leaving Georgiana so abruptly might be detrimental to her young friend.

"Very well, Mr. Darcy, I shall stay."

"Thank you," he said and looked at her for a moment until she flushed and lowered her eyes. "Miss Bennet, I hope that after you leave, you will retain a correspondence with Georgiana. It would be a great honour for her." Elizabeth replied in some surprise,

"Of course, Mr. Darcy, I would be delighted." Mr. Darcy said nothing, only continued to look at her with the same enigmatic expression in his handsome face. Elizabeth begged to be excused. His request for her to continue her acquaintance with Georgiana filled her with confusion. She could not be insensible to the honour of it, especially considering the light she had showed herself the previous night. That he would wish for a woman who had proved herself once and for all to be no lady at all to continue an acquaintance with his only sister was incredible. Could it be he truly did not blame her for what had happened? That the kiss had not lessened her in his esteem? She felt it was impossible that it could not, and yet, it seemed more impossible that he would desire someone not respectable to befriend his sister. She shook her head in bewilderment as she made her way to her chamber. The man made no more sense now than he had at their first encounter! Never had she met someone more impossible to comprehend.

Chapter 13

Posted on Thursday, 19 May 2005

Elizabeth was grateful that Georgiana's excitement about the coming ball distracted her for the most part from perceiving Elizabeth's depressed spirits. She could not bring herself to tell Georgiana that she was leaving, and so continually put it off. Georgiana's excitement over the coming ball grew with each day and Elizabeth was loath to ruin her anticipation. Elizabeth did her best to appear cheerful and normal during the day, but she found it increasingly difficult with the realization that in a very short time she would likely never see Georgiana or her brother again. Furthermore, Pemberley without its master seemed bleak and empty indeed. Each room where she had been used to seeing him or had conversed with him was desolate and joyless now. However, she refused to ruin her last days with Georgiana. Every moment with her young friend was precious to her. She could not laugh, but she bravely put on a smile for her sake. It was only at night that she indulged herself in tears of anguish.

Her thoughts regarding Darcy were painful, to say the least. She knew she loved him irrevocably. She had given her heart, and it was impossible to withdraw it now. She mourned the fact that the man she had come to love would never belong to her; that in time, he would undoubtedly marry another woman. Her heart whispered to her that under different circumstances, she could have been that woman. She knew now that he must be attracted to her, for although largely inexperienced with men, it did not seem likely that he could have kissed her in such a way if he was not. She envisioned it through her tears-her father still healthy, the whole family happily installed at Longbourn, the season in London where she would have become acquainted with Darcy on an equal social standing. That he was attracted to her seemed incontestable, for although inexperienced with men, she somehow knew that Darcy could not have kissed her the way he had unless he had a strong attraction to her. She could not help think that if perhaps if she had met him before the recent fall in her station and situation she could have won his affections as well as his desires. She realized now that the day of the picnic, when he had spoken so adamantly about adhering to reason in matters of passion, had been as much for his benefit as for hers. Perhaps if her father had never become ill, the estate was still healthy, they could have met in London, fallen in love, and she would have been the mistress of this house, instead of the degraded governess. Elizabeth chided herself on such fruitless meditation as new found tears of longing for her home, for Jane, and especially for her father made their marks down her cheeks as they had not done for many months. This new trial opened old wounds that had not yet healed completely, and the pain and desolation of her heart seemed unbearable. She had lost her father, her home, had suffered the separation of her sisters and the degradation of a lowered social status, and now she was to lose the only man she had ever loved. The suffering she endured those three weeks was acute, and therefore it was with relief that the end of the third week approached. A change of scene will do me good, she thought. The knowledge of soon being reunited with her dear Jane also served to give some comfort.

It was not until a few days before their departure that Elizabeth found the courage to tell Georgiana. The day had been a busy one, full of preparation for the coming ball, and they were taking their tea later than usual in the conservatory. The late afternoon sun reflected off the pink flowers, making the air rosy and intimate. The women were inclined at first to sip their tea in companionable silence rather than speak. At last Georgiana looked anxiously over her china tea cup and said,

"Elizabeth, forgive me if I intrude, but I cannot help but think there has been something bothering you of late. Will you not confide in me?"

"Oh, Georgiana, I have tried to conceal my sad spirits from you, but I see I have ill succeeded. It is just as well you have brought it up, because I have lacked the courage to tell you..." Elizabeth stopped and looked mournfully at Georgiana. Her heart swelled with sorrow and she found herself unable to speak. Georgiana's eyes widened. She placed her cup back in its saucer.

"Elizabeth, are you trying to tell me that you are ... are you leaving?" Georgiana whispered. Elizabeth's only answer was a single tear sliding slowly down her cheek.

"Don't cry ... I think I already knew," replied Georgiana, as the tears welled up and spilled down her own cheeks. She moved to sit beside Elizabeth on the love seat, where they embraced through their tears.

"I am so sorry, I should have told you before," said Elizabeth.

"When will you leave?"

"After the ball," replied Elizabeth. "My sister Jane will be in town, and I will return with them."

"Must you leave?" asked Georgiana in desperation. Elizabeth gave a small nod through her tears.

"I'm afraid it is absolutely necessary."

"But why?"

Elizabeth hesitated. Her heart longed to unburden itself, but how to tell Georgiana she had fallen in love with her brother?

"Does it have anything to do with Fitzwilliam?" Georgiana looked earnestly at Elizabeth, who blushed deeply and turned away.

"Never mind," Georgiana said hastily, "you needn't tell me. I shan't press you. I know what it is like to have a secret." Elizabeth looked up immediately, her eyes intent on Georgiana's face. Georgiana continued, "As you cannot tell me yours , I hope you do not mind if I take this chance to tell you mine. It has been pressing on me for some time, and I want you to know before you leave."

Elizabeth took Georgiana's hand in her own and waited. "Go ahead, dear, I'm listening." Georgiana took a deep breath.

"Last summer, I was attending a school in Ramsgate under the supervision of a Mrs. Young. There was a young man there whom I had known since I was a child, whose name I cannot bear to even speak now. My heart was so vulnerable, I was lonely and homesick; of course, I know that is no excuse for what I did. I am so ashamed of myself!" Georgiana paused. "You see, he persuaded me to elope with him. Fitzwilliam arrived just in time to save me from disgracing myself, thank goodness! What I do not owe him! It turns out that he was only after my fortune after all. I see now how foolishly I behaved, and it has robbed me of peace of mind for a long time-until you came, and I felt ... healed, somehow." Georgiana hesitated, "Elizabeth, tell me honestly, do you despise me for it? Do you still wish to be my friend?"

"Of course! Nothing you could do could make me stop loving you ... I only hope you do not blame yourself. You were so young, and what fifteen-year old is inured to such a situation? Remember, I have been fifteen before, and know well what a confusing time it is. As it is, your only regrets can be what would have happened if your brother had not saved you, which is much more palatable. It is no sin, however painful the experience, to fall in love." Elizabeth could not help colouring slightly as she said this. She did not care to acknowledge that the advice she had just given Georgiana could apply in her own case as well. Georgiana smiled.

"I am so glad I told you. I feel a weight has been taken off my shoulders. I hope you will write to me when you are gone?"

"I would be delighted," Elizabeth replied. "It would be much too great a sacrifice to give up your friendship."

"I cannot believe you will be leaving me in a few days," said Georgiana sadly. "How I shall miss you! But let's not ruin our few days together. In fact, let us pretend that we are sisters, and that you are going to stay forever!"

Elizabeth smiled gratefully.

"Very well. We shall giggle and flutter just as two women with an approaching ball ought. Would you like to sing duets after supper?"

"I would be delighted!" was Georgiana's reply.

Chapter 14

Posted on Thursday, 19 May 2005

She and Georgiana relished every moment they had. Georgiana's spirits were more elevated than Elizabeth's, as she would often forget to be melancholy in anticipation of the ball. Despite Elizabeth's breaking heart, the days passed quickly, and soon she found herself with Georgiana ascending the steps of the Darcy's townhouse in London. Her heart beat furiously as the moment approached that she would come face to face with him. She prayed that she would not betray her agitation, or that his keen eye would somehow fail to notice it. He was there to greet them in the front hall. Elizabeth felt rather confused and dizzy through it all. She heard his step, as sure and masculine as ever, she thought he kissed Georgiana, she recalled him looking at her and hearing her name on his lips, she thought he looked at her a little longer than usual, then it was over. She was shown to her room, a very elegant one, she was surprised to find. She highly doubted a governess had ever slept in this room. It was richly decorated in maroon and gold, with dark woods and Persian rugs.

The ball was to be the following evening. Jane had been contacted. Mrs. Jennings and her party were to attend an assembly ball the same evening, and it had been arranged for Elizabeth to join them the following morning.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Elizabeth found herself uncharacteristically shy around Darcy. He also seemed inclined to silence, and when he did speak, there was an edge in his usually calm accents which intimidated Georgiana, and so the meal passed with only stilted attempts at conversation. After dinner, all three of them retired to their rooms in relief. Elizabeth fell asleep at long last, only to dream she was at the ball dressed in rags, dancing circles around Mr. Darcy, who refused to acknowledge her. Both Georgiana and Elizabeth slept late the following morning. Elizabeth awoke to Georgiana knocking on her door.

"Good morning, dear," said Elizabeth sleepily. As Georgiana climbed onto the bed, she noticed her peaked features and white complexion. "Are you ill, Georgiana?"

"I do not think I can go to the ball, Elizabeth," Georgiana whispered. "I feel horrible." Elizabeth sat up and peered at Georgiana.

"You look very pale, indeed. Let me feel your forehead...yes, you have a fever." Elizabeth rose and helped Georgiana to her feet. "We must get you to bed immediately. I shall have an apothecary called." Elizabeth wrapped a blanket around Georgiana's shivering shoulders and led her back to her room with great concern.

An apothecary was immediately sent for, and Georgiana was diagnosed as having contracted a severe cold-nothing serious, but she must remain in bed. The ball was now out of the question. Elizabeth sat by Georgiana's bed, wiping her fevered brow.

"Elizabeth..."

"Shh, don't talk, dear," Elizabeth hushed.

"Elizabeth, you must go to the ball," Georgiana intoned weakly.

"Go to the ball? I wouldn't dream of it! I am not leaving you in such a state!"

"I insist that you go. You should not have to stay home simply because I have a cold."

"What pleasure could I derive from going to a ball knowing that you were sick in bed? I shall certainly not go. Besides, it would not do for a governess to go without her charge."

Georgiana forced herself upright. Her face was flushed with sickness, but set in determination.

"Elizabeth Bennet, I order you to go! If you do not, I shall...run outside until I catch pneumonia and die!" Elizabeth exclaimed in incredulity and concern at this declaration. She was attempting to make Georgiana lie back down when Darcy knocked and entered. Elizabeth inwardly cursed his untimely appearance, as well as her heart, which would accelerate every time he entered the room.

"Georgiana, I beg you to lie down and be reasonable!" she cried. Darcy approached the bed and took Georgiana's hand.

"Is Georgiana being unreasonable?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. At his urging Georgiana laid back on the bed, but she did not relinquish her case.

"Fitzwilliam, you must make Elizabeth go to the ball, for she says she will not...and I promise to die of pneumonia if she does not!" Both Darcy and Elizabeth looked at Georgiana in astonishment.

"Miss Bennet, what have you done with my sister?" Darcy jested.

"Fitzwilliam..." Georgiana pleaded.

"It looks as though I may have to entreat you to attend, Miss Bennet," Darcy said in amusement. "It seems Georgiana's life depends upon it."

"In which case she leaves me little choice, although why she will die if I do not attend I should very much like to know..." Elizabeth's eyes upbraided Georgiana, who smiled triumphantly and relaxed onto her pillow.

"You must come and show yourself to me when you are ready," she said weakly. Elizabeth rose with a sigh of resignation.

"Very well, but you must promise me not to move from your bed!"

"I promise."

Elizabeth looked at Darcy apologetically and excused herself. A few minutes later found her at her desk furiously writing a note to Jane. What could Georgiana mean, forcing her to attend? Did she not see what an awkward situation she had placed her in? It was unusual for Georgiana to be so adamant about anything, never mind this! One thing was certain-it was impossible for her to arrive at a family ball alone with Darcy. The very thought of him arriving with the governess on his arm made her cringe in embarrassment. How would it appear to his family, his friends, to the ton! And how mortifying to be the cause of his mortification! Elizabeth hastily folded the letter, which contained a request to Jane that she be allowed to attend the assembly ball with their party. She presented it to the butler, requesting it be delivered as soon as possible, and then sat in agitation for the rest of the morning until a missive from Jane arrived. Jane was of course delighted at the change of plans, although expressing regret at Miss Darcy's illness. It was arranged that Mrs. Jenning's carriage would collect Elizabeth at seven that evening. Elizabeth pressed the note to her breast and breathed a sigh of relief.

She then went in determined search of Mr. Darcy, whom she encountered at long last in the billiards room. Elizabeth entered rather abruptly, not expecting to find him there. She coloured upon seeing him. He was leaning over the table, his coat having been abandoned earlier. He stood immediately when she entered.

"Miss Bennet! Can I be of service to you?"

"Excuse me for interrupting, Mr. Darcy. I have come to inform you that I will be attending the assembly ball tonight with my sister and her party. I know I promised Georgiana I would attend a ball this evening, and I am sure you will agree with me that this arrangement will be infinitely more preferable to the previous, as it will spare you the mortification of appearing with me alone at your aunt and uncle's tonight." Elizabeth paused to catch her breath. Darcy said nothing, only with a slight clench of his jaw leaned over the table and with a loud crack sent balls scurrying in every direction. Elizabeth wanted to stamp her foot impatiently, but contented herself with tightening her fists in silent indignation at his prolonged silence. At last he turned to her.

"Is that all, Miss Bennet?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes, that is all, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied icily, surprised and offended at his tone.

"Well then, I wish you the utmost success tonight. May your dance card be filled with the most eligible men the assembly ball has to offer," he said, bowing exaggeratedly. Elizabeth gasped furiously, glared at him, then whirled around and left without a word. As she pushed closed the door, she heard another loud crack of billiard balls. How dare he? She fumed. How dare he insult me? How could he taunt me so, when he knows my chances for a good match are so slight? How could he throw back into my face the unlikelihood of my dancing at all, when I have spared him the mortification of appearing alone with me? Elizabeth could not prevent tears of anger from brimming in her eyes as she entered her room. She sat unmoving on her bed for several minutes and allowed them to course down her face. And is that how I am to remember him? If he only knew what a kind word from him means to me, and now to part with an insult! I know he will never love me, but would a gracious parting be too much to ask? Elizabeth felt at that moment as though her burdens were heavy indeed-too heavy to bear. It is well that I leave tonight, she thought. My heart cannot sustain this torture any longer. A knock at the door interrupted her.

"Who is it?" she called, hastily brushing the tears from her eyes. Georgiana's maid entered shyly.

"Miss Darcy sent me to ask if you would be needing any assistance to get ready for the ball, Miss Bennet."

"Thank you, Marianne, your help would be lovely."

"I shall have your bath drawn." She curtsied and disappeared. Elizabeth pursed her lips and walked to the window, which overlooked a delightful garden at the rear of the house. Her tears now spent, she rallied her spirits in defence of Darcy's taunt. And why shouldn't my dance card be filled with eligible bachelors, Mr. Darcy? Perhaps I am only a poor governess now, but I was once admired by the most eligible men the season had to offer. I may have lost my fortune, but I trust I have not lost all my charms! With these thoughts Elizabeth set herself to the task of her toilette. She reread the note from Jane, and found additional comfort in the short missive which still conveyed Jane's own sweetness and steadiness. Even if the ball will not offer me any pleasure, seeing Jane will make up for such a miserable day, she admonished herself in the mirror as Marianne arranged her masses of blonde curls high on her head.

At precisely 6:50 pm she stood before the full-length mirror and gasped. It had been a long time since she had devoted so much attention to her appearance, and she had to admit the effect was stunning. The dress was a silky, shimmery white. It draped elegantly over her figure, making her look at once long and willowy, but also accentuated her curves. The small sleeves showed off her shapely arms and long neck, which was laid bare by her hair arranged in a decorated coiffeur atop her head. She surveyed herself for a moment, and was reminded of the Elizabeth Bennet she had used to be. Thick-lashed eyes, almond and blue, looked intelligently at her under delicately arched brows, high cheekbones flushed in anticipation, red lips, the white skin of her décolletage shown to the greatest advantage. When she walked, the material shimmered and clung to her form, shimmering provocatively. Elizabeth suddenly felt self-conscious of her beauty.

"Marianne, I can't possibly wear this!" she panicked. "See how it clings to me! I feel far too conspicuous."

"Ay, Miss, you're a beautiful woman to be sure. There won't be a lady willing to stand up next to you, or a man unwilling, for that matter. But if you don't mind my saying, you haven't time to change, for your carriage is due to arrive this instant." Elizabeth had to acknowledge this was true. She took one last look at herself, and wondered how he would respond if he could see her. A feeling of giddy warmth spread through her. Remembering his insult, she lifted her head haughtily. Let him see that she was beautiful and suffer-it would be some consolation. With newfound determination she went to say goodbye to Georgiana.

"Oh, Elizabeth," Georgiana breathed as she entered. "You look like a princess or a Greek goddess ... like Aphrodite."

Elizabeth smiled.

"Let us hope I don't behave like one."

"Marianne, fetch my diamond choker and earrings for Miss Bennet. Will you wear them, Elizabeth? Then at least part of me may attend the ball with you. Of course, if you'd rather not..."

"I would be honoured," Elizabeth replied, taking Georgiana's hand. "It will give me just the courage I need to face the ton." After the jewellery was in place, the girls said a fond goodbye, with Elizabeth promising to come back and see her as long as she was in London, and to write after her removal. As Elizabeth made her way to the main stairwell, her stomach was a flutter of butterflies lest she run into Darcy. She knew not whether she desired it or feared it more.

As she moved to the top of the stars, it seemed she would indeed leave without a final exchange with him, as there was nobody to be seen. However, before she had descended three steps, his unmistakable footstep was heard. Darcy himself appeared on the landing, looking as handsome as the devil in black evening wear, his white cravat starkly contrasting with his dark good looks. He stopped abruptly at the sight of Elizabeth. She blushed and tried desperately to summon some remnant of composure, but it seemed impossible as he silently watched her descend. He continued to say nothing until she had reached the bottom, his dark eyes glittering enigmatically at her as he took in a full perusal of her appearance. She knew her colour was high, and could not calm the nervous pounding of her heart. Remembering the last words he had flung at her, she raised her chin.

"Good evening, Mr. Darcy," she spoke haughtily as she reached the bottom, her bright eyes looking into his in arch defiance.

"You are looking exceptionally beautiful tonight, Miss Bennet," he said provocatively with a hint of his earlier sarcasm in his voice. "May I ask who will be escorting you and your sister to the assembly?" His eyes lowered to the diamond necklace encircling her neck, and Elizabeth raised her hand to it self-consciously.

"A ... Mrs. Jennings," she managed.

"Is that all?"

"You do not approve?"

"Decidedly not."

"I assure you she is a woman of reputation and breeding, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth said defiantly.

"It is not her reputation I was worried about, but rather her sufficiency as your escort," he replied, his dark eyes burning down into hers. Elizabeth remained silent, not knowing how to interpret or respond to this. She could not tear herself away from the intensity of his eyes. They looked silently at each other for a moment, then Darcy said, his voice still laced with sarcasm, "I suppose I should bid you adieu, Miss Bennet, as it is unlikely we will meet again. Thank you again for your services." Elizabeth inclined her head in polite acknowledgement, although her eyes flashed dangerously at him. As she reached out to shake his hand, she gasped as he stepped closer to her, and raised her gloved fingers to his lips. She gazed wide-eyed up at him, and could not prevent a tiny shiver from running down her spine at the feel of his lips on her hand-the same lips that had once touched her own. As if his mind had taken a similar turn, his eyes dropped to her slightly parted mouth. He snapped his eyes up and stepped away abruptly.

"I believe your carriage is waiting for you," he said huskily. Elizabeth glanced blankly at the darkened window. "May I escort you to your carriage?"

"Thank you, but I'm sure I can manage," Elizabeth began.

"Miss Bennet, I insist," he said in the domineering way she was so familiar with. He tucked her hand through his arm and led her to the carriage. Elizabeth, her emotions heightened, allowed him to lead her to the carriage and hand her in. She looked back once to meet his gaze before distractedly attending to the reunions and introductions awaiting her.

Chapter 15

Posted on Thursday, 19 May 2005

Kitty, Jane, and a woman she knew must be Mrs. Jennings were all within the carriage. After hugging her sisters, and all exclaiming on how well the others looked, she was introduced to her. Mrs. Jennings was a stout, rich widow. She presented a picture exactly fitted to the one Elizabeth had imagined, and Elizabeth wasn't surprised when she dominated the conversation.

"So you've been the governess for Mr. Darcy's younger sister, have you, Miss Elizabeth? And how did you find the young lady? I daresay you were very lucky to fall into that position, for it is well known that Mr. Darcy is highly protective of his young sister. I am sure you are aware that he is the sole guardian, since the death of his parents. I was not acquainted with them, but they certainly left him with a fine inheritance. Ten thousand a year! And very likely more." Mrs. Jennings clucked her tongue in disapproval. "He is certainly the man every young debutante bats her lashes at, and I am sure I know a hundred mamas who are determined to see their daughter mistress of his estate in Derbyshire. I suppose you didn't go and fall in love with him, did you, Miss Elizabeth?" Mrs. Jennings chortled at her own joke. "He is quite an irresistible man, although perhaps he does not have the manners of our Mr. Bingley, does he now, Miss Bennet? Such a charming man! So affable! And so taken with our Miss Bennet!"

"Mr. Bingley!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Does he by any chance have two sisters, one a Mrs. Hurst?"

"The very one!" replied Mrs. Jennings. "Are you acquainted with him, Miss Eliza?"

"Only a little. He was a guest at Pemberley for a short time. I was very impressed with him, however."

"He is worth five thousand a year," added Kitty.

"We have only made his acquaintance a week ago," said Jane apologetically.

"Aye, but many a woman has secured a proposal in that length of time," teased Mrs. Jennings. "I would not put it past you, Jane, you are looking very well tonight!" Elizabeth and Jane exchanged sympathetic glances, but were forced to postpone any confidences until later for Mrs. Jennings continued on without ceasing until they reached their destination. As they made their way through the maze of horses and people, Elizabeth was struck with a strong feeling of trepidation. The last time she had attended something like this, she had been a young debutante. How would she be received now?

"Do not worry Lizzy, I have found people to be very gracious in spite of the loss of our fortune," Jane whispered encouragingly, having noticed the anxiety on her sister's face.

"And yet how aggravating that the whole world should know it, that they should be privy to our affairs! But let us not speak of it. Tell me about Mr. Bingley? Is it true he has taken a fancy to you?"

Jane blushed modestly. "He does seem to give me a good deal of attention, and asked me to dance twice at the last ball. I am not as sure of his preference as Mrs. Jennings."

"Do you like him?" Elizabeth inquired.

"I confess I am not ... entirely indifferent to him. Oh, Lizzy! Don't smile at me like that!"

"Well, if you do like him, or even if you are not entirely indifferent to him, you have my full approval. I think he is a perfect gentleman, and was impressed by his open manners at Pemberley."

"He is just what a young man ought to be! Open, warm, polite, attentive-"

"Handsome, rich..."

"Lizzy..." Jane attempted to give her sister a disapproving look, but soon the two were in giggles.

As the party was announced, Elizabeth glanced around the room. Nothing had changed. She noted rather distastefully the glitter of costume, the noise of superficial conversation, the well-defined social circles. She was surprised that many people stopped to stare as they descended into the throng. If she could have seen the picture she and Jane presented, she would have understood. She and her sister created a vision of unusual beauty. Jane's dark hair, pale blue gown and sweetness of expression contrasted magnificently with Elizabeth, whose eyes proudly and defiantly surveyed the room. There was no denying the two sisters were among the most elegant females in the room, although fortune-less. Elizabeth caught sight of Miss Bingley among the crowd. Their eyes met briefly, but Miss Bingley turned away disdainfully.

The sisters followed Mrs. Jennings as she trundled through the room, stopping frequently to introduce them to several of her acquaintance. It was not long before the dance cards began to fill up. Elizabeth watched with great interest as Mr. Bingley approached their party to request the hand of Jane for two dances. She watched the exchange between her sister and Mr. Bingley, and was pleased to see that they were very much in a way to fall in love with each other. Elizabeth danced first with a Mr. Churchill, then a Mr. Darlington. They were handsome, elegant men, and it gave Elizabeth some relief to her feelings to receive their attentions and admiring glances, just as she had been used to. However, as the evening whirled on and she danced with one man after another, she noticed that the attention she received was very different from what she had received as a young debutante. She tried to push the unwelcome ideas from her mind and enjoy the night, but it became increasingly obvious that the men who sought her hand were older, with reputations that bordered on respectability. Many of them were married, they were all rich, and they all had a gleam in their eye that reminded her of Lord Dartmore. She began to find the conversation distasteful, and wearied of maintaining her distance in the careful bantering of fashionable conversation. After dancing the quadrille with a Lord Westing, she begged to sit out the next dance, protesting she was weary. As Lord Westing escorted her to Mrs. Jenning's party, Elizabeth paled as she noted the crowd parted on either side of her. The women stared and turned away with contemptuous glances, leaving a trail of whispering behind her. The men either turned away coldly, or stared at her with unmistakable lewdness. When they had reached Mrs. Jennings, Elizabeth was in a state of shock. She waved Lord Westing away distractedly to get her some refreshment, and turned immediately to Mrs. Jennings.

"Mrs. Jennings," she began in strained accents, "perhaps you can tell me why the entire assembly is staring at me so contemptuously."

Mrs. Jennings fidgeted nervously with her bracelets. "Are they dear? I am sure you are wrong. If they are, it is because the ladies are simply jealous, for you are looking very pretty tonight."

Elizabeth looked seriously at the older woman. "Mrs. Jennings, please tell me what you know." Mrs. Jennings hemmed and hawed for a few moments, but after looking again at Elizabeth's earnest face, she motioned for the young woman to come closer to her.

"Oh, my dear Miss Bennet, I could not help but notice it soon after we had arrived, not only the way people were staring at you, but the sort of men you were attracting! Tut, tut ... and so I set myself to discovering the cause of it-I am much indebted to my friend Mrs. Smith-an endless source of information! But Miss Bennet, why don't you have a seat?"

"Mrs. Jennings, what are people saying?" Elizabeth demanded anxiously.

Mrs. Jennings leaned close to her and whispered, "I am afraid, Miss Bennet, that the rumour has gone round that you are..ah ... more than a governess for Mr. Darcy ... that you are, in fact ... his mistress." Elizabeth started and coloured. She looked wildly around the hall, then turned in shame and confusion.

"How dare they!" she choked.

Mrs. Jennings hastened to explain. "I am not certain as to how such a rumour could have started, for you are obviously nothing of the kind, but I suspect it may have something to do with Miss Bingley. This is where Mrs. Watson received her information, who then told it to Mrs. Smith, who of course relayed it to me. According to Mrs. Watson, Miss Bingley was a guest at Pemberley recently and that is how she gained knowledge of the, er, supposed arrangement. If you don't mind me saying so, you are unusually attractive, certainly too attractive to be a governess ... I know that is ridiculous, but you see it does add credence to the rumour. Then of course, the general knowledge of your loss of fortune does not seem compatible with the jewels you are wearing." Mrs. Jennings looked pointedly at the diamond choker encircling Elizabeth's neck. Elizabeth's hand flew to her neck, and she groaned. "Forgive me for saying so, my dear, but they look remarkably like the diamonds the late Mrs. Darcy wore."

"They are Georgiana's..." Elizabeth shook her head, impatient at the futility of explaining. "I do not understand why Miss Bingley would wish to tarnish Mr. Darcy's reputation as well as my own? I can scarce see how that would further her aspirations."

"Ah, well, that Mr. Darcy's reputation has been damaged by such rumours is unlikely, even while yours has been ruined completely. It is more likely that it will increase his desirability, at least in the eyes of some ladies I know! La! My dear, but if that is not the society we live in! Concerning our Miss Bingley, it is common knowledge that she has had her cap set at Mr. Darcy for a long time, but they say she received a very strong idea from that gentleman recently that she would never be mistress of Pemberley. What that entailed I can only imagine! Mrs. Watson did not know the details of that encounter, unfortunately having merely overheard it in a conversation of Lady Dartmore! Furthermore, there is the issue of your sister and Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Jennings motioned surreptitiously to where Jane and Mr. Bingley were ensconced in conversation. "Miss Bingley is determined that their union shall never happen. She does not deem that a penniless Miss Bennet is a suitable match for her brother. She has been unable to halt the relationship, although I have watched her attempts with great amusement." Mrs. Jennings chortled.

"And so she resorts to ruining my reputation," Elizabeth said in horror. "She cannot be content that our own hopes were already slim, she must make them non-existent."

Mrs. Jennings sighed and patted Elizabeth's hand. "There is no saying what a jealous, disappointed woman will not do in the desperation of her feelings." Elizabeth glanced again at Jane and Mr. Bingley, and was glad to see they were oblivious to the whirl of malicious gossip circulating. She groaned and pressed her gloved hands to her temples.

"Mrs. Jennings..."

"Miss Eliza, I refuse to take you home if that is what you are about to ask me-that would be to admit defeat! You must trust me, my dear! I have been in society for too many years! The only way to overcome this is to stay and face the ton! You must not sit out a single dance!"

Elizabeth, her cheeks flushed in humiliation, was about to ask how dancing every dance would dispel the rumours rather than perpetuate them, when she heard Mr. Darcy's name announced. She watched in horror as he appeared at the entrance and descended the stairs. She thought she had never seen him look more glorious, his tall, erect body impeccably attired, his handsome face proudly and distastefully surveying the assembly.

"La, but if your Mr. Darcy does not make a handsome picture!" Mrs. Jennings exclaimed. Elizabeth was too preoccupied to reply that he was not her Mr. Darcy. She tore her eyes away from the picture of him now surrounded by an entourage of fawning mamas and daughters. Why had he come? She demanded bitterly. To mock me in this latest humiliation? To despise me for disgracing him? But apparently his tarnished reputation has not injured him in the eyes of society! No, it is I who will suffer, who will be cast out! Perhaps I am no more than what people say! Perhaps my behaviour has warranted this disgrace. Elizabeth thought feverishly back to the night he had kissed her, how she had willingly melted in his arms. She recalled with perfect clarity the look on his face as he had taunted her about how many eligible men would fill her dance card.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. Tears of anger and humiliation threatened. She turned her back and shaded her face with her hands in an effort to calm her trembling.

"Miss Bennet." Elizabeth whirled around at the sound of Darcy's voice.

"May I request the honour of your hand for this dance?"

Elizabeth stared, her mouth open and speechless. His face looked down into hers, and she could detect only seriousness in his expression. When he saw that she could not respond, he simply took her arm and led her to the floor. It was not until they had been in the dance for five minutes before she had regained her composure enough to speak.

"Mr. Darcy," she managed, "I did not expect to see you here tonight."

"I did not expect to come," he replied briefly, his face still serious. Elizabeth hardly knew what to say. She wondered if he could be aware of the rumours that were circulating about him. If he was not, she was certainly not going to be the one to inform him! She inwardly cursed herself for standing up with him! If only he knew the picture they were presenting to the world!

"How was the ball at Lord Matlock's?" she questioned politely, and was tempted to laugh sardonically at how superficial it sounded to her ears considering her situation.

"The ball?" Darcy looked down at her distractedly. "Of course, the ball, yes, it was going very well, thank you. Have you been enjoying yourself this evening?"

Elizabeth eyed him suspiciously. She had never seen him other than unnervingly observant. "Oh yes, I have been enjoying myself immensely," she said sarcastically. "My dance card has been full to overflowing!" Darcy looked intently at her.

"Has it indeed?"

"Yes, do you not think it very flattering for me? Who would have thought I would meet with such success?"

"I am not at all surprised, Miss Bennet. But let me offer you my congratulations!" he said, the faintest hint of irritation in his voice.

"Perhaps I owe all my success to the jewellery Georgiana lent to me. She forgot to mention that it belonged to your mother." Elizabeth looked up wide-eyed at Darcy, fearing what he would say. He regarded the diamond sparkling on her slender neck and the jewels dangling from her ears. Gazing down at her, he said softly,

"It looks well on you."

Elizabeth stared into his eyes, which to her surprise contained the same softness she had heard in his voice. She blushed and looked away with pretended indifference. Insufferable man! How long would he persist in torturing her? Why had he come, and why was he dancing with her? His actions baffled her. He still had not explained his presence here, and she did not have the courage to ask him. Neither of them made further attempt at conversation, and so they danced in silence. The crowds of gossiping people in the assembly room were forgotten as they moved through the music. She trembled each time he took her hand within his, and she knew she blushed each time she met his eye. When the dance required more intimate positions, she held her breath at his close proximity. At last the dance was over, and they had not spoken in half an hour. He led her back to her seat and bowed over her hand.

"Thank you, Miss Bennet," he said quickly, and moved hastily away. Elizabeth was as speechless upon their separation as she had been upon his application. Mrs. Jennings approached her and slipped her fat arm through Elizabeth's slender one.

"Well done, my girl! That should certainly help quell the gossip; either that or enflame it! You've almost made it! My, my, if this has not been an odd evening! But there is one more dance left this evening, now if we can only find one more gentleman ... ah, here comes one. Mr. Wickham! He is a charming devil! Rally yourself, my dear! A half hour more and you can go home!" Elizabeth watched as a tall, slender man with dark hair and a rakish grin bowed before her. She remembered that he had requested the last dance much earlier in the evening following their introduction.

"How do you do, Mr. Wickham," she curtsied as if in a trance.

"Very well, indeed, Miss Bennet. Shall we?" Elizabeth placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her to the set. Her head and feet ached, and she had to summon every ounce of her strength to attend to the conversation.

"I hear you have been in Derbyshire recently, Miss Bennet," he began. Elizabeth glanced at his face. A smooth smile overspread it.

"That is true," she said quietly.

"I was raised in Derbyshire," he said, in the most charming of accents. "In fact, my father was the late Mr. Darcy's steward. I spent most of my childhood at Pemberley."

"Indeed," Elizabeth replied uneasily. There was something she did not trust about this man. He looked vaguely familiar to her, but she could not place his face.

"How do you like Derbyshire, Miss Bennet?"

"It is beautiful country, I enjoyed it very much," she said distantly.

"And how did you find Miss Darcy? Did she give you much trouble?" Wickham's charming smile seemed to Elizabeth to have transformed into a leer. She stepped back from him. Where had she seen this man before?

"I couldn't ask for a better pupil," she said coldly. As they turned, Elizabeth noticed Mr. Darcy standing not far distant. When she met his eye, she was shocked to see a look of barely restrained fury contained therein. She saw that Mr. Wickham had also noticed Mr. Darcy, and he paled slightly. To Elizabeth, this was the last of her patience. She could not sustain the subtle and inexplicable games of society any longer. After turning the wrong way in the dance for a second time, she stopped abruptly.

"I beg your pardon, sir, I find I am too tired to attend to the dance."

"No apologies are necessary, Miss Bennet. Perhaps some fresh air would restore you?" Elizabeth nodded and allowed him to lead her away from the crowd, in the opposite direction of Darcy. She ignored the staring they met with as he manoeuvred them through the crowd. Her head was now pounding as if it would explode. She breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped onto the terrace. As it was the last set of the evening, the terrace was devoid of people, and Elizabeth wondered briefly if she should be here alone with Mr. Wickham. However, the relief of being away from the staring eyes of the ton overruled her hesitations. She moved to the balcony and leaned over. The cool night air felt soothing after the stuffy ballroom and she closed her eyes in an effort to calm her frayed nerves. She looked up at the stars and sighed. She had forgotten completely about Mr. Wickham until she suddenly became aware of his arm slipping around her waist. His voice breathed low in her ear,

"You're a beautiful woman, Miss Bennet..."

"Mr. Wickham! Please refrain from such intimacy, I beg you!" She turned in astonishment and attempted to distance herself, but Wickham was not so easily deferred. He moved in front of her, successfully blocking her way. Elizabeth looked in horror at his leering face.

"Stand back, Mr. Wickham! I forbid you to touch me!"

"Come now!" he sneered. "You wouldn't deny me what you give so freely to Darcy!" Thus saying he pinned her arms behind her back and leaned over her, his lips brushing her cheek as Elizabeth cried in outrage and twisted her face as far away as she could. At that instant she found herself forcibly released from Wickham's grasp. She looked to see to whom she was indebted and saw that Darcy had pinned Wickham against the wall. Wickham, no match physically for Darcy, sneered down at him.

"You always were selfish, Darcy. Tsk, tsk, when will the spoiled rich boy learn to share the wealth?"

"I could kill you, you filthy blackguard!" Darcy roared. Elizabeth was shocked at the hatred evident in his voice. She thought in horror that he really was going to kill him.

"You could kill me, but would you?" Wickham taunted, his face flushed and ugly. "You've threatened so many times, and each threat is as empty as the last!" Darcy had his hand on Wickham's neck.

"Do I need to remind you of the last time I called you out and failed to show?" Darcy growled. "But being the coward you are, you are careful to meet me only in places where it would be unsuitable to run my sword through your worthless body!" Elizabeth was suddenly aware that a crowd had gathered and was spilling onto the terrace. She saw Colonel Fitzwilliam dart forward and pull Darcy from Wickham, who stumbled away from Darcy and the wall.

"Do not blame me that your world is perfect!" snapped Wickham. "But perhaps you would condescend to leave your ivory tower in order to deal with a rogue such as I?"

"Name the place!" Darcy spat. A look of alarm flickered briefly on Wickham's face.

"Tomorrow at dawn then, the plaza at Younge street," he snarled.

"Done." Darcy glared at him as Wickham hastily pushed his way through the crowd and disappeared. The Colonel still held Darcy back as if fearful that Darcy would pursue Wickham and strangle him on the spot. The crowd murmured in shock. Elizabeth leaned against the balcony in a state of astonishment at the scene she had just witnessed. Darcy stood facing the direction Wickham had just taken, his face still flushed in anger. A tall, handsome woman with an air of authority pushed her way through the crowd.

"Darcy!" she called shrilly. Elizabeth heard the Colonel groan.

"Lady Catharine," he muttered. The woman stopped imperiously before the two men.

"Darcy, I demand an explanation!" Darcy was silent. "Darcy, I understand you have called Wickham out. Is this true?" she demanded.

"It is," he replied curtly. Lady Catharine pulled herself up to her fullest height and glared at her nephew.

"And you are willing to risk your life for the sake of this woman, this ... this ... governess!?" Lady Catharine spat the words as if they were poison to her.

Darcy seethed. "No! For the sake of the woman I love!"

The crowd came alive at this announcement. Elizabeth, who had been clinging in horror to the balcony, felt her knees buckle under her.

"Someone help the young lady!" a voice called. The crowd seemed to close in on her, swarming her vision. Before she collapsed she caught one look at him. His face displayed an earnest expression of concern and tenderness, and to her great astonishment, uncertainty. The blackness overtook her.

Chapter 16

Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005

Elizabeth awoke in Mrs. Jennings spare room. Her mind flew over the incidences of the previous night, alighting at last on the zenith. He loves me! she whispered into her pillow. The knowledge sent thrills of ecstasy coursing through her body. He loves me! She exclaimed for joy and pressed her hands to heart. Another memory froze her joy. He might be dead. Elizabeth bolted up, and had to steady herself on the bed post. Wrapping her chemise around her, she ran out in search of Mrs. Jennings, whom she found alone in the breakfast parlour.

"Good morning, Miss Eliza, I didn't expect-"

"Is he alive?" she blurted frantically.

Mrs. Jennings chortled. "I thought you might be wanting to know just that, and so I have already made enquiries this morning! You know I have my methods of finding these things out! Well, calm yourself, my dear; I am coming to the point. I have just now received word that your Mr. Darcy is indeed, alive. Apparently Mr. Wickham never showed-the coward! But I daresay ... Miss Elizabeth, are you quite alright?"

Elizabeth had sunk into an empty chair. Relief played over her features.

"Oh, thank heaven," she breathed, unable to maintain her composure.

"There, there, my dear, these things always have a way of working themselves out. Now I daresay it's a matter of waiting for a certain gentleman to pay his respects, eh, Miss Eliza?" Mrs. Jennings wagged her eyebrows suggestively. Elizabeth sat up directly and looked startled.

"Where is Jane?"

"I believe you will find your sister in the garden."

Elizabeth was gone directly.

"Oh Jane! What am I to do? I cannot cannot stay here!" Elizabeth paced before her sister, extreme agitation marking her movements. Jane watched her calmly from where she sat on a stone bench.

"Lizzy," Jane said steadily, "I feel sure Mr. Darcy is an honourable man. If he says he loves you, he will make you an offer!"

Elizabeth sat and clutched her sister's arm. "You do not know him as I do. His pride is not to be underestimated. He has made it clear on so many, many occasions that to marry the governess would be to him unthinkable!"

"Yet it seems highly unlikely that he would profess his love for you before his relations and all society if he did not mean it."

"Oh, what will a man not say when he finds a woman he has a slight infatuation for being accosted by a childhood enemy!"

"Childhood enemy? Do you suspect a history between Mr. Darcy and Wickham?"

"I am almost certain of it. Mr. Wickham told me himself that he spent much of his childhood at Pemberley. They grew up together. Oh, Jane, if you could have seen the look of deep-seated hatred reflected on their faces, I have never-it was frightening..."

"Oh dear ... I hope you are exaggerating. But Lizzy, regardless of Mr. Darcy's past with Mr. Wickham, I do not think his hatred on one hand would elevate his feelings of mere infatuation to strong passion on the other. He seems an intelligent, discriminating man, one unlikely to let circumstances determine his course of action."

"A discriminating man-yes! Of that I can assure you! No, you are right, Jane, he would not have declared feelings that did not exist. He says he loves me ... and so he must ... No, what I am really afraid of is that once he is safe in the confines of his own home, he will weigh every particular so minutely that the arguments against me will overcome the strength of his attachment. He will realize that to marry an impoverished governess would be ludicrous!"

"Poverty is not so great an obstacle to true love," smiled Jane. "It is not as if Mr. Darcy need marry an heiress. He is wealthy enough to marry where he wishes." Elizabeth was silent and looked away.

"Lizzy, what is it?" Elizabeth took a deep breath.

"I am surprised Mrs. Jennings did not inform you. You were so involved with Mr. Bingley, it is no wonder you did not hear the rumour circulating that I am Mr. Darcy's... mistress." Jane gasped and exclaimed in disbelief. Elizabeth held up her hands helplessly.

"My reputation is ruined. I highly doubt Mr. Darcy's passion could overcome such an obstacle." Jane blinked in confusion.

"I do not understand. Where could such a vicious rumour have started? Mistress of Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth hesitated.

"It is often difficult to trace the sources of such things. Presumably a jealous woman who suspected Mr. Darcy's feelings for me."

"But Lizzy, has Mr. Darcy's behaviour to you been irreproachable? Has he ever behaved in a way that might give credence to such rumours?" Elizabeth turned her face away, covering it in her hands.

"Oh, Jane, what will you think of me?" Jane paled.

"Lizzy, what happened?" she whispered. Elizabeth turned to her sister in shame.

"I ... let him kiss me."

"Oh, is that all?"

"It was more than just a simple kiss! It was..it was very ... passionate..." Elizabeth stood, turning away in embarrassment.

"But only a kiss nevertheless?" Jane insisted anxiously. When Elizabeth nodded, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Certainly, an indiscretion, but a small one. What about his behaviour to you in sight of the servants, of guests-"

"-was irreproachable."

"In that case, you can have nothing to fear. Mr. Darcy will not heed the rumours, for he will know they are based on falsehood. Once you are married, your reputation will be rescued. In a few years, no one will bother to remember."

Elizabeth sat and looked morosely at Jane. "I went into his arms so willingly ... My reputation is forever ruined, and what does he have to gain by marrying me? He loves me, but do you really think a man of the world would align himself with a penniless wretch? Besides, I do not wish him to marry out of obligation to save my tarnished character. He has already proposed that once, and I of course refused him. No, he knows my thoughts on such a union. He will not ask me again."

"Lizzy, I feel sure that he will, and when he does you must accept him! There is no other way!"

"Oh, Jane, it is not so much the fear of his not asking me for anything, and I cannot be sure, but as I become acquainted with the ways of men, I am confused and I don't know what to think!"

"Lizzy, you are not making any sense."

"I am so afraid he will make me an offer, but a very ... different ... sort of offer."

Jane was speechless for a moment. "But, Lizzy, you spoke of him as being a man of ... of discrimination, of principle-"

"That he is a man of discrimination, of understanding, of purpose, I have no doubt. But of his character, of his views regarding women and marriage I am not certain. I do know that he looks upon the choosing of his future wife as more a matter of duty to his family and situation than one of personal fulfillment. He would never choose anyone to the disadvantage of worldly considerations. Of course there was never anything in his behaviour or conversation to indicate he was a libertine, but that does not mean he would not be above supporting a mistress. Besides, if Wickham, who has known him since his childhood, and Lord Dartmore, a close friend, believed it of him, why shouldn't I?" The sisters looked at each other in dismal silence.

"I cannot believe it," said Jane at last. "We must think the best of him until he has proven otherwise."

"I cannot have as much faith as you," Elizabeth said in depressed tones. "It is a strange society we live in, as I have come to realize since Father died. Since I became a governess, I have been the object of such attention as I never used to receive. Who would have guessed that the loss of my fortune would bring an automatic loss of respectability?"

"You have not lost your respectability. Though the whole world thinks it, it does not make it true." Elizabeth embraced her sister.

"Oh, Jane, what would I do without you?" Jane smiled affectionately.

"Lizzy, there is one point on which I remain a little unclear. I think it is safe to assume that you return Mr. Darcy's regard?"

Elizabeth blushed and looked downcast. "I hardly know how it happened. I was so determined that it not happen. It was like a dream ... and now a nightmare! But yes, I love him. I love him!" Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. "Enough about me. What about you? I think that perhaps Mr. Bingley has not left your heart untouched ... ?" Now it was Jane's turn to blush.

"If Mr. Bingley were to offer for me, I would not refuse him. However, I find myself in a similar situation. There is nothing to be done but to wait." Elizabeth stood abruptly and began pacing.

"I am not content to wait. I refuse to wait while Mr. Darcy sits in his townhouse and decides my fate. No! I will not follow the rules of a society that has betrayed me." She stopped pacing and looked at Jane. "Do you think Mrs. Jennings would condescend to lend me her carriage?"

"Where will you go?" cried Jane.

"I do not know! Probably back to Mama! I do not care where I go, but I cannot stay here, I shall go mad! My pride forbids it!"

Jane watched her sister pace for a moment. Sighing, she rose and drew closer to Elizabeth. "Lizzy, I cannot help but think you are making a grave error by leaving. However, I know you well enough to realize that I won't be able to convince you otherwise. I heard Mrs. Jennings say that her daughter Charlotte and her husband will be departing tomorrow morning. Their estate is not ten miles from the cottage."

"I shall go ask Mrs. Jennings directly. Oh, Jane! I see you do not approve! Perhaps you are right, but I cannot bear to stay in this horrible city a moment longer." Jane hugged her.

"Do not worry, Lizzy. I truly believe this will end happily." The sisters embraced once more, then Elizabeth was gone.

After the details of the ride had been arranged, Elizabeth retired to her room to pack. Her clothes had been sent over from Darcy's house. As she arranged her belongings, Elizabeth's mind went over again and again the myriad of events that had transpired in her life. She attempted to piece all the elements together so that she might determine the strength and nature of Darcy's feelings for her. I must not be too hopeful, she concluded at last. She thought of her young friend Georgiana and was wondering painfully whether she was now aware of the rumours when a knock at the door revealed a maid entered carrying an envelope.

"If you please, Miss, this just arrived for you."

Elizabeth, her heart pounding, took the letter. She saw immediately the address was not in Darcy's handwriting, nor was it Georgiana's. She frowned slightly. Sitting down on the bed, she tore open the envelope and read as follows:

To Miss Elizabeth Bennet, August--.

Although we are not formally acquainted, I am requesting the honour of your company at tea at precisely five o'clock this afternoon. You cannot be in doubt as to the reasons of my request, therefore I shall abstain from repeating them here. I am Lady Catharine de Bourgh, Mr. Darcy's aunt and trusted advisor, and not an insignificant factor in his future happiness. I realize this is a somewhat unusual invitation; I will only say by means of explanation that your presence is of the utmost importance, as I am sure you will come to see. I trust you will see the wisdom of adhering to my request, and so do not require an answer. My carriage will collect you at exactly 4:45.

Lady Catharine de Bourgh

Elizabeth's hand dropped in astonishment upon reading this. That a woman she did not know should summon her in such a manner seemed incredible. The impression she had made of being a woman of officious self-importance was now confirmed.

"I shan't go," Elizabeth claimed aloud. "I refuse to be intimidated by this woman who knows nothing of me, and who obviously despises me only because my situation in life is below her own. What can she have to say except to persuade me from a match that she does not approve of? Insolent woman!"

Having said, she threw down the letter and resumed packing. However, a few minutes later Elizabeth's curiosity got the better of her. She took up the letter again, and had to laugh at it. Never have I received such an imperial invitation for tea, she mused. It is absolutely pompous, and yet, I am half tempted to accept, if not just to give this woman the set-down she deserves. Have I not already forsworn this traitorous society? Perhaps this can be my initiation!

Chapter 17

Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005

At precisely 5 o'clock that afternoon Elizabeth mounted the stone steps leading to Lady Catherine de Bourgh's imposing residence. The gray skies cast their pallor on the world, even causing the carefully manicured greenery to appear gray and funereal. Fitting apparel for today, Elizabeth thought grimly. The large doors swung open before she reached them, and an aged and rather sour looking butler ushered her into the house. Elizabeth gazed knowingly at the high, ornate ceilings decorated in olive and gold, the elaborate reliefs and expensive paintings. It gave her some satisfaction that the ostentatious décor matched exactly her pre-conception of the Lady. In spite of herself, it was with great curiosity that she entered the large, impressive sitting room. The imperious sight of the woman she had seen the evening before immediately accosted Elizabeth. Lady Catharine stood on the opposite side of the room beside a small table and armchair. There was no sign of tea; Elizabeth was not surprised. What did surprise her was the look of strong distaste, resentment, and hatred? Elizabeth blinked. She had been regarded with eyes of jealousy and lust, but never such unbridled animosity. She began to think that perhaps her coming had been a mistake. Lady Catharine did not say a word, but simply motioned for Elizabeth be seated. Elizabeth remained standing, determined not to oblige this proud woman in any particular. If she thought she could cow her into anything, she was mistaken. Elizabeth gritted her teeth and prepared for verbal swordplay.

"Miss Bennet." Lady Catharine spoke the words as though they were laced with poison, and Elizabeth was again amazed at the almost unrestrained anger in her voice. "You can be in no doubt as to why I have summoned you here."

"On the contrary, m'am, I am at a complete loss as to what I owe the honour of the occasion?"

"Miss Bennet, let us not waste time with foolish games. I know not how you have ensnared my nephew-undoubtedly your new ... profession ... has taught you skills and wiles that a gentlewoman cannot conceive of." Elizabeth gasped audibly at this, and Lady Catharine smiled painfully to see her arrow make its mark. "As I am sure you are very aware, men have their weaknesses; even the strongest, most upright of men, such as my nephew, can be preyed upon by the wicked designs of a ...woman such as yourself, especially if she has an attractive form and cunning wiles." Elizabeth reeled from shock and anger.

"How dare you accuse me-" she began in a choked voice.

"I have not time for your excuses," snapped Lady Catharine. "I am well aware of the state of your family-your impoverishment, the loss of your estate, the ruin of your sisters and mother, the debts left you by a negligent father. It is no wonder that you would seek to get your desperate claws into the heart, and therefore the purse of my nephew! It will not be borne! I know not what you have done, nor what kind of arrangements he has already made with you-I know that in all his dealings he can be foolishly generous. But any kind of union with you is a disgrace! I say it WILL NOT be borne! Am I to see Pemberley polluted by an impoverished governess? A woman who all of London knows is nothing more than a harlot?"

"You have said quite enough, Madam," Elizabeth spoke, her voice quivering with anger. "You could not have accused me more falsely or degraded me, and my family, more completely than you have done today. I will not remain to be humiliated by someone so entirely unacquainted with me, and for whom I hold no respect. Excuse me." Elizabeth whirled.

"Miss Bennet! I have not finished speaking to you!" Elizabeth had reached the door and was about to turn the knob. "Miss Bennet, I have an offer for you!"

"Pardon me?" she replied in disbelief. She turned and watched as Lady Catharine swiftly opened an antique box next to her on the desk. Elizabeth could dimly make out stacks of bank notes.

"Ten thousand pounds," Lady Catharine announced proudly. "Yours, if you swear to cut off all dealings with my nephew. I, too, can be foolishly generous in times of necessity."

Elizabeth stared, and slowly approached the box. After fingering some of the bills-they were indeed real-she replied saucily, "Your Ladyship must concede that it is hardly an advantageous offer, especially considering Mr. Darcy is worth this much in a year." Lady Catharine fumed.

"Fifteen thousand, then! Selfish, insolent girl! Think of your family! Think what this could mean to them!"

Elizabeth could take no more.

"You once again show a complete misunderstanding of my character to think I would accept this!" she cried. "Let me assure you, neither I nor any member of my family would accept one farthing your money even if we were on the brink of starvation! Our loss of fortune has not caused the loss of our principles, any more than your fortune has prevented your own corruption!" Lady Catharine actually shrieked at this.

"Do you mean to accuse me of wickedness in the face of your obvious downfall?! Hypocrite! Can you speak of character to me when the world knows you have sold yourself to my nephew!? Admit it!"

"I will do nothing of the sort!" Elizabeth cried. "If money was my prime objective, I would not hesitate to take yours! But unlike you, I do not engage in business with filthy money, nor do I exchange my services with people whose standards are so far below my own!" Elizabeth, in her fury, picked up the box of money, dumped it on the floor, and stalked to the door.

"Fine, if that is how it is to be, if you must insist on obstinacy, your ruin will be your own doing!" Lady Catharine seethed. She then banged her walking stick three times on the wooden floor. Elizabeth paid no attention and continued to make her way across the room, more furious than she had ever been at any time in her life. Her only thought was to flee this house and rid herself forever of the hateful woman.

To her great astonishment, the doorknob would not turn under her hand. She tried again. It was securely locked. Elizabeth turned back to Lady Catharine to demand her release, and as she did so, a door concealed in the wall behind Lady Catharine opened, and Mr. Wickham, followed by a short, stubby man stepped into the room. Elizabeth gasped in astonishment. Her gaze moved from Wickham to the nervous, greasy man beside him.

"Mr. Layton!" she gasped, dumbfounded. She easily recognized her late father's lawyer.

"I see you are already acqainted with Mr. Fallworthy: dentist, barber, financier, lawyer, clergyman, and most importantly, my accomplice," Wickham said evenly. He smiled graciously as his partner giggled in nervous, high-pitched laughter.

"Enough with the pleasantries, Wickham," said Lady Catharine stiffly. "You know what you are to do-then do it and be gone!" Wickham politely inclined his head in acquiescence and removed a revolver from within the folds of his coat. He cocked it, then levelling it at Elizabeth, said,

"Now, my dear, if you would be so kind as to come with me..."

"Never!" she spat.

"Miss Bennet," Wickham replied, smiling. "Let me remind you that I am currently aiming a lethal weapon at your head, one that I am particularly adept at using, if I do not flatter myself. I would hate to have to blow your pretty little brains out." Both Lady Catharine and Elizabeth started at this, and Elizabeth moved shakily to the other side of the room, where Fallworthy proceeded to tie her hands behind her back. As Fallworthy finished, Wickham regarded her with interest.

"And so your pride was greater than ten thousand pounds, was it? Tut, tut, tut, a rather expensive virtue for an impoverished governess, don't you think? Or perhaps Darcy kept you better off than we all think," he sneered.

"Money is not everybody's prime motivation in life!" she snapped. "I wouldn't touch it for the world!"

"Oh, no?" Wickham smiled maliciously. "But I would." He swivelled, now directing the gun at Lady Catharine, who balked in astonishment. "And now, my lady, as I am currently busy, I must ask you do the clean up for me." He smiled sweetly and motioned with his revolver toward the bills of money now scattered over the floor.

"Wickham! You scoundrel!" she sputtered in disbelief.

"You're wasting valuable time," he snarled. "Did you think I would agree to such a stupid scheme for a mere twenty pounds? I have endured your condescension all my life, now it is your turn to do my bidding!" Lady Catharine seemed to hesitate, her features struggling between fear and anger.

"NOW!" Wickham roared and pushed her to the ground.

"Don't hurt her!" Elizabeth cried. Wickham turned from Lady Catharine, who was now scrambling to retrieve all the bills, to Elizabeth. He sneered into her face.

"Your concern is charming, my dear! I see that Darcy has finally found the perfect accomplice! Corruption and a heart of stone painted with the face of an angel!" Wickham spit into her face, and she uttered a muffled cry of horror as the saliva ran down her face. "That is what I think of you and your kind, Miss Bennet! I intend to avenge myself of a lifetime of suffering by ridding the world of two of you tonight!"

Lady Catharine finished stuffing the last of the bills into the box. "Hand it to me!" Wickham snapped. Trembling, her arrogant features now shaken and terror-filled, Lady Catharine handed the box to Wickham.

"Now, sit in that chair!" he ordered. "Fallworthy!" he called. Fallworthy proceeded to tie and gag her. Wickham tucked the box under his arm, and motioned for his accomplice to open the door.

"Never do business with those over your head," he rejoined coldly and with that, pushed Elizabeth through the door and closed it firmly on Lady Catherine's horrified face.

Chapter 18

Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005

Elizabeth was jostled down the dark, narrow hallway from Lady Catharine's sitting room to a flight of stairs. She nearly tripped down them, so hurried was she with Wickham constantly jabbing her in the back with the revolver and the lack of balance due to her tied hands. Her original plan of screaming for help had been quickly squashed when Fallworthy gagged her before their mad run. The cloth was dirty and made it difficult to breathe. After a short sprint down a back alley, they came upon a carriage that had been so well concealed in the darkness that Elizabeth did not even see it until they were upon it. She was pushed inside, and was grateful at least that she would no longer have to run. She sat grasping for breath while Wickham said a few hurried words to someone and pulled himself inside. With a jolt they were off. The carriage was dilapidated and antique, but in spite of its age and Elizabeth's fear that it would fly apart at any moment took them with great speed to the edge of London. When the noise of the city could not longer be heard, Wickham removed the cloth from Elizabeth's mouth. Wickham watched her with interest, but Elizabeth chose to remain silent, and turned her head defiantly to the side of the coach.

"What, no tirade of insults? No scolding? A rare woman indeed..." Wickham looked her over speculatively. "But perhaps you are not too proud as to wonder at Fallworthy's role in your father's affairs?" He chuckled as Elizabeth snapped her head around.

"It is true then! Mr. Layton was involved in the ruination of my father?"

"Very astute! Yes, my dear, I am afraid that your family's estate, and all those lovely dowries so necessary to get you all married were nicely channelled into the pockets of some of the most, well, shall I say, brilliant? Conniving? Shrewd? men in the country..." Wickham chuckled at his own witticisms.

"But how was it accomplished? We were assured there were debts, that it was inevitable!" Elizabeth cried.

"Your father, while alive, was generally accepted to be an intelligent man, was he not, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth said nothing. "Well, let me teach you a thing or two. Intelligence will not get one very far if one does not know how to use it. I suppose I can tell you the whole scheme seeing as you are not going to live much longer. Your curiosity must be especially painful. Let me oblige." He smiled, obviously enjoying the pain he inflicted on her.

"First of all, Fallworthy, known to you as Mr. Layton, had been working closely with your father's steward, Mr. Trump, to manipulate the books and operations of your father's estate over the course of several years."

"Mr. Trump! You are joking! He was one of Father's most trusted employees!" Elizabeth cried.

"People are obviously not always as they seem. Mr. Trump, unbeknownst to your father, had a weakness for the gaming table, and although by nature not inclined to dishonesty, the inducement of ten hungry brats, a nagging wife, and a creditor threatening to jail him was enough to make him come to his senses. And so it was, thanks to your father's negligence and tendency to bury himself in his library, entrusting all his affairs to his steward, that Mr. Trump and Fallworthy succeeded in, little by little, laundering his money to various places, constructing a wonderfully massive debt, and voila! Ruining your father's fortune and creating ours!" Wickham laughed maliciously.

"But I do not understand the role you played in it?" Elizabeth questioned in confusion.

Wickham leaned toward her, and with great relish, replied, "Allow me to introduce myself: George Wickham, the single most brilliant artist of deceit in all of England!" He laughed again. "You do not recognize me? Perhaps if I donned a white wig and the robe of a judge?"

Elizabeth paled. "You were not the judge..."

"Fantastic memory, Miss Bennet! I should inform you that, besides formally announcing your father officially bankrupt, and confining the rest of you to poverty, I was also the mastermind behind the whole scheme! My own brilliant, brilliant, plan!" Elizabeth closed her eyes, and willed herself not to cry. The sheer force of these revelations made her tremble with emotion. To think of her beloved papa, suffering at the hands of such wicked men! She could not prevent a hot, angry tear from sliding down her exhausted face and dripping into her cloak. Wickham, however, was too involved admiring his wickedness to notice her distress.

"Loathe as I am to boast of my own prowess in my field of expertise," he continued, "I think it only fair to tell you that I have had one of the most successful careers of any villain I know! And at such a young age! Indeed, I believe that I have only been prevented twice from obtaining my object!" Wickham gritted his teeth. "Twice, yes, and both times cheated by that good-for-nothing Darcy! My childhood enemy! Too many times he has soiled my plans! Well, he will pay for that! Yes, he, will..."

"What are you going to do?" Elizabeth asked anxiously.

Wickham turned his glittering, speculative eye on her. "Does it worry you to think of your Mr. Darcy coming to harm? Do not fret yourself, my dear. Soon enough it won't make any difference to you. You see, we had intended to find you a nice comfortable place at the bottom of the Thames, but then I had the brilliant realization that the combination of his professed love for you and his most annoying and overblown sense of honour, could be the means of getting another large portion of the Darcy fortune. Then we could send both you and Darcy to the bottom of the Thames together. I confess, nothing would make me happier than to see his head sinking to a watery grave..."

To Elizabeth's relief, Wickham broke off as the carriage came to an abrupt halt. The strain of the conversation was enough to make her feel she would faint, but she willed herself to keep calm. The carriage had stopped in a courtyard of what seemed, in the darkness, to be an ancient and decaying castle. The walls, once strongly fortified, were now jagged. All of the turrets but one had been reduced to stubble. The remaining tower leaned ominously over the ruins as if it would topple at any moment. Piles of rubbish and stones interspersed the weed-ridden courtyard. It seemed to Elizabeth uninhabitable, but she noticed candle glittering in a far corner window. Wickham barked orders to Fallworthy, and another man, who had appeared out of the darkness. He then roughly led her through a maze of ancient corridors, and many, many stairs until they reached a small door. Wickham then procured a set of keys from his cloak, unlocked the door, and shoved her into the darkness. Without a word he slammed and locked the door. His footsteps echoed and at last disappeared into the night.

Elizabeth stood shivering in her new prison. The room was small and circular, and she guessed that she was now seeing the inside of the leaning tower. There was a small bed with a blanket on one side, and a small window on the other. Elizabeth walked to the window, which was open to the night air and looked out. It was just high enough for her head to peer out over the countryside. The view of the surrounding countryside bathed in darkness confirmed that she was very high above ground. By pushing the small bed underneath and standing on it she was able to better ascertain the height. She surveyed for a brief second the smooth stone wall dropping to the dark ground and shuddered at the thought of attempting to escape by that route. She huddled into her cloak and sat upon the bed in an attempt to think of what she should do. After a few minutes of shivering from the cool draft ruffling her hair, she decided it would be best to push the small bed away from the window. Having done so, she laid down upon the bed in a stupor. She sat for some time in a state of shock, unable to completely process all that had passed. Her father's fortune had been stolen by Mr. Trump, by Wickham ... Lady Catharine had employed Wickham ... Wickham intended to trap Darcy and kill them both ... Her trance-like thoughts were once interrupted by Wickham, who unlocked the door, threw her a piece of stale bread and a decanter of water, called her a nasty name and then went away again. She could not bring herself to eat it; all appetite was long gone. At last the events of the day overwhelmed her, and she fell into an exhausted and troubled slumber.

Elizabeth awoke some hours later. It was still pitch black and the wind howled around the desolate tower, causing whistling noises through the single window. Elizabeth drew herself into a ball in an attempt to keep warm on the hard, desolate bed. The ropes on her wrists had begun to irritate her skin and she was beginning to shiver uncontrollably. Thoughts of sinking through cold, swift water would intrude in spite of her efforts not to think of it. And what will become of Darcy? She thought for the hundredth time. Will he come here? What kind of trap has Wickham laid for him? Oh, if only I could warn him away before he is killed! Oh, I cannot bear it! Elizabeth's resistance broke down. To her shivering was now added uncontrollable sobbing at the injustice and helplessness of her situation. To know that her beloved family had been ruined by Wickham, and that the same man would ruin the only man she had ever loved, that soon she would be separated from all of them, that she would descend to a watery grave-it was too much. She tried to collect her wits and think of some way to escape, but the emotional taxation of the past days and weeks made this impossible. She gave into the sobs and let them rack her until she had no more tears. There is nothing to do now but await my fate...

A sudden noise outside her window caused her to sit up in terror. She drew in her breath and sat motionless, scarcely breathing. For a moment she thought maybe she had imagined it-there was nothing but the relentless howling of the wind. But there it was again, a scraping noise coming from not too far below her window. What it was she could not imagine. It was getting louder, and this time she heard the sound of heavy breathing, and then what sounded like a rock come loose and clatter a long distance to the ground. She heard a male voice curse briefly-she could not recognize it amidst the howling wind.

"Oh, what should I do?" Elizabeth whispered. She knew not what kind of menace was seeking entrance to her prison, but in her exhaustion she determined that she would make one last stand against intruders. Her eyes frantically darted about the room. The decanter of water! It was glass; if she concealed herself in the shadow, she might be able to take the stranger unawares. Elizabeth shakily stood and after emptying the bottle, took it awkwardly between her tied hands. She then positioned herself in the shadows beside the window and waited. She listened in trepidation as the heavy breathing and scraping grew nearer. It seemed like an eternity to her as she waited for the horror seeking access to her chamber. Finally the window darkened as the intruder hauled himself into its opening. There was a brief moment of suspension, and then the man dropped to the floor. Elizabeth, heart beating fast, raised the glass bottle high and with a cry brought it down swiftly onto the stranger's head. The man, forewarned by the noise, swivelled with surprising swiftness and caught her wrist just as the bottle was to make its mark. The decanter crashed to the floor and Elizabeth winced in pain at the tight grip on her wrist. Elizabeth looked up in panic at the intruder. He was tall, but his face was framed in shadow; she could not make out his features.

"Elizabeth!" The familiar voice spoke anxiously in the darkness.

"Fitzwilliam!!" Elizabeth could sustain herself no longer; with a sob she collapsed into his arms, which enfolded her, holding her tightly, warming her, infusing hope and strength into her heart. Neither of them moved for some time; Elizabeth because she could not, so desperately did she need the strength of his arms around her, the warmth of his beating heart, the soothing caress of his hands as he sought to comfort her. Darcy was thinking he would not mind staying in this position forever when Elizabeth broke away from him suddenly and turned to the opposite wall.

"Excuse me, Mr. Darcy ... I forget myself," she said. Darcy was stunned by her abrupt words and distant tone; it was a moment before he could answer her with some composure.

"Of course not ... Are you hurt?" he managed. He moved to her and began cutting away the ropes on her hands with a knife.

"No! I am well. They have not injured me, but you must leave at once, for Wickham informed me himself that he means to kill you once he obtains the ransom money!" Darcy nodded curtly.

"His plan has not changed since we were eight years of age." He removed the last of the rope then strode to the door to examine the lock. After a few unsuccessful tries at forcing it he grew impatient, and drawing himself back, proceeded to deliver powerful kicks to it. On the third attempt, the ancient rotting wood splintered. Darcy kicked at it until a hole of sufficient size had been made.

"They will have heard that, if the sound of broken glass did not already notify them," Darcy announced wryly. "Come." He motioned for Elizabeth to join him. Elizabeth quickly followed his lead through the now shattered doorframe. They had not gone far into the spiralling abyss of stone stairway when men's voices were heard shouting below. Darcy and Elizabeth descended the ancient, crumbling stairs as quickly as they were able considering the ancient stairwell's extreme disrepair and the complete darkness of the passage. Darcy had firmly gripped Elizabeth's elbow and led her at a pace that seemed to Elizabeth insane. She flew behind him, wondering how it was that he could be so sure of each step. She stumbled a few times, and he was always quick to catch her. After he had steadied her and asked if she was all right, they would continue again in the mad circular descent. They had almost reached the bottom when Darcy stopped abruptly. He pushed her back against the inner wall, and positioned himself in front of her. Elizabeth dared not ask him what it was. She stood sandwiched between Darcy and the wall, listening into the darkness. She could hear nothing but their panting. A loud CRACK! split the air. Darcy pushed Elizabeth down, and pressed her head into his chest as a bullet ricocheted off the opposite wall and up the stairs.

"Damn!" he muttered. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing in the direction of the bullet and back up the dark stairwell. Elizabeth was wide-eyed with fear, and wondered which would be worst, plummeting to her death from the top of the tower, or being shot by Wickham at the bottom.

"Darcy!" The voice echoed through the dark stairwell.

"Darcy, I know it's you! Don't try to hide from me, you b---rd!" The scuffle of footsteps was now heard. Darcy grabbed her hand and began pulling her back up the stairwell. The adrenaline pumping through Elizabeth's heart allowed her to ascend almost more quickly than they had descended. When they reached the top, gasping for air, they climbed carefully through the shattered doorframe.

"Take off your shoes!" Darcy ordered. Elizabeth could not understand this injunction, but sat and pulled off the delicately heeled boots. "And your stockings!" Elizabeth looked at him incredulously.

"Just trust me," Darcy met her eye and gave her a look of encouragement. Elizabeth did not hesitate further, and while Darcy busied himself with barricading the door with the bed, she stripped off her stockings. The floor felt cold and dusty on her bare feet.

"Now stuff your shoes inside your stockings and tie it around your waist." Elizabeth did not even bother asking questions now. She pushed the shoes as far into the stockings as she could. For the first time she was glad she could only afford thicker stockings instead of the delicate flimsy ones she used to favour. Darcy finished wedging the small bed into the door frame, and then came to her. He took each end of the stockings and tied them tightly around her waist.

"I need you to pay careful attention," he said quickly. "There isn't much time." He led her to the window. "My horse is tied just behind that cluster of trees. Conceal yourself there for as long as you think it safe, or until I meet you. If I do not come within fifteen minutes, ride the horse straight East along the river, and I will catch up to you. If the worst happens and I do not come at all, continue to follow the river; there is a village within a half-a-day's journey in that direction. Do you understand?"

"I understand everything except how I am to get to the horse in the first place," Elizabeth said in anxious disapproval.

"You are going to climb down using the rope I came up with," Darcy replied calmly. He reached out the windowsill and brought up a thick rope. Elizabeth now noticed the other end had been secured to the windowsill by some sort of metal hook. She wondered briefly when Darcy had managed that as she took a look out the window. After one glance at the ground far beneath her, she backed away and said, "I don't think I can do this."

"You must, darling. I will be right behind you. I know you can do this." Darcy cupped her frightened face in his hands and looked tenderly into her eyes. "You must do this for me," he said gently, urgently. Elizabeth, suddenly elated by the small gesture of intimacy felt she could do anything. Voices and angry footsteps could now be heard approaching the top of the tower. She briefly nodded her consent. Darcy tied the rope around Elizabeth in a kind of sliding knot, which did much to boost Elizabeth's courage. He lifted her up until she sat at the edge of the window sill and was able to swivel her legs around to the other side.

"Now, go!" whispered Darcy urgently. He gave her one last encouraging look. Elizabeth took a deep breath, willed herself not to look at the ground far below, and taking a hold of the rope, eased herself onto the wall. Her heart pounded in her ears as she took her first step down the wall. She thought of Darcy's words, 'You must, darling, I know you can do this' and took another step. With each step she repeated the words. She now saw the wisdom of taking off her shoes and stockings. The stones had been worn and smoothed by centuries of wind and rain, and her bare feet prevented her from slipping. The wind howled around her, whipping the hair in her face and billowing her dress around her legs. She had taken three steps when a gun shot and the sound of splitting wood were heard above her.

"You might as well give up now, Darcy, before I blow your brains out!" Wickham's voice rang through the air.

"Come in here and face me you coward!!" was Darcy's caustic reply. Another explosion was heard, and this time a bullet whistled through the window.

"Please protect him," Elizabeth prayed desperately, and took another step. She knew she must hurry. Who knew how many men would soon be in the room? It could only be a matter of minutes before someone was shooting down at her. She gained courage as each step narrowed the distance between her and the ground. The sounds of shouting and the clashing of metal urged her to quicken her pace. It was with great relief that she finally dropped to the ground and loosened the rope from her waist. She could see the copse of trees within two hundred feet of the tower. Without bothering to put on her shoes and stockings, she took off at a run towards it. Her lungs burned and the undergrowth tore at her feet, but she did not stop until she had reached it.

She soon spied the horse, a massive black stallion, hidden among the bushes, and hoped that she would not have to ride it alone. She hoisted herself up onto it and laid her stomach flat for better concealment. The sky was beginning to lighten now, although the relentless wind showed no sign of stopping with the new day. Peering through the dimness and stared in apprehension up at the tower. She uttered another prayer for Darcy's safe escape, her gaze not wavering from the black hole that marked the window. She started as another gunshot was heard. The horse whinnied and stamped its feet.

"Shhh," she soothed it. As she watched the tower intently, she heard a sound that filled her with horror. A great creaking accompanied by sounds of falling stones filled the early morning air. Her heart stopped as the tower seemed to sway in the dark sky. There were more sounds of clattering stones. Elizabeth held her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. "Please, no!" she whispered in terror. The sound of falling stones became deafening as they crumbled from the swaying height. Finally, after one brief, eternal moment, the massive edifice toppled in a thunderous roar. Elizabeth stared, shocked by what she had seen. It could not be. She had not just watched the tower crumble, taking anything living inside it to certain death. The stallion pranced nervously and snorted, but Elizabeth could not move. She slipped off the horse and fell barefoot to the ground, collapsing on bent knees, her head on the cold earth. A feeling of nausea washed over her. She knelt there for a moment, breathing heavily, reeling from the shock of what she had seen. Then, suddenly recalling Darcy's last words to her, she felt a burst of determination and decided she would not fail him. She hauled herself back onto the horse and kicked his flanks as ferociously as she could. The stallion, already spooked and restless, did not require much encouragement. They took off like lightning through the trees.

It was then that she heard a voice call to her. She looked behind her and saw Darcy running, staggering about twenty feet from the edge of the forest.

"Elizabeth!" his voice carried on the wind. Elizabeth's heart leapt within her and she made an inarticulate exclamation of joy and relief. She pulled on the reins as hard as she could, but the horse was not inclined to stop. Elizabeth half fell, half dismounted from the beast. Not cognisant of anything except that Darcy was running towards her, she stumbled through the underbrush.

"You're alive!" she cried with joy and flung her arms around his neck. "Thank God!" Darcy uncurled her arms from around his neck and pulled her after him as he continued his race toward the stallion.

"...we mustn't stop," he panted, "...there were others who may have seen us..."

When they reached the horse, he mounted and drew her up behind him. Elizabeth noticed a deep wound on his right arm.

"You're bleeding!" she cried, looking in concern at the blood soaking through his shirt.

"It's nothing," he said, and spurred the horse into a breakneck speed. Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around him and held on for her life as he manoeuvred the galloping horse along the riverbank. Although dawn had officially arrived, the wind had brought with it an army of black, angry looking clouds. The wind whipped her hair and an occasional raindrop smacked her in the face. As the drops became more frequent, Elizabeth wondered if it was Darcy's intention to ride like a maniac all the way to the village in a thunderstorm. Apparently it was not: when they had reached a turn in the river's course, he took a sharp left into the dense foliage. Surprisingly, there was a well-hidden path among the thick overgrowth. Scarcely fifteen-minutes later, Elizabeth spied a small cottage tucked neatly away beneath some massive firs.

"Just in time," Darcy said as he brought the stallion within the shelter of the trees. The heavens broke and the hitherto drizzling rain came down in sheets.

Chapter 19

Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005

Elizabeth huddled beneath a large branch as Darcy tied the horse. He then walked to the door and opened it with a key. Elizabeth followed him in. A small one-room hunting cottage met her sight. It was old and simply furnished, although well-kept and clean. There was a bed in one corner, a fireplace on the opposite side, and a wooden table with two sturdy chairs by the hearth. A few cooking utensils and supplies occupied a shelf on one wall. Under Darcy's direction a pile of dry wood next to the hearth was soon transformed into a cheerful fire. Elizabeth moved her chair close to the hearth and attempted to warm herself while Darcy brought in the saddlebags. She pulled the pins from her hair and squeezed the dampness from her locks. Her dress was more or less dry, for which she was very grateful. A sudden shyness overtook her as she slipped her shoes on over bare feet and combed her fingers through her tangled hair. The recollection of what had occurred at the ball came with full force to her mind. Was it her imagination, or had he declared he loved her? Elizabeth blushed and knew not how to act. An unspoken tension settled in the air.

"Would you care for some refreshment, Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked politely. Elizabeth nodded and murmured her thanks. As he handed her a small piece of bread and a flask of wine, she suddenly exclaimed,

"Oh! Your arm!" Darcy glanced down at his upper arm, which sported a nasty gash. Although the bleeding had currently stopped, it obviously needed immediate attention.

"I'll take care of it later," Darcy brushed her off. "Please eat this, you must be starving. There is some dried fruit in the saddlebag-"

"Please let me look at it," she interrupted.

"-and some dried nuts-"

"Mr. Darcy, I really would prefer-"

"-there is cheese as well-"

"I will not sit and gorge myself while you bleed to death!" Elizabeth interrupted sharply. "Sit down and let me look at it!" Darcy's mouth twitched slightly as he obediently took a seat. While not life-threatening, it was deep enough that he must have lost quite a bit of blood. His torn shirt had clotted and dried with the wound, and if not cleaned soon, it could easily become infected.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Sir, you will have to remove your shirt in order for me to properly clean it." Darcy nodded, and she ignored the amusement in his eyes at her brusque tone. As he removed his shirt, she busied herself with preparing a pot of boiling water and some clean bandages found in the packs. When at last she turned to her task, she stopped abruptly and stared. Never had she seen a man's naked torso. Her eyes took in the sight of his beautiful chest and naked shoulders flickering in the firelight. She suddenly felt rather weak.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. "I really can take care of this later after you have had something to eat."

"I ... it's fine," she managed, and felt her cheeks and neck burning. Gathering her composure as best she could, she brought her supplies over to the chair and began her ministrations. The removal of the shirt had also removed the clot, and red blood dripped down his arm. Wetting a cloth in the hot water, she gently applied it. Darcy breathed in sharply, but said nothing. Elizabeth glanced up in concern, knowing it must be extremely painful, but instead of suffering in his dark eyes, she found them focussed on her with a warmth that severely unnerved her. Her eyes widened and she quickly looked down. She chose to keep her eyes on the task before her, although her hand trembled slightly and her heart beat faster. Why should I be so afraid of him suddenly? Elizabeth scolded herself. He means me no harm. He has just saved my life. A little voice inside her head responded that it was not precisely the harm he intended that she was afraid of.

Elizabeth could feel his constant gaze on her as she cleaned the deep gash. She prayed the firelight disguised the high colour of her cheeks. She was acutely aware each time her fingers brushed his bare skin, although she tried to avoid contact. She felt jumpy and sensitive to everything around her-the sound of the rain drumming against the roof, the crackle of the fire, her own racing heart, the rise and fall of his chest. Tension electrified the air between them.

"It is fortunate you had these bandages with you," she said softly, hoping that some conversation might alleviate the tension.

"I did not know in what state I would find you," he replied. "Who knew how far Wickham's madness would reach?"

"What happened? How did you find out where they had taken me? How did you escape the tower?"

"So many questions!" he teased. Elizabeth blushed, but refused to be flustered by him.

"You must have first discovered him from your aunt," she said.

"I feared the worst when he did not show up to the duel. Instead of facing me himself, Wickham inevitably prefers to attack the innocent people closest to me. First Georgiana, then you..." Elizabeth exclaimed at this.

"Wickham was the one who attempted to ruin Georgiana!" Darcy nodded ruefully.

"I did not know where or whom he would strike this time. It was a suspenseful day, I can assure you. I called at your residence not too long after you had gone to pay my beloved aunt a visit, and panicked when nobody knew of your whereabouts. A search was made of your things, and the invitation for tea was found. From thence to my Aunt's, where she was discovered bound and gagged and furious with the entire world, including me. An urgent express came for me then. The note of ransom had been delivered by some bribed street urchin-as I had expected. After that, it was a matter of tracking down a few sources to discover where he had taken you. I shan't bore you with the details. I had already suspected he might come here, as it is a place where we played as children. My uncle's estate is not far, and this cabin belongs to him. Both Wickham and I know the area intimately. " He paused. Elizabeth wrapped the last of the bandage around his arm and tied it. When she had finished he thanked her and continued,

"As for escaping the tower, that was a stroke of luck. I managed to grab Wickham's arm as he came through the door. It was his intention to shoot me but I had placed myself strategically enough to prevent that. Unfortunately I could not prevent him from discharging some bullets into the room. One of them ricocheted across my arm causing this gash. Another bullet knocked loose some stones that were holding the place together. When it became clear that the tower was going to topple, all of Wickham's rabble hightailed it back down the stairwell. All except Wickham, who took courage at the sight of my wounded arm and decided he wanted to duel after all. So we fought ..."

Darcy shrugged and averted his gaze. "After that I launched myself out the window and down the rope, only hoping my weight wouldn't sway the tower to my side." He smiled.

"Luckily it chose to topple on the other side, allowing me to escape with almost everything intact, except for the gash on my arm you have so kindly bandaged."

"Did Wickham...?" Elizabeth could not finish the sentence.

"Wickham is dead," he said flatly. "He had already received mortal wounds when the tower began to topple." Elizabeth looked at him. He killed Wickham. She blanched at the immensity of the action, but after gazing at his face was filled with compassion for him. He had obviously found the necessity painful and did not wish to discuss it.

"Thank you for saving me," she said gently. She reached out and put her hand on his arm to comfort him. "It must have been a tremendous ordeal for you." He turned to her.

"First of all, it was no sacrifice." He looked pointedly at her and she blushed. "Second of all, it is I who owe you an apology." His tone became fierce. "I am sorry for the stupidity of my aunt, and I am sorry for not apprehending Wickham sooner. It is my fault this happened; I should have known he would attempt something. It is not the first time he has tried to hurt someone under my protection."

Elizabeth flinched at this. He still thinks of me as his employee. Very well, I will do well to remember my status too, and also my principles. She stood abruptly, turned her back and began to tidy the left-over bandages.

"You must not blame yourself for what has happened," she said. "Wickham's malice had made its mark upon my family long before I became acquainted with you. After assuring me that I would be drown in the Thames, he could not help informing me that he single-handedly ruined my father and absconded his estate and fortune."

"What!" Darcy leapt to his feet. "How is that possible?"

"My father was, although an intelligent man, not inclined to deal with the finances and operations of the estate. As he approached his death, all matters were increasingly turned over to his steward, a Mr. Trump, who was apparently in the services of Wickham. They were aided by Mr. Layton, whose real name is Fallworthy. Wickham himself, in the guise of a judge, declared my father officially bankrupt. I do not know or understand how they brought about the complete loss of estate and fortune, but I can tell you it was done swiftly and ruthlessly."

"I am shocked; shocked and angry," Darcy replied heatedly. "But surely there can be something done to investigate and right the matter?" Elizabeth shrugged helplessly.

"We cannot even afford a lawyer, let alone an investigation. The whole thing happened at the time of my father's funeral, and we were just a group of simple, grieving women who knew nothing of such matters. But let us not speak of it. I have long since accepted that it is beyond my control, and now Wickham is gone, we are safe and will soon return to our loved ones." An awkward silence ensued after this speech. Elizabeth sighed turned to walk back to her seat. As she did so, she stumbled and cried out in pain.

"What is it?" Darcy asked in alarm.

"Nothing, only my feet. I ran from the tower to where your horse was concealed without replacing my shoes. They must be scratched." Elizabeth pulled off first one shoe, then the other. A painful mess of scratches and cuts met her sight.

"Oh dear," she said.

"Now I shall have to play nurse," said Darcy, a hint of tease in his voice.

"Oh, no, I, they'll be fine until we get back..." Elizabeth faltered, and hid her feet beneath the chair. The last thing I need is him massaging my feet, she thought in desperation.

"Miss Bennet, I insist," he said firmly, and, Elizabeth thought with alarm, seductively. She sat primly in her chair as he prepared another basin of boiling water and admonished her beating heart not to be so foolish. As he pulled another near her and set the basin on the floor, she made yet another resolve to appear entirely unaffected by his touch. You are the governess, she scolded desperately. Nor will you ever be anything else, for it is certain he will not ask you to be his wife, and it is even more certain that you will NEVER consent to be his mistress. She was glad to see when he approached that he had donned his blood-stained shirt, although it lay partially open to his chest, thereby only partially concealing the chiseled muscle she now knew was beneath. He demanded her to lift one foot. As she silently lifted it, modestly keeping the height to a minimum, he placed one large, strong hand underneath her ankle.

Elizabeth's alarm increased. What kind of situation have I placed myself in? she panicked. Will I be able to maintain lady-like conduct that I abandoned so easily before? What kind of woman do I appear to him? Does he mean to give me an illicit offer? He does not seem that kind of man-but then, what do I know? His own aunt did not seem surprised at the possibility. And I have certainly not provided him with ample evidence to the contrary. Oh dear. She glanced at his curling dark head as he speculatively observed her foot.

"I did not mean that you had to keep your shoes off for the rest of the night, Elizabeth," he quipped. Elizabeth blushed.

"Putting my shoes and stockings on is not the first thing I think of when an armed band of robbers might start shooting at me from a falling tower," she said defensively. Darcy grinned at her.

"Touché." Elizabeth stared at him. She had rarely seen such a brilliant display of white teeth and dimples. Governess, governess, Elizabeth admonished herself. Her agitation increased. When Darcy touched the bottom of her foot with the hot rag, she jumped.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked quickly.

"No, no, I was just ... surprised."

"Surprised?" he queried.

"I am not ... accustomed to being in such a situation," Elizabeth said, trying to keep the insecurity out of her voice. To her relief, he did not tease her on this point, only set the first foot down and asked for the other. He proceeded in silence, holding her firmly by the ankle and washing the cuts and scratches. An expression of seriousness descended upon his features. Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried not to think what a lady would do in this situation. She had no idea what to do when a partially undressed man sat washing her feet. However, her worry was for nothing; he conducted himself as a gentleman. When he had finished wrapping her feet in bandages he asked her if she would like any more refreshment. She replied that she would, and stood to get it herself.

"Please let me get it for you, Miss Bennet," he said politely.

"I am perfectly able to serve myself," she said firmly. Ignoring his amused glance, she made her somewhat awkward way to the table.

Darcy, however, was there before her, and lifting the loaf of bread provocatively away from her asked, "Do you always make things so difficult for the gentleman?" Elizabeth looked up at him defiantly.

"Must you always be in control of the situation?" Darcy snorted briefly, his mouth twitching.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked suddenly. His gaze held hers; she could not tear herself away from their intensity. "I have never seen a woman as beautiful as you..."

There was a brief silence. Elizabeth knew not how to respond. He closed the small distance between them. "You are irresistible ... everything about you is irresistible," he murmured. Elizabeth gasped. His words washed over her in exhilaration. When he had reached her he pulled her to him. "Elizabeth..." he whispered, his voice low with emotion. She closed her eyes, thrilling at his embrace. She felt his lips graze her cheek and slide lightly to the softness below her ear. "...don't make me live without you..." he whispered again. His lips ever so lightly traced her cheek, her temple, her forehead. Elizabeth thought she would faint. "...I love you..." At last his lips reached hers, and his mouth was gentle at first but became increasingly persuasive; Elizabeth sighed again at the pleasure his lips. She involuntarily slid her arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss. His mouth and hands conveyed a longing that she responded to eagerly; she could not get enough of him. His mouth moved over hers again and again; Elizabeth was lost. She slid her hands in a caress from his neck to the warm skin of his hard chest.

She knew immediately that she should not have done it. His lips stopped abruptly and his mouth hovered over hers. His breathing was ragged. Elizabeth gasped for breath then pushed away from him, stumbling across the room to the opposite wall. After a few moments, in which they both made attempts to regain some composure, Elizabeth burst into tears.

"You see what I become when I am with you!" she cried in a strangled voice. "It is no wonder that all of London thinks I am your mistress-I don't behave as much better."

"Elizabeth, I am sorry," he cried, "I know I should not have done that, indeed, I had resolved not to, it's just that..." he stopped in frustration and ran his hands through his thick hair.

"Why did you kiss me?" Elizabeth whispered, turning her tear-filled eyes on him. "You knew from that night in the library that I would not resist ... why do you persist in proving my easiness? You make no offer for me, not even as a mistress ... perhaps you think of me as an already sufficiently paid employee." Elizabeth stopped briefly to wipe the hot tears from her cheeks. Darcy stared at her as if she had struck him.

"Is that what you think?" he finally said. "That you are nothing more to me than a paid ...employee? That I have paid for your services and now expect this?" Elizabeth was shocked at the pain she saw in his eyes and the hurt in his voice. She turned her head away and said,

"It is nothing more than what all of London, including your relatives, believe." Darcy seethed.

"What did my aunt say to you?"

"Your aunt says what the whole world says, that I am nothing more than a ... harlot." Elizabeth voice was strangled with emotion and shame. Darcy stood shocked, not knowing how to respond. He took a step towards her but stopped when she recoiled from him.

"And is that what you think my opinion is of you?" he asked quietly. "That my intentions toward you have been completely dishonourable?"

"I do not know," wept Elizabeth. "I truly wished to believe you were a man of principle, but with all your attentions to me, which were confusing enough, you made it clear that I would never be suitable as your wife, that the idea was reprehensible to you."

"Even when you offered at Pemberley, I knew it was not what you truly wished for, that you only acted out of concern for my feelings. I could not infer from it that you were above having a mistress. Your guests at Pemberley were certainly eager to believe it, as well as your aunt, as well as the entire assembly in London! And Mr. Wickham, you has known you since childhood, accepted it without question. How was I to know what your intentions were? For in all the declarations of love you have made to me, you have not once mentioned marriage."

"Mr. Darcy, perhaps all of London thinks of me as a fallen woman, but that is not reason enough for me to abandon my morals. I know I am not suitable to be your wife, now more than ever. But let me assure you, sir, I will never enter into a union with any man that is short of matrimony."

Darcy closed his eyes briefly, his face etched in pain.

"I can see I have not deserved you," he said simply.

Elizabeth was silent. Is that all he is going to say? She thought. She took a deep breath to calm her emotion. She heard Darcy approach and turned away. There was nothing more to be said, she knew that now. However, he simply touched her shoulder lightly and offered her a handkerchief. She accepted without a word and allowed him to lead her to the chair. He wrapped her now dry cloak around her and after inquiring gently after her comfort, strode quietly to the door. Upon opening it, the cessation of the rain was revealed.

"We should ride now," he said. "My uncle's estate is not five miles from here. I will leave you to your preparation while I care for the horse." Elizabeth nodded and began to gather her things. Within ten minutes they were saddled and trotting lightly through the dripping forest. Heavy clouds passed overhead and Elizabeth wondered if it would rain again. She sat side-saddle, with Darcy behind her. They did not speak as he carefully guided the horse through the undergrowth. At last they reached the riverbank, which was more open. Darcy spurred the horse into a faster pace.

"It is only two miles from here," he said briefly. "Are you quite comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied. So I was right all along, she thought. He truly did not have any intention of marrying me. She felt rather numb all over. He will see me safely home, and it will be over. I will never see him again. The pain this generated in her breast threatened to overcome her again. She took a deep breath, willing the tears away. For some inexplicable reason, her aching heart took comfort in the warmth of his strong arm wrapped around her. She knew it was the last time he would ever hold her. And yet, I have done the right thing. I can live with myself, even if it means living without him. This also eased the ache somewhat. She knew there was no alternative, and she felt a burden of her conscience had been lifted.

The path had broadened now and the woods began to look more civilized. She suspected they had entered the borders of the estate. Before she could enquire, however, a streak of lightning was seen, followed immediately by a loud rumble of thunder.

"Blast!" muttered Darcy. He dug his heels into the stallion and they raced down the widening path. The heavens darkened and within seconds the rain was coming down in sheets. Elizabeth repeatedly pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, but relinquished the idea after the wind had blown it off four times. It was only a matter of seconds before they were successfully drenched. The large house had come into view, for which Elizabeth was glad. She had rather had her fill of riding wet with Darcy. Apparently his mind had taken a similar turn, for as they reached the courtyard and he helped her dismount, he said wryly,

"You seem to have a penchant for this sort of thing." Elizabeth smiled briefly as he set her down, but upon seeing the sadness in his eyes that mirrored her own, did not feel like making a retort. A stable hand quickly appeared and took the reins of the horse.

"Good day, Mr. Darcy, sir!" he called through the rain. Darcy greeted him and led Elizabeth by the hand to the massive front door.

"My Aunt and Uncle Matlock reside here," he explained as the door opened for them. "They are Colonel Fitzwilliam's parents."

"Ah," replied Elizabeth. She lifted her head to examine the ornate white ceiling high over her head and the marble stairs leading to an impressive balcony. Darcy was still holding her hand as they stood in the entrance, water streaming off them into puddles on the floor.

"If you please sir, I will notify the master at once that you are here," said the white-haired butler in an impeccably unemotional voice.

"Thank you." Darcy turned to her. Heavy footsteps were heard above, and an elderly gentleman who looked much like Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared on the landing.

"Darcy!" he said, his jaw dropping in astonishment, his eyes darting between his nephew and the young woman standing next to him. Elizabeth had withdrawn her hand from Darcy's and was attempting to smooth her soaked, dirty dress. Her hair she knew was a lost cause. She had only quickly pinned it up when they left the cabin, and it was now half-pinned, half-tumbling in a wet mass over her shoulders.

"Fitzwilliam!" A woman's voice echoed through the room, and Elizabeth cringed as Lady Matlock made her way down the marble staircase after her husband. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "Is everything all right?"

"I assure you, it can all be explained later," Darcy replied reassuringly, although with a touch of weariness. "Aunt, Uncle, allow me to introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, Lord and Lady Matlock." Lord and Lady Matlock offered their greetings politely, albeit with a great deal of astonishment.

"You are Georgiana's governess, are you not?" Lord Matlock inquired brusquely, his eyes registering the young woman before him, who, although wet and dirty, was undeniably very beautiful. Elizabeth inclined her head in embarrassed acknowledgement. Lord Matlock continued to glance suspiciously between Darcy and the young woman.

"Never mind, Henry," Lady Matlock scolded. "Can't you see they are going to catch pneumonia if they continue to stand here? Miss Bennet is positively shivering with cold!" She turned as another woman entered. "Ah, there you are Mrs. Turner! Please have some warm towels brought and rooms readied with hot baths!"

"Yes, your ladyship, right away," Mrs. Turner replied, and disappeared again. In no time more servants arrived on the scene. As Elizabeth and Darcy's coats were removed Lady Matlock gasped to see the blood stains on Darcy's shirt.

"Good heavens, Darcy, what have you done!" exclaimed his uncle.

"Please do not fret, Aunt," Darcy said quickly, glancing at his aunt, whose face had visibly paled. "I assure you it is far worse than it looks, and has already been cleaned and bandaged." Lady Matlock quickly recovered herself.

"Henry, have the physician called at once. Come, you two, I will not have you in these wet clothes a moment longer," ordered Lady Matlock and ushered them up the stairs.

Chapter 20

Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005

Elizabeth sighed as she sank into the hot bath. She had been shown into a very elegant chamber and was now soaking in a steaming porcelain tub. It was nice to be surrounded by luxury again, she had to admit. She had not been sure whether she would be shown to some neglected old room or stuck in the servants' quarters-neither would have surprised her. She thought vaguely that these relatives of Mr. Darcy's seemed to have better breeding than Lady Catharine. Not that it would be hard to have better breeding than someone who called you a harlot and had you kidnapped, Elizabeth thought wryly. She laid her head back and revelled in the hot, fragrant water. It warmed her chilled body and relaxed her. She felt safer than she had for a long time. A lady's maid helped her wash her hair, and after a hot breakfast, she finally collapsed into the huge featherbed and fell into a deep slumber.

When she awoke it was late afternoon. She walked to the window and gazed out over the perfectly manicured gardens below. A maid knocked and entered.

"Excuse me, miss, but her ladyship bids me ask once you are awake if you feel sufficiently well to take tea with her."

"Certainly," Elizabeth replied. She hoped that tea with this aunt would turn out better than it had with the last. The maid left to relay the message and then returned to help her dress. Elizabeth's gown had been cleaned and mended. After the maid had carefully coiffed her hair, she wrapped a shawl, 'provided by her ladyship' over her shoulders and led her to Lady Matlock's sitting room.

"Ah, Miss Bennet, there you are," Lady Matlock called as she entered. "Did you sleep well, my dear?"

"Yes, very well, thank you," Elizabeth responded, surprised at the kind reception.

"Please take a seat, Miss Bennet. I have had a little luncheon made up for you. You must be starving after the ordeal you have been through."

"Mr. Darcy informed you of it, then?" Elizabeth said doubtfully as she took her seat. She wondered how much he had actually revealed.

"I know the whole story, my dear, how that villain Mr. Wickham accosted you at the ball, then kidnapped you and attempted to murder both of you!" Lady Matlock shuddered. "I tremble to think what might have happened! Fitzwilliam can be so obstinate, especially concerning Wickham. But it has turned out all right at last. Here, my dear, try one of these scones, they are delicious!" She handed Elizabeth a plate of scones and then continued.

"I, for one, am relieved that Wickham is dead. You can have no idea how he has plagued our family, and particularly Darcy! Perhaps it is unchristian of me, but I cannot help it. My husband agrees with me wholeheartedly. My poor Henry was so angry when Fitzwilliam told us, I thought he would take off after Wickham's accomplices himself! Fortunately, our son Richard was privy to the whole affair, and had remained in London to search for Wickham if he was not to be found at the ruins."

"Has anything been discovered as to their whereabouts?" asked Elizabeth anxiously. "Can you tell me how many there were involved?"

"I do not know, my dear. Fitzwilliam estimated there were at least five others, but he could not be sure." Lady Matlock looked at the young woman before her in sympathy. "I understand Wickham has already played a role in your family. I am very sorry, Miss Bennet. It seems his wickedness has extended to all of us." Elizabeth, although surprised that Darcy had related the cause of her family's demise to his relatives, was touched by the sincerity of Lady Matlock's sympathy.

"Thank you, Lady Matlock. Your sympathy is much appreciated. I must also thank you for your kindness and hospitality."

"Oh, say nothing of it," waved Lady Matlock. "I felt it is my duty to make up, at least in part, for the atrocious behaviour of Lady Catharine! I will not have you believing that all of Darcy's relatives are so ill-behaved! And let me assure you, Lady Catharine de Bourgh is no relative of mine!" Elizabeth smiled at her adamance.

"How is Lady Catharine?" she asked. "I hope no harm came to her."

"Oh, she is unharmed, except for her pride, which has hopefully been materially wounded, and of course her purse is 10, 000 pounds lighter. It serves her right! I hope they never find the money. I do not know what the woman could have been thinking!" Elizabeth suddenly wished to divert the conversation and so asked whether Georgiana was feeling better.

"Yes, I believe she is much better, although Richard mentioned that she was overwrought with concern for her beloved governess." Lady Matlock smiled knowingly at Elizabeth. "It seems you have wound yourself into the hearts of that family." Elizabeth blushed.

"Lady Matlock, I thank you again for your generosity, and I hope you will not consider me ungrateful if I say that I am very anxious to return to my family in London. My sisters must be beside themselves with worry."

"I am sure you are, dear. Do not worry about your sisters; they should know by now that you are safe. My husband will escort you himself to London tomorrow morning. You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, but I do not think it wise to travel immediately, for it is half a day's journey by carriage to London, that would be too much after the strain you have been through."

"Was an express sent to London this morning?" asked Elizabeth, wondering how her family could already be aware of her safety.

"No, Fitzwilliam left this morning. Knowing the way he rides, he should be there already to inform them himself."

"Mr. Darcy has gone to London?" Elizabeth was astonished.

"Yes, he was gone within an hour of having arrived here. I tried to persuade him to stay and get some rest, but he would not heed me." Lady Matlock sighed. "He really can be so obstinate. He seemed to think there was urgent business to attend to." Elizabeth paled. He obviously wished to avoid seeing me again, she thought.

"Lady Matlock, thank you once again for the lovely meal. I find I have a bit of a headache. I hope you do not mind if I retire for a moment."

"Certainly, my dear. Shall I have you called for supper, or would you prefer to eat in your room?"

"I would be delighted to join you," Elizabeth said. "Thank you, you Ladyship." She curtsied and left for her room.

Supper that night was, much to her surprise, truly a delight rather than an ordeal. Lord Matlock, once Darcy had made him aware of how she had suffered at the hands of Wickham, adored her at once. He adopted a protective, almost deferential treatment of her that equaled his hatred of Wickham. Gone were all suspicious glances or aspersions to the fact that she had been a governess; nothing that Miss Bennet said was not delightful. He was a gruff man, and inclined to state his opinions strongly. Lady Matlock, easily exasperated by her husband, was nevertheless equally attentive to the beautiful Miss Bennet, constantly seeking to gratify her in some way. Elizabeth liked them both immensely, and thought it a shame that she would never be in their company again. She was glad that Lord Matlock would be escorting her back to London rather than Darcy. She did not think she could have borne half a day's journey in his silent company.

Chapter 21

Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005

Elizabeth had scarcely made it out of the carriage the next day when Jane, who had spied them from an upper window, met her. The two embraced through tears of gratitude.

"Thank God you're alive, Lizzy," Jane whispered into her ear as she held her tightly. She pulled back to gaze tenderly at her sister. "Mr. Darcy informed us you would be coming today, and I have been watching impatiently from the upper window. What you must have been through!"

"But it is over now, dearest Jane, and I hope that I will never again be separated from you! I have things of such importance to relate to you!"

"If you mean the role Wickham played in our family's loss of fortune, I already know. Mr. Darcy informed us of it yesterday. But Lizzy, perhaps Lord Matlock would like some refreshment?" Elizabeth started and turned apologetically to the older gentleman, who had been standing discreetly to the side. After the proper introductions had been made, Lord Matlock declined the invitation, saying he preferred to go immediately to his town house. Jane and Elizabeth walked slowly to the house as his carriage pulled away.

"What else did Mr. Darcy say when he was here?" Elizabeth asked earnestly.

"His visit was short, to say the least. He stayed long enough to briefly explain the events of the day, and then assured us of your safety and your expected return. He did make some inquiries as to the details of Papa's estate, which he said would help him track down Wickham's other accomplices. But Lizzy, he seems a perfect gentleman. Although his presence is somewhat intimidating, he informed us of the events with the greatest sensitivity and compassion. I feel he is a good man!"

"He is a good man, Jane. I have witnessed his charity and compassion to his sister, his staff, and to myself many times. But he did not love me enough to marry me."

"Did you speak of it then?" cried Jane.

"He did make another declaration of love, but the only mention of matrimony was made by myself. I made my opinion concerning any other arrangement very clear, and after that he had nothing to say." Elizabeth smiled sadly. "It is asking a lot of a man's affection to align himself with a woman who has neither fortune, connections, or reputation."

"Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry!" Another tear escaped down Jane's sympathetic face. "I had such great hopes! It seems we must both be disappointed in love."

"Not Mr. Bingley as well?"

"I am afraid so. That is, I am not exactly certain of his feelings, but after the ball it seems Miss Bingley made quite a fuss over the matter-this is all Mrs. Jennings information." Jane gave Lizzy a knowing glance. "When he called yesterday at teatime he did not stay long. He was not precisely cold, but he seemed confused and ... withdrawn," she sighed. "I do not know what will happen, Lizzy, but like you I am disinclined to wait here in suspense until he decides upon the strength of his feelings. What do you think of departing for home as soon as possible? Mrs. Jennings is willing."

"I confess the thought of remaining in London is as appealing to me as staying in a den of lions! I have lost my taste for society, to say the least," Elizabeth responded.

"Good, then, let us inform Kitty and Mrs. Jennings! They do not yet know you are here and will be anxious to see you!"

The removal from London to Middlesex took less than three days. Elizabeth had taken leave of Georgiana before their departure. She was careful to go when Darcy was not at home. The two had parted with many tears, but with as many promises to write and keep the acquaintance. It was with great relief that Elizabeth finally arrived at the cottage in Middlesex. She had not seen her mother or sisters for quite some time, and found she had missed them and the simplicity of their family life. She felt that the solitude of the country would allow her the peace to reflect on the feelings in her heart and come to terms with all that had transpired. As the family settled back into the routine of late summer, she found that, while she was not happy, her suffering was not so acute that she could not make it from one day to the next, and then from one week to the next. She took great comfort in having Jane close to her, but even Jane could not understand the places in her heart that were most tender.

Her other source of comfort and healing were long walks in the countryside. She would take the letters she received from Georgiana and pore over them, unable to keep herself from treasuring every mention of his name, for searching Georgiana's words for anything that might reveal his activities or the details of his life. She had resigned herself to loving him-even without hope. He was constantly in her thoughts. Not a word or a look they had ever shared was forgotten. She was unable to dwell on their more intimate moments; she found it too painful. She had moments, too, when the ache to feel his arms around her, to have him whisper that he loved her was so strong it caused her physical pain. She found the greatest comfort at these times was to remember what she would have had to sacrifice to be with him, and to remember that even if he had married her, she would have lived all her life knowing he had not really wished it, and would have preferred another arrangement. She knew she had done the right thing, that there had been no other way. He had loved her, yes, but not enough. And so she lived from day to day, still loving him, knowing that she always would, even when he belonged to another and she was living out her days in spinsterhood.

They did receive word, in two months time, that the other members of Wickham's conspiracy had been found, tried and sentenced to prison. Lady Catharine's ransom money had not been found, and while she had not been convicted of anything, it was rumoured she had left her London home and taken up residence in Scotland. The messenger who relayed the message did mention that the whole affair of discovering the whereabouts of the ruffians had been instigated and carried out in large part by Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth wanted to believe that he had done it in part for her, that perhaps it was proof that he had not forgotten her too quickly, that maybe he still loved her a little. However, she knew that his motivation for discovering Wickham's accomplices could have come from many sources. Georgiana's letters seemed to imply that he spent a great deal of time in London now, and that he was heavily involved with his business matters. Elizabeth dreaded that each letter she got would relate his engagement to another woman. That was one inevitable event of which she could not think with equanimity.

The end of September came, and with it cooler days and nights. Elizabeth and her sisters had been occupied with harvesting the small garden they kept in preparation for winter. Elizabeth had a letter from Georgiana in her pocket that she had been itching to read all day, but had been unable to. At last the end of the beans had been picked and Elizabeth took the opportunity to slip away for one of her much-loved walks. A lively autumn breeze waved the long grass on the hills and scurried clouds across the sky. The trees had begun to turn yellow and red, touching the countryside with tinges of colour. Elizabeth had always loved and hated this season as a child; loved it for its beauty and the promise of change, and hated it for the end of lost summer. As she made her way over the green hills, the same nostalgic feeling of her childhood overcame her again. She stopped next to a lone tree overlooking the valley and gazed out over the countryside.

She was so lost in her thoughts, the sound of hoofbeats did not immediately register. It was only when they were quite close that she turned around in annoyance to see who was interrupting her solitude. She started; blinked; then shook her head in disbelief. It could not be him-but as the rider crested the hill, she saw that it was indeed Darcy, and he was riding directly toward her. She experienced the same mixture of exhilaration and fear that she had used to feel every time he came into the room. When she turned as if looking for a way to escape, he called her name. She waited as the galloping hoof beats drew near, and attempted to calm her beating heart, although she had no real hope of hiding her emotion. When at last he had arrived, he dismounted and walked until he stood in front of her.

"Mr. Darcy," she breathed, only able to look at him for a brief moment. He is looking as tall and handsome as ever, she thought. This did not increase her confidence. She was breathing very quickly and a pretty blush overspread her features.

"Miss Bennet," he said, his accents betraying his own lack of composure. He stood before her as if hesitant on how he should continue. She looked away, unable to say anything, embarrassed. For a moment neither spoke.

"Miss Bennet-" Darcy grasped her hand in a sudden burst of emotion and brought it to his lips. Elizabeth gasped and coloured. "Elizabeth," he commenced with feeling, gazing earnestly at her, "I will not trifle with you any longer. I know nothing I can do could make me worthy of you, sweetest, loveliest of creatures! Please forgive me for leaving you without a word. I have here the deed for your family's estate," he handed her a parchment. "The majority of your family's fortune has been recovered and is currently being held in London." Elizabeth gazed at him, wide-eyed, confused.

"But how did you...?" He shook his head impatiently.

"It is a long story. Suffice it to say it has taken the great part of two months, which is why I have not come to you sooner. I felt I could not offer for you until I had done something to prove to you that I had endeavoured, albeit unsuccessfully, to become worthy of your love. I know now that to deserve you is impossible, but let me assure you that my love for you has not lessened! Indeed, everyday without you is torture! I love you, Elizabeth! There is not a part of me that does not yearn for you! Please relieve me of this misery!" He grasped both her hands and looked desperately into her eyes. "Please tell me you could love me!" Elizabeth was so moved she could scarcely speak.

"Mr. Darcy," she said at last, as a tear rolled down her cheek, "I have never ceased to love you. How can you doubt it? I have loved you almost from the beginning. But my resolve has not changed! I can never live in an arrangement other than matrimony! Please do not ask me!" The tears came unbidden now, streaming in rivers from her beautiful eyes. Darcy started, then gave a relieved little laugh.

"Forgive me, my darling, for making the same mistakes repeatedly! Let me make this clear once and for all. I have never entertained thoughts of engaging you as a mistress! I am sorry for leading you to the conclusion! The idea was so foreign and preposterous to me, that even with all the rumours circulating and your sweet reminders, I paid little attention. How can a man profess love for a woman and then submit her to all manner of degradation? No, I have only ever wanted you in the holy bonds of matrimony." He dropped to one knee, and still holding one hand, continued,

"Elizabeth, will you do the honour of being my wife?" Throughout this speech a bubble of warmth and hope had been building within Elizabeth's soul, and at the question it burst within her in an outpouring of joy.

"Yes!" she cried. "Yes!" she said again, unable to utter anything else. She threw her arms about him, and he caught her, lifting her as he stood. They stood in the embrace for a long while, each savouring the closeness of the other; each overwhelmed with joy, gratitude, and the release of months of uncertainty and longing.

At last Darcy pulled his head away and, gazing tenderly at her, tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "Now I will be able to get to the bottom of that imp in the corner of your eye," he said tenderly.

"The imp?" asked Elizabeth in confusion.

"And I of course will expect you to sing for me as often and as long as I wish."

"Making demands already, are we Mr. Darcy?"

"Aha! There it is!"

"What?"

"The imp." Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. Darcy's eyes dropped to her lips. He kissed her then, tenderly but chastely. When he lifted his head, Elizabeth looked up adoringly into his eyes and saw there the promise of all his love.

"Let us go to your mother," he said simply.

Chapter 22

Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005

Two weeks after the Bennet family had been re-established in their home in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth and Darcy wed in the small chapel near Longbourn. The announcement of their engagement had come as a surprise and a delight to almost everyone. Suffice it to say, the joy of Mrs. Bennet upon the news of her daughter's engagement in combination with the deed to Longbourn had been enough to put her in vapours for almost two weeks. The majority of the fortune had indeed been recovered, for it was discovered that although Wickham had been one of the worst thieves the country had ever known, he had also been penurious and had possessed an obsessive compulsion to save the money he stole. Reserves of embezzled money were discovered in secret bank accounts throughout England and as far away as France and Switzerland.

The restoration of the Bennets' fortune and social standing in combination with Elizabeth's engagement to Darcy was enough to wipe out almost completely any of the previous rumours that Elizabeth had been his mistress. To her surprise, Elizabeth found herself courted by the most illustrious people in England as the ton vied for the approval of the Miss Bennet, soon to be the Mrs. Darcy. Elizabeth was not sure which she disliked more, the defamation or approbation of the ton.

Jane and Mr. Bingley found themselves thrown into company now quite frequently, and it was soon obvious that he was as much in love with her as ever. The confusion of their separation was soon discovered to have been a result of misunderstanding. Mr. Bingley assured Jane that his withdrawal had been due not to the rumours circulating, as she had suspected, but rather to Caroline's avowal that Jane did not care for him. He had not intended to stop courting her, but had determined to find out if the strength of Jane's attachment matched his own. Naturally, he assumed that Jane's sudden removal from London without a word was a confirmation of his worst fears, and so he had not pursued her. However, Mr. Bingley's being constantly thrown in the company of his most divine angel was too much for him, and he was finally compelled to unburden his feelings to Jane. Their engagement was announced two weeks following Elizabeth and Darcy's wedding. Miss Bingley now found herself pleased with the arrangement, although her reasons were never fully stipulated. Jane's warm heart forgave Miss Bingley of all the pain she had occasioned, and while she could not live with her, she nonetheless accepted her as a sister and valued member of the family circle.

Georgiana was thrilled at having her former governess, dearest friend, and now sister, restored to her in such a permanent way. With the establishment of Darcy and Elizabeth at Pemberley and under Elizabeth's continued guidance, she developed into a beautiful and confident young woman, although, much to Elizabeth's consternation, with a mischievous knack for match-making. The rest of Darcy's relatives welcomed Elizabeth enthusiastically. Lord and Lady Matlock were especially delighted with the match, as it had been what they were hoping for all along. They proceeded to unofficially adopt Elizabeth as if she was their own daughter, and continued an unstated competition for her affection for many months. Colonel Fitzwilliam was among those to know of the engagement first; and it would be untrue to say that he did not enjoy a few jokes at Darcy's expense, which Darcy bore amiably. The Darcy's received a Christmas card once yearly from Lady Catharine, but could never convince her to leave her residence in Scotland and visit them in person.

Elizabeth and Darcy were uniformly acknowledged to be the most envied couple in England. It was true they made a strikingly beautiful couple and there were not many heads that did not turn when they were announced at an assembly or were seen strolling arm in arm through the park. It was rumoured that Darcy spent scandalous amounts of money on his wife and showered her with the most extravagant of gifts, and that he would make his wife sing for him twice a day. However, most envied was the mutual adoration the two were unable to conceal from the world. Although the signs of their affection were never overt, anyone who saw the way Darcy looked at his wife, or the way her beautiful eyes lit up whenever her husband walked into the room could be in no doubt of the affection and love that blessed their union.

Epilgue

Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005

Elizabeth sighed and smiled to herself as she brushed through her golden curls. It was still morning, but she had slept late. Darcy had been up early to see to some business with his tenants and so she found herself alone in the morning; a rare occurrence since their wedding day almost a year earlier. Elizabeth examined her reflection in the mirror. Although her beauty had always been indisputable, marriage had managed to magnify her natural charms further. There was a glow of luminescence about her and an endearing flush of rose in her cheeks. Happiness radiated constantly from her eyes. Yes, she was looking well, as she well knew, and her husband was also well aware. Darcy was not one to let his appreciation go unexpressed. Elizabeth was at times astonished by her happiness. The pain of the year preceding their marriage made it all the more cherished. She wondered sometimes if she was living in a dream, so much light and happiness filled her. She placed her hand on the small swelling beginning to show beneath her white chemise and smiled at yet another blessing to add to her over-flowing cup.

A knock at the door broke through her reveries. She turned to see Darcy enter. He smiled at her as he approached and kissed her lips.

"Good morning, sweet wife," he murmured.

"Good morning, darling. You were up early today."

"I've brought you something." Elizabeth smiled. She loved his gifts. She had at first been rather dismayed by the money he spent on her, and had asked him not to. She thought back to the first time he had visited at Longbourn and had given her a gorgeous diamond and emerald necklace. She knew it must have cost a small fortune. She had been shocked and declared she could not accept it. However, he had been very persuasive.

"Please allow me to indulge you," he had said, and begun placing small kisses on her hand and the inside of her palm and wrist. "Perhaps you are right that it is a weakness, but it gives me such pleasure. Do not deny me this luxury. Please" He had placed kisses on her until she relented. It had not taken long.

Elizabeth now smiled up at her husband and took his hand. "What have you brought me?" she asked in anticipation as he sat opposite her on the small bench. What she loved more than the gift was the look of pleasure that would gleam in Darcy's eyes when she was delighted with it. Darcy withdrew his hand from behind his back to reveal a single white rose. Elizabeth exclaimed in delight and took it, breathing in the heady perfume that emanated from the abundance of velvety white petals.

"Where did you find this, Fitzwilliam?" she asked, smiling, although she already guessed the answer.

"There is a little spot in the woods, adjacent to a meadow and across the stream where a rose bush grows. I think you are already intimately acquainted with the spot." Elizabeth laughed. How she loved the tease in his eyes!

"Yes, we are good friends, that spot and I." She gave a low chuckle. "Do you recall the lecture you gave to me about it?"

"You mean the one in which I admonished you to count every cost, every sacrifice, and every inconvenience before recklessly pursuing the desired object?" he murmured as he began tracing his lips along the back of her neck. "I think I told you to write it down. Did you?" Elizabeth laughed.

"No, I did not. However, it seems that events have proven that you are not one to follow your own advice, Mr. Darcy. In fact, it seems that you have done quite the opposite." She closed her eyes as his lips caressed her neck and shoulders. She had yet to become inured to his touch.

"Mmm. And it was worth it." He brought his head up to look at her.

"Was it?" she whispered.

"That's a resounding yes," he whispered back before lowering his head to kiss her thoroughly.

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