Something in the Soup

Teg

Section I, Next Section

Part One

Posted on Friday, 27 December 2002, at 9:10 a.m.

'This part of the intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by Elizabeth, and as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable for Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make. - Attention, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him.....'

"Good evening, Miss Bennet."

The smoothly uttered phrase in a tone pleasurable to the ear brought more than feelings of misgiving in the lady to whom it was addressed. Slowly, Elizabeth turned to face the gentleman and her tone was more icy than warm when she replied:

"Mr. Darcy."

"I trust you are well and come prepared to enjoy the evening, Miss Bennet?" His eyes betrayed nothing, as intently as they were focussed upon her own.

"Certainly, for what could possibly spoil an evening such as this?" she replied, a touch of acidity in her voice.

Darcy appeared not to notice it, however, for his next enquiry was after Jane. "Your sister suffered no ill effects from her late illness, I hope. She appeared to be in excellent health when she entered the room a few moments ago with Bingley."

Irritation warred with her pleasure in the knowledge that Jane, at least, would have cause to rejoice in what this evening might bring. "Yes, Mr. Bingley's very kind solicitude during her illness was, I'm sure, a mitigating factor in her complete recovery. There is nothing more effective than pleasing, well-bred manners." Elizabeth dared not deceive herself into believing that her barb had penetrated his own ill-bred manners, yet something seemed to flicker across his face and she allowed a small measure of satisfaction that she had at least given him something to puzzle over.

As if by design, Bingley and Jane chose that moment to wander into their vicinity and thus joined the other couple just as Elizabeth was struggling for some means of excusing herself.

"I say, Darcy, this will turn out to be a first class affair I think!" Bingley's eternal optimism knew no bounds. How he could call a ramshackle gathering of country gentility a 'first class affair' astounded his more worldly friend. "I could get to like this sort of thing. Perhaps I shall make it a regular occurrence."

Good Lord, no! thought Darcy as the sight of several young ladies hanging on the arms of officers attested to the base class of some of the guests. Yet it was Elizabeth who voiced an objection.

"Kind as your offer is, Mr. Bingley, I'm afraid it would not do at all. One ball per year is quite enough for the younger ladies and gentlemen of Meryton. Any more than that and you run the risk of spoiling them."

Bingley looked thoughtful. "I confess I hadn't thought of that, Miss Elizabeth. Still, there would be assemblies to make up for the lack of formal balls, wouldn't there?" He turned a completely besotted gaze on Jane who blushed prettily and lowered her eyes before answering with a polite affirmative. "There, you see! This will be a most delightful place to live. I am so glad I took this house, Darcy. Aren't you?"

"It does have its attractions, Bingley." Darcy's voice was cool, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth's face. "Are you not as fond of dancing as your sisters appear to be, Miss Elizabeth?"

She seemed startled to be addressed. "Whatever would give you that idea, sir? I very much enjoy dancing."

A small smile of self satisfaction appeared on his face. "Perhaps you would do me the honour of a dance this evening, then?"

Elizabeth knew not what to say. There was no time for her to think as Darcy awaited her response and both Jane and Bingley were watching her with interest. "Yes," she finally said. "I must caution you, however, that I am committed to the first two with my cousin. Have you met Mr. Collins yet, Mr. Darcy?"

Quite pleased with his success, Darcy was not about to let a lowly cousin come between himself and the lady of his choice. He had an idea in this direction. "No, I have not had that pleasure. I trust that you will enjoy your evening, Miss Elizabeth. If you will excuse me," he added with a slight bow.

She curtseyed and watched him walk away, puzzling over his desire to dance with her. Her sister and Bingley were sharing a secret between them so Elizabeth turned away to give them some privacy.

"Darcy has never voluntarily asked a lady to dance at one of these affairs," Bingley was saying. "I believe he has found your sister to be too intriguing to ignore."

Jane's eyes were wide with curiosity. "Intriguing? Mr. Bingley, I realise that Lizzy is quite beautiful and a delightful young lady but why would Mr. Darcy find this intriguing? He must meet many women in London who offer similar qualities."

Bingley scoffed at that. "Darcy is too fastidious for the ladies of Town. He is too fastidious for just about any lady!" Smiling down at Jane he added, "I cannot blame him, though, for admiring the second loveliest Miss Bennet."

Her breath caught in her throat, Jane struggled against her rapidly beating heart and melting emotions to maintain focus on the subject of Mr. Darcy and her sister. "He admires Lizzy?"

"Yes, is it not obvious?" Bingley once again found amusement in her words. He directed her gaze to where his friend stood on the opposite side of the room, apparently glowering at a group of men surrounding Elizabeth. "You see? He cannot bear to see her so importuned by other men."

Jane observed Darcy from a new perspective. "Lizzy always thought he was staring at her because he disapproved. She heard," Jane added quietly, "that he referred to her as just 'tolerable' at the Meryton Assembly."

Bingley's smile faded as he recalled that scene. "Please don't tell me that your sister overheard that conversation? That was terribly unfair of me to place Darcy in such a position. He had just suffered a terrible experience, personally, and I was pestering him to dance, something he detests at the best of times. I should have been more sympathetic to his feelings."

Jane found it difficult to believe that Mr. Bingley could by unsympathetic at any time. "So, his asking Lizzy to dance is quite significant! I always thought her judgment of him was too harsh and premature. I hope she is more open minded when they do take to the floor later this evening. I fear that her patience may be tested by the necessity of dancing with our cousin first, however."

"Is he so very bad?"

"Oh, I do not know how he dances but it is generally agreed upon at Longbourn that we do not wish to encourage his attentions in... um... any particular direction." Jane finished with an embarrassed biting of her lip.

"I see," Bingley chuckled. By now he and Jane had reached the end of the room nearest the musicians and he gave the signal to those men to call the dancers to the floor. "Miss Bennet, would you do me the honour of opening the Netherfield Ball with the first dance?" He took her proffered hand and placed her for the opening strains of the music. While they waited for the other couples to line up Bingley noted that Elizabeth was led to the floor by his friend and not by the stout clergyman whose acquaintance he had made upon the Bennets' arrival not much earlier. How Darcy had managed to extricate the lady from her certain fate he could only imagine, and that imagination led him to suppose that an exercise in privilege of rank had taken place. Mr. Collins was standing on the sidelines looking quite put out while still managing to convey the impression of simpering compliance.

Elizabeth was just as put out, it seemed. Her address of her dance partner was hardly what one usually offered. "Is this the standard form at Almacks this season, Mr. Darcy? I do not get to London often but even at this remote distance we are kept informed of changes to the accepted manner of obtaining a lady's hand for a dance. I had not heard that usurping another man's entitlement was now the fashion."

A ghost of a smile played on his features as he replied. "It seems, Miss Bennet, that your cousin could not take it upon himself to deprive me of the honour of taking his place once he had heard that I, too, had solicited your hand and was not permitted the opening dances as a result of his prior arrangement. He appeared quite devastated by my disappointment." Darcy bowed low as the music cued them to commence. He was amused by Elizabeth's flustered curtsey before he took her hand and they began the first steps.

Contrary to her expectations, Darcy was neither clumsy nor inept at the dance. His reluctance to participate at any former gatherings had led her to believe that his dislike of the ritual was due to faulty or incompetent performance on his part. She was now forced to concede that his execution was far from flawed; it was near perfect. Not only was this her opinion but it was supported by the throngs that lined the dance floor to observe the two of them in partnership. Elizabeth felt herself flushing with embarrassment at being so singled out, not only by Darcy but by the other guests for they would, as they did with Jane and Bingley, begin speculating about the coupling of another Bennet daughter with this particular young man of good fortune. For that, Elizabeth was barely able to keep her countenance. Any who would think Elizabeth Bennet was casting a lure at Mr. Darcy would be in for a rude awakening when she gave them a piece of her mind.

The colour in Elizabeth's cheeks looked so enchanting that Darcy nearly took a misstep. He did not delude himself that she was flattered by his attentions for by this time he was well aware that her opinion of him was not equal to his opinion of her. Nevertheless he would indulge certain whims of his own in his dealings with her. One of those whims was to enjoy her frustration with his reserved silences when she was determined to converse. Not that he did not appreciate Elizabeth's sharp mind or witty repartée but when spurred on by annoyance with himself she was something to behold! Even more interesting was that compliments from him made her even angrier.

What an amazingly intriguing woman!

What an unbelievably irritating man! fumed Elizabeth. Not only does he brandish his rank like a weapon, taking advantage and pushing aside Mr. Collins to dance with me but he flaunts it as if he's proud of this behaviour as well! The colour was steadily rising in her cheeks. Everyone is staring at us. They think he's smitten with me! They have no idea how low his opinion of me really is.

"Miss Bennet, are you feeling quite well?" Darcy's voice startled her out of her ruminations and she realised that they had come to the end of the line, awaiting the dance to recommence. "You appear a trifle agitated. Come, let us sit this dance out." He made to take her arm but Elizabeth stepped back.

"No, no. I am quite alright, I assure you." She had no intention of drawing even further speculation by abandoning the dance floor and retreating to a private corner with Mr. Darcy! "It is just a little warm here. I will be fine in a moment."

"Very well." Darcy's smirk was only in his mind but he was hardly unaware of the numerous eyes upon them. It was close. He had almost managed to put Miss Bennet in a position where she would be forced to speak with him privately but alas, he would have to find another opportunity. He forged on with Plan B. "I believe you mentioned making a new acquaintance when Bingley and I met you on your walk into Meryton."

"Yes," Elizabeth quickly responded, seeing at last an opportunity to exercise her frustrations on her adversary. "I understand that you and Mr. Wickham have known each other for some time."

"Since childhood, actually," Darcy smoothly replied. He could see her confusion with his answer. She had obviously expected him to be the disconcerted one. It was apparent that Wickham was up to his old tricks again. "I suppose you noticed the cold manner of our greeting. Yes, I have no reason to approve of nor promote Mr. Wickham in any of his pursuits. He has proven himself completely undeserving in every instance. Despite ample funds and numerous opportunities for education and employment, Mr. Wickham has squandered his money, left debts and ruined reputations in his wake and attempted far more heinous acts that are most improper to bring to the attention of a respectable lady such as yourself."

During this speech Elizabeth held her breath, entirely aghast. She knew not what to believe. Mr. Wickham had given no indication that he possessed any sort of character similar to the type Mr. Darcy was now describing. Yet she was not so naive as to doubt that such a man could conceivably disguise his less desirable tendencies behind a charming facade. She had little time to consider what the officer had told her, however, before Darcy spoke again.

"I would not criticise you for believing whatever tales he has told you, Miss Bennet. Alas, not many of us have that ease of manner which some possess in conversing with strangers as if they have been known to us for many years."

Struck by this comment, Elizabeth realised what improprieties Mr. Wickham had committed in detailing his personal life so explicitly to her. It now became imperative to re-evaluate all of her other preconceived notions of these two men. How could Mr. Darcy's version be correct? This called for more research and to that end she began to make enquiries of the gentleman at hand.

"I do not understand, Mr. Darcy. What purpose would it serve Mr. Wickham to fabricate tales about you?"

"Ah, then he has mentioned myself specifically in his narratives." Darcy nodded solemnly. "I did not dare hope my reputation could escape unscathed with him in the vicinity. It never does."

There was a brief period of silence between them as the dance separated the pairs. This gave Elizabeth time to think on what he had said and what it might possibly mean. When they were at last rejoined she was ready with her next question.

"Why did you oust Mr. Collins from his rightful place as my partner for these dances, sir?" she challenged.

One corner of Darcy's mouth turned up in a sly grin. "I did not care for the thought of your toes being trod upon by that.... graceless clergyman."

"But Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth cried in mock resentment. "You cannot know how proficient my cousin is in the dance not having seen him perform!"

"Ah, but Miss Bennet," he replied without a blink. "He cannot know how much more proficient I am than he, and neither could you as we did not have the pleasure of dancing together prior to this evening."

"We may have if you had condescended to dance with the local ladies that first evening at the Assembly rooms. But I dare say you found the company barely tolerable."

Darcy seemed to start at her words and a look of regret came over his features. "So, you heard that, did you? I must apologise for my rudeness, Miss Bennet. I was in an ill humour that evening but it was still unforgivable."

"An ill humour? That had nothing to do, I suppose, with being surrounded by people of a lesser quality than those to whom you were accustomed?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him and dared him to contradict her opinion of his opinions.

"Not at all, Miss Bennet!" he replied with honest surprise. "There were some recent circumstances which I'm not at complete liberty to divulge that preoccupied my thoughts that night and unfortunately left a bad taste in my mouth for certain, may I say, views on eligibility."

A sudden sympathy for his position as prime merchandise at the Meryton Market made Elizabeth squirm inwardly. She was in no doubt that her mother's voice had been clearly audible that evening in heralding the arrival of 'Ten Thousand Pounds a Year' into their midst, not to mention the likelihood of her own daughters snaring the honour of capture of said prey. Her curiosity did not miss his reference to 'recent circumstances', either, and she wondered what unfortunate events had transpired to have so influenced his attitudes. "Perhaps some to tend to allow their excitement to cloud judgment when presented with an unusually attractive opportunity."

Darcy nodded. "While some indulge in disguising their true motives."

"Is there a preferred approach, then?" Elizabeth felt uncomfortably drawn to comparing the substance of this part of the conversation and what Darcy had said about Mr. Wickham. "I mean, I prefer honesty to disguise."

"I must agree that honesty is my preferred approach, as well," Darcy conceded before adding, "although an added preference is the adherence to social proprieties."

Ooh, that stung! Elizabeth's face reflected her emotions. She assumed Darcy to be referring to her mother's less than tactful crowing about Jane and Mr. Bingley, not to mention Darcy's attractive fortune. His mind, however, was more agreeably engaged. He was not so much contemplating the faux pas of her family inasmuch as the lively and intelligent challenges of the lady herself. Elizabeth's frequent flirtations with borderline incivilities amused him greatly, catching more than just a passing fancy.

"Mr. Darcy," she managed to say once her breathing was under control. "I must say that I am quite surprised at your claim. Our prior acquaintance at the assembly rooms did not offer such insight into your character." It was Darcy's turn to feel the sting of a justified accusation. "Of course," continued Elizabeth. "You have explained that there were circumstances preoccupying your thoughts that evening. I must accept that as your reply."

The dance chose that moment to separate them again, this time for an extended period. Darcy had several minutes to consider her words while he covered the next few steps with a very much awed young lady whose unceasing commentary he never heard. By the time Elizabeth's hand was once again in his, Darcy's mind was made up. The music came to an end, the partners paid their respects with customary bows and curtseys, then the gentlemen took the ladies' hands and cleared the floor for the next assemblage. Darcy had intended to lead Elizabeth in the opposite direction of Bingley and Miss Bennet but his plans were foiled. Bingley himself had hurried over to speak with his friend, Jane still on his arm.

Part Two

Posted on Tuesday, 31 December 2002, at 3:36 p.m.

"What say we get some punch for the ladies, Darcy?" Bingley's boyish face gave no hint of ulterior motives. His expression also left his friend no choice but to agree. As they left the ladies several young men migrated over in their direction to take up where Darcy and Bingley had left off.

Darcy eyed them uneasily from his position beside the punch bowl. "What is so important that you had to drag me over here, Bingley?"

"Drag you?" For a moment Bingley looked confused. "I just needed to ... oh!" He had caught sight of the eager beaux surrounding Jane and Elizabeth. "Never mind them. I am going to ask Jane to marry me."

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"Tonight!"

Darcy's head came up with a start. "Tonight? Why tonight?"

"Why not?" Bingley grinned. "I'm sure she'll accept me. There's no reason to wait, is there?"

"Well," Darcy began. "Well... er... I suppose you're right." His eyes were still being lured by the sounds of merriment issuing from the direction of the Misses Bennet. "Bingley, are you sure she returns your affections?"

"I am without a doubt," his friend replied with confidence.

Darcy frowned. "How can you be so sure? I have detected no signs of partiality on her part."

"You haven't?" Bingley thought about that for a minute before laughing. "She's like you in that respect, Darcy. Miss Bennet does not openly display her feelings like many others. However, once you get to know her then it's more easily detected." A sly grin and raised eyebrows accompanied this last remark causing Darcy to wonder how well his friend could tell what he was feeling and thinking.

"Well, if you are convinced I cannot fault your choice. You have given some thought to any other considerations? Her family? You know that there is no appreciable dowry connected with any of them."

"Does that really matter?"

Confusion registered on Darcy's face. "Yes, of course," he said beginning to doubt the truth of it himself. As if to reassure himself of the veracity he added, "It is the whole purpose of marriage; maintaining or improving your fortune and station."

Bingley laughed. Upon seeing his friend not joining in the merriment he self consciously stopped and coughed. "I can see that you are serious. Is that really what you were told to look for in a wife?"

Darcy appeared to think about that before replying. "It is of primary importance, yes. Intellectually I understand the necessity of respect and mutual affection for an agreeable union but many couples have had satisfactory marriages based on nothing more than practical circumstances."

"I can't think that sort of arrangement could be much fun." Bingley made a face. "I would much rather content myself in the knowledge that my wife loves me as much as I love her."

"While you feast on bread and water, no doubt." Smiling, Darcy picked up two glasses of punch from the table and handed them to his friend. "It is fortunate that you do have a fortune of your own to rely upon, Bingley."

"And a good friend to remind me of the practicalities?" Bingley concluded. He took the glasses while Darcy retrieved two more. A quick look toward the ladies allowed him to catch Jane's shy smile in his direction. "Is it too arrogant of me to remind you of the delights of being in love?"

It was too early for the reserved Darcy to admit his already bewitched state, even to his closest friend. "You arrogant? Not possible. I will suggest, though, that the delights you experience are not what all of us remember of the emotion."

Eyebrows rose in surprise. "You remember being in love? Pray, when was this? If it was not delightful I can understand your reluctance to embark upon it once more."

Darcy cursed his poor choice of words. "My recollection of being in love is only through vicarious experience, Bingley. Observation of others. It has not always appeared to be so wondrously delightful for them." His eyes betrayed him, however, as he could not control their wandering glimpse toward the elder Misses Bennet. "Enough of this solemn topic, however. Let us return to the ladies and relieve their thirst."

Bingley was happy enough to follow his suggestion. Jane gave him another one of her smiles when he stepped up to her side. It seemed to him that she had never stopped smiling. She took a dainty sip of the punch and they silently grinned at one another.

Darcy was not so fortunate. Elizabeth's admirers were not inclined to allow him admittance to the inner circle and he stood a little aloof to one side, feeling quite ridiculous holding a glass in each hand and restraining the urge to shuffle his feet like a shy schoolboy. At last the lady in question took pity upon him and scolded her nearest devotee into making room for him. Reluctantly, the other gentleman stepped away and Elizabeth's mischievously sparkling eyes invited Darcy toward her. He offered her the punch which she accepted with a light laugh. The gentlemen who comprised the rest of the group warily observed the interloper, determined to protect their favourite from any harm he may represent. That such a man could have serious intentions or even respectable ones toward Miss Elizabeth Bennet would not occur to them. He was a disagreeable sort and therefore not to be trusted.

"Have none of you any partners with whom to dance? Surely you don't think I would be so selfish as to keep you all to myself," Elizabeth teased.

The young men objected, saying that nothing gave them greater pleasure than her company. This only made Elizabeth laugh again and brought such colour to her cheeks and sparkle to her eyes as to further enhance Darcy's admiration of her. He wanted nothing more than to have a private moment with her, to explain himself and ask her forgiveness for any unintended offense that may have occurred during the brief period of their acquaintance thus far. His impatience he feared would be his undoing for if his desire for a private audience went unappeased for very much longer he knew there would be no disguising it. As if on cue, however, the others finally took the hint and one by one excused themselves to find dance partners from amongst the other local ladies. At last Darcy alone remained. Elizabeth was undecided as to how she felt about this. Their conversation during the dance had piqued her curiosity yet she remained unsettled after the violence of her disappointment and anger upon discovering Mr. Wickham's absence from the Ball. She chose to sip slowly at her punch and awaited the gentleman to make the first attempt at a renewed discussion.

"You are an amazing young woman, Miss Bennet."

Nothing could be calculated to surprise Elizabeth more than this comment. "What do you mean, Mr. Darcy? I have done nothing to deserve such a description, I am certain."

Darcy favoured her with a faint but amused smile. "On the contrary. For a woman to be able to so adroitly handle such a group of admirers without offending a one bespeaks a remarkable skill."

Laughing merrily, she responded, "I fear you have overestimated my abilities, Mr. Darcy. My admirers are friends of many years. We have all grown up together and enjoy one another's company at every public gathering."

Darcy doubted not the sincerity of her side of the story but did not for one minute believe in the innocence of the young men's desire for her companionship. He was doubly grateful for her ability to rid herself of their attentions and resolved to not waste any time now granted him with this opportunity. "Miss Bennet," he began.

"Yes?" she immediately responded as if anticipating his address.

"Is there someplace private we may speak?"

"Why ever for?" she said before catching her tongue. The last thing she wanted was a private tęte ŕ tęte with this man in a ballroom where all of her family and friends could see it and wonder.......... and speculate.

"There is a particular matter of importance that I should wish to discuss with you. It concerns Mr. Wickham." As difficult as it was to voice that man's name Darcy knew the only hope he had of Elizabeth consenting to accompany him to more secluded location lay in this topic.

"Oh," she mouthed. Elizabeth could not deny her desire to learn more on this subject and here was Darcy offering it openly. Where could they go, though? Where was there that would not arouse suspicions in the minds of anyone who observed their departure? "Perhaps a quiet corner of the dining hall?" This did not seem like an ideal location to Darcy but he was about to consent nonetheless when the forgotten Bingley suddenly spoke.

"Could I ask you both a favour?" His eyes were round and hopeful. "Miss Bennet has indicated that she began a book during her convalescence here but was unable to finish it. Would you mind accompanying us to the library so that we may find it? I'd like to give it to her to take home." Bingley turned to look adoringly upon Jane.

"Yes, of course," Elizabeth stammered. "I would be happy to. I think I know the book Jane means."

Darcy could not believe the timing of Bingley's request. It was almost as if he'd been listening to the conversation with Elizabeth, although Darcy discounted that possibility. It was greatly out of character for Bingley to eavesdrop. Nevertheless he, too, consented to accompany them to the library. The two couples left the ballroom, Bingley chattering animatedly to Jane while Darcy was considering how to keep Elizabeth in the library to continue the discussion upon which he was heaping more importance. Elizabeth herself was a trifle apprehensive. Knowing what Mr. Wickham had told her and wondering at the contrary information provided by Darcy during their dance was a lure she could not resist.

The excursion to the library proved quite fruitful. Jane's novel of interest was easily discovered and while she and Bingley discussed its relative merits in an window alcove, Darcy drew Elizabeth to the farthest point from the other couple.

"I do not wish to alarm you, Miss Bennet," he quietly attempted to assure her. "There is something about Mr. Wickham of which you, at least, should be made aware."

"Why me?" Elizabeth asked, puzzled by his sudden earnestness.

"Forgive me if I presume too much, Miss Elizabeth." His reverting to her Christian name, although prefaced with the proper title of Miss, struck Elizabeth as if he intended to convey some hint of intimacy between them. "I caution you as I would a young lady upon whom Mr. Wickham has bestowed attentions of a romantic nature. I will not ask if I am correct in this assumption but please hear me out. He has a history of pursuing young ladies for whom he has reason to suspect have a considerable fortune. His spending habits demand his attention to such details. I realise that everyone desires a sound financial match when considering marriage but... erm..." Here Darcy paused awkwardly, the words seeming oddly disturbing to his own ears. "I feel that I must caution you to take care. Please do not accept everything he says at face value. You would not be the first innocent to be taken in by his charming ways."

Elizabeth could only stare at him, not quite understanding why he felt compelled to speak to her in this manner but strangely flattered that he would take the trouble to do so. Darcy misunderstood her silence as disbelief of his words.

"I cannot stress enough that this man has proven himself to be treacherously unpredictable. Please believe me, Elizabeth. I should not wish to see you fall victim to his selfish designs."

Her eyes widened. Such familiarity! What did it all mean? What horrible things was he suggesting Mr. Wickham capable of doing? "Mr. Darcy," she finally whispered, her voice unable to rise above this hushed tone. "I sincerely hope you are not suggesting that my reputation is at risk."

If anyone was to put her reputation in jeopardy it was Darcy himself who might be tempted. However, he was not about to be distracted by such musings. "No, my concern was for your heart, Miss Bennet," he said, returning to the formal address with some effort. "I have too great a respect for you to see you injured."

Respect? He respects me? The notion was foreign to Elizabeth. She was far too used to thinking of him as a disagreeable man who thought her only 'tolerable'. His entire disclosure was a puzzle. She simply had to know more. "I thank you for your consideration, sir. I am at a loss to understand why I should accept your version of events over Mr. Wickham's though."

Darcy appeared to struggle for words, one hand almost reaching out to her own. He recollected himself, however, and let out a sigh before replying. "Of course you would not blindly accept one story over another. You are far too intelligent a woman to make that mistake."

Once again his compliment took her by surprise. Elizabeth was not above experiencing a stab of guilty remorse for possibly making that exact mistake. "You are too generous, Mr. Darcy. I deserve no such praise." She dropped her gaze to the floor, unwilling to reveal just how gullible she had been. At a touch on her chin, however, she looked up into his eyes. There was a depth there that she had never noticed.

"You are a beautiful woman," he whispered. It was obvious that he was completely unaware that he had voiced his thought. He was also unaware of the turmoil of Elizabeth's thoughts upon hearing his words although he soon realised that their position could be misinterpreted if Bingley happened to glance in their direction. Dropping his hand to his side, Darcy stole a quick look to confirm his friend's continued station by the window and said, "Forgive me, Miss Bennet, for my blunt honesty. I meant no offense."

Offense? Why would I be offended to be called beautiful? Elizabeth shook her head as if in a daze. "I am not in the least offended, Mr. Darcy," she murmured. "I am quite flattered."

He blinked in surprise. Flattering her was the farthest thing from his mind although achieving it, however he had accomplished that feat, was a victory in itself. "Miss Bennet." Darcy's voice, low but intense, brought his body closer to Elizabeth's. Her eyes, full and round, stared up into his face, her lips slowly parting.

"I cannot believe it!" came a sudden cry from the far side of the room. Darcy and Elizabeth jumped away from each other. "Well, yes I can but if anything was too good to be true... Darcy!"

"Yes, Bingley," replied Darcy, quickly lest his friend suspect something was amiss on his half of the room. "Is there something you wish to tell us?"

Jane and Bingley crossed the floor to join the other couple, Jane's face beaming shyly with unmistakable joy. Before either could make an announcement Darcy spoke. "Congratulations are in order, I take it?"

"Oh, Lizzy!" Jane excitedly whispered to her sister as Bingley nodded enthusiastically and Darcy clapped his friend on the shoulder. Elizabeth's head was spinning with the rapidity of it all. She felt as if she was in a novel. "Can you believe it is true, Lizzy?" Jane was saying. "It is all too good! We must go to Mama."

"No!" Elizabeth's voice was strangled, thankfully reducing the volume of her objection. "I do think it might be better to wait, don't you? After all, Mr. Bingley has not spoken with Papa, yet."

"A very good suggestion," Darcy added, giving his friend a significant look. "I would also suggest that you wait until tomorrow before addressing him, however."

"Why is that?" Elizabeth fixed him with a suspicious eye.

"A proposal in the middle of a Ball? It might appear that he was under the influence of -."

"Are you suggesting that Mr. Bingley is drunk?" she demanded hotly.

"Not in the least!" Darcy protested.

Indignantly, Elizabeth continued, "Then you implied that my father would think that! Is my sister considered by you to be so beneath your notice that it would take copious amounts of alcohol to coax an offer of marriage for her?"

"Certainly not," Darcy said although his thoughts were But I would need it to make a proposal of marriage to you!

"Lizzy, please!" Jane was looking distraught. She disliked arguments as much as Bingley, the latter staring at his future sister-in-law in shocked surprise.

"My intent," explained Darcy in a painfully slow manner, "was to provide a period of quiet enjoyment for our happy couple before they must face the inevitable chaos of well wishers and wedding plans. This would leave them no time to themselves, I am sure." Not to mention I would find no time to spend alone with you, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was taken aback by this explanation although she could hardly credit the truth of it being his feelings. "I am truly sorry, Jane. Mr. Bingley, please forgive my outburst." She swallowed her pride before turning toward the other gentleman. "Mr. Darcy, if I have misinterpreted you, I ask you to forgive me also." A solemn nod of acceptance was his reply although Bingley and Jane were quickly and easily won over, returning to their previous state of ebullience.

Darcy's discouragement of an immediate entreaty for Mr. Bennet's consent eventually had the desired effect; the happy couple retreated to their beloved window alcove, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy alone once more. The progress that had been made prior to Bingley's interruption was now in question. As Darcy recalled, Elizabeth had appeared ready and willing to -

"Where were we?" The lady currently had a less than pliant expression on her face.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "You were flattered by my honesty, Miss Bennet. Have you forgotten so quickly?"

"Your honesty," she repeated. "No, I have not forgotten." Elizabeth bit her lip and studied him a moment. "You are a great contradiction of opinions, sir. First I am merely tolerable and now I am beautiful." Darcy gave a start. "I begin to wonder what description you will next apply to my person."

Darcy thought quickly lest he lose whatever advantage he might possess. "Logically it could only improve. Let me see.... what could be more complimentary than 'beautiful'?"

Although she felt her anger draining away with the direction this conversation was taking, Elizabeth could not completely ignore temptation. "I might also logically suspect you to revert back to your original opinion, not necessarily improve upon the last. How do I know that you are not suffering the effects of drink?" A slight cant of her head gave away the teasing nature of her provocation.

"If I were," Darcy said in a low voice, closing the space between them, "it would only reinforce the truth of my opinion of you as.... beautiful." One hand rose to touch her hair. "It is commonly known that drink has the power to reveal what one truly thinks and feels."

"Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth's voice was breathy. "What has Mr. Bingley put in the punch?

Part Three

Posted on Friday, 10 January 2003, at 7:23 p.m.

"Where is my nephew?"

Heads turned as even the music was overwhelmed by the strident voice calling out across the ballroom. The musicians continued their playing despite the chaos of the dancers as by ones and twos they stopped to catch a glimpse of the disturbance. A high fashionably attired woman stood in the entryway, her sharp gaze raking over the assemblage with visible distaste.

"Where is Darcy?" she demanded, those nearest her flinching with the sharpness of her tone.

At the mention of a name Caroline Bingley stepped forward, seizing the opportunity to ingratiate herself upon someone connected to the man she was destined to marry. "May I be of assistance?"

The new arrival eyed the younger woman critically. "Unless you can tell me where my nephew is then you are wasting my time."

"He is here," Miss Bingley quickly assured her. "Without a doubt. I saw him only moments ago, dancing." She craned her neck in an effort to find Darcy in the sea of heads. "I am sure I can find him for you." She paused. "Madam? I am afraid I do not know your name."

"As I do not know yours!" snapped the older woman. "I, however, am Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park," she regally announced. "And you?"

"Miss Caroline Bingley," she managed to say between clenched teeth. If this was an example of the type of family she could expect once she married Darcy then his fortune had better be worth it. "I am the lady of the house."

Lady Catherine sniffed disdainfully, looking around her with a critical eye. "You have a very small ballroom here, I must say. It must be very inconvenient in the summer months. Why, the windows do not even open onto a balcony."

"Yes, my Lady," Miss Bingley ground out. "We have not yet been here for more than a few weeks at best, however, and it is but a lease my brother holds upon the house. I daresay he shall make a purchase elsewhere."

Taking her pince nez up and holding it to her right eye, Lady Catherine indulged in a piercing examination of her hostess. "You say you know where my nephew is? Then why are you still standing there? Like an addled washerwoman you appear. Be quick now! I must see my nephew at once."

From the edge of the awed spectators crept a pitiful creature. It was Mr. Collins; upon hearing the voice of his noble patroness he had hastened forward to see what duty he might perform for her. It was perfect timing as far as Miss Bingley was concerned. Although she had no idea of his connection to this arrogant woman, once he had opened his mouth, a mouth full of platitudes and adulations, she had latched onto the clergyman as a means to accomplish her distasteful task with little or no effort on her own part.

"My dear Lady Catharine," Collins was saying. "If I may be so bold as to tell you that I observed your nephew, the illustrious Mr. Darcy, in the company of his friend Mr. Bingley, leave this room only moments ago to seek out a book, I believe, in Mr. Bingley's library. If it pleases you I shall be honoured to go to the library to convey your wish to speak with him."

"That will not be necessary, Mr. Collins," the Lady said dismissively. "Just direct me to the library and I shall speak with him there. I have no desire to wait with these... people." She waved a hand to some hitherto unnoticed young ladies standing in the shadows behind her. "Anne, Georgiana. Come."

Scuttling ahead of the ladies, Mr. Collins directed them with gesticulating hands and arms until the party had disappeared through the doorway which led to the area of the house in which the library lay. In the ballroom there was a silence for a full minute as every guest stared, bemused, at the retreating backs of the strangers. Just as suddenly, the room erupted into excited speculation.

In the hallway Mr. Collins had finally realised that he did not know where the library was and it was even more difficult to find it with his head bowed, his body bent and his eyes cast down in deference to his noble patroness. Lady Catherine noticed none of this. Her sharp eyes took in every detail of the walls and doors lining the hall, searching for that exact one beyond which would lie the library and her nephew. Spying an open door she marched past her posturing parson and entered the room.

"What is this?" she demanded in a tone that brooked no opposition.

"I... beg your pardon?" Bingley gaped at the assembled persons in the doorway. "Miss Darcy, is that you?" he asked, squinting to see past the formidable figure of the matriarch who stood between them.

"Georgiana?" an incredulous voice called, the man to which it belonged appearing from behind the open door. "Good Lord, what are you doing here?" Darcy took in the faces of the others with his sister. "Anne! Lady Catherine! What has happened?"

Wasting no time at all, Lady Catherine strode further into the room and placed herself so that she faced them all. "I have no idea who this other young man is but I will get straight to the point. Darcy, a report of a most alarming nature reached me not two days ago. I must have the truth. To this end," she said, pointing to Bingley and Jane, "I must ask that you leave us immediately."

"Aunt Catherine, please -."

"Silence, niece. Have you learned nothing?" Georgiana shrunk back behind her brother's shoulder. Darcy's expression darkened. Their aunt simply stared at Bingley until he took Jane by the hand and politely excused himself and her, then left the room with a wide eyed look at Darcy. Lady Catherine then dismissed Mr. Collins with a wave of her hand, something he was evidently accustomed to obeying, and turned to her nephew. "I demand an explanation."

"I have no idea to what you refer."

"A convenient excuse," his aunt sniffed. "I refer, of course, to your sister's recent fall from grace. What have you done to this Wickham character to ensure that it never happens again?"

Darcy's frown deepened. The haze which had surrounded him moments before in Elizabeth's presence was dissipating. "I believe that is my business, Lady Catherine, and not yours. I would thank you to leave it in my hands."

"I would be happy to do so if I felt you were capable of handling it properly. The fact that Georgiana was allowed to fall into such a lapse indicates the unsuitability of having young men as her guardians." She wrinkled up her nose at the selection of chairs before choosing one and settling into it. "We shall now discuss the arrangements for her to be moved to Rosings."

"We shall not." Darcy turned to his sister. "Georgiana, please take your cousin and find Miss Bingley. She will be able to direct you to some rooms so that you may rest after your distressing trip here." His sister nodded and grabbed Miss de Bourgh's hand, leaving the room before Lady Catherine could form words. "I will not have Georgiana exposed to this conversation."

"Your concern for her feelings is admirable, Darcy, but it is a bit late for that now. My niece obviously requires a firmer hand than you have been applying. I hardly expect you to know how to raise a young girl but I have the experience and am only too happy to be of assistance. Now, I have already spoken with Fitzwilliam and gleaned the details from him but what I need from you is the assurance that this Wickham person will be brought to justice, discreetly, of course."

"Justice?" Darcy exhaled slowly. "There is no justice to be sought. Wickham's attempt was not successful. There is nothing to pursue further. He has been dealt with."

"No justice!" Lady Catherine was aghast. "You would allow this ruffian to remain at large after seducing your sister and attempting to elope with her?"

"She was not harmed, thankfully, and the planned elopement was revealed to me before it could be attempted. I am satisfied that both Georgiana and her reputation are safe." Darcy's eyes narrowed. "As long as our family remains discreet."

"I shall make every assurance of that once my niece is safely under my care at Rosings. Well, now that we have that settled," she said, rising to leave.

"Georgiana is not going to Rosings. I will not consent to any such scheme which removes her from my care." Chin up, Darcy stood his ground.

"Your care is not sufficient." Their eyes met.

"My father entrusted Georgiana's welfare to myself and Fitzwilliam. Evidently he was satisfied with our abilities."

Lady Catherine grunted. "Yes, your father's opinions are another matter entirely, Darcy."

"I have no wish to argue with you, aunt. I suggest that since the hour is late I take you to Miss Bingley to see about a room for yourself for tonight. I presume you made no other arrangements for accommodation?"

"In such a place as this? Certainly not! Country inns would be the death of Anne." Peering at Darcy she put in one last effort. "Of course, Georgiana could benefit equally well from the presence of a sister. Someone of unquestionably refined taste."

Darcy chose not to comment on this last but his mind picked up the suggestion and dwelt upon it rather pleasantly. His aunt would have been horrified to know that the 'sister' he had in mind was not the one of her choosing. She continued lauding her own daughter's fine qualities as her nephew led her from the library and back to the ballroom in search of their hostess.

Emerging from the shadows in a far corner of the room, Elizabeth peered around the door to make certain that she would not be seen. She was sure that Mr. Darcy's aunt had not realised her presence and wondered that Darcy didn't ask her to leave with the others. The information revealed had been considerably personal and highly confidential. Had Darcy meant for her to hear it? Was this what he had hinted about when he said that Mr. Wickham had committed acts that could not be discussed with a young lady such as herself? She considered the young woman, Georgiana Darcy, that she had seen moments earlier. Seeming to be a shy thing, Elizabeth could not imagine her in the role of willing conspirator in an elopement. If an elopement had been planned then it must have been Wickham's doing and the prevention of it, Darcy's.

Caught up in her contemplations Elizabeth did not at first hear the muttering voices coming from the hallway ahead of her. When she finally did become aware of them she glanced around hurriedly for someplace to conceal herself so as not to be caught out suspiciously. A nearby door offered her refuge and she quickly ducked into the room beyond.

"Miss Bennet!"

The voice stilled her. Elizabeth composed her expression and faced Mr. Wickham. "Mr. Wickham! It was my understanding that you were called out of town on business."

"I ... returned early." He fidgeted with the bottom edge of his red coat, glancing nervously toward the door. "Miss Bennet, it would not be to your advantage for us to be found together in this room, alone."

"No, it would not," she replied, wondering if he had considered her reputation at all or merely his own freedom. Voices were becoming more clear as those to whom they belonged approached from outside the door. Elizabeth scanned the room, her eyes coming to rest on a tall wardrobe on one wall. "When needs must," she sighed, slipping inside the piece of furniture. A startled Wickham watched the wardrobe snick shut just as the room's door opened for Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy.

"Why did you bring him here?" Darcy glared at Wickham.

"Lovely to see you again, too."

Fitzwilliam signalled them to keep their voices quiet. "How was I supposed to know there was a ball here tonight?"

"I could have told you," Wickham smiled. "You wouldn't have listened, though."

"Be quiet," the other men said simultaneously.

"What can I do now?" Fitzwilliam paced the room. "Aunt Catherine has set the Runners on his trail. I had no choice but to find him before they did else the entire incident would be exposed."

"She is here in this house. He cannot stay." Darcy ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "How did she find out, Fitzwilliam?"

A bit sheepishly, his cousin replied, "It was my fault. You know I can't evade her questions."

"Our aunt should be a member of His Majesty's army, interrogating spies," grumbled Darcy. "All the more reason to dispose of this one." He pointed a finger at Wickham.

"Hey!" objected the gentleman under discussion. "I resent being talked about like I'm not even here."

"Be quiet," said the other two.

"Where do you suggest I take him?" Fitzwilliam watched Wickham uneasily. "He's not exactly cooperative, you know."

Sizing up their quarry with an expert's eye, Darcy said, "How did you get him here in the first place?"

"I walked here of my own volition." There was no way that Wickham was going to be left out of the conversation. He alone knew of the witness in the wardrobe, likely able to hear everything that was being said and he was determined not to appear the guilty party in this scenario. "I will walk out again quite willingly, too."

"Of that I have no doubt. You'd keep walking until we had no idea where you have gone, too." The Colonel shook his head. "No, with the Bow Street Runners after you, Wickham, you'll not have a chance. Darcy's right. Much as I hate the thought of it, it's up to me to find a safe place for you until the interest wanes." He turned back to his cousin. "What about Pemberley? She'd never think to look for him there." The look Darcy shot him was acidic. "Okay. Matlock, then? Father is in London and my brother won't notice a thing."

"For how long, though? I will have to do some creative thinking to dissuade her from continuing down this avenue. Wickham, sit down!" Darcy glared where the other man was standing beside the wardrobe, fingering the doorhandle suspiciously. "What do you think this is, a gothic novel? We are hardly going to hide you in there. Alright Fitzwilliam, take my carriage and Wickham and go to Matlock. Tonight. Lady Catherine will be preoccupied since there is more than enough happening here this evening. She is also pressuring me to..." He stopped.

"To what?"

"We'll discuss it later," Darcy finished in an ominous tone.

"May I say something?" the third member of their party asked. When there was no objection this time he continued. "Have I no say in this? It is my life you are so casually deciding."

"If it was up to me," growled Darcy, "you would have been on a boat to Australia long ago! Be grateful that you will be spending the next period of time in relative luxury at Matlock and not in a filthy cell in the cargo hold of a ship."

Wickham knew when he had best count his blessings, obediently following Fitzwilliam to the door when he signalled it was time to go. A quick look out into the hallway confirmed that it was safe to leave the room. Darcy led the way for them, striding casually down the carpeted length. At the junction leading to the back stairs Darcy pointed the way to Fitzwilliam who took Wickham's sleeve to ensure his continued presence. Watching until they were safely out of site Darcy then retraced his steps back to the ballroom. As he passed the room from which they had recently emerged he was surprised by Bingley approaching from the other direction.

"Ah, there you are! Were you just coming to rejoin us?" Bingley looked hopefully at his friend, a bit concerned about what might have transpired while he was locked away with his imperious relation. Darcy's affirmative reassured him. "Good. I need to get something out of the study and then we can return to the others."

Puzzled, Darcy followed his friend into the room he had lately vacated and watched as Bingley began foraging around in the desk drawers. He was unable to locate whatever he sought, however, for a moment later he straightened up, scratched his head and looked at Darcy. "Where did I put it?"

"I don't know what you are looking for." Darcy waited for him to elaborate.

"It's a.... about this big..." Bingley placed his hands several inches apart indicating the general size of the anonymous object.

"I'll help you look," Darcy sighed. "What do you want with it?" he asked, hoping this would give him some indication of what he was looking for should he accidentally find it.

"I wanted to show it to Miss Bennet," Bingley confessed with a grin. "You must think me an idiot but ......"

Darcy walked over the wardrobe and reached for the door. As he pulled it open there was a triumphant cry from behind him and he turned to see Bingley holding aloft a velvet covered jewellery case, smiling and nodding in his friend's direction.

"There, you see? I found it."

"Yes," replied Darcy, "but what on earth are you doing keeping that stuffed in your desk in here? It is jewellery, is it not? Shouldn't you have left it in a more secure place?"

"Who would take it from here?" Bingley was genuinely curious.

Reflecting that only a few moments ago the room had accommodated someone who would be very interested in whatever was contained in that case, Darcy merely shook his head and pushed the wardrobe door closed. "Are you going to simply show Miss Bennet those jewels or do you plan to present them to her as a gift?"

"Oh, what a wonderful idea! Perhaps I should wait, though. Since I have not spoken with Mr. Bennet yet then it would be a bit premature to bestow gifts upon her, don't you think?"

"Yes." The beginning of a headache was making itself known to Darcy. He wanted nothing more than to get Bingley from this room, back to the ballroom and to lose himself in Elizabeth's presence. It was not likely that he'd be able to keep up with her quick wit, judging from the pounding that was starting in his head, but just to be in her company would be enough after the rest of this evening's events.

To this end he ushered Bingley through the door, agreeing that there would be no harm in just showing the jewellery to Miss Bennet as long as she understood that once their engagement was made public then she could wear them with impunity.

The door closed behind the two gentlemen and when all had been quiet for a few moments the door of the wardrobe slowly opened outward and a small hand appeared around its edge. Elizabeth had been sure that her shaking would be detected, that the entire piece of furniture had been moving with the force of her fear. Wickham knew she had been there but to caught outright when Darcy opened it! Mr. Bingley would never know how grateful she was for calling his friend's attention from the interior of the wardrobe before Darcy could see the open mouthed horror on her face.

Still shaking, Elizabeth stepped out onto the carpeted floor of the study and quickly went to the door. She wasted no time in determining that the hall was devoid of any dangers and slipped away, far away. Once the safety of the ballroom had been reached she felt more like herself and sought a quiet corner to reflect upon all that she had heard.

Part Four

Posted on Saturday, 1 February 2003, at 10:17 p.m.

"May I help you?" Miss Bingley was just returning from seeing Lady Catherine settled into her chambers when she spied the two men, apparently lost, about to enter the back stairs. "Mr. Wickham!" she exclaimed upon recognising the taller of the two. "I thought you were not in town at present." Swallowing her misgivings Miss Bingley drew on her obligations as hostess. "The ballroom is in the other direction if you would like to follow me." She waited for the officer to introduce his friend.

Realising that Wickham had no intention of performing an introduction Fitzwilliam took it upon himself. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss...."

"Miss Bingley, Colonel." Her eyes abandoned the younger officer and focussed on the new acquaintance. "My brother is giving this ball and I am his hostess. Have you just arrived?"

"Actually, we were just leaving." Colonel Fitzwilliam was loathe to admit that after taking a good look at their hostess. "I had some business with my cousin that could not wait."

"Your cousin?" Miss Bingley enquired, wondering to whose family this man belonged and what that had to do with Netherfield.

"Darcy, your brother's friend. I understood him to be staying with you." The lady's steady gaze was fascinating but did not prevent the Colonel from taking hold of Wickham's arm when he tried to step away.

Miss Bingley's astonishment equalled her pleasure at this disclosure. "Why, yes! He is indeed staying with us. May I take you to him?"

"Thank you but no, we have already spoken with him. We must now be on our way. There is a pressing matter which requires attention and a long journey ahead." Loath to stay and risk Lady Catherine's discovery, Fitzwilliam was also disappointed not to have been able to stay and learn more about Miss Bingley.

The lady was just as disappointed but in a position to do something about it, at least. "On such a cold and inhospitable night as this? Come, I shall see that you have some hot soup for the journey. That is just about to be served in the dining room so you are in perfect time!" She ushered them down the hall at a brisk pace, brooking no argument from Fitzwilliam that they had little time for detours. After sending a maid to the kitchen with orders to bring back soup in large tankards for ease of travelling, Miss Bingley directed the gentlemen to sit while awaiting the return of the servant.

"Where must you be going at such a late hour?" she enquired, not completely unaware of the impropriety of such a question. Men who travelled at night were not often on legitimate business or, at the very least, business they would wish to divulge.

"North."

"South." Fitzwilliam glared at the other man. "South. To London," he added, once more facing
the lady.

"Of course," Miss Bingley smiled. "That is where business is conducted." A sudden thought occurred to her. "This does not have anything to do with Miss Darcy, does it?" Having just settled her young friend into one of the upstairs chambers as well as Miss de Bourgh and the formidable Lady Catherine, Caroline's curiosity was thoroughly aroused.

"Nothing to worry about," the Colonel quickly and easily assured her. "It is merely a coincidence that my aunt and cousins have dropped in on you, too." Inwardly he lamented how pathetic that sounded. No rational person would believe him.

"I see," she said, quite obviously not seeing at all but now more curious than ever. Before she could frame another question, however, the maid reappeared with a tray, two steaming tankards resting on its surface. "Ah, here you are. The soup."

Each of the gentlemen took one and cautiously sipped at the hot liquid. The temperature was not prohibitive and so they thankfully drank down the contents while Miss Bingley kept them company.

"Are you not having any soup, Miss Bingley?" Mr. Wickham asked at last.

She smiled benevolently. "I shall have mine when I rejoin the guests in the ballroom."

"In that case," the Colonel said in all earnestness, "do not allow your duties as hostess to prevent you from partaking of a bowl. It is quite excellent!" He drained the last from his mug and looked at his companion. "I regret that we must now leave, however."

As the two men rose from their seats Miss Bingley was quicker to her feet, putting out an arm while trying to think of what she could say to convince them to remain. It was to no avail, however. Colonel Fitzwilliam knew his duty and, if fear of Darcy's wrath at his dalliance wasn't enough, dread of Lady Catherine's gratitude for delivering Wickham certainly would be. The gentlemen expressed their thanks again and followed a footman who had been directed by Miss Bingley to show them to their carriage.

Alone again, Caroline was reminded of her own obligations. She hurried toward the dining room to see if her guests were seated for the buffet. Fortunately, the servants were just finishing laying out the table and people were only now entering the room to find their places. Miss Bingley quickly located her brother, grimaced upon seeing Jane Bennet by his side, then set her eyes to searching for Darcy. Another grimace when she beheld that horrid little clergyman had him trapped against a wall near the door, Darcy's steadfast gaze over his head indicating disinterest with whatever the other man had to say. Determined to rescue her favourite guest from such a dreadful situation, Caroline began to make her way toward them when she was stopped by none other than Mrs. Bennet, that lady expressing her appreciation for the evening's event and crowing about the beauty of her daughters, the eldest particularly. Miss Bingley had no choice but to listen and watch helplessly as that woman's second daughter now joined the very gentleman she was thwarted from rescuing.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said with a curtsey before turning to her cousin. "Mr. Collins, I am happy to have found you so quickly in this crowded room. I am assured that your noble patroness, Lady Catherine, is satisfactorily settled in rooms above us but -."

"She has need of my comforting words!" Mr. Collins hurriedly interrupted. "Of course. I shall go to her immediately." With a parting flowery expression he scuttled away through the crowd. Darcy and Elizabeth had barely blinked before he was gone.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy finally coaxed his voice to say. "May I assist you in finding a place for dinner?"

Still confused by all she had heard earlier, Elizabeth merely nodded her assent and thanked him for the offer. Mutely, she followed him to a table where Mr. Bingley and Jane were already seated. Happiness for the recent event that had brought such a glow to her sister's face pushed aside the worst of the bewilderment Elizabeth felt with what she had learned about Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy and the third mysterious gentleman. All that she knew of this man was that he came from Matlock, was called Fitzwilliam and that he and Darcy shared an aunt. They also apparently shared a dislike of Wickham. After hearing of an attempted elopement with the quiet Miss Darcy, Elizabeth was not disinclined to agree with the gentlemen's opinion. A wealth of information had been revealed to her but there was still plenty more left unsaid. Curiosity was not unknown to Elizabeth Bennet and in this case it was fully engaged.

With a genuine smile for Jane and Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth sat down in the chair which Darcy pulled out for her. He then seated himself beside her, his attention for none other. She felt his eyes upon her and turned to face him. "Mr. Darcy," she began. His gaze never wavered yet she could see an invitation for her to continue. "I'm uncertain as to whether you realised that I heard what was said between yourself and your aunt in the library. Please let me reassure you that the information will go no further."

"I never doubted your secrecy, Miss Bennet." A hint of sadness accompanied his words. "I was not unaware of your presence at the time. As you may imagine we have all had a difficult time but Georgiana most of all. She remains convinced that she has disappointed me and is determined to blame herself completely for the entire incident with Mr. Wickham. My sister will offer no resistence to Lady Catherine's proposal to take her to Rosings for she will see it as an opportunity to relieve me of the burden of her care."

"Oh, the poor dear girl!" Elizabeth was equally certain that Darcy blamed himself for the entire affair, as well.

"I will never relinquish Georgiana into Lady Catherine's supervision. I only wish that my young sister would realise that she is not to blame in the least. Trust alone was her undoing. She trusted an old family friend." Darcy shook his head with a sigh.

Elizabeth placed her hand on his sleeve. "She is young, of course."

"Indeed," he agreed with a wry smile. "That excuse will not explain my own failure to protect her, however."

"What failure?" Elizabeth objected. Until now their voices had been subdued but her outburst drew some curious glances. She continued in a quieter tone. "The plan was thwarted. Miss Darcy and her reputation are unharmed. I see nothing but success in your efforts."

"Success in one respect. Yes, my sister is safe but she is not happy." Darcy drew himself up straighter in his chair. "I will do everything in my power to see her happy again."

Elizabeth recalled the final words heard from his aunt as the two had left the library. There was no question but that Lady Catherine intended for her daughter to marry her nephew. If the relationship between Darcy and his sister was strained there was, as his aunt had said, a good number of possible benefits should he marry and his wife provide a role model for Miss Darcy. Did he recognise the advantage, however? Elizabeth was hardly an adequate judge of Miss de Bourgh's suitability for this role nor was she particularly eager to explore this avenue, to her own surprise. That the young Miss Darcy was in need of female guidance was a foregone conclusion. Her brother was admittedly dedicated to seeing his sister happy no matter what it took for him to accomplish this. What were Miss Darcy's feelings regarding any potential marriage for her brother?

Why is this of any concern to me? Elizabeth wondered with some anxiety. I don't even like the man. Do I? Self doubt plagued her. There was every reason to refuse to accept any warm feelings that were threatening to envelope her. Mr. Darcy had insulted her from the first moment she had heard him speak. She owed him nothing; no leniency, no forbearance and certainly no forgiveness. Yet there was something that compelled Elizabeth to push aside these negative thoughts and recall his tender words, his expression, not so long ago in the library.

"I have no brothers but you appear to be an ideal one," she softly said. "I'm sure that, in time, your sister will come to realise that what really matters is the strength one finds in family; that of loving and being loved in return."

Darcy looked at her with a serious expression. Her suggestion fascinated him and made her even more alluring than ever. "I could not agree more, Miss Bennet. I shall accept your confidence in Georgiana's future happiness with gratitude for attempting to lift the weight of responsibility from my shoulders."

A twinkle appeared in her eyes. "Oh, the responsibility will remain all yours, Mr. Darcy. If it seems lighter to you then by all means attribute it to myself." Elizabeth was pleased to see a smile break the sombre cast of his features. At the risk of seeing it disappear she dared to touch on his aunt's suggestion. "Is there no other female relation from whom your sister could benefit?"

Darcy pondered the thought. He was not about to make suggestions that implied any promises on his part. That would be too cruel and irresponsible. If there was one thing Fitzwilliam Darcy took seriously, it was his responsibilities. He was suddenly reminded of his host's recent good fortune. "I am afraid that is not possible. However, in light of Bingley's plans I foresee the opportunity to provide Georgiana with very suitable companionship." This reference to her sister's character warmed Elizabeth. She could not have realised that Darcy was more hopeful of his sister's increased exposure to Elizabeth rather than Jane.

The conversation was necessarily put to an end as bowls of soup were placed before them. Although they could not talk, Elizabeth and Darcy could entertain their own thoughts and for the most part, they were quite pleasant. This preoccupation, however, prevented them from noticing the entrance of Miss Darcy at the far end of the dining room.

Part 5

Posted on Wednesday, 19 February 2003, at 9:16 p.m.

Unable to endure more than an hour of her aunt's incessant lectures regarding propriety and familial duties, Georgiana Darcy had found escape in pleading a headache and requiring rest in her own chamber. Once there, she called upon Miss Bingley's maid to find her something suitable to wear so that she may venture downstairs and search out the comfort of her brother's presence. Despite her misgivings where his approval was concerned, she always derived reassurance when she was with him. The last few weeks had not been easy, while Darcy resided in Hertfordshire with his friend and Georgiana brooded about how she had displeased him. The wounds were too fresh for her to consider his forgiveness at all possible. She felt she had betrayed him, the brother who was more like a father, and for that she could not forgive herself.

Upon entering the room she immediately noticed that there were far more people than she had realised. In truth, she hadn't considered the others, focussed only upon rejoining her brother and avoiding their aunt. Georgiana was now faced with a roomful of strangers which was more than enough to stop her in her tracks. While she hovered in the doorway she was nearly bowled over by another young lady making her own entrance.

"Oh, I am sorry," Georgiana quickly, though quietly, began.

The other girl giggled. "I'm the one who should have been watching where I was going. Why are you apologising?" She looked Georgiana over critically. "I don't know you but... didn't you come in with that old lady a little while ago?" Georgiana was too shocked to reply. "Yes, that's where I saw you! Oh, don't worry. I won't tattle on you. She looks a right misery. I hope she's not your mother." She giggled again before sticking out her hand. "I'm Lydia Bennet, by the way."

Georgiana took the offered hand carefully. "Georgiana Darcy. I am pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet."

An unhealthy sound emanated from the other girl which Georgiana belatedly realised was a laugh. "Please! My sister is 'Miss Bennet'. Just call me Lydia. Wait a minute! Did you say Darcy? You aren't a sister to the Mr. Darcy?"

Shaking her head in some confusion, Georgiana confirmed Lydia's conclusion. "Yes, my brother is staying with Mr. Bingley. Am I to understand that you have made his acquaintance?"

"Not exactly," Lydia said with another of those strange laughs. "Practically nobody in Meryton has made his acquaintance although Mr. Bingley has been quite popular." She gave her new friend a wink. "That's my sister, Miss Bennet, sitting with him over there." She pointed across the room.

Georgiana's gaze followed the indicated direction where she was surprised, though relieved, to see her brother seated at the same table. "Your sister is beside Mr. Bingley? Who, may I ask, is the lady beside her?"

"Oh, that's my other sister, Elizabeth." Lydia looked more closely. "Whatever is she doing next to Mr. Darcy?"

That was exactly what Georgiana wanted to know. Fitzwilliam appeared to be genuinely interested in the young lady's conversation. Although Georgiana had rarely seen her brother in company, and only in the comforts of their own homes, he had never appeared interested in any particular lady's conversation. "I wonder what they are talking about?" she mused.

Lydia looked at her new friend with a bemused frown. "I cannot imagine but there is only one way to find out." She reached for Georgiana's hand and began to pull her forward.

"Oh, no!" she whispered sharply, pulling her hand free with not a little struggle. Her eyes were wide. "I couldn't. I mean, we shouldn't."

Shrugging her shoulders, Lydia dismissed the whole idea. "Whatever you wish. At least come and sit with me while we eat. I am so hungry! Look," she said, pointing at a table quite a distance from her elder sisters. "Denny and Saunderson are over there. We can sit with them."

Georgiana allowed herself to be led to the table of young officers. The young Miss Bennet greeted them all enthusiastically and the young men were equally brash, although their exuberance took on a more respectful tone when they beheld Miss Darcy. A few of them exchanged knowing glances upon introduction. The young ladies had arrived just as the soup bowls were being filled. Georgiana, who had been too unnerved to partake of the servings Miss Bingley had arranged to be sent to their rooms, was now grateful to see the hot food. It excused her from having to participate in the conversation at the table without being rude, for one could hardly speak while eating. She was dismayed to see, however, that this rule of etiquette was not strictly adhered to by her dinner companions. The choice of seating herself with her new acquaintance gave Georgiana the advantage of being able to observe her brother without him observing her. That he was unaware of his sister's presence was also a distinct advantage. She did not wish to give him cause for any further embarrassment. The company with whom she now found herself would certainly do that, she knew. However long she could remain undiscovered was to be seen. The young Miss Bennet and her friends were not above calling attention to themselves with their boisterous manners. Georgiana kept one eye on Darcy while attempting to appear interested in the chatter of her immediate party. Interest was not difficult to achieve when her brother became the main topic.

"Did you see the look on old lady Lucas's face when Darcy took to the floor with Miss Elizabeth?" Georgiana nearly dropped her spoon in surprise while the young officer continued. "I can well understand him choosing her over that prim and dull Miss Lucas, however better suited she is to his sour disposition. Ow!"

Denny sent the other man a pointed glare to accompany the kick under the table. "I'd say you're a bit jealous, lad."

"And who wouldn't be, I ask you?" another officer interjected. "Miss Elizabeth is delightful company and I'm sure I'm not the only one put out about him usurping a place on her card."

Lydia laughed, loudly. "I would gladly dance with you if it is such a travesty. As a matter of fact, I'd dance with Mr. Darcy if he'd offer." A giggle accompanied this last comment.

Georgiana did not need any time to think about the probability of that happening. She could well imagine her brother's grimace of distaste at the mere thought. That set her to wondering anew about this Elizabeth Bennet and how she had managed to garner Darcy's attention. How could a sister to the wild Lydia have attracted her own fastidious brother? She could not recall any particular lady inspiring his interest. Her gaze returned to the table across the room. Georgiana's practised eye detected the smile that he rarely allowed to show and that others even more rarely recognised.

"Whatever can they find to be talking about?" Lydia's voice was in her friend's ear. Georgiana quickly looked back to her companion. The other girl had a face that bespoke her confusion.

"Books?" The confusion changed to disgust and Georgiana quickly added, "Or perhaps music! My brother enjoys both. Does your sister like either?"

Lydia appeared to think about that for a moment. "I think she reads. I'm sure I've seen her with a book now and again. I know that Mary does, but she only has eyes for Fordyce's Sermons. I'm sure your brother wouldn't be discussing those!" She gave a snort as she poked an elbow in Georgiana's side.

"No," she admitted somewhat hesitantly. "You are probably right." Recalling the earlier remark about Darcy dancing with Miss Elizabeth, Georgiana made another suggestion. "They may be continuing with a topic begun on the dance floor, though."

Lydia was doubtful. "Such a serious and solemn dance it was, I'm sure no subject could have survived such a dull life. Although... immediately afterward Lizzy was positively surrounded by beaux. I don't know why my sister attracts all of the good young men while the rest of us have to suffer the likes of our cousin, Mr. Collins," she pouted. Georgiana, embarrassed for the young officers who must have felt offended with her slight, looked down at her plate.

"Oh, it's no mystery, Lydia," smiled Denny.

Lydia laughed. "But what would I want with the good young men, anyway?" Several pairs of eyebrows rose simultaneously. Lydia's hand flew to cover her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and then she laughed again. "You are such a bad influence on my poor impressionable mind, Denny." She turned to Georgiana. "I heard my Papa say that to Sir William one evening."

Eyes round with astonishment, Georgiana had no idea how to respond. Had Darcy believed anyone to be an undesirable influence upon her, he would have promptly had that person dismissed and ensured that no repetition of contact occurred. She did not think her brother severe or overprotective, however. Instead, Georgiana was grateful for his steadfast guardianship. Another glance in Darcy's direction confirmed his pleasure with the company he was keeping at present. His sister was now even more determined to discover the true nature of Elizabeth Bennet. If she was remotely like her young sister, Lydia, Georgiana had some grave doubts for her brother's sense. Despite his strong performance before their aunt, she harboured some fears that he had fallen victim to the charms of a pretty face. Was not every man allowed to deviate from the steady path of his life at one time or another? This might simply be a diversion but if Elizabeth was not as sincere in the return of his regard Miss Darcy would do her best to make sure that the detour was temporary. To this end she prepared to uncover more information from a close, and hopefully reliable, source. While contemplating discreet questions, she finished the last of her soup. A lively exchange between Lydia and two of the young men prevented any interruption with probing questions. Georgiana patiently waited until a suitable moment before forging ahead.

"Is your entire family here this evening, Miss ... Lydia?" she faltered, recalling at the last moment the request to call her new friend by her Christian name.

"Yes," Lydia nodded. "Even our cousin, Mr. Collins." Her face registered her feelings about this member of the family party. "Jane is fortunate to have been claimed by Mr. Bingley. Mama made sure to tell him that so I think Lizzy will have to marry Mr. Collins." Georgiana's attention was fully claimed with this disclosure. "I have never been so happy to be the youngest!" Once again she giggled, to Georgiana's growing annoyance.

"Lizzy is the one seated with my brother, you said?"

"Yes, and I can't think why." Lydia leaned forward, arms crossed and resting on the table. It was a most unladylike pose and only served to display her charms for all of the young officers at their table. "Is he always so dull?"

Georgiana was quite taken aback by this question. "Dull?"

"Yes, dull!" Lydia repeated. "Skulking about, not saying a word. I daresay you must be familiar with his behaviour. Does he stare out the windows a lot at home?"

Becoming more confused with the other girl's every sentence, Georgiana attempted to recall from memory if her brother had spent a lot of time peering out of the windows. This activity was not one she could remember, however, but added it to the list of things to question Darcy about. "That is not something I have noticed, no. Is the view here particularly picturesque?"

Unfortunately Lydia did not possess the intellect required to realise a polite response would be the discreet thing to do at this moment. Consequently, a loud snort prefaced her reply. "Not when it's dark."

Low chuckles rumbled from the officers beside them. Denny spoke up. "He seems to have found one view appealing this evening." He tilted his head to direct the others' gazes to where Darcy was still seated with Elizabeth. "She doesn't seem to mind, either."

"Well," huffed Lydia. "I shall not let her get away with such treachery! How could she cast dear Wickham aside just like that?" Georgiana gave a start at the mention of that name. "I'm sure when I tell him what little concern she showed for his absence tonight he will be suitably offended and bestow his attentions upon me, instead." Lydia seemed to think this quite amusing and her laughter began to draw looks from people throughout the room.

Georgiana was anxious lest her brother should also glance over and see the company she was keeping. The mention of Wickham was most unsettling. She now had a clue as to why Darcy may have been spending a great deal of time staring out at the countryside rather than engaging others in conversation. George Wickham had an unnerving habit of materialising when one least expected him. That is what happened at Ramsgate earlier in the summer. Georgiana felt her colour rise at the mere thought of that mortifying episode in her life. For a moment she considered the silly girl beside her and realised that Wickham might very well have set his sights in her direction. If not Lydia then perhaps one of her sisters. That must be why Fitzwilliam is lavishing attention upon Miss Elizabeth! He is trying to protect her and her family from George's clutches! Her heart warmed to think of him in such a noble light. To Georgiana there was now no question of her brother's intentions. She knew him to be the epitome of all that was good and honourable. Feeling much better about the situation she signalled one of the attending servants to bring more soup.

Part Five

Posted on Wednesday, 19 February 2003, at 9:16 p.m.

Unable to endure more than an hour of her aunt's incessant lectures regarding propriety and familial duties, Georgiana Darcy had found escape in pleading a headache and requiring rest in her own chamber. Once there, she called upon Miss Bingley's maid to find her something suitable to wear so that she may venture downstairs and search out the comfort of her brother's presence. Despite her misgivings where his approval was concerned, she always derived reassurance when she was with him. The last few weeks had not been easy, while Darcy resided in Hertfordshire with his friend and Georgiana brooded about how she had displeased him. The wounds were too fresh for her to consider his forgiveness at all possible. She felt she had betrayed him, the brother who was more like a father, and for that she could not forgive herself.

Upon entering the room she immediately noticed that there were far more people than she had realised. In truth, she hadn't considered the others, focussed only upon rejoining her brother and avoiding their aunt. Georgiana was now faced with a roomful of strangers which was more than enough to stop her in her tracks. While she hovered in the doorway she was nearly bowled over by another young lady making her own entrance.

"Oh, I am sorry," Georgiana quickly, though quietly, began.

The other girl giggled. "I'm the one who should have been watching where I was going. Why are you apologising?" She looked Georgiana over critically. "I don't know you but... didn't you come in with that old lady a little while ago?" Georgiana was too shocked to reply. "Yes, that's where I saw you! Oh, don't worry. I won't tattle on you. She looks a right misery. I hope she's not your mother." She giggled again before sticking out her hand. "I'm Lydia Bennet, by the way."

Georgiana took the offered hand carefully. "Georgiana Darcy. I am pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet."

An unhealthy sound emanated from the other girl which Georgiana belatedly realised was a laugh. "Please! My sister is 'Miss Bennet'. Just call me Lydia. Wait a minute! Did you say Darcy? You aren't a sister to the Mr. Darcy?"

Shaking her head in some confusion, Georgiana confirmed Lydia's conclusion. "Yes, my brother is staying with Mr. Bingley. Am I to understand that you have made his acquaintance?"

"Not exactly," Lydia said with another of those strange laughs. "Practically nobody in Meryton has made his acquaintance although Mr. Bingley has been quite popular." She gave her new friend a wink. "That's my sister, Miss Bennet, sitting with him over there." She pointed across the room.

Georgiana's gaze followed the indicated direction where she was surprised, though relieved, to see her brother seated at the same table. "Your sister is beside Mr. Bingley? Who, may I ask, is the lady beside her?"

"Oh, that's my other sister, Elizabeth." Lydia looked more closely. "Whatever is she doing next to Mr. Darcy?"

That was exactly what Georgiana wanted to know. Fitzwilliam appeared to be genuinely interested in the young lady's conversation. Although Georgiana had rarely seen her brother in company, and only in the comforts of their own homes, he had never appeared interested in any particular lady's conversation. "I wonder what they are talking about?" she mused.

Lydia looked at her new friend with a bemused frown. "I cannot imagine but there is only one way to find out." She reached for Georgiana's hand and began to pull her forward.

"Oh, no!" she whispered sharply, pulling her hand free with not a little struggle. Her eyes were wide. "I couldn't. I mean, we shouldn't."

Shrugging her shoulders, Lydia dismissed the whole idea. "Whatever you wish. At least come and sit with me while we eat. I am so hungry! Look," she said, pointing at a table quite a distance from her elder sisters. "Denny and Saunderson are over there. We can sit with them."

Georgiana allowed herself to be led to the table of young officers. The young Miss Bennet greeted them all enthusiastically and the young men were equally brash, although their exuberance took on a more respectful tone when they beheld Miss Darcy. A few of them exchanged knowing glances upon introduction. The young ladies had arrived just as the soup bowls were being filled. Georgiana, who had been too unnerved to partake of the servings Miss Bingley had arranged to be sent to their rooms, was now grateful to see the hot food. It excused her from having to participate in the conversation at the table without being rude, for one could hardly speak while eating. She was dismayed to see, however, that this rule of etiquette was not strictly adhered to by her dinner companions. The choice of seating herself with her new acquaintance gave Georgiana the advantage of being able to observe her brother without him observing her. That he was unaware of his sister's presence was also a distinct advantage. She did not wish to give him cause for any further embarrassment. The company with whom she now found herself would certainly do that, she knew. However long she could remain undiscovered was to be seen. The young Miss Bennet and her friends were not above calling attention to themselves with their boisterous manners. Georgiana kept one eye on Darcy while attempting to appear interested in the chatter of her immediate party. Interest was not difficult to achieve when her brother became the main topic.

"Did you see the look on old lady Lucas's face when Darcy took to the floor with Miss Elizabeth?" Georgiana nearly dropped her spoon in surprise while the young officer continued. "I can well understand him choosing her over that prim and dull Miss Lucas, however better suited she is to his sour disposition. Ow!"

Denny sent the other man a pointed glare to accompany the kick under the table. "I'd say you're a bit jealous, lad."

"And who wouldn't be, I ask you?" another officer interjected. "Miss Elizabeth is delightful company and I'm sure I'm not the only one put out about him usurping a place on her card."

Lydia laughed, loudly. "I would gladly dance with you if it is such a travesty. As a matter of fact, I'd dance with Mr. Darcy if he'd offer." A giggle accompanied this last comment.

Georgiana did not need any time to think about the probability of that happening. She could well imagine her brother's grimace of distaste at the mere thought. That set her to wondering anew about this Elizabeth Bennet and how she had managed to garner Darcy's attention. How could a sister to the wild Lydia have attracted her own fastidious brother? She could not recall any particular lady inspiring his interest. Her gaze returned to the table across the room. Georgiana's practised eye detected the smile that he rarely allowed to show and that others even more rarely recognised.

"Whatever can they find to be talking about?" Lydia's voice was in her friend's ear. Georgiana quickly looked back to her companion. The other girl had a face that bespoke her confusion.

"Books?" The confusion changed to disgust and Georgiana quickly added, "Or perhaps music! My brother enjoys both. Does your sister like either?"

Lydia appeared to think about that for a moment. "I think she reads. I'm sure I've seen her with a book now and again. I know that Mary does, but she only has eyes for Fordyce's Sermons. I'm sure your brother wouldn't be discussing those!" She gave a snort as she poked an elbow in Georgiana's side.

"No," she admitted somewhat hesitantly. "You are probably right." Recalling the earlier remark about Darcy dancing with Miss Elizabeth, Georgiana made another suggestion. "They may be continuing with a topic begun on the dance floor, though."

Lydia was doubtful. "Such a serious and solemn dance it was, I'm sure no subject could have survived such a dull life. Although... immediately afterward Lizzy was positively surrounded by beaux. I don't know why my sister attracts all of the good young men while the rest of us have to suffer the likes of our cousin, Mr. Collins," she pouted. Georgiana, embarrassed for the young officers who must have felt offended with her slight, looked down at her plate.

"Oh, it's no mystery, Lydia," smiled Denny.

Lydia laughed. "But what would I want with the good young men, anyway?" Several pairs of eyebrows rose simultaneously. Lydia's hand flew to cover her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and then she laughed again. "You are such a bad influence on my poor impressionable mind, Denny." She turned to Georgiana. "I heard my Papa say that to Sir William one evening."

Eyes round with astonishment, Georgiana had no idea how to respond. Had Darcy believed anyone to be an undesirable influence upon her, he would have promptly had that person dismissed and ensured that no repetition of contact occurred. She did not think her brother severe or overprotective, however. Instead, Georgiana was grateful for his steadfast guardianship. Another glance in Darcy's direction confirmed his pleasure with the company he was keeping at present. His sister was now even more determined to discover the true nature of Elizabeth Bennet. If she was remotely like her young sister, Lydia, Georgiana had some grave doubts for her brother's sense. Despite his strong performance before their aunt, she harboured some fears that he had fallen victim to the charms of a pretty face. Was not every man allowed to deviate from the steady path of his life at one time or another? This might simply be a diversion but if Elizabeth was not as sincere in the return of his regard Miss Darcy would do her best to make sure that the detour was temporary. To this end she prepared to uncover more information from a close, and hopefully reliable, source. While contemplating discreet questions, she finished the last of her soup. A lively exchange between Lydia and two of the young men prevented any interruption with probing questions. Georgiana patiently waited until a suitable moment before forging ahead.

"Is your entire family here this evening, Miss ... Lydia?" she faltered, recalling at the last moment the request to call her new friend by her Christian name.

"Yes," Lydia nodded. "Even our cousin, Mr. Collins." Her face registered her feelings about this member of the family party. "Jane is fortunate to have been claimed by Mr. Bingley. Mama made sure to tell him that so I think Lizzy will have to marry Mr. Collins." Georgiana's attention was fully claimed with this disclosure. "I have never been so happy to be the youngest!" Once again she giggled, to Georgiana's growing annoyance.

"Lizzy is the one seated with my brother, you said?"

"Yes, and I can't think why." Lydia leaned forward, arms crossed and resting on the table. It was a most unladylike pose and only served to display her charms for all of the young officers at their table. "Is he always so dull?"

Georgiana was quite taken aback by this question. "Dull?"

"Yes, dull!" Lydia repeated. "Skulking about, not saying a word. I daresay you must be familiar with his behaviour. Does he stare out the windows a lot at home?"

Becoming more confused with the other girl's every sentence, Georgiana attempted to recall from memory if her brother had spent a lot of time peering out of the windows. This activity was not one she could remember, however, but added it to the list of things to question Darcy about. "That is not something I have noticed, no. Is the view here particularly picturesque?"

Unfortunately Lydia did not possess the intellect required to realise a polite response would be the discreet thing to do at this moment. Consequently, a loud snort prefaced her reply. "Not when it's dark."

Low chuckles rumbled from the officers beside them. Denny spoke up. "He seems to have found one view appealing this evening." He tilted his head to direct the others' gazes to where Darcy was still seated with Elizabeth. "She doesn't seem to mind, either."

"Well," huffed Lydia. "I shall not let her get away with such treachery! How could she cast dear Wickham aside just like that?" Georgiana gave a start at the mention of that name. "I'm sure when I tell him what little concern she showed for his absence tonight he will be suitably offended and bestow his attentions upon me, instead." Lydia seemed to think this quite amusing and her laughter began to draw looks from people throughout the room.

Georgiana was anxious lest her brother should also glance over and see the company she was keeping. The mention of Wickham was most unsettling. She now had a clue as to why Darcy may have been spending a great deal of time staring out at the countryside rather than engaging others in conversation. George Wickham had an unnerving habit of materialising when one least expected him. That is what happened at Ramsgate earlier in the summer. Georgiana felt her colour rise at the mere thought of that mortifying episode in her life. For a moment she considered the silly girl beside her and realised that Wickham might very well have set his sights in her direction. If not Lydia then perhaps one of her sisters. That must be why Fitzwilliam is lavishing attention upon Miss Elizabeth! He is trying to protect her and her family from George's clutches! Her heart warmed to think of him in such a noble light. To Georgiana there was now no question of her brother's intentions. She knew him to be the epitome of all that was good and honourable. Feeling much better about the situation she signalled one of the attending servants to bring more soup.

Part Six

Posted on Tuesday, 11 March 2003, at 5:56 a.m.

Mr. Bingley had been assured that there would be white soup enough to go 'round but it soon became apparent that as much of the dish that was available, it was even more in demand. This was not necessarily noticed by the host of the Netherfield Ball, however. He had greater things on his mind at present. The lovely though quiet lady seated beside him was the happy recipient of his attentions. The bowl before him was full and cooling, completely disregarded in light of more pleasant occupation. The couple on his other side seemed equally oblivious, although their own soup had been appreciatively consumed. Their insides now warmed, it was time to return attention to their previous conversation.

Darcy found it maddeningly difficult to attend to Elizabeth's words. Instead, he remained fixated on the curving arch of her eyebrow, especially fascinating when it was raised impertinently at himself. Elizabeth felt equally lightheaded. She could not seem to prevent her tongue from betraying her amusement with Mr. Darcy's expression. He appeared as dazed as herself although it was hardly to be wondered at with the comments she was helpless to prevent escaping her mouth.

"You seem to be preoccupied, Mr. Darcy. What, may I ask, so holds your interest?"

"Where shall I begin?" Darcy heard himself reply. "To catalogue your charms would be a delightful way to spend the rest of this evening." He felt an irresistible urge to shake himself awake for he was sure this was a dream.... or a nightmare, rather, judging from the boldfaced statements he was making.

"Flattery, sir?" Elizabeth was astonished. How many more surprises were in store for her this evening? Mr. Bingley proposing to Jane, Mr. Darcy complimenting her and more than once, Mr. Wickham's true nature revealed and, most astounding of all, her own opinion reversing with regard to Mr. Darcy! "I had not thought you to be a man who would resort to flattery."

Darcy felt his own eyebrow rise in acknowledgement of the unspoken conclusion of her sentence. "You do not believe the truth heard with your own ears?"

That maddening eyebrow rose with deliberate sauciness. "I do not question the truth but the source, sir. For such a fastidious man as yourself I do not find it easy to reconcile tonight's admiration with the opinion of a similar evening where temptation was more effortlessly avoided."

"I had not the opportunity that evening of beholding the eyes which have held me spellbound ever since." Had he known those words were forming on his lips Darcy would have bitten them to prevent the escape. He could now only wait helplessly, knowing his fate was sealed.

Elizabeth had heard his words yet was unable to effect an appropriate reply. Against her will she was already speaking. "You may have been saved much unnecessary suffering if you had agreed to dance as your friend suggested."

"I dislike dancing, however," Darcy quickly replied. "Nothing short of an intelligent and bewitching partner could induce me to dance." His eyes implored her to not question his sincerity this time.

No argument could she offer in the face of this information. After all, had they not danced together that very evening? For some unexplainable reason Elizabeth found it difficult to accept what she had heard and seen, however. How could this man have come to admire her? "Did you not think to find any intelligent ladies at the Assembly?"

"I believe I have confessed my preoccupation that night and it had nothing to do with the company."

Elizabeth experienced a touch of remorse for pursuing this topic despite her apparent lack of control in the direction. "Indeed you have, sir. Please forgive my impetuous nature."

Darcy could not conceal the upward curve of his mouth. "It is your impetuous nature that so fascinates me."

"Cheek!" A smile of her own emerged, delighting her audience of one. "Is there nothing that motivates you to be spontaneous?"

"Miss Bennet," Darcy gravely replied. "Do you not consider my request for your hand in the dance as a spontaneous action?"

Elizabeth quelled her rapid pulse at the mention of his request for her hand. How silly of me! She was tempted to place a hand to her brow in order to ascertain the presence of a fever. I must truly be ill to think he would make a proposal of marriage after such a brief and awkward acquaintance. "You would have me believe it the work of an impetuous mind when it was more apt to have been the result of careful and precise planning?"

"You do me an injustice, sweet lady. I have not the military mind nor training to formulate such complex manoeuvring in order to secure a simple dance. You credit me with far more cunning than I deserve and I do not mean that in a complimentary fashion. I abhor the employment of such arts and would never debase myself to take advantage of them in order to secure the satisfaction of a few moments in your presence." Darcy's expression softened and his eyes held hers in a warm embrace. Her chest rose and fell with increasing regularity. "Honesty is far preferable to the games often played by lovers." Another wave of horror washed over him at the betrayal of his tongue.

"You imply that lovers are not honest with one another?" Elizabeth studied him from behind her eyelashes. "Is that not a harsh evaluation? Exaggeration of the admiration of each others' attributes I can believe but where there is a true affection can there be anything but honesty?"

"I am amazed!" cried Darcy. "You do not credit the perseverance of the rejected lover to win his heart's reward at any price? To bring himself to his knees in order to gain her acceptance?"

"Acceptance, sir?"she scoffed. "What comfort is acceptance when respect should be his goal?"

Darcy blinked in surprise. Respect? I am at your mercy and you speak to me of respect?! Speak to me of love, instead. "Should he be content with respect, then? Should he not persevere to obtain something more lasting?"

Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "What could be more lasting than respect? What is more valuable?"

"Love, my dear Miss Bennet. Is there anything more valuable than the essence of one's heart?" There was no stopping his mouth now. The words were said, the stakes were laid. "Respect must inevitably follow wherever the heart leads."

"Is that so? I must disagree." Her eyes flashed a challenge.

"I find that surprising." Darcy was genuinely puzzled. "With what, exactly, do you disagree?"

"The heart may be misled, even mistaken in its trust. Respect, therefore, has a weak foundation and is questionable in value, nor is it likely to last."

"Ah," Darcy nodded. "Then it is the emotion that you doubt. Do you not believe in the strength of love, that it can withstand the strongest discouragement and persevere?"

"Such faith, sir! I would not have thought it of you. For myself I can assure you that I have the deepest respect for the emotion of love and those who truly feel its forces." Caught in her own trap, Elizabeth waited with bated breath to hear his pronouncement.

Can it be that she has recognised my feelings even before I was aware of them myself? Darcy silently congratulated himself for falling in love with such an intelligent woman worthy of every kind of respect. He was prepared to offer her whatever her heart might desire of him. Unfortunately his mouth had other ideas. "If it is not love that you doubt then it must be the lover himself. What exceptional standard must he achieve in order to win your approval?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "I was under the impression that exceptional standards were your prerequisite, Mr. Darcy." Smiling sweetly she added, "Are there more than half a dozen that have crossed your path?"

A faint smile touched his lips. "On the contrary, Miss Bennet, I have been fortunate to meet but one lady who embodies all of the qualities that I value." His gaze never wavered from her own. Elizabeth felt her heart skip as she saw the warmth of emotion in his eyes. "You have not answered my query, however. What demands do you place upon the man worthy of your regard?"

Rarely was Elizabeth Bennet at a loss for words but this moment was unlike any other she had known. Her head was whirling with unspoken thoughts and feelings, confusion preventing her from forming any coherent reply. After what seemed to be an interminable period of silence she finally heard herself say, "Honour..... sir."

"Honour," Darcy repeated. "Only one demand?"

"Honour brings with it all manner of superior characteristics." Her eyes closed while her voice continued. "An honourable man is trustworthy. He feels just what he ought without any indelicate reference to those feelings. His love is based in truth and tempered with intelligent reasoning."

"All of this in one man?" Darcy could not resist the comparison. "I rather wonder at your knowing any, Miss Bennet."

To his surprise she laughed but only briefly. The twinkle remained in her eyes, however, and he at first did not comprehend her words. "I believe I can assure you that there is one gentleman of my acquaintance who has passed the test."

It was Darcy's turn to feel his heart leap. He had not thought it possible to experience such a reaction to mere words. What a change had been wrought in the course of a few short weeks! Upon first entering Hertfordshire with Bingley he had entertained no illusion of enjoying his stay there beyond the usual level of distraction offered by his friend. It hadn't been long before his interest had been aroused by a particular local lady, much to his own surprise. Confused by his conflicting emotions, Darcy had resisted the attraction, preferring to concentrate on the imperfections of her and her family, little realising that this focus only served to place her in a better light. All of this was irrelevant now, however. His heart was known, not only to himself but also to Elizabeth it seemed! His purpose was now clear.

"What test is that?" enquired a smiling Bingley. Elizabeth visibly jumped at the sound of his voice whereupon Bingley was instantly contrite. "Oh, I am sorry for startling you, Miss Elizabeth. I did not realise that you and Darcy were having one of your serious discussions."

"One of our what ?"

"Don't look so worried, Darcy," his friend quickly reassured him. "As serious as you look, I know that both of you actually enjoy your arguments. Very odd but as long as you leave me out of it then argue to your hearts' content!" Bingley turned his attention to Elizabeth. "It's a rare occasion to see Darcy bested in a debate and you are just the one to do it, Miss Elizabeth. So tell me about this test you mentioned? Have you been quizzing my friend?"

"Quizzing him?" She was still a little muddled from the sudden interruption.

Jane took pity on her sister and gently attempted to direct Bingley's attention from the other couple. He failed to take the hint, however, and continued after a moment's distraction. "Darcy is so close-mouthed most of the time. Do not feel discouraged if he's not forthcoming with answers to your questions."

Elizabeth had put that brief respite to good use and was now able to reply with admirable composure. "I can assure you that Mr. Darcy's modesty does not preclude his ability to parry a verbal riposte."

"Modesty!" Bingley grinned. "Darcy, I have never considered modesty as one of your stronger attributes."

"I'm sure you haven't," the other man responded in a voice that indicated neither approval nor disapproval of this topic. "Please do not feel you are obligated to arbitrate our discussion, Bingley. Neither of us will be offended by your desire to take advantage of this opportunity for private conversation with Miss Bennet, I assure you."

"That is quite decent of you," said Bingley in a lowered voice. "You know I would not hesitate to do the same for you. You need only to ask."

If you would return your attention to your lady I won't have to ask! Darcy was spared the pain of making a redundant reply by the sound of a piercing squeal which traversed the length of the room. Unable at first to comprehend what caused this noise he was stunned to hear Jane Bennet's soft exclamation of dismay while observing Elizabeth stare in alarmed incredulity over his shoulder. If this was not incentive enough to discover the object of their dismay, Elizabeth's next words ensured it.

"How did your sister end up sitting at Lydia's table?"

Part Seven

Posted on Monday, 31 March 2003, at 6:06 a.m.

"Stop! Stop the carriage, I say!"

George Wickham peered out into the darkness. There was no sign of human habitation as far as he could see. He felt the hair stand up on his arms and the back of his neck, an instinctive reaction to a perceived threat. Covertly glancing over at Colonel Fitzwilliam, he relaxed minutely upon seeing nothing to alarm him. However, he remained alert to any possibility, experience having taught him that appearances, particularly where members of the Darcy family were concerned, were inevitably deceiving.

"Is there a problem?" he enquired in a steady voice.

The Colonel appeared not to have heard him. The carriage had barely come to a halt before he absented himself for a hurried consultation with the driver. Wickham studied them, attempting to determine Fitzwilliam's intent. The surrounding countryside offered no form of cover, open fields wet with the recent light snowfall would leave him an easy prey should he try to run.

The clatter of the carriage door drew Wickham's attention with a start. Colonel Fitzwilliam clambered inside, dropping into his seat just as the carriage moved forward once again. This time, though, it did not continue along the road. The driver brought the horses around and slowly reversed the vehicle's position to face the direction from which they had just come. Fitzwilliam was smiling, though more to himself it seemed, giving him the appearance of a moonstruck calf. It would have been laughable had Wickham not been preoccupied with the preservation of his own hide.

"Have we taken a wrong turn?" he eventually asked.

Fitzwilliam's eyes focussed on the other passenger. "No. No wrong turn."

Wickham frowned. These unenlightening answers were hardly reassuring but the thought crossed his paranoid mind that it may be intentional. "We are not going to Matlock after all? You've changed your mind?"

"We're returning to Netherfield." There was something left unspoken at the end of this sentence, as if the word Netherfield was not what he'd meant to say. "It was foolish to set off at this hour of the night. We can make better time if we leave in the morning."

Shaking his head, Wickham refrained from pointing out that they had already travelled a considerable distance in the dark and would be covering that same distance to return from where they started. He was certain that Darcy would vehemently oppose his cousin's decision but the matter was out of his hands. As long as they continued to conceal him from the Bow Street runners and he stayed warm, dry and fed, George Wickham would be satisfied to settle in wherever they chose. There was just the small issue of Lady Catherine de Bourgh's presence at Netherfield, if he correctly recalled the conversation between the two men in the study.

The carriage rolled on through the darkness for some time while its passengers said nothing. Wickham entertained thoughts of roast lamb and pheasant for his suppers instead of the more frugal army fare. Fitzwilliam's mind was not cluttered by any images of food. His was more agreeably occupied with remembering the delicate fingers which had directed the provision of the soup he'd had prior to their departure. It had been the memory of those hands and the heavenly voice that accompanied them that had tormented him during the ride. How could you leave? whispered in his head. Go back..... Unable to withstand it any longer he at last called the driver to halt and was able to sit back, content in the knowledge that it would not be long 'ere he would see her again. What the lady may think of his return he could not hazard a guess. He did not foresee any great obstacle, however, for he was Richard Fitzwilliam, son of an Earl, Colonel in his Majesty's Royal Army and no woman could possibly present him with any campaign greater than he had encountered on the Continent in the course of his duties. Assured that success was guaranteed, he had no thoughts to spare in speculating on his cousin's probable reaction to their sudden reappearance. It was unimportant in the Colonel's eyes. There was a greater objective at stake.

Wickham, having imagined every one of his favourite dishes served to him in opulent fashion, was eventually forced to consider the very real possibility that Darcy may choose instead to lock him in the cellar. This was a far less appealing scenario and one which Wickham could not completely discard as unlikely to occur. Darcy's opinion had been made perfectly clear; he had no time nor patience for George Wickham. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that this was a very bad decision on Fitzwilliam's part. Darcy was not going to be happy and it would not be his cousin paying the greater price for this foolishness. Briefly, he wondered about the real reason for turning back. The Colonel did not appear to be a man afraid to travel by night and, truth be told, he should be more afraid of Darcy than any chance meeting with brigands. Each turn of the wheels brought them closer to Netherfield and with it Wickham's apprehension grew. His recollection of the events at Ramsgate took on a surreal quality. His life had been set, the path laid before him like an aisle in a church.

No. Bad analogy.

He could see the comforts that were ahead; a life filled with every delight a man could wish, or that money could buy. George Wickham could be quite happy with what money would provide. That a wife must necessarily accompany this fortune was a sad fact to be faced. There were far worse options than Georgiana Darcy, however. She at least would be quiet enough that he would be able to pursue his own interests and amusements without fear of feminine wrath.

It would have been perfect. The plan had been set in motion, the young Miss Darcy prepared to step out from under the protection of her brother's wing. Then Darcy had arrived. How could the fates have been so cruel? It had been so close, Wickham's security had been within his grasp, when it had been instantly and unceremoniously snatched away. Darcy had been barely able to contain his anger, Wickham remembered. Never had he seen his old friend so outraged. There was no question of his being sent away, far away from Georgiana. At the time he agreed, knowing that the more distance between himself and Darcy the longer he could safely survive. The decision did not sit well with him, however. Before many days had passed Wickham was regretting his retreat and cursing Darcy's high-handed interference.

Yet, here he was again, at the mercy of Darcy's whims. It was all well and good to propose hiding at Matlock, away from the Bow Street boys, but there was no assurance that Darcy would not turn him over to another authority to be left rotting in prison. Or, he shuddered, Australia.

Torn between fear and anger, Wickham's resentment grew until he realised the carriage had drawn up in the stable yard of Netherfield. This was truly representative of his life: to be relegated to the servants' entrance, cast off as unworthy despite his education and years of dedicated service in the Darcy household.

Colonel Fitzwilliam leapt eagerly from the carriage, impatiently signalling the other man to follow. The Lieutenant had little choice but to obey. At least Darcy's immediate wrath would be directed toward his cousin, perhaps providing him an opportunity to importune himself upon the evening's guests.

Yes, the situation was looking less bleak by the minute.

The two men entered the house through a side door. Fitzwilliam would never have entertained the notion of going through the kitchen. He might be unexpected, even unwelcome to some, but he was the son of an earl.

No servant came to meet them but the sounds of music floated down the hallway from the ballroom not far away. The Colonel hesitated. It was unquestionably bad form to appear in the ballroom in such a state in addition to being uninvited. This presented a dilemma, however. How was he to inform his hostess of his return?

Footsteps sounded on the tiled floor approaching from the opposite direction from which the music emanated. Fitzwilliam's hesitation was thrust aside as quickly as he grabbed Wickham by the arm and shoved him inside the nearest room, warning him not to make a sound nor attempt to leave. For his own part Wickham was inclined to hope for Darcy's appearance. It would be a treat to see the Colonel get an earful of Darcy's ire as well as a distraction so that he might manage a discreet exit. The door shut in his face, however, and he was left to contemplate the wooden surface as Fitzwilliam tried to assume a casual demeanour while inspecting his fingernails outside the closed door to the water closet.

A mere exhalation or two later the footsteps were revealed to belong to a pair of servants in an obvious hurry and appearing quite flustered. Their composure was further threatened with beholding the Colonel loitering in the hall. Before they could attempt an apology the air was disturbed with the sound of more footsteps and the two servants' complexions took on a sallow hue. In another moment Lady Catherine de Bourgh sailed around the corner and came to an imperious halt, her eyes narrowing considerably as her gaze travelled down the length of her great nose.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

The poor servants, quivering in fear, mistook her meaning. "Begging your pardon, m'lady -."

"Silence!" Lady Catherine glared at them and once again addressed her nephew. "Fitzwilliam, I asked you a question. Don't stand there like a fish gasping for air. There is something strange going on here and I demand to know what it is!"

"I am sure I don't know what you mean," the Colonel managed to reply with relative nonchalance. "What do you think is going on?"

His aunt was not distracted from her purpose. "That is what you will tell me after informing me of the reason for your presence here!"

"I should think that is obvious."

"Do not take me for an imbecile," she snapped. "It is not obvious or I would not ask."

Fitzwilliam sighed. "I meant no disrespect, of course. I was referring to the ball being held in the house this evening."

"Oh, that ," Lady Catherine sniffed. "I cannot imagine what would possess you to attend such a ramshackle affair."

"I invited him."

It was unclear just who was more surprised by this statement, Colonel Fitzwilliam or the young lady who had made it. She stood there wondering how she'd had the nerve to speak while he smiled broadly, his aunt completely forgotten the instant he'd heard that voice. That voice! Fitzwilliam thought he'd never heard anything more beautiful nor more welcome.

"He has come at my invitation," Miss Bingley said more firmly as if there had not been any doubt at all. She turned her attention to the gentleman. "I am so sorry I was not able to greet you personally, Colonel. I am very pleased that you were able to join us, though. I was afraid that your other obligations would keep you away."

"Some obligations are less pressing than they first seem." The Colonel took her hand and politely raised it to his lips in greeting. He may have lingered a second or two longer than strict propriety allowed but the lady did not object. "When it became apparent that my task could wait until morning I made my way to Netherfield forthwith."

"This is all quite vexing!" an exasperated Lady Catherine interrupted. "First Darcy abandons me to the mercies of a country household. Then Georgiana disappears from her room and finally I find you, the nephew in whom I had the greatest confidence in behaving rationally, wandering the back hallways of the very country house that -."

"What is this about Georgiana?" Fitzwilliam's attention was torn but his duty to his cousin won out. "What has happened?" He prayed that Wickham's ears were not so good that he could hear what was being said on the other side of the door.

"I warned Darcy about precisely this sort of behaviour occurring but he shrugged it aside," she replied with a disdainful sniff. "He has been far too lenient with that girl and I mean to put a stop to it. Tonight. You can assist me, Fitzwilliam. As one of Georgiana's guardians you will permit me to take her to Rosings and see that she is properly educated and supervised. No more of this nonsense in London and excursions to the seaside. This only leads to trouble and is of no benefit whatsoever. A girl of her age should remain at home until it is time to bring her out, to present her at court as befits her station."

Colonel Fitzwilliam was well aware of what his cousin, both of his cousins, would say to that suggestion. He was not about to point out what should be obvious to his highly opinionated aunt, however. She had still not given him any indication as to where she thought Georgiana had gone. This point needed addressing immediately. "All of that may be discussed later. The important thing to do now is to find Georgiana if she is truly missing. Where have you looked?"

"Oh, she hasn't gone far," Lady Catherine said with a wave of her hand. "It is this disrespectful behaviour in evidence as I told her brother. She'll be in the ballroom, I'm sure. Left me with some pretense of fatigue and then deviously changed her gown and slipped downstairs." She glanced at Miss Bingley, disapproval written on her face. "You must know something of this."

"I did not see Miss Darcy among my guests," Caroline stiffly replied.

"Of course not," interjected Fitzwilliam. "After all, there are so many people present that you would not notice one more face. Do not be alarmed, Aunt Catherine. I shall accompany Miss Bingley back to her guests and find Georgiana myself." He made as if to take the young lady's elbow to direct her.

"Just one moment," came the stern command from his aunt. The Colonel slowly turned to face her. "I will brook no opposition. You will find Georgiana and bring her upstairs to my room so that I may refresh her memory on the proper conduct expected of her. There will be no more of this insolent behaviour."

"Lady Catherine," Miss Bingley began, hesitating only slightly when the great lady turned her penetrating gaze on her. "If I may make a suggestion?" A very slight inclination of Lady Catherine's head bestowed permission upon Caroline to continue. "Miss Darcy may be with her brother as we speak. This could provide some difficulty in persuading him to relinquish her into your cont- care while she is safely in his."

"It is precisely her safety which concerns me. However," she conceded, "Fitzwilliam may have more success in winning Darcy's consent. He is unbelievably stubborn on this matter with me."

"Darcy is stubborn about a lot of things," the Colonel grumbled. "I make no promises but I shall locate Georgiana and deal with her brother as the situation dictates. There is no need to trouble yourself to make an appearance."

Lady Catherine visibly softened. "I knew I could rely on you, Fitzwilliam. There is always tomorrow if you cannot persuade Darcy this evening." Turning back to Miss Bingley, she said, "Please arrange for more soup to be brought to my room. It seems to have agreed very much with Anne. Her stomach is quite delicate, you know, and anything that settles well with her is very welcome."

"Certainly," Miss Bingley replied, nodding to the servants who still stood nearby. The maid needed no urging and quickly fled the hallway to retreat to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

Lady Catherine, satisfied with the arrangements, now shooed them away toward the ballroom and summarily dismissed the remaining servant. She could not abide wasting time nor did she feel the need to have someone watch over her every movement. Before returning to her room, however, she stood lost in thought for a few moments. Coming to some sort of decision, she was about to head for the main stairs when something caught her eye. It was a perfectly natural reaction and a perfectly normal choice under the circumstances. It would be a rather long walk back to the East Wing where her rooms were located.

Lady Catherine pushed open the door to the privy room, crossing the threshold and closing the door behind her.

Part Eight

Posted on Tuesday, 8 April 2003, at 6:31 a.m.

"Georgiana!" Darcy looked down disapprovingly at his sister. Were it not for the fact that he knew incontrovertibly that Georgiana did not imbibe even the weakest of wine he would have been certain that she was foxed. He had never seen her so animated! To witness her thus in such a large gathering of strangers was nothing short of incredible. Darcy had the utmost respect for Elizabeth and Jane Bennet but he simply would not tolerate his sister keeping company with the likes of Miss Lydia! "Explain yourself."

Georgiana unsuccessfully stifled a giggle resulting in it sounding more like a sneeze. Lydia erupted into laughter while Darcy's frown deepened. "You look so stern, Fitzwilliam. Really, you've no cause for concern."

"Your behaviour indicates otherwise," he replied, the tone a warning in itself. Georgiana should have recognised it and perhaps she did. It did not seem to make any difference to her, however. "I believed you to be comfortably settled in your room and instead I find you in very questionable circumstances without so much as a word to me requesting permission to attend."

"I did seek you out," Georgiana said with wide eyes but a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "You appeared to be too engrossed in a discourse with this lady." She indicated Elizabeth who stood just behind Darcy's left shoulder. "I was reluctant to interrupt when you were obviously enjoying each other's company."

Elizabeth's lips set in a firm line as she recognised the sly comment as something Lydia or Kitty would say. Darcy was clearly shocked by both his young sister's remark and the implication that his attraction for Elizabeth had been so vividly displayed in a public setting. Seeing he was at a loss for words, she took charge. "You are more than welcome to join us, Miss Darcy. In fact, I would like the opportunity to properly make your acquaintance." The emphasis she put on that word jarred Darcy to attention.

"Please forgive my lapse in manners. Miss Bennet, my sister Georgiana. Georgiana, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet." He fixed the former with an icy eye. "Miss Bennet is perfectly correct in saying that you are welcome to join us at our table, Georgiana." Darcy extended a hand to assist her in standing. "Please do."

The meaning could not be ignored this time. Georgiana smiled at her new friends as she left her seat and walked to her brother's table, one arm linked through his. Elizabeth followed, keeping a discreet distance to allow Darcy's low voiced comments to his sister to remain private. Lydia was now free to giggle as she chose.

"You realise that you have just substantiated aunt Catherine's concerns," Darcy scolded Georgiana. "How can I honestly say that your behaviour is beyond reproach after this?"

"Have I done something so terrible? I only wanted to find you. Aunt Catherine was so severe with Ann and myself." She peered up at him shyly.

"You are not a little girl anymore, Georgiana." Astonishment warred with a sense of melancholy as Darcy wondered where his young sister had suddenly acquired this repertoire of arts she was employing upon him. "After the years invested in the finest education I am amazed that you seem unaware of the import of your actions."

"But you would not let her take me to Rosings."

"You assign more authority to me than I possess. Please bear in mind that I am but one of your legal guardians." He pulled a chair out for her to sit. "Should our cousin share Lady Catherine's view I would be a fool to argue otherwise, especially with the proof of tonight's actions before me." Darcy let her think about his words as he turned his attention to Elizabeth's comfort. "How can I thank you, Miss Bennet? I fear I am at a loss when it comes to countering the peevish moods of a young woman such as Georgiana."

Slightly amused by his confession, Elizabeth smiled. "I have three younger sisters of my own, Mr. Darcy. This is something I practice daily. There is no need to feel that your own skill is lacking." She studied the young woman seated beside her. "Miss Darcy, am I right in thinking that the allure of the music and dancing was too much that it drew you here despite your better judgement?"

"I would not be entirely truthful if I said yes, Miss Bennet," Georgiana replied, attempting to avoid her brother's watchful gaze. "I was also somewhat perturbed by the sudden and unexpected journey that we took here. I was hoping to receive some consolation in my brother's understanding and, having Miss Bingley's maid at my disposal, I directed her to find me something suitable to wear that I may look for him amongst the crowd without disgracing him."

"I find it difficult to believe that you could disgrace him. I must caution you, however." Elizabeth's sidelong look at Darcy caused him to discreetly turn away. "My youngest sister is not the best example from which you could learn. It saddens me to say this but she has been indulged a bit too much and does not always know when she has gone too far."

"Oh."

There was genuine disappointment in the girl's voice. Elizabeth was struck with the thought that Miss Darcy had probably not much opportunity to meet girls her own age. Her brother seemed quite protective and in light of the incident with Mr. Wickham it was perfectly understandable for him to keep her closely guarded. Once more Elizabeth recalled Lady Catherine's words in the library and wondered what sort of relationship Miss Darcy would have with Miss de Bourgh as a sister. "I suppose that because you have no sisters it would be somewhat lonely for you when your brother is away. Of course, you would have friends to visit and your cousins. Do you have any cousins close to your age?"

Georgiana shook her head. "My cousin Anne is nearest my age. Aunt Catherine seems to think that my brother is going to marry Anne. That is why she is always wanting me to come and live at Rosings, I think. It would mean Fitzwilliam would be there more often."

"I see."

The younger woman was pleased to think that she could detect a hint of curiosity in Elizabeth's expression while remaining too polite to enquire further. "Not that it would make a difference. My brother doesn't want to marry Anne."

"You shouldn't presume to speak for him," Elizabeth gently reminded her.

"Of course, but...." Biting her lip, Georgiana lowered her voice. "I wouldn't want you to think it hopeless to win him. His heart is not promised to anyone else."

If Elizabeth had any lingering doubts about Darcy's feelings for herself they were melted away in the recollection of their quiet moments together in the library. Georgiana's words could not have been better phrased to remind her of the intimacy of his expressions.... and the pleasure in his touch. Elizabeth felt the colour rise in her cheeks and could not help stealing a glance at the man himself. He was not aware of her brief admiration of his features although his sister did not miss the significance. Elizabeth quickly brought her attention back to Georgiana. "There you are presuming to know my mind as well as your brother's. Do not be alarmed. I am not offended. I am flattered by your consideration for my feelings but are you sure your brother would look as kindly upon your encouragement of me?"

"But I thought...." Georgiana's words trailed off as her eyes flitted back and forth between Elizabeth and her brother. "I'm sorry, I just assumed that Fitzwilliam's feelings were known to you. The way he looked at you while you were conversing earlier I was sure he had.... I mean, I've never seen him so openly interested in a lady so I knew he must be very much affected."

Elizabeth didn't know how to reply to this candid observation. Georgiana couldn't have been more right if she had stood beside them in the library an hour earlier. Although Elizabeth had questioned Darcy's words and motivation at the time, she had since come to the conclusion that all he had said was not meant to deceive her. On the contrary, she believed in his honesty and her own heart was deeply touched by the strength of his feelings. There was something about the man that defied explanation. How he could be so tight-lipped one minute and warmly speaking of love the next was as intriguing as it was baffling and Elizabeth found her own response to his tender words willfully contradicting her previously held beliefs about his character. Strangely, this did not trouble her at all. She was more than happy to cast aside the prejudiced opinions nurtured in her breast since the Assembly and embrace the far more pleasant feelings invoked by the declarations of a man such as Mr. Darcy. This change of heart did not, however, permit Elizabeth to freely indulge in revealing her vulnerability to Miss Darcy. There was more to consider than irresistible attraction. Only fools pursued a blind course such as that.

Elizabeth's silence was so prolonged that Georgiana reconsidered her words. Perhaps she had spoken out of turn? It was time to bring her brother back into the conversation. "Fitzwilliam?" He turned to face her, a faint apprehension detectable to both ladies. "I am sorry that my behaviour displeased you. I truly did not mean for it to happen."

Darcy nodded, relieved and grateful for Elizabeth's intervention. "This has been a trying day for you, Georgiana. I realise that our aunt has subjected you to demands that have left you feeling quite distressed. They have surely tried my patience! I hope you understand exactly why I reprimanded you. You were behaving in an unbelievably rude manner."

Georgiana's chin raised imperceptibly. Elizabeth recognised the sign of defiance but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. What a varied mix of emotions was this girl! Darcy certainly had his hands full but Elizabeth was sure he was perfectly capable of managing his sister without the dubious assistance of their aunt. The formidable Lady Catherine would strike terror into even the most rebellious of young ladies. Well, perhaps not Elizabeth Bennet. That young woman was beginning to mentally prepare herself for the resistance she suspected would arise from that quarter should Darcy decide to make his feelings public. It may not even come to that if Georgiana's perception of his attachment was indicative of how easily it may be detected. The shrewd old bat may see it for herself.

"I believe that my own sister deserves some of the blame for that," Elizabeth politely offered. "She is hardly well behaved at the best of times. It is a shame that Miss Darcy did not join us right away but it cannot be helped now." She leaned closer to Darcy to add in a quieter voice, "Please tell me to mind my own business if you think I am being impertinent but I believe your sister is truly repentant for her transgression. It is a very trying age, believe me."

"If I thought you impertinent, Miss Bennet, I would never put an end to it." A gleam twinkled in his eye although his expression remained serious. "A lively mind is quite attractive." Before she could reply Darcy shifted his gaze to Georgiana and brought her into their discussion. "My sister is as fond of lively discussions as much as you appear to be, Miss Bennet. Unfortunately I seem to be a trifle intimidating to her and this inhibits her performance. Perhaps you might have better success?"

A smile lit up Georgiana's face. "I would very much enjoy the opportunity for discussions with you, Miss Bennet. Fitzwilliam is correct. I find his talents in debate far surpass my own but he also has such a broader range of interesting topics from which he can choose and I cannot match." The shy expression returned. "Will you return to visit with me while I remain at Netherfield? I truly would like to get to know you better."

"I would be honoured to further our acquaintance," Elizabeth sincerely replied. She also reflected that her own sister was likely to be an oft invited guest and it would be necessary for her to accompany Jane on these excursions. Everything appeared to be falling into place quite tidily. "You are more than welcome at Longbourn, as well. Are you fond of walking? There are many paths hereabouts that I would be happy to show you. I always enjoy a good walk and the fresh air stimulates the mind. Many a good discussion may be had on the paths around Meryton."

Georgiana looked to her brother for confirmation before replying. He nodded quickly in affirmation of the scheme. "It is settled, then. We shall be inseparable companions wherever we appear."

Darcy's sense of satisfaction was not to be outdone. He was already planning for that first appearance and would be quite pleased to simply follow behind the ladies, listening to their discussions in contented silence. "Is that your way of asking my permission to stay?"

A smile as mischievous as his own thoughts appeared on Georgiana's face. "I thought it suited your intentions, dear brother. If I would be in the way, though....." She giggled as his face slowly changed colour and quietly whispered, "Well, it suits my own purposes to help you along, Fitzwilliam. I'd never get a sister, otherwise."

Elizabeth wisely kept her own counsel.

Part 9

Posted on Wednesday, 7 May 2003, at 11:17 a.m.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam quite happily trailed along just behind Miss Bingley through the hallways of Netherfield. Every step which brought him closer to the ballroom put him that much more distant from his aunt, a state not to be undervalued. The urgency of his current mission remained although the edge was somewhat dulled. Nevertheless, his mind was sufficiently occupied that Miss Bingley grabbing his arm and pulling him through a doorway to their left was a shock, to say the least. He stared at her in bewilderment.

"Is this the way to the ballroom?"

She did not answer but merely glanced at him while continuing to lead him down this new corridor. "Of course not," she finally said, her voice breathy from either the exertion of the pace or from excitement.

"But we should be looking for Georgiana," Fitzwilliam weakly protested, slowing his own pace and resisting her pull just a little.

Miss Bingley looked back at him. "Georgiana is in no danger. Trust me. I met her on my way out of the ballroom. She was looking for her brother and I informed her of where to find him."

"You are certain she intended to join him?"

Miss Bingley fixed him with a puzzled gaze. "Is there some reason you would expect otherwise?"

"Er... no. I just need to be sure since my aunt expects me to locate her." What he could not admit aloud was how much more grief to which he would be subject should Georgiana not be safely under Darcy's wing once Darcy discovered that Wickham was once again underfoot.

"Colonel, there is something I must ask you." Miss Bingley's tone was earnestly sincere. Fitzwilliam's eyebrows rose in query; he could form no words. "What prompted your return? Surely you must have been halfway to London before you turned back."

"London," he repeatedly mindlessly before giving himself a mental shake. "No, not quite. I realised that our progress was too slow in the dark and it would be best to attempt it in daylight, instead."

"I see," she said, obviously not seeing at all. Her eyes were focussed entirely upon his. "A wise decision."

"Not really. Darcy won't be pleased with the delay but some things are more important than Darcy's convenience." The Colonel drew a breath and studied the line of the curls in Miss Bingley's hair. "That exquisite colour for instance."

The lady self consciously raised a hand to touch her hair, ensuring that the mass was securely in place. "I beg your pardon, sir? I do not understand your remark. What has this to do with your change of plans?"

"I....um..." The Colonel paused. He didn't know the answer to that question, either. Or rather, he did know but he thought he wasn't quite prepared to voice it yet. He wondered if a man was ever prepared speak of his feelings aloud. Miss Bingley was looking at him, patiently waiting for him to continue. Fitzwilliam felt the pressure to say what needed to be said; to tell her the truth. And why shouldn't he? After all, he'd thought of little else, almost nothing else, since making her acquaintance that evening. "Miss Bingley?"

"No, you are not."

He gave a start. "I beg your pardon?"

With a slight frown and a sigh she said, "I am Miss Bingley."

"Yes, I know that." A frown was forming on the Colonel's brow as well. "What am I not?"

"I beg your pardon?" She took a step away from him.

"You said I am not. What did you mean?"

"You," she said slowly, enunciating each syllable, "said that you were me. I said that you are not."

He shook his head, frowning more deeply. "I said what?" Fitzwilliam did not want to believe that Miss Bingley may be a bit ..... deranged. The fact remained, however, that she was still unmarried and nearing the age where her shelf life on the marriage market would come to an end. That thought did little to comfort him, either.

"Do you deny saying it?" Miss Bingley wondered if Darcy's cousin was entirely normal. That would be such a shame for he seemed to be quite a nice gentleman when she'd met him in the halls earlier that evening.

"Of course I deny it. Why would I claim to be you?" He spread his arms out to emphasise his next point. "Does this look like a ball gown?" The unfortunate side effect of his words was that his own attention was drawn to admiring Miss Bingley's ball gown and with it, her figure.

A side effect of his gesture was that the lady was able to better admire his figure in his uniform. "Hardly," she managed to say without sighing. "Although I will admit that you look rather fetching in it." She tittered.

A foolish grin spread across his face. "And you are very handsome, if I may say so." Fitzwilliam attempted to curtsey but ended up with his boot heel caught on the tails of his coat. As he tried to straighten his leg, the coattail was pulled downward and his shoulders pulled back so that he lost his balance and tumbled unceremoniously onto his posterior region.

"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, one hand straying to her mouth to cover her laughter. It would be most unladylike to derive amusement from the undignified predicament of her guest. Fortunately, not only was the Colonel not offended but he was also laughing, having a potent sense of humour of his own. "You are not hurt, are you?" An odd question considering the mirth he was expressing.

"Only my pride, dear Miss Bingley," Fitzwilliam replied, getting to his feet and brushing imaginary dust from his clothes. "What sort of fool have I appeared to you? Surely you must think me completely inept."

"Not completely, no," she quietly said between stifled giggles.

"Oh, now I am mortified! You do think me inept!" Raising a hand to his brow in a melodramatic gesture, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "How can I face another day after such humiliating exposure?"

"Oh, shut up and kiss me"

Fitzwilliam froze and his eyes opened wide. "I beg your pardon?"

"I believe you heard me." Miss Bingley's hand trembled with the shock of her own recklessness.

The Colonel had always been taught to never argue with a lady. This situation put him in something of a dilemma, however. She evidently wanted him to kiss her. He was in no doubt of his own willingness to do just that. However, what if she changed her mind? What if, at the most crucial second, she decided that a kiss was not desirable but it was too late to stop his lips from meeting hers? There was a very real risk here that Fitzwilliam was loath to take. There was too much to lose!

Miss Bingley was watching the gentleman as he stood motionless for several seconds. Was he going to kiss her? Why did he not do something? Was she that repulsive? She had never thought of herself as unattractive but a niggling doubt was now making itself known. There had not been a man whose opinion she had valued, apart from Darcy, until this evening. How strange that this Colonel, this cousin of her brother's friend, should inspire such thoughts and feelings in her where none had previously existed. These sensations were quite strong, too; stronger than anything she could recall experiencing. Whatever had prompted her to demand, yes demand, a kiss from a man whose acquaintance was fleeting at best was a mystery. Yet, despite the fact that she should feel ashamed by the expression of her bold words, Caroline Bingley was neither ashamed nor repentant. She was, however, growing impatient with his continued silence. Just as her patience neared its limit his lips moved.

"Yes, I heard you." He took a step closer. "There are but the two of us here."

She nodded, more puzzled by his remark than intending to imply agreement to anything unspoken. "Of course. Did you think I would speak thus with an audience?"

"My apologies. I meant that should you wish to retract your words, I would not resent you for it. There are no witnesses here besides ourselves. Your honour is safe with me."

His eyes expressed the sincerity she longed to see. Miss Bingley moved closer to him. "Nothing could make me retract my words." Her voice was breathy in a way that was foreign to her ears. The effect on the Colonel was immediate. He closed the distance between them, cupping her chin in one hand and lowering his face towards hers.

No interruption is ever pleasant and at this precise instant it was even less welcome. The intimacy of the moment was shattered by the sound of heavy breathing and a rush of cold air; the window behind Colonel Fitzwilliam had obviously, and noisily, opened. The drapery billowed outward, slapping him smartly on the ankles with the weighted hem and what was evidently the form of a determined man was wildly batting at the length of material in an attempt to escape its confines. It was fortunate that imprisonment in the folds allowed the necessary moments for Miss Bingley to regain her deportment, tidying her hair and smoothing her skirt. The Colonel interposed himself between the lady and their unknown assailant. It was certain that no reputable guest would gain entry to the house through a closed and covered window! Alas, he had not worn his sabre, leaving it with his man and the carriage. This was no deterrent to his willingness to protect Miss Bingley, however. Fitzwilliam drew himself up straight and tall, thrust out his chin and waited.

"Who is it?" Caroline whispered over his shoulder.

"We are about to find out," he replied, also in a whisper, extending an arm to grasp the curtain firmly and fling it to one side. The wide eyed figure this action revealed was no more nor less surprised than the couple now staring at him. The Colonel, accustomed to taking control of the unexpected, cleared his throat and spoke in an authoritative voice. "Explain yourself."

"Sir," croaked the startled man as he snapped to attention.

Fitzwilliam slowly paced a circle around him, regarding him warily. "I left you with explicit orders not to leave that room. Is this the way you were trained to obey your superiors?" This angle of interrogation had been unanticipated, judging from the lack of response it garnered. "Lieutenant?" he said very slowly and evenly, fixing the junior officer with a steady gaze. Wickham's eyes darted from the Colonel to Miss Bingley and back again. He was apparently reluctant to speak in front of the lady. Fitzwilliam's curiosity was piqued as well as his devilish streak. He placed himself directly in front of Wickham, impeding his view of Miss Bingley.

"The room became occupied by another, sir," the lieutenant stiffly replied.

"Occupied by another?" The Colonel's brow furrowed. "How exactly did this present a problem?"

"Water closets are not very.... er... commodious, sir." Wickham was looking decidedly uncomfortable discussing this.

Fitzwilliam grinned inwardly. He'd had no idea that he'd shoved the other man into such a room. What exquisite punishment! "Yes, yes of course. Why did you not lock the door? That would have kept others out. You are a soldier, man! You are trained to think on your feet."

Unwilling to admit to a lapse on his part, nor to having had his ear to the door to hear what was going on outside of it, Wickham attempted to change the direction of the Colonel's thoughts. "Lighting in these rooms leaves something to be desired, as well. Too bright in some respects and too dark in others."

Curiosity got the better of Fitzwilliam. "What do you mean?"

"It was dark enough that my uniform was mistaken for servant's livery." Distaste crept into his voice.

"And too bright for....?" Miss Bingley could keep silent no longer.

Wickham merely looked at her in silence for a moment. He then turned back to the Colonel and said in a less controlled voice, "I could take no more of it when she said to me 'it would be nice if you fanned me, please. It would feel very good on my back'. Do with me what you will but I cannot go back to that room."

Both Fitzwilliam and Miss Bingley were hard pressed to control their amusement at the image this conjured. The gentleman managed to maintain a dignified demeanour, however, as he assured Wickham that he would not require a return to that particular room. "As long as you stay put this time, behave yourself and don't go climbing in and out of windows, I see no reason why you may not remain here instead." He looked to their hostess for confirmation who nodded in agreement. "Very well, then. Here you will stay until you are sent for by either myself, Miss Bingley or Darcy. Is that clear, Lieutenant?"

Reverting to the formality of their military positions gave Wickham no choice but to comply. Not that he wished to hazard another meeting with the imposing Lady Catherine. He'd seen enough of her to last a lifetime. "Perfectly clear, sir," he responded with enthusiasm.

Satisfied, the Colonel offered his arm to Miss Bingley and together they left the room. Once outside the closed door, however, the lady turned to him with a look of chagrin. "My absence from the Ball will soon be noted."

A soft, warm smile curved Fitzwilliam's lips. "I think we could spare another few minutes before the troops are sent to find you. Now, where were we before being so rudely interrupted?"

"I believe your honour was being put to the test." Caroline's voice was almost a whisper. "Sir," she added while her heart began to beat more rapidly.

"Ah, yes." There was no more time for words as he brought his lips to hers and sealed their fates.

Part Ten

Posted on Friday, 6 June 2003, at 9:48 p.m.

If one were to count the number of Meryton residents who held Longbourn's mistress in high regard for her intellectual prowess it was likely to be a futile effort. Granted, there would be one or two, perhaps more, with less sense to recommend them and they were the few who nodded their agreement with each rapidly changing opinion of Mrs. Bennet.

Such it was that evening of the Netherfield Ball as the mother of five eligible daughters beheld the pleasant Mr. Bingley, attractive in more ways than one, pay special attentions to her eldest daughter. This was hardly unexpected. Close observation of the gentleman and his interactions with Miss Bennet implied no conclusion other than matrimony. Surely it was obvious to everyone! Still, a few jealous matrons held out hope of the young man's interest being a passing fancy, one which would benefit their own daughters and much more deservedly.

The evening was not devoid of surprises, however. Mrs. Bennet soon came to realise that another of her daughters had attracted an impressively eligible young man. There could be no mistaking the look in his eyes as he gazed longingly upon Elizabeth, no matter the physical distance separating them. She had seen that look in more than one man's eye in her own younger days. Mrs. Bennet was not so foolish as to think the daughter known for her stubbornness would be immoveable on the issue of Mr. Darcy. Even Elizabeth could not be so senseless as to refuse an offer from a man with so much to recommend him despite her professed dislike of him. Her mother was sure that all dislike would vanish once Lizzy realised the power she held.

Yes, two daughters well married before the year was out would be quite a coup. Mrs. Bennet was not about to let such an opportunity slip away. Her first task would be to redirect Mr. Collins' attentions. Of course, the original dilemma still remained. Despite Jane and Elizabeth's promising futures there was no reason to throw away a perfectly eligible young man, particularly when he was the heir to Longbourn.

Putting her mind to this task Mrs. Bennet observed her three youngest daughters. After considering each one she concluded that it was fortunate that Mary was next in line after Lizzy for neither Kitty nor Lydia would suit Mr. Collins. Mary seemed ideal material for a clergyman's wife. This matter was of sufficient significance to consult Mr. Bennet. At any other time, a week earlier, an hour earlier, she would have never considered seeking her husband's counsel where their daughters' marriages were concerned. At this moment, however, there was nothing more pressing than to have his ear. To this end Mrs. Bennet set out to find him amongst the diners, being rewarded with the sight of his person, happily situated between Sir William Lucas and Mr. Hurst. The latter appeared quite bored, eyeing his empty soup bowl while the former attempted to engage him in conversation. Mr. Bennet watched both men, interjecting a comment here and there whenever Hurst's reply failed to rise above a grunt. Sir William rarely needed any encouragement to continue any dialogue but even he was hard pressed when faced with a succession of monosyllabic responses. The spectacle was highly entertaining and well worth the effort of an occasional comment to keep it going, in Mr. Bennet's opinion. This diversion was interrupted, however, by the arrival of his wife at his elbow, breathless and excited. Not that this was unusual in itself. On the contrary, had she been calm and composed her husband might well have become alarmed.

"Mr. Bennet!" predictably cried his wife. "I must speak with you on a matter of vital importance."

This was also unsurprising; everything was a matter of vital importance to Mrs. Bennet. Steeling himself for another round of raptures over Mr. Bingley and his obvious affection for Jane, Mr. Bennet politely turned his attention in her direction. "Yes, my dear. To what end may I serve you?"

This was clearly a subject not to be openly addressed in the presence of the other two gentlemen. Mrs. Bennet therefore graciously acknowledged them while excusing the need to remove her husband from their company. Mr. Bennet took the hint, smiling at Sir William and Mr. Hurst, both men well acquainted with the peculiarities of silly wives, and allowed his own to draw him away to a more private location. Once safe from attuned ears he again spoke. "What is troubling you, my dear? I should have thought that such a night as this would have you busy making matches for our daughters."

"It is precisely that I wish to discuss with you." Mrs. Bennet had her most serious expression upon her face. There was no melodramatic handkerchief waving which in itself was almost enough to incite alarm. "It is Mr. Collins."

"He is not one of our daughters," her husband patiently pointed out.

"Well, I know that, of course!" She clucked her tongue. "We must decide which of our daughters he is to marry, though."

"I have not the pleasure of understanding you. Why are we to decide? Is Mr. Collins unable to make up his mind?"

Mrs. Bennet frowned in the unique way that amused her husband. "You know perfectly well that these things cannot be left to chance. If it were not for that horrid entailment I would not have to worry at all about who Mr. Collins chooses to marry. He has, however, come to choose from amongst our girls and we must decide who it is he will have."

"Would it not be better if we first determine who will have him ?" Mr. Bennet could not imagine any sensible woman truly wishing to wed his cousin but upon more sober reflection he knew that Jane could be prevailed upon to accept an offer from Mr. Collins if her mother insisted. The thought of his Lizzy plagued by her mother's insistence to marry for the sake of keeping Longbourn and herself comfortable was enough to turn his stomach. He could entertain no further contemplations after that. With great reservations he enquired of his wife what she had in mind.

"You know he would choose Jane if he could. Who wouldn't since she is the most beautiful? But she's already got Mr. Bingley."

"She does?" Mr. Bennet shook his head slightly. "Oh, yes. You would then suggest Lizzy?" He was prepared to counter any argument she put forth.

"Of course not. Lizzy is spoken for as well. That leaves us with Mary, Kitty and Lydia. Now," Mrs. Bennet began to count on her fingers the attributes of the remaining daughters. Her husband, however, was fixated on this surprising bit of news about his favourite offspring.

"One moment! What is this about my Lizzy? With whom have you paired her?" He was genuinely confused. "Lizzy has no particular suitor." His eyes widened. "You cannot mean Lieutenant Wickham! The man is not worthy of her in the least!"

His wife felt the familiar annoyance with the obvious preference shown for their second daughter, the one whom she considered would be the most difficult to marry off. "Certainly not," she clucked. "He is a handsome young man to be sure but has not even prospects enough to compete with Mr. Collins. No, although Mr. Wickham is by far a much more pleasant man it is Mr. Darcy who wants to marry her."

"How is it that you know his intentions?" This information did not sit well with Mr. Bennet. It was not the identity of the man in question that caused him distress, although Darcy's dour disposition did not recommend him. No, it was the thought of losing his favourite daughter so suddenly that gave Mr. Bennet a start. This was not expected and he disliked such ideas being sprung upon him. "I'm sure you are mistaken. Besides, Lizzy has no interest in him."

"That is where you are wrong," his wife assured him. "One look at the two of them at table together would show you that Mr. Darcy is completely ensnared and that Lizzy welcomes his attentions quite happily. I observed them myself, very closely. There is no doubt about it. We shall see Jane and Mr. Bingley wed before the year is out and Lizzy and Mr. Darcy soon afterward."

"It cannot be true." Mr. Bennet was beginning to feel faint. He reached for a nearby chair and sat down heavily. "It is all too sudden. There must be some mistake. My Lizzy could not find such a disagreeable man acceptable and I will not believe her capable of succumbing on a mercenary level."

"Would you rather she marry Mr. Collins?"

"Heaven forbid!" cried her husband, experiencing the strangest desire to fan himself. "The thought alone is torture!" His eyes sought his daughter's face amongst the diners still seated. "Where did you see her?"

His wife was pleased to point out the location of Elizabeth and Darcy. "As you can see, the gentleman is overflowing with admiration. Lizzy is a trifle coquettish with her lowered eyelids and fluttering lashes but I don't believe she is entirely aware of what she's doing. The effect on Mr. Darcy does her no harm, though."

Mr. Bennet was even more disturbed by the sight of Elizabeth openly flirting with a man of Darcy's status. His heart performed some odd palpitations. "This is all quite vexing." The words caught him by surprise as much as they did Mrs. Bennet. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Slightly abashed, her husband tried again. "It is disconcerting to have two daughters so quickly accounted for yet having to rely on a third to marry Mr. Collins to keep Longbourn." He hoped that sounded like a reasonable explanation.

"I understand completely." She patted Mr. Bennet's hand comfortingly. "Shall I get something to help calm you?"

"Thank you, yes," he gratefully replied. "I could use some tea to settle my nerves." He shook his head, certain that what he was hearing was not his own voice but a bad dream. "I don't know what has come over me."

"Do not fret, my dear," Mrs. Bennet soothed. "I'll find you a nice cup of hot tea and then we can discuss Mary and Mr. Collins."

Mr. Bennet watched her bustle away, unable to think of a reply. Mary? Why Mary? Why should any of them become Mrs. Collins? There must be some other solution. His gaze travelled again to where Elizabeth sat with Darcy. He had to admit that the two seemed happy in each other's company. When did this begin? What sort of man is he, really? Is he worthy of my Lizzy? What little he knew of Darcy did not inspire confidence in the match.

It was time to find out the truth.

The walk across the room was short. Mr. Bennet's determined strides brought him to stand beside his daughter so quickly that his appearance startled the preoccupied pair. Darcy looked up, further surprised by the grim expression on the older man's face. Despite a sudden sense of foreboding, Darcy stood with dignity, greeting Elizabeth's father politely.

"May I also introduce my sister to you, sir," he added, directing Mr. Bennet's gaze toward Georgiana. "Georgiana, this gentleman is Miss Bennet's father." He was pleased to see his young sister's acknowledgement was impeccable.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Darcy." Mr. Bennet turned his attention back to her brother. "Mr. Darcy, may I have a word with you please?"

"Papa...." Elizabeth's voice faded away under her father's unusually stern look. It did not intimidate her, however. She merely needed to gather her thoughts together in order to address him. "Has something happened? What is it? Is there something I may do to help?" Her words had the effect she sought.

"Do not be alarmed, Lizzy. It is simply some imaginings of your mother."

This was what she had feared. Distracted in the delight of her time with Darcy, Elizabeth had neglected to remember that her mother would be watching with sharp eyes and a lively talent for speculation. She must have informed her husband for why else would Mr. Bennet be standing there now, asking for an audience with Darcy? "Mama's imagination can be quite wild at times. I beg you would not put too much faith in her suggestions."

"Would you not?" Mr. Bennet pursed his lips. He could have sworn that his daughter truly welcomed this young man's attentions. Was there more to this than met the eye? "Despite some of her more fanciful notions there is more often than not a base of truth."

Elizabeth sharply drew in her breath. "I would not wish to excite Mama precipitately," she quietly said, leaning toward her father with a covert glance at Darcy. "However, something important did happen this evening and will please her immensely." She sat back in her chair again, smiling smugly until she realised the ambiguity of her statement. "Oh!" she cried, eyes widening in alarm.

"Indeed." Mr. Bennet's eyebrows furrowed. "There is a tradition of requesting consent before one makes further plans. That is, unless one is predisposed to forego the formalities."

Darcy was a little confused by their wordplay. There was one thing of which he was certain, though; Elizabeth would not be made to stand up to her father alone. "Excuse me, sir," he interrupted. Mr. Bennet turned a patient eye on him. "I do not believe Miss Bennet was implying anything other than our mutual regard for the happiness of her sister and my friend. As impulsive as Bingley may be there is no reason to be concerned about him not adhering to tradition in such a situation." Darcy hoped the matter would be put to rest with his reassurance.

"Bingley, is it?" Elizabeth's father subjected Darcy to further scrutiny. An attractive young man, there was no doubt, but the air of superiority which clung to him like a second skin was something he was sure his daughter would not appreciate. There was some feeling of gratitude for the attempt to deflect his disapproval from Elizabeth. How could he not feel something akin to warmth for a man who would step in under these circumstances, knowing so little about the relationship between father and daughter? "Then it is Jane who is to be receiving congratulations soon? I must say that I am surprised that both of you are putting stock in your mother's fancies, Lizzy. And Mr. Darcy, you appeared to me to have more sense than to assign credit to the imaginings of a silly woman."

"Papa!" whispered Elizabeth, aghast.

"Lizzy, there is no use in denying it," her father stated, shaking his head. He crooked a finger at Darcy. "Come with me, young man. I will enlighten you as to exactly what your friend may expect upon marrying my daughter."

Darcy was thoroughly amused though he knew not why. This sort of behaviour more often disturbed him than entertained. There was something about Mr. Bennet, however.. or perhaps it was really himself? Then again, that delicate pout on the lips of Elizabeth indicated, he hoped, her disappointment in their separation, however brief it may turn out to be. Darcy dutifully followed her father away from the table.

"What was all that about?" exclaimed Georgiana when the gentlemen were out of earshot.

Elizabeth was discomfited. "It was very unlike my father. I know not what has come over him."

"Well, I must say that my brother isn't behaving as his normal self, either." A sly smile appeared on Georgiana's face. "Of course, I attributed that to your presence."

"Miss Darcy!" Red swept up into Elizabeth's cheeks. "You must stop putting thoughts like that into my head."

"Why?"

"It's ... well... I...." She surrendered all pretense of objection. "I could be very disappointed if you are mistaken. I seem to have developed a fondness for him that would be grieved if it were not returned."

The words brought satisfaction to both young women in equal degrees. Elizabeth had undergone a dramatic change in opinion in a few short hours. Voicing her newly discovered feelings for Mr. Darcy to his sister had required a forwardness which surpassed even her usual tendency to impertinence. Miss Darcy, wary for her brother's sake, was thrilled to find Miss Bennet appreciative of Darcy's seldom exposed tender emotions.

"My brother is the best of men," she quietly confided. "His admiration of you is the highest recommendation of your superiority to any other woman of our acquaintance. I trust his judgement. He has never failed me."

"You honour me with high praise."

"If you are to be my sister then you must be worthy of it." Georgiana's smile was warm.

Elizabeth marvelled at how quickly she had gone from believing Darcy unworthy of her company in the dance to wondering if she was worthy of him.

Part Eleven

Posted on Saturday, 21 June 2003, at 10:39 p.m.

The room felt confining. It was spacious, of course. No doubt about that. Just the idea that it was a prison was making Wickham squirm. He began to investigate his surroundings. The window through which he had entered he closed but did not lock, just in case he had need to use it once more. The curtain was drawn shut to forestall any betrayal of his presence should someone be looking in the direction of the window.

The room was sparsely furnished; two chairs, a side table littered with books, a tea cart bare of china and a modest chimneypiece under which a small fire burned. The room was not cold but it could not be called warm. To the left of the window was a large desk. The surface was clear but for a single book which lay open as if someone had been interrupted while reading. Wickham was bored enough that it fired his curiosity and he walked around the desk to peer at the page, smiling when he read the words.

They made what haste they could into the Tuilleries; and D'elmont having plac'd her on one of the most pleasant Seats, was resolv'd to lose no time; and having given her some Reasons for his not addressing to her Father, which, tho' weak in themselves, were easily believ'd by a Heart so willing to be deceiv'd as her's, he began to press for a greater Confirmation of her Affection than Words; and 'twas now this inconsiderate Lady found herself in the greatest Strait she had ever yet been in; all Nature seem'd to favour his Design, the Pleasantness of the Place, the Silence of the Night, the Sweetness of the Air, perfum'd with a thousand various Odours, wasted by gentle Breezes from adjacent Gardens, compleated the most delightful Scene that ever was, to offer up a Sacrifice to Love; not a Breath but flew wing'd with Desire, and sent soft thrilling Wishes to the Soul;

Wickham inspected the introductory pages; Eliza Haywood. Love in Excess. Chuckling to himself, he left the book as he'd found it, imagining that the Colonel and Miss Bingley had been reading it together. There was nothing but books to entertain him while waiting for Fitzwilliam's return. Reading had never been one of Wickham's preferred activities. He considered stoking the fire and reached for the poker when a sound from the hallway stopped him. The door suddenly moved as someone opened it very slowly from the other side. Wickham quietly darted behind the curtain, pulling it closed behind him and holding his breath that whomever was about to enter the room would not see the folds gently waving. There was a tiny sliver of light peeking through where the two curtains met with just enough room for Wickham to put one eye to the gap and witness the entrance of Miss Bennet. She slipped into the room and gently closed the door behind her. After a moment during which she appeared to be listening for signs of being followed, the young lady walked across the room to finger the small selection of books on the side table. Apparently nothing struck her interest for her head rose, a frown formed on her face and her eyes began to take in the rest of her surroundings.

Wickham shrank back from the curtain. The determined gaze of this young lady unnerved him. He felt as if she could see right through the heavy cloth to where he was hidden. He continued to watch through the tiny opening, however, observing her slim form slowly navigate the room until stopping at the desk with its open volume resting upon the surface. This certainly captivated her interest since she settled into the chair and began a serious study of the page before her. From their respective positions Wickham was able to perform a study of his own. While Miss Bennet was occupied with reading he appraised her. Surprisingly, there was little to criticise. This was not a reflection upon her attributes so much as wonder at his own reluctance to find fault. There was always something that could assist in keeping his distance. This in itself Wickham found worrying. He was unused to considering a woman as perfect.

Perfect!

That was frightening indeed! Just the thought that she might be perfect may lead to..... matrimony; and matrimony was something that must be avoided at all costs. Ladies without fortune were not for marrying no matter how beautiful the face or melodious the voice.

Pages rustled as they turned, drawing Wickham's attention to the stray curls that fell across her brow. A tiny bead of perspiration appeared which she quickly wiped away with a lacy handkerchief. The man behind the curtain was grateful for his lost opportunity to increase the heat in the room; it was getting warmer by the minute. He saw her lips move, heard her voice. Soft but clear, it reached him.

"What now could poor Amena do, surrounded with so many Powers, attack'd by such a charming Force without, betray'd by Tenderness within: Virtue and Pride, the Guardians of her Honour, fled from her Breast, and left her to her Foe, only a modest Bashfulness remain'd, which for a time made some Defence, but with such Weakness, as a Lover, less impatient than D'elmont, would have little regarded. The Heat of the Weather, and her Confinement having hindered her from dressing that Day, she had only a thin Silk Night-Gown on, which flying open as he caught her in his Arms, he found her panting Heart beat Measures of Consent, her heaving Breast swell to be press'd by his, and every Pulse confess a Wish to yield; her Spirits all dissolv'd, sunk in a Lethargy of Love; her snowy Arms, unknowing, grasp'd his Neck, her Lips met his half way, and trembled at the Touch;"

Rising suddenly from the chair, Miss Bennet turned and pulled aside the curtain, her purpose to open the window and enjoy the cool night air upon her face. In shock stood Wickham, mouth agape to be discovered. His feelings were nothing to hers; mortification in knowing she had been overheard, her indiscretion realized and by a man, no less!

"Sir!" she managed to utter, the only word able to make it beyond her treasonous lips.

Wickham recovered himself more quickly, having had practice in this sort of escape. "Miss Bennet," he said with a slight bow of his head. "Are you quite alright? You look a bit flushed. May I get you something?"

"Certainly not!" She backed away quickly.

"Please," he smoothly countered, extending a hand. "Do not be alarmed. I shall not harm you."

"It is not my physical safety which concerns me. I am sure that Mr. Bingley would not invite guests of a questionable nature."

Wickham nodded, comprehending her meaning. "A lady should always take care in choosing the company she keeps."

Her gaze did not waver as her chin came up. "A gentleman should be equally concerned if he values his own reputation."

A smile turned up one corner of his mouth. "Am I in some danger?"

Her eyebrows rose disdainfully. "Do you not know?"

Wickham knew only too well. He was in grave danger the longer he stayed in her presence. There was no choice for him, however. He had been forbidden from leaving this room and as long as Miss Bennet stayed the risk grew ever greater. "A lady's reputation is far more fragile, however. I would not wish to be the author of your ruin." He stepped out of the window's alcove and glanced ruefully at the barren teacart. "Unfortunately there appears to be no source of refreshment to fortify your nerves."

"I do not imbibe." Her statement was succinct; her chin rose even higher.

"I meant tea."

"Oh." The single syllable signalled the deflation of her courage. There was some period of silence while both contemplated what to say next. Finally she spoke. "I did not see you in the Ballroom earlier. Did you arrive late?"

"You noticed my absence? I am flattered." Intrigued by her short sentences and steady gaze, Wickham could not look away.

"Who would not note the absence of a young and handsome officer?"

"You think me handsome!"

Miss Bennet's lips parted in an impatient sigh. "I have seen that many of the young officers are handsome. I am not blind."

"Do you prefer handsome men to reading, then?" Wickham cringed inwardly. What had possessed him to make reference to that?

She blanched. "Reading?" Her eyes betrayed her this time, darting to the open book on the desk. Regaining her courage, she faced him with as composed an air as possible. "Handsomeness and an informed mind do not necessarily go hand in hand. I prefer the informed mind."

"Books provide a fountain of information to which we may otherwise never be exposed." I did not just imply that she would be an old maid, did I? He watched her carefully for any sign that he'd offended her sensibilities.

She was not affronted, however. Eagerly, she replied, "That is precisely what I tell my sisters! How refreshing to find another with the same love for learning. Have you any favourite authors or subjects?"

Wickham's mind drew a blank. He had spent so little time cultivating any interest in authors and the only subjects he'd studied were hardly suitable to discuss with a lady, especially this lady. "I would much rather hear of your preferences. Are you a lady who likes to read historical chronicles or do you favour the lighter fare, as many ladies often do?"

Her cheeks flushed a deeper red. "I did derive great satisfaction in studying the works of Fordyce in the last year. Lately I have discovered a great interest in reading a variety of authors that are not to be found in my father's library."

One eyebrow rose on Wickham's forehead. "Is that so? Where, pray tell, do you find these books then?"

Mary leaned forward and spoke in a heightened whisper. "I believe that Denny has been passing them along to my younger sisters who, of course, cannot comprehend them in the least." She giggled. "I found one quite by accident when it was left on a table in the drawing room. Thank goodness Mama didn't see it first!"

Wickham frowned. "Am I to believe that my friend Denny is leading young ladies into temptation with writings of a dubious nature? Surely they are not authored by his own hand!"

"No, no. They are genuine books. Nothing so very dreadful but certainly not what our father and mother would approve for our consumption."

"Is that so?" His eyes twinkled. "Why is a nice young lady, fond of Fordyce, reading such disreputable writings?"

Defensively, she took a step backward and her chin rose. "You would label them disreputable without having seen them. What does that mean for your opinion of my character?"

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet." Wickham performed a penitent bow. "My choice was a harsh one. Please be assured that your character is safe with me."

"Safe? What an interesting choice of words again, Mr. Wickham. Here we stand, alone in a quiet room while a large crowd is gathered just down the corridor. Yet if discovered together my character would be anything but safe with you." The serious nature of her remark made it sound like a rebuke, Mary realised. She was not adept at softening her style of address, however.

"We must then take precautions not to be discovered, hadn't we?"

"I have no reason to disguise my presence. It was you who was hiding behind the draperies when I entered the room. What exactly is your purpose here?"

There was that look again; the one that went straight through him. Wickham felt exposed. "I was waiting for.... someone." He grimaced at how feeble that sounded.

"Are you attempting to alarm me?" At his puzzled expression she continued. "Am I to believe that this someone may walk in on us at any moment, to the detriment of my character?"

"No. Oh, no. That was not what I intended." The young officer began shaking his head in a combination of amusement and frustration. "Although it is true that I am waiting for someone to return, I have no idea when he will."

"Ah, so it's a man."

"Yes." He met her gaze squarely, despite his misgivings. It was a mistake.

"Yes. Not a woman. I would have thought you were meeting a woman. Is that not what handsome young officers do?" Mary refused to release him from her scrutiny.

"Yes. I mean no!" Taking a deep breath, Wickham tried again. "I did not plan to meet a woman but I have nonetheless. Does it not disturb you to be here alone with me? You seem to be under the impression that I am less than honourable."

"I am sure that you are. However, it will do me no good to worry about what I cannot change and since only we two are aware of the situation there would be no merit in inviting trouble."

His eyes narrowed. "I think you would like some trouble."

Mary was aghast. "That is a very rude thing to say!"

"But accurate, is it not?" For a moment, Wickham let her fret in silence. "Come now, Miss Bennet. You spend your days wrapped up in the words of James Fordyce interspersed with dedication to improving your performance on the pianoforte. What better example of a morally upstanding young woman could there be?"

"You are mocking me, sir." Mary's expression was tight lipped.

"I am not." Shaking his head, Wickham contemplated reaching for her hand but curbed his impulsiveness. "You are to be admired for your faithfulness but cannot expect saintly devotion. Not even the most steadfast can be that faithful."

Doubt was written on her face. "You would have me believe that you admire me? Do you take me for a fool?"

"Nothing could be further from my thoughts." He wondered how long he could keep his feelings to himself. They were gathering in strength with each remark she dubiously countered. "I do not think you a fool, nor am I mocking you. I have not met any woman with your diligence and purpose. There is no shame in veering from the ritual of your days."

Her eyes flitted to the book on the desk. "I didn't put the book there. I just found it."

"I know."

"You were reading it!" The tone was more surprised than accusing.

"Not I," he laughed. "Although I will admit to being as curious as yourself when I saw it laying open there."

Now she blushed a bright pink. "You heard me reading," Mary said in a faint voice.

"Yes," Wickham nodded. "A more appreciative audience you would be hard pressed to find. It is not the selection to which I refer but the orator herself." He could see that she did not believe him, an experience he had seldom encountered. What was even more frustrating was that this was the first time he was sincere in his compliments, without an ulterior motive. He was at a loss how to proceed.

Any course of action he may have chosen was taken out of his control, however, for Mary suddenly said, "Did you hear that? Someone is coming."

"We cannot be found here together," Wickham stated, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the window alcove beside him. Drawing the curtain closed again, he quieted her protests by placing a hand over her mouth. "I will not be the one to ruin your reputation. It is not my intention nor will I allow it to happen accidentally under these circumstances. Now be quiet until we know who is coming and I figure out a way to extricate you from this mess."

She nodded underneath his hand which he promptly removed, cautioning her again with one finger raised to his lips. Then they both turned their attention to the sounds from the other side of the curtain. As the door opened a voice could be heard in mid-sentence.

".... no objection from Bingley. He is most accommodating."

Wickham's eyes widened upon recognising the voice. A second man spoke in reply to the first.

"It is unlikely that we will be disturbed here, as well."

Mary's eyes widened even more. She looked at her companion, suddenly grateful for his insistence that she conceal her presence. Here was the one person she would least want to have found her in possession of a questionable work of literature and in the company of a rogue.

"Shall we get right to the heart of the matter, Mr. Darcy?" requested Mr. Bennet.

Part Twelve

Posted on Saturday, 28 June 2003, at 8:37 p.m.

Mr. Bennet had utilised the few moments during the walk to this room to compose his thoughts and settle his disturbed feelings. His wife could not have possibly managed to correctly interpret two sets of lovers. His distraction at first had been her fantastic story of Mr. Darcy being enamoured of Lizzy. However, upon confronting his favourite daughter with this tale he was surprised to hear her claim that Jane and Mr. Bingley were as good as engaged. A father prefers to learn these things in the proper form. Mr. Bingley should have come to him first. Thus it was with equal, or perhaps greater, annoyance that Mr. Bennet considered the second young man said to be interested in his second daughter. Since Mr. Darcy was not held in high esteem by many, or any, of the Meryton folk, this particular father could hardly be expected to exhibit elation with the possibility of one of his offspring becoming legally bound to him, particularly his favourite.

The room into which Darcy led him was sparsely outfitted and the fire was low in the grate. A definite chill was in the air prompting Mr. Bennet to cross to the hearth and stoke the glowing embers until a satisfying lick of flame appeared. Turning his back to the warming fire he now faced the younger man with a feeling of confidence. This Mr. Darcy would have to prove himself before Lizzy would be permitted to leave Longbourn in his company.

"Well then, young man," said Mr. Bennet in a clear voice. "Does your friend understand the situation and the expectations surrounding his actions?"

Darcy had been similarly engaged in thought as they had made their way to this private sanctuary. Although no father himself, and having had no experience in requesting permission to court a lady, he relied upon his limited practice as Georgiana's guardian to anticipate possible responses from Elizabeth's father. He was already familiar with the reaction to deceitful and underhanded methods of romancing; Wickham had acquainted him with that feeling. It was not a method he would have applied under any circumstances, anyway. Darcy abhorred disguise. For this reason he considered how to phrase his responses to Mr. Bennet's inevitable questions and knowing what he would and would not like to hear from any potential suitors of his sister was not as helpful as he'd thought. He came to the disagreeable conclusion that there was little any man could say that would give him pleasure to hear. He hoped that Elizabeth's father was not as difficult to satisfy. The only possible approach, in Darcy's view, was straightforward honesty. Unfortunately, his natural reticence to expose his deepest feelings so openly was not likely to recommend him. Feeling a bit trapped, Darcy weighed his options. If he approached the subject from a practical point of view, emphasising his good character, solid family reputation and secure income from a sizeable estate, he was sure that Mr. Bennet was sensible enough to see the benefits of his interest in Elizabeth. However, if he spoke of his inexplicable attraction, emotional confusion and undeniable desire for Elizabeth, Darcy was sure he'd look the complete fool and what father would willingly pair his daughter with a fool? He could not see himself having any respect for a man who bared his soul when asking permission to court Georgiana. There was simply no need for that sort of exhibition.

This brought him full circle to a contemplation of Bingley's position; having already made an offer and been accepted before preparing the lady's father for the inevitable. Darcy, intimately familiar with his friend's sometimes impulsive behaviour, was brought up short by Mr. Bennet's words. "To whose expectations do you refer? I assure you that Bingley would in no way encourage unrealistic expectations on the part of Miss Bennet. As for what others, outside of their moments of privacy, may think of his intentions I can say only this; my friend is motivated by his own heart and I know of no man more kind or considerate of others' feelings than Charles Bingley. He is not unaware of how the minds of other interested parties work."

Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows. "I may then trust that what you and Lizzy said in the other room is true. Am I to expect a visit soon from Mr. Bingley?"

"That would not be for me to say, sir."

"Come now, Mr. Darcy. We are not playing a game here. I am the young lady's father and as such I need to know Mr. Bingley's intentions."

Darcy frowned. It had not been his aim to speak of Bingley's plans. He was much more interested in discussing his own. "I respectfully suggest that Bingley would be better able to inform you of that. Sir," he added, softly stressing the syllable. Mr. Bennet did not appear ready to reply. "Was this the reason you wished to speak with me?" Darcy continued. "I am sorry I cannot help you any further."

The older gentleman inhaled deeply. "Well, this puts me in something of a dilemma, you see." He crossed to the fire and began stoking the flames once more, his back toward Darcy. "My cousin, Mr. Collins," Mr. Bennet turned and waved the poker in the other man's direction. "I believe you have met him. Well, as it happens," he continued, placing the poker back in its place by the hearth. "Mr. Collins has expressed an interest in marrying Lizzy and, of course, should Mr. Bingley express a similar interest in Jane then all would be well. However, if Jane is not to be married then Mr. Collins will be forced to wait until the proper protocols are met; my eldest daughter will not be upstaged by her younger one marrying first."

Darcy felt as if he'd been struck a blow across his face. Collins marrying Elizabeth? It cannot be! "I was not aware that Miss Elizabeth was to be engaged." He nearly choked on the word.

"Nothing has been formalised yet, naturally. It is merely a matter of time. Once Jane is settled there will be nothing preventing a public announcement." Mr. Bennet slyly watched the younger man to gauge his reaction to this information. He still needed to be convinced that Darcy deserved the affection of his daughter before he would consider consenting to give this man her hand.

The image of Mr. Collins rose forcefully in Darcy's mind. "Is the gentleman willing to wait indefinitely?" He was not of the opinion that the clergyman would welcome the idea.

"Indefinitely?" Mr. Bennet asked. "Is there something you have neglected to tell me? I was of the impression that Mr. Bingley was intending to make an offer for Jane, later if not sooner, but your information has left me with a feeling of ambiguity. Now this use of the word indefinitely is not encouraging at all. Mr. Bingley did not strike me as the kind of man who toys with a young woman's affections. I could, however, be mistaken."

Darcy's alarm grew. Not only were his chances for a future with Elizabeth in jeopardy but he seemed to be dashing his friend's hopes as well. "I did not intend to convey that impression, Mr. Bennet. Believe me when I say that Bingley is the kindest and most good-natured fellow it has been my privilege to call friend. My mind was occupied with one aspect of your predicament when I asked if Mr. Collins would be willing to wait for Miss Elizabeth to be his bride."

"Do you doubt his respectability to adhere to the rules of etiquette, Mr. Darcy? As a clergyman I am fairly certain he would raise no objection to the request. On the contrary, I believe he may take offense if asked to disregard propriety in such an important matter."

A chill ran down Darcy's spine, prompting him to take a turn at urging the flames in the fireplace. "It is not for me to judge the appropriateness of your daughters' suitors."

"I do not recall asking for your opinion about Mr. Collins but your questioning of his inclination to wait for Lizzy until Jane is wed certainly seemed like you were offering it." Mr. Bennet considered his fishing would be rewarded with a strike at any moment.

"That was not my intent," replied Darcy, still facing the fire. "It was, perhaps, distraction."

The other man appeared puzzled. "I am at a loss to understand you. What could be occupying your mind that could distract you from the essence of our conversation? Please do not think I am prying into what is not my business if there is a personal matter concerning you."

Darcy inhaled sharply. "Quite frankly, sir, I was shocked to learn of an understanding between your cousin and your second daughter."

"What could possibly concern you there?" Mr. Bennet took this opportunity to make himself more comfortable by settling into one of the armchairs. "Is there something about Mr. Collins, as well, that I do not know? He is, after all, in the employ of your noble aunt. If I'm not mistaken, the lady who earlier interrupted the proceedings here was none other than Lady Catherine de Bourgh, am I right?" Darcy nodded in acknowledgment. "If we are being frank with one another I would appreciate it if you would inform me of any objection your aunt may have with this match."

"I have not discussed it with her," said Darcy, finally putting the poker back in its resting place. The fire was roaring, heating the room quite efficiently. He turned to face Mr. Bennet once more. "Her opinions are irrelevant. I am curious, however, why you would think Mr. Collins a good match for Miss Elizabeth and what the lady herself has to say about it. The pairing, in my opinion, is completely unsuited."

Mr. Bennet was grateful for the chair under him as it prevented him from falling backward in amazement at this young man's arrogant presumption. That his own opinion coincided with Darcy's was of no consequence. He knew nothing of Lizzy. For him to think that he knew Lizzy's needs better than her own father smacked of great arrogance or.... "Forgive me if my ignorance is showing but what are your qualifications for drawing this conclusion? You are unmarried, yourself. Are you sure that you are an apt judge?"

"My sister, for whom I am guardian, is nearing the age when she will be attracting serious suitors. I have spent considerable time evaluating the necessary requirements for such a man taking into account her particular strengths and needs." Darcy paused to draw a breath but Mr. Bennet spoke before he could begin again.

"You do not know my Lizzy, though. What will suit your sister may not be best for my daughter."

Determined, Darcy stated, "I know what suits your daughter and that is not Mr. Collins." It will never be Mr. Collins.

"Is that so?" The lady's father was more surprised than offended. However, he managed to appear outraged. "Mr. Darcy, I am beginning to dislike what I'm hearing. Pray tell, how came you to know my Lizzy so well!"

The younger man did not seem to notice his companion's tone. "We have attended several social gatherings and I've had the pleasure of conversing with Miss Elizabeth at most of them. Her wit is sharp, her disposition lively and her mind enlightened. She would be wasted on a fool like Collins."

"Arrr hmmm," spluttered Mr. Bennet, exerting great control over his mirth. "I would remind you that this fool is my heir and will be master of Longbourn upon my death."

"The whim of an ancestor and an accident of birth does not change the fact that he is a pompous fool." Darcy began to cross the room on long strides as he spoke. "You are perfectly aware of that for you are no fool. Elizabeth did not come by her wits from her mother."

"You are a harsh taskmaster, Mr. Darcy!" The words of Mr. Bennet caused Darcy to stop in mid stride and sharply turn around.

"Harsh?" he questioned.

Rising from his chair, the older man walked over to the younger, shaking his head. "You cannot offer me compliments on my daughter and myself while in the same breath you fling an insult about my wife's intelligence."

"I meant no insult, sir. Forgive me if my choice of words offends you. I prefer honesty in all of my dealings."

"This is not a business deal, young man, or are you intending to make an offer of some sort?"

A bead of moisture trickled down the back of Darcy's neck as he met the unwavering gaze of Mr. Bennet. The room suddenly felt stifling. "Do you find it hot in here?" he mumbled, moving toward the curtains which hid the window alcove. Thrusting the fabric aside he stepped forward and pushed open the window. The cool night breeze wafted in, drying the dampness around his collar. Filling his lungs with the fresh air, Darcy turned to answer the question. "My intention was to gain your approval that I may court your daughter. If the understanding between her and Collins has already been arranged, however..." His head lowered while he sought the words to express himself. "I am an honourable man, Mr. Bennet, but this sorely tests my ability to remain so. I simply cannot remain silent in the face of such an injustice. Miss Elizabeth deserves better."

"And you believe that you are the better man for her?"

"I believe us to be ideally suited for one another," Darcy nodded.

Mr. Bennet dealt his final card. "What if she is not of the same opinion?"

This possibility had not occurred to Darcy and he stood for a moment in stunned silence. In his mind he could hear every conversation he'd had with Elizabeth, the playful tone of her voice and the witty repartee in her words. Suddenly he was assailed by doubts he'd never before experienced. What if I have misunderstood her intent? It cannot be possible that she has no interest in me as a potential husband, can it? He replayed her words but could find no indication of anything but polite and ladylike behaviour. At once scornful of himself for letting his imagination lead him to conclusions that he desired to see, Darcy faced the very real prospect that he had allowed irrational emotion to cloud his judgement. Still, the question was before him; what would he do if Elizabeth did not share his opinion of their suitability and preferred that he bestow no attentions upon her? The answer was not simple but the choice was clear. "I would respect her decision, of course." Darcy quickly continued to make his point. "Whatever her opinion of me does not alter the situation as it stands. Collins is not a good match for her and I cannot believe that she would consent to such a marriage. I would be honoured and pleased beyond comprehension for Miss Elizabeth to accept me but if it is not her wish... I ..."

Mr. Bennet interrupted to spare the man what pain he could. "I do not honestly know her opinion, Mr. Darcy. The question has never come up. I was under the impression that you were not one of her favourite people but these things may change. Who really understands a woman's mind?"

Darcy thought of his sister and could only agree. The two men stood in silence for some minutes, looking out at the night sky and enjoying the cool breeze. At length they could hear the musicians warming up in the distant ballroom and knew it was time to return. Darcy was hesitant. What he had learned in this room held more influence over his next actions than he wished to consider. Mr. Bennet was mildly disconcerted with the result of his jest, not having believed Darcy capable of true affection for Lizzy. The young man was visibly affected by the idea that Mr. Collins would be welcomed into the Bennet household as Lizzy's husband. The sad fact was that Mr. Bennet was not only in complete agreement with Darcy's assessment of his cousin but that he had gained an excellent understanding, and liking, for this gentleman from Derbyshire.

"There is no understanding between them."

"I beg your pardon?" Darcy gaped.

"Mr. Collins has expressed interest in marrying Lizzy. That is all. He approached me first," Mr. Bennet explained, "as befits the proper conventions. I am reasonably certain that he has not asked Lizzy yet."

Darcy's mouth closed and a faint smile turned up the corners. "Mr. Bennet," he began in a formal voice. "May I request the honour of courting your daughter, Miss Elizabeth, for the purpose of marriage?"

Unable to hide his own smile, Mr. Bennet replied with another question. "Are you prepared to wait until my eldest daughter is duly wed before expecting Lizzy to become your wife?"

"It will not be a long wait, sir." Darcy grinned. "Of that I am sure."

Part Thirteen

Posted on Sunday, 13 July 2003

"I'm not exactly dressed for such an occasion," Colonel Fitzwilliam looked down at his attire.

"What occasion is that?" murmured Miss Bingley, all conscious thought having fled with the first touch of his lips on hers.

Fitzwilliam smiled. "Has my lady forgotten that she is hostess of a fancy ball this evening?"

Caroline sat up and quickly smoothed her gown. "Oh dear," she exclaimed. "You also seem to have forgotten that we were on our way to find Georgiana."

His mouth fell open. "So we were and so we shall. Come along!" Urging her off his lap, the Colonel rose from the bench and stretched his legs, restoring their circulation. He took her hand, wrapping it around his other arm and clasping it securely. Leaning close to her ear he whispered, "Perhaps no-one will notice my travel stained clothes over the becoming blush in your cheeks."

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade with his words. "You are perfectly presentable, Colonel." She indicated a hallway to their left. "This way."

This short corridor brought them quickly to the ballroom through which they walked to the adjoining room where the diners were assembled. People were moving about the room, picking at the buffet table, mingling with friends and the occasional loud burst of laughter emanated from the location heavily populated by the red jackets of young officers. Miss Bingley led her beau on a meandering course which quite suddenly came to a halt in front of three ladies, two of whom were unknown to the Colonel.

"Richard!" cried Miss Darcy. Her eyes registered her surprise and apprehension.

"Georgiana," he acknowledged, attempting to sound more disapproving than he felt. The other two ladies appeared to be respectable companions. Darcy, however, was nowhere in sight.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," began Miss Bingley, "may I introduce you to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Good evening, ladies." The Colonel bowed his head in their direction, still maintaining the grasp on Miss Bingley's arm. "How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you, Colonel," Elizabeth replied. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." And to put a face to the voice I heard earlier. She took careful note of the way Miss Bingley's arm was entwined with his.

"The pleasure is all mine," he smoothly rejoined. Shifting his attention to his cousin he said, "Georgiana, I expected to see you with your brother."

"He just left with Mr. Bennet," she told him.

This news surprised him. "Left? Has he left the house?"

"Actually," offered Elizabeth, "my father requested an opportunity to speak with Mr. Darcy. They have merely retreated to somewhere more private."

A private conversation? thought the Colonel. He looked more closely at the two Misses Bennet before returning his attention to Georgiana. "My dear, I was sent to ask that you join our aunt and cousin upstairs."

"You mean Aunt Catherine ordered you to bring me back to her. My answer is no." Miss Darcy shook her head decisively.

"Georgiana," Fitzwilliam said in a lowered voice, "do not make a scene. I am perfectly aware of the situation. Trust me."

"Are you? Perfectly aware?" She was certain that he had no inkling of her brother having fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet. Taking notice now of the Colonel's own familiarity with Miss Bingley, Georgiana began to wonder what had happened to steer her interests in a direction away from Darcy, for interested she appeared to be and most emphatically so. "I have no wish to cause a scene, Richard, but I cannot see how dragging me away from this pleasant company and forcing me to endure our aunt's endless lectures on decorum and fashion is of any benefit."

"It is simple," he replied. "If you do not go to her, she will come to you." He said no more, leaving the rest to her imagination.

Georgiana needed no other encouragement. "Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth. Miss Bennet. It seems that my aunt needs me." She stood and politely curtseyed to her new friends. "It was a pleasure to meet you and I hope to see you again soon."

Elizabeth smiled in reply. "I shall look forward to it." She watched the three move away, the gentleman with a lady on each arm. "Do you not find that odd?" she said to Jane.

"What in particular?" her sister asked. "That Miss Darcy's aunt should wish to see her or that Miss Darcy should not wish to see her aunt?"

"That Miss Bingley seems to have permanently attached herself to that Colonel's arm," Elizabeth indicated with a nod of her head. "I had the impression that she was hoping for a match with Mr. Darcy. It seems that I may have been mistaken yet again." She pondered the notion of Miss Bingley's friendship with Darcy being prompted by a goal to secure the man's cousin instead.

"I admit that I have thought very much the same thing, Lizzy. Mr. Bingley and I spoke only briefly of his sister's interests. From what he told me he believes she is going to be disappointed."

The mention of Mr. Bingley's name brought with it all manner of pleasant thoughts. Elizabeth's eyes sparkled. "Jane, we have not had a moment alone together since returning here."

"I am nearly bursting to speak of my news!" Jane whispered. "I know that I cannot say anything that may not be overhead. Not yet. Lizzy, it's just too good to be true!"

Elizabeth looked with fondness upon the glowing countenance of her beloved sister. To know the source of this happiness was her own good fortune as well as Jane's for it gave both the opportunity to share their excitement of Jane's engagement before the news and congratulations became public. "I can think of no-one more deserving. You and Mr. Bingley make an ideal couple."

"Lizzy, you are too kind." Jane's gaze became earnest. "I truly hope you find someone who will complement you as well. Perhaps you have already found him." She looked so intently at her sister that Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Jane, we were speaking of your good news."

"Yes, but that is not to say that there is no room for sharing such happiness. Your opinion of Mr. Darcy seems to have improved."

Again Elizabeth was painfully aware of a deep colour rising to her face. "I have learned that I was a bit hasty in my judgement of certain gentlemen. I may say no more. It is not my privilege to reveal any details."

"I would not press you for particulars," Jane assured her. "I am interested in seeing you happy, though. Lizzy, you looked quite content to sit here conversing with Mr. Darcy. Did my eyes deceive me?"

"You are not wrong, Jane. I very much enjoyed his company and his conversation. I was very mistaken in many ways where Mr. Darcy is concerned." Elizabeth frowned slightly. "I find it hard to believe that I ever thought him rude. Actually, he says some of the sweetest things. I don't mean in the superficially charming manner of Mr. Wickham." Elizabeth seemed to have forgotten her sister's presence as she continued speaking. "There is a solemnity in his eyes when Mr. Darcy calls a lady beautiful."

Jane let out a sigh. "Mr. Bingley says that his friend never speaks anything but the truth. You are beautiful, Lizzy."

"Jane!

"But," her sister continued quite seriously, "for him to tell you to your face -."

"It's much more flattering than being merely tolerable," laughed Elizabeth.

"You cannot fool me by making light of it," Jane gently scolded. "Lizzy, do you think he is in love with you?"

"Jane, you are asking me to determine the feelings of a man I have already seriously misjudged!"

"No," said Jane, patiently. "I am asking you to think about what he has said and done this evening and if he has presented himself as a man in love with you." Elizabeth said nothing, perhaps not quite ready to voice her own hopes for fear she could be wrong. "Let me tell you what happened in the library," Jane suggested, failing to notice the start of surprise as Elizabeth suddenly thought Bingley and her sister had seen and heard everything that had passed between Darcy and herself. Jane, however, was only relating the words of Mr. Bingley's declaration in an effort to show Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy's behaviour was not so different. "His touch on my hand was most gentle. I knew he was going to ask even before he spoke but I could still hardly believe it to be truly happening!"

"Oh, Jane, that sounds wonderful! It is only as you deserve, though. You are so good and kind."

Jane took her sister's hand. "You deserve it, too. You are very clever, Lizzy. Much more clever than I. Mr. Darcy is, too. I just hope you aren't too clever for yourselves."

"What do you -?" Elizabeth began but was interrupted by the return of Mr. Bingley who had taken a few moments to speak with Sir William Lucas on a matter which the latter gentleman assured him was of utmost importance.

"I say, where did Darcy go with your father? He's not back yet." Bingley looked down at Jane with a broad grin. "I thought as long as Darcy had him in a secluded location I may take advantage of the opportunity to make a formal application for your hand. I know we were going to wait but we need not make a public announcement yet. I would feel much more at ease knowing we have his approval."

"There is no doubt of his approving your engagement," Elizabeth smiled. "I do admire your scruples, however."

"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley nodded his head in acknowledgment of the compliment. "Shall we go and see if we can find them?" He offered an arm to each of the ladies.

There was no small amount of attention paid to the trio as they left the room. Jane and Bingley were oblivious, of course, but Elizabeth heard much of the whispered speculations of the curious and of the envious. It gratified her to know the truth and that some of them would still be surprised. The noisy chatter was left behind as Bingley led the ladies away from the diners and the ballroom to a short but brightly lit hallway. He suggested that Darcy may have chosen a small room not far from the end of this hallway, knowing it was a favourite retreat for his friend when he wished some privacy. Before they reached the corner, however, they could hear the unmistakable sound of voices in disagreement. Bingley hesitated, unwilling to bring the ladies into a scene which might prove unpleasant. His pause was long enough to bring clearly spoken words to their ears.

"I am not going any further."

"You cannot stay here."

"I'll just wait in one of the rooms. This one."

"No!"

"Why can she not wait there? Oh, yes. I remember. No, you cannot wait there."

"What?"

"Oh, do stop arguing and just come with me."

As all three listeners now recognised the speakers they continued their advance upon the corner and rounded it to see Georgiana Darcy, armed crossed in a very stubborn pose, and Miss Bingley looking mildly confused. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not appear to be very happy with either of the ladies at that moment. He was about to take hold of Miss Darcy's elbow to encourage her forward movement when he noticed the new arrivals.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Bingley," he said, smoothly changing the direction of his arm to offer a hand to the master of the house.

"I am," Bingley quickly replied, casting a quick but puzzled glance in his sister's direction. She avoided his gaze. "And you are.....?"

"Fitzwilliam, sir. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam."

"Mr. Darcy's cousin," Miss Bingley supplied, at last finding her courage to address her brother.

"Ah! The famous Colonel! I have heard much about you from your cousin," Bingley grinned. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

An eyebrow rose on Fitzwilliam's brow. "I cannot imagine what Darcy has told you of me to inspire such interest."

Georgiana giggled. "He means me, Richard."

The Colonel shook his head. "I knew I'd rue ever telling you those ridiculous tales of fictional exploits on the Continent."

"Well," Bingley coughed, "is there something I can help you with at the moment? We have just come in search of Darcy, ourselves. Are you looking for him?"

"Actually, no." Fitzwilliam looked pointedly at his young cousin. "Lady Catherine asked to see Miss Darcy and I was accompanying her upstairs."

"Darcy has a lot of relatives appearing all of a sudden," said Bingley. "I hope there is nothing amiss in the family."

"Everyone is quite well," Georgiana brightly answered. "However, I was attempting to dissuade Richard from stealing me away from your ball. I was so enjoying my time there that I hoped he would make some excuse to our aunt."

You little minx! The Colonel glared at her. "Lady Catharine is not so easily fobbed off."

"I'm sure you could convince her to be generous in this instance," Georgiana said with an innocent batting of her eyelashes. The effect was not entirely wasted.

"Indeed she must be amenable to Miss Darcy enjoying the evening," Bingley agreed wholeheartedly. "Darcy had no objection, after all."

"Objection to what?" demanded a wary Darcy from the now open doorway behind Fitzwilliam. As the Colonel slowly turned around his cousin's eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"

This reception was hardly what most of the others expected. To Elizabeth it came as no great surprise. She knew that Fitzwilliam should have been on the road to Matlock long ago. With this thought came another one: if the Colonel was here then where was Mr. Wickham? Darcy had a justifiable reason to distrust his cousin, she thought.

This opinion was not shared by Mr. Bennet. He had no idea as to the identity of this man in dusty regimentals who was, to all appearances, engaged in conversing with his two eldest daughters and Darcy's young sister as well as Miss Bingley. That Darcy was not pleased to see this man was clear enough. Mr. Bennet's curiosity was once again aroused. "What a surprise to meet such a large party in a relatively obscure hallway when one would expect everyone to be in the ballroom," he said, directing his words toward Elizabeth for he was fairly certain of obtaining a credible explanation from that source.

"We were looking to find you and Mr. Darcy, Papa." She did not elaborate on who she meant by the pronoun. "How fortunate that you chose to leave that room just as we were considering where you might be."

Fitzwilliam tried to discreetly peer around the two gentlemen and into the room, hoping against hope that Wickham had disobeyed him and had left before being seen by Darcy. He realised that he must answer his cousin, however, and soon. "An urgent matter necessitated my return. Fear not, though. Everything is well in hand."

Darcy hoped this cryptic phrase meant that Wickham was bound and gagged, laying in the bottom of a carriage speeding for Derbyshire with a driver who would stop for nothing and no-one. With his sister under Netherfield's roof, his aunt wreaking havoc on the nerves of everyone in the vicinity and his own attention being sorely tested for focus, the presence of a social climbing, greedy seducer of young women was the last thing he needed. "I am delighted to hear it," he said with no hint of pleasure in his voice.

"Lizzy," her father was saying, "it was very thoughtful of you to venture forth, en masse, to retrieve us but with the musicians getting ready to begin again should Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley not be in the ballroom to start the next round of entertainment?"

Confused, Elizabeth shook her head. "Dinner has not been completed yet, Papa. Where did you get the idea that the musicians are about to play?"

With impeccable timing the hallway filled with the sound of a piano. It was not, however, coming from the direction of the ballroom. In fact, the music came from the opposite direction. Mr. Bingley looked at his sister who looked at Mr. Darcy. That gentleman raised an eyebrow which promptly lowered again to contribute to the frown forming on his face. Without another word he strode purposefully forward, intent upon the source of the music. Bingley quickly scrambled after him, Jane clinging to his arm, while Georgiana wasted no time in attaching herself to her brother's protection and leaving her cousin behind. Elizabeth hurried to catch up with Jane, a perfect way to keep Darcy in sight and ahead of Miss Bingley. Intrigued by so many mysteries, Mr. Bennet sauntered after them all, curiosity winning out over the trauma of paternal emotions being awakened by the conspicuous behaviours of four people in the assembly.

Miss Bingley wavered. She wished to follow her brother. It was her duty as the lady of the house. Colonel Fitzwilliam had not yet moved, however. "Are you not coming?"

"One moment," he said before ducking into the recently vacated room. He quickly but thoroughly checked it for any sign of Wickham but to no avail. There was no Wickham behind the curtain, no Wickham behind the chair. Not even a Wickham to be found under the desk. The gravity of the situation did not allow him the luxury of contemplation. He knew he must find the man before Darcy did. Growling his frustration, Fitzwilliam returned to Miss Bingley, took her by the hand and made haste to catch up with the rest of their party. He need not have rushed. They were not far around the next corner and the telltale open door led the way. The music continued to play, a methodical, familiar tune. The others were ranged in a semicircle, silently watching the performer. The Colonel edged closer, bringing himself and Miss Bingley to stand beside Mr. Bennet.

Mary Bennet played on, oblivious to the new audience. She had eyes only for the man who sat beside her, faithfully turning the pages.

Part Fourteen

Posted on Monday, 28 July 2003, at 6:37 a.m.

George Wickham was incredulous. How had her merit escaped his notice? True, his natural tendency was toward ladies of a less, shall we say, refined manner. With each passing moment the real value of Mary Bennet became clearer. He turned another page of the score, listening with a mere fraction of his attention for his mind was more agreeably engaged in enumerating the performer's many qualities.

She had not the classic beauty of her eldest sister, nor the dangerous spark of Miss Elizabeth. Wickham would be bored with the former while the latter would have him at a distinct disadvantage. The two youngest Bennet girls were nothing but silly, foolish flirts, too young to fully understand the perilous game they were playing with their dalliances.

No, Mary Bennet was not like any of her sisters. She was serious, of course. Practical and studious, yet there was that little something extra that hinted of a spirit subdued but not dead. This was what he longed to reach. Wickham was sure that he was just what she needed to bring that light to her eyes just as she had the means of taming him with her self discipline and moral fortitude. If there was one thing he most admired, and at the same time found intensely irritating, it was his friend Darcy's grave adherence to duty and responsibility. This may have been what enticed George Wickham to a life of licentiousness. As a child Darcy was just no fun. He invented the British Stiff Upper Lip. Wickham had no choice but to make up for what the young Darcy lacked and in this he excelled. After nearly 20 years of shouldering this double duty, however, he was more than ready to pass the job on to someone else. Denny seemed willing although less scrupulous but that was not Wickham's concern.

His concern was at this moment finishing up the last bars of her selection. "Excellent, excellent," he praised. "As I recall, you were the talent behind the music at many of our previous social gatherings. A pity that you could not partake of the joy of dancing as well."

"I am usually requested to play," Mary replied. "It is something to which I am accustomed."

"But not the extent of your talents, surely!"

Mary felt herself blush, a reaction totally foreign to her. "I rarely dance."

Wickham could hear the echo of Darcy's voice in that reply. The poor lass! She most assuredly needed to be saved from herself. "Is that why you escaped the ballroom to read?"

Again her cheeks grew hot with the memory of what she had been reading. "I was looking for a quiet place to escape the noise in the dining hall. It was merely a coincidence that a book lay open on the desk."

"Oh, I knew it was there before you entered the room," he smiled.

Her eyes grew wide. "You were reading it?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Wickham gave a snort of amusement. "Not I, though I confess that I did take a peek when I saw it laying there. Now I wonder who left it."

If it were possible Mary's eyes would have widened still more. "That does not concern me in the least but had Papa seen it and me, as well as you, I would not care to have heard his opinion on the situation." The gentleman's puzzled expression encouraged her to elaborate. "Papa's opinions can be very forthright."

This brought an amused smile to his face. "And this would not have sat well with you."

"Certainly not!" she replied indignantly. "My younger sisters may be immune to such concerns about their reputations but I am not."

"Yet you were reading that book," he pointed out.

"I have never professed to being perfect," Mary primly said. "Even Eve succumbed to temptation in the Garden of Eden."

Wickham briefly toyed with the idea of asking her what other temptations she may be persuaded to try but wisely held his tongue. Instead, he changed the subject back to music. "Would you play something else for me?" he asked, placing a score in front of her.

Mary glanced at the title then applied her fingers to the keys. The notes were clear and punctuated by a lively rhythm. She wondered at his choice since her preference was for the more sedate and complex songs, the better to illustrate her talent. Still, she played on and he appeared to enjoy it. Soon she was caught up in watching him with little regard for anything else. Her years of dogged practice on the keyboard were put to the test and did not fail her.

Wickham knew nothing about reading music. The young lady's playing was pleasant and unfaltering. Had she deviated from the notes on the sheets in front of them he would have no notion of the difference. He was quite content to listen, turning the pages when her playing paused momentarily to signal him that it was time. Thus they sat through two more songs before the gentleman grew aware of the presence of others in the room. Slowly he looked up to find an array of faces in various states of disbelief watching himself and Miss Mary. Amongst those faces he was dismayed to see Darcy's and shocked to see a pale Georgiana clinging to her brother's arm. Suddenly Wickham realised why Darcy had been so eager to get him away from Netherfield. He couldn't blame the man for wanting him out of the way. At this moment Wickham himself was desirous of being anywhere else. He could also not fault Darcy for directing an accusatory look toward his cousin. Nothing could be said aloud, however. For this, Wickham was grateful. Georgiana was visibly shaken but most of the others were preoccupied with staring at the two occupants of the room. Noticing at last that Mr. Bennet was amongst them, George Wickham directed the attention of his companion to their audience.

Mary blinked not once but twice, at first believing her eyes to be playing tricks. Who are all of these people? she wondered. What are they all doing here? Her fingers came to an abrupt halt and the room filled with a silence as loud as the music had been moments before.

Mr. Bennet could tolerate the stillness for but a moment or two before addressing his daughter. "By all means, do not stop playing on our account, Mary. Rarely will you find a more attentive audience."

Elizabeth was mortified and not even Jane could ignore the impropriety of their father's comments, made in the presence of some who were virtually strangers to the family. Mary was at a loss for words, unusual in itself.

Drawing attention to himself was the last thing that Wickham wished to do but he could not sit idly by while Miss Mary was ridiculed. "I must shoulder full responsibility for this irregular situation."

"Must you, now," drily responded Mr. Bennet.

"Indeed I must," he persisted. "I happened upon Miss Bennet playing as I was walking past the open door of this room." He knew that only Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Bingley could contradict any of his explanation and gambled that neither would. " I could not resist enjoying the music despite the risk to the lady's reputation. Very selfish and inconsiderate of me, I'm sorry to say."

Darcy's complexion had grown two shades darker with this exchange while his sister had become even whiter. Elizabeth, concerned for the feelings of both of her friends, now moved closer to Miss Darcy and placed a hand on her arm. Georgiana looked at her and offered a weak smile of gratitude for the support. The distraction was enough for her to relinquish the grip on her brother, freeing Darcy to step away from her toward Wickham. Fitzwilliam noticed his movement with alarm but he was too far away to do anything other than call his cousin's name. Darcy did not acknowledge it.

Mr. Bennet was enjoying himself too much to notice the discomfiture of those around him. "Well then, Mary, of all my daughters you are the last one I would have expected to be at risk."

Mary, not acknowledging the double edge to her father's words, answered him with her usual aplomb. "I am pleased that you understand me well enough to have that faith, Papa. No matter her age, a woman should always have her reputation uppermost in mind."

"And of course," hurriedly added Wickham, "the door remained open during the short time we have been here."

Darcy's eyes narrowed, believing Wickham to be attempting to avoid finally paying the price for getting caught. He was not eager to see Elizabeth's sister tied to this parasite, for what woman could be happy married to such a man, but under the circumstances it might be the only choice.

Mr. Bennet, however, took note of the calm demeanour of his daughter and concluded that there was nothing to fear. It had all happened as Mr. Wickham had stated. "Mary, you may join your sisters." As she rose from the bench and crossed to where Jane stood beside Mr. Bingley her father addressed the young lieutenant. "I'll have a word with you."

Colonel Fitzwilliam warily kept watch as Wickham stood to join Mr. Bennet and Darcy took deliberate steps toward them to participate in their discussion. He fidgeted with his cuff until he realised that it was the lace on Miss Bingley's sleeve between his fingers. She looked at him with patient curiosity, only her eyes questioning him. His smile was intended to reassure her but the concern in his eyes merely served to bring a frown to her face.

Caroline was puzzled. She was aware that the Colonel and Mr. Wickham were meant to be on the road to London long ago. She also knew that they returned purely on the authority of the Colonel. It seemed that Mr. Darcy had some interest in Mr. Wickham's absentia or, in this case, lack thereof. Mr. Wickham, having escaped the confines of one small room appeared to have escaped his agreed upon confinement to a slightly larger one. How was not known at that moment but he apparently had a talent for avoiding detection when he moved from one location to another. Where and how Mary Bennet had appeared was another mystery, the most surprising thing being that she looked as if she welcomed the young man's attentions! Miss Bingley reflected that Miss Mary could do far worse than the son of Pemberley's former steward even if he wasn't on the best of terms with Mr. Darcy. She was not as confident that the gentlemen shared her opinion.

"Colonel," she finally ventured to whisper. "What is going on? May I help in some way?"

"Help?" His expression was blank. Then something occurred to him. "Yes, you could try to take Georgiana upstairs to Lady Catherine... or anywhere, really." He didn't like the thought of his charge with any Miss Bennet if those young ladies were friendly with Wickham.

Miss Bingley undertook her mission with fervour. Seeing her subject now in conversation with Elizabeth Bennet she was at once offended and then cautious. Unlike others, Caroline knew enough of Darcy's interest in this lady to suspect that it hadn't escaped Miss Darcy's keen eye either. How the younger woman felt about a potential sister was unknown. At this point, however, it was more important that she be persuaded to do as her family bid. "Georgiana," she said, using the advantage of intimacy to aid her cause. "I believe it would be best if we left the gentlemen to sort out this matter."

Quelling the urge to contradict their hostess, Elizabeth voiced agreement. If Miss Bingley was aware of the history between Miss Darcy and Mr. Wickham then praise for her thoughtfulness was deserved but whatever her motivation the result could only be the same; relief from what could only be a distressing experience for the girl. It was unfortunate that her sisters chose this moment to join them, effectively delaying any means of exiting the room.

"Unlike some," Mary was saying, "I am not deceived by appearances."

"I beg your pardon?" Elizabeth gasped, appalled at the arrogance of her younger sister's comment. The prim and proper Mary Bennet might be more self-righteous than most but that did not give her omniscience.

"Lizzy, you are not the only one who finds a fascination in studying characters. I, too, enjoy the practice but for me it is for the purpose of learning more about other people, not to ridicule their weaknesses." This last was not said in a tone of reprimand but as a matter of fact. Elizabeth was painfully aware of the accuracy of Mary's assessment not only with regard to herself but also to their father.

"I did not realise you studied character, Mary," Jane said in innocent interest. "I wonder what you can tell us about the charming people of our acquaintance."

"Charm is a superficial quality," stated Mary. "The label is too often misapplied. For instance, Mr. Bingley is often described as a charming gentleman when he is really a kind and genuinely friendly person who is happy to think well of others. Much like you, Jane."

A faint pink blush spread across Jane's cheeks at this description of Mr. Bingley and herself. "What do you consider superficial about charm?"

"Charm," explained Mary with less patience than eagerness to instruct, "is no more than an outward manifestation of the desire to make a good impression."

"There is some fault in your reasoning, though," interrupted Miss Bingley. "By this method it could be construed that charming people desire to be well received while those not seen as charming do not have this wish."

Mary shook her head. "Not at all. There is talent in all things where man tries his hand. This is no different. Not all who wish to make a good impression have the talent to employ charming manners and conversation. However, where I see an excess of charm applied it naturally makes me suspicious. Perhaps that person wishes to disguise something that is not so charming after all."

Georgiana looked down at her slippers in some embarrassment. This was so very apt a description of Mr. Wickham when he visited her at Ramsgate. How could I have fallen for such deception? Miss Mary is not so much older than myself yet she has seen Mr. Wickham for what he is. She longed for the courage to enquire further but it was Miss Bingley's curiosity which prompted the next question.

"How do you determine between excessive charm and a gentleman who merely tries too hard to please?"

"That is simple enough." Mary was delighted to see that she had the attention of all the ladies now. "The measure of his success is the difference. The gentleman who tries too hard is rarely rewarded with his objective. His charm tends toward ingratiating while excessive charm is practised, smooth and just too well performed to be sincere."

Georgiana and Elizabeth immediately thought of Mr. Wickham, recognising him in those words. Jane felt only sympathy for the man who would try too hard and be disappointed. Miss Bingley was not satisfied, however.

"I am sure your analysis applies to many a gentleman met here but as for the higher levels of society, the importance of charming manners cannot be underestimated." Her own manner seemed anything but charming at that moment.

"Doubtless you are right," agreed Elizabeth, "for gentlemen of the ton often have more to disguise." Elizabeth could not believe she had voiced that thought aloud but seeing the open-mouthed expressions of the other ladies confirmed that an explanation, and even an apology, was in order.

"I am sure," Mary interjected, "that the propensity for vice exists in equal proportions at all levels of our society. However, it cannot be denied that ready access to money makes these vices more easily attained."

"And easier to disguise," added a thoughtful Georgiana. She gazed upon Mary with admiration. "How clever of you to be able to detect the difference between the sincerity of well-bred manners and the shallow deceit of charm."

"Be careful, Georgiana. Such broad sweeping statements are dangerous to take to heart." Caroline turned a critical eye on the three Bennet ladies. "I cannot think that your brother would approve of such a view."

"But it was not a broad sweeping statement, Miss Bingley," Georgiana unexpectedly countered. "Miss Mary was allowing for equal disposition of ... of.. undesirables." She did not finish by pointing out what the rest of them already knew; that Miss Bingley's comment was the one that was generalised.

"Mr. Darcy is a perfect example of the gentleman with well-bred manners who does not resort to artificial arts to secure admirers although many of those admirers are, no doubt, suspect." There was no indication that Mary had meant anything other than the literal with her words. Her face was a study in sobriety. "He is certainly not charming."

Elizabeth's eyes closed in painful embarrassment. When she thought of the terrible things she herself had said of Mr. Darcy and now only wished to retract them, she felt the full impact of Mary's words.

"Mr. Darcy has no charm!" cried Miss Bingley. "What is this you are saying? I fear what I may hear next for surely it will be a panegyric on the virtues of Mr. Wickham."

Miss Darcy's small gasp went unnoticed as Mary rose to the bait. "Mr. Wickham is all that is charming, indeed. I believe you have misunderstood my position, Miss Bingley. I stated from the beginning that charm is a falsification of true intentions and motivations while truly well-bred manners have no need for embellishment."

A small frown formed on Jane's face. "What intentions do you perceive Mr. Wickham to have formed in his attentions to you this evening?"

Mary was not as quick to answer this question. She had no desire to reveal the true events of the last hour. "I have been unable to resolve that puzzle, Jane."

"Quite frankly, I don't think Papa is interested in Mr. Wickham's real motive, either." Directing their attention to where the two gentlemen stood on the other side of the room with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth shook her head in a wary manner. "It looks as if he's already made up his mind."

Part Fifteen

Posted on Tuesday, 5 August 2003, at 10:27 p.m.

The shock Darcy felt upon seeing George Wickham was nothing compared to the rage which supplanted it. His first thought was of Georgiana, naturally, and the feeling of betrayal by their cousin in allowing the man who had nearly ruined her to remain in such close quarters. The look he sent Fitzwilliam was scathing; he deserved no less. Darcy's second thought was of Elizabeth. How would she react now with her sister virtually compromised by a man she had earlier seemed to hold in a favourable light? Was there no end to the varied ways that Wickham could inflict pain upon him? There seemed no logic in any entanglement with Mary Bennet. She had no fortune nor was she the flirtatious type. Could he have possibly learned of my attachment to Elizabeth and sought to avenge himself by putting the sister of my beloved at risk? The notion was rejected as quickly as it had been conceived. He resisted the temptation toward paranoia. Wickham sought nothing but self gratification; any ill effect upon Darcy would be incidental even if it was welcome to the perpetrator. None of this speculation was useful at the moment, however, as Mr. Bennet now appeared intent upon handling this situation immediately and in his own unique way. Darcy was uneasy in not knowing if his future father-in-law's opinion of Wickham's character was accurate or if he believed the lieutenant to be a worthy addition to the Bennet family. Rather than give him pause, this vision propelled Darcy forward in the hope of preventing any hasty action on the part of Mr. Bennet.

"If I may, sir," he began, a note of command dominating his accent.

Mr. Bennet looked up sharply, displeasure evident on his face. "Do not presume, Darcy. You are not married to my daughter yet."

Wickham gave a start of surprise at this information and a dreadful shiver shot down his spine. Had he trespassed into territory already claimed by Darcy? It seemed ludicrous but Mr. Bennet's next words only intensified his fear.

"If you have some wild, headstrong notion of a duel then forget it at once. I'll not see my daughter widowed before she is wed."

Darcy obligingly stepped back, more in deference to the respect owed Elizabeth's father than any feeling of being reprimanded. Wickham continued to stare, trying to assimilate the idea of Fitzwilliam Darcy wishing to make Mary Bennet his wife. The calm and very proper Miss Mary would appeal to Darcy's boringness but how did the lady feel about the match? Is this what she was escaping in the pages of a torrid novel; the knowledge of a future life of suppressed emotions and repressed passions?

"Now as for you, Mr. Wickham," said an irritated Mr. Bennet, "I am disappointed in you, young man. You have conducted yourself impeccably during previous visits to my home and now I find you sequestered away with my daughter. Not my eldest daughter, either! No, one of my younger girls. I ask you, sir, what is a father to think when he discovers a young man in a room alone with a young woman and with the knowledge that every other person in the house is otherwise occupied at a ball?"

"I believe there is no question what a father would think under those circumstances," Wickham softly replied. "I can only assure you, sir, that nothing improper transpired between us."

The older man's frown was severe. "I am perfectly satisfied with Mary's innocence in this. It is your intentions that I am questioning."

"My intentions!" Wickham was astonished. He could not, he would not, have compromised Mary Bennet in any way! The irony of the situation did not amuse him. There had been many ladies whose fathers would have been eager to catch him in this manner and they would have been justified in not only questioning him but in condemning him as well. To be suspected of nefarious intentions with a woman he had come to respect rankled him. What disturbed him more, however, was Darcy's attentiveness and the words of Mary's father that rang in his head; you are not married to my daughter yet. Then there were Darcy's eyes! The expression in them even now was hostile. No, more than hostile; it was positively malevolent. This was a side that Wickham had seen only once before and it confirmed in his mind what he had earlier thought. Darcy has selected himself a wife. He would not deceive himself into believing that the Master of Pemberley had made his choice based on tender emotions or any other impractical reason. Darcy's method would have been to study the candidate, evaluate her pedigree and judge the suitability of her to complement his own position in society. He had chosen a wife in the same manner he would a horse. And why not? Was Mrs. Darcy to be anything but a... Wickham's senses rebelled at completing the thought to its logical conclusion.

The one weakness in this match was that Mary Bennet had no fortune. Although her family was not notable by any stretch, her father came from a respectable line. The lack of a dowry was not a hardship where Darcy was concerned and so Wickham could not imagine this being an impediment to the gentleman's goal. None of this was bringing him any closer to forming an answer to Mr. Bennet's question, however, and that gentleman was beginning to look impatient. "I can tell you what I did not intend and that was to compromise your daughter's reputation in any manner."

"The fact remains," drawled her father, "that you have been found in a compromising position, not only by me but by all of these people." He waved an arm to indicate the others in the room. "That cannot be undone. I may believe that all was innocent but as for the rest.... I do not care for the thought that Mary's reputation may be in jeopardy. What do you intend to do to prevent that?"

"Marry her?" Did I just say that?

Mr. Bennet shook his head in disbelief. This was all too easy. "That's not necessarily an acceptable option."

Wickham stole a glance at Darcy, still looking thunderous. "It is the usual reaction to a situation such as this. Is there a complication of which I am unaware?"

"I know nothing about you, Wickham. What makes you think I would consent to my daughter committing the rest of her life to a man I don't know? Consider that I barely know Mr. Darcy but of his ability to provide for one of my girls I have the most reliable information. Still he must work to secure my consent. As for Mr. Bingley, he is more familiar to me but he has yet to inform me of his own intentions." Sighing, Mr. Bennet shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "I'll tell you the same as I told Darcy; you will have to wait until Bingley makes up his mind."

Wickham blinked. "He wants to marry Mary, too?"

"Marry marry?" Darcy repeated in confusion.

"Of course," smiled Mr. Bennet. "Who doesn't want to marry merry?" Ignoring the uncomprehending expressions of the two younger men he gestured for Bingley to join them. "What do you say? You're a good fellow. Is there to be a wedding?"

"Wedding? Well.. well...," stammered Bingley, glancing over his shoulder at Jane, then Darcy and finally back to Mr. Bennet. "Perhaps we may speak of this more privately?"

"Privately? If you insist but since my decision affects Lieutenant Wickham directly would it not be more expedient to simply discuss it here?"

"I don't understand." Bingley looked to his friend for an explanation of how his request for Jane's hand should affect Wickham.

Darcy comprehended the dilemma. "The question of Miss Mary's reputation in light of Wickham's presence here, alone with her, has been raised. Mr. Bennet suggested that a marriage may be in order."

"Excuse me," Wickham indignantly interrupted. "It was I who suggested it and I stand by my avowal that nothing improper occurred here. However, I am not about to let the lady suffer for my shortsightedness in allowing her to be placed in a questionable situation."

"You mean allowing yourself to be caught," rumbled Darcy.

"Gentlemen, let us not quibble about particulars. I asked if there was to be a wedding. What do you both say?" He looked first to Bingley.

"Er..," hesitated his host.

"No." The sharp negative cut across Bingley's indecision and Darcy continued before any other could speak. "I strongly suggest that you reconsider this, sir. George Wickham is not a suitable husband for Miss Mary, nor for any of your daughters."

Mr. Bennet's eyebrow rose. "You would then leave Mary's reputation hanging in the balance? Most unchivalrous of you, Darcy."

Darcy felt the sting of that rebuke. "Believe me, Mr. Bennet, I have no more desire to see your daughter's character disgraced than you but there are other ways to prevent it than to marry her off to a man such as this."

"I have yet to hear anything to justify your extreme dislike of Lieutenant Wickham," persisted Mr. Bennet. "Nor why you believe him to be insincere in his wish to do the honourable thing."

It was in Darcy's power to fully enlighten him and he realised that his own character was being called into question if he didn't. Before Darcy could decide on a course of action his cousin rescued him from his folly.

"Forgive my intrusion but this really is not necessary, Darcy." The Colonel's eyes appealed to Darcy to remain silent about Georgiana's near elopement. "The decision is Mr. Bennet's and it appears that Mr. Wickham is serious about his offer to preserve the lady's respectability." Darcy's expression made it clear how serious he believed Wickham to be. Fitzwilliam was compelled to reinforce his advice in a low voiced whisper to his cousin. "It is not your concern, Darcy. She is not your sister."

Ah, but she soon will be and then Wickham will become my brother. The realisation that he had managed to escape that relationship a few months previous only to be confronted with it now in another guise was not a comforting one. If he was cursed to find George Wickham insinuating himself at every turn then the prudent thing to do just might be assisting in an arrangement in which he would always know where Wickham was. If the man chose to leave his wife in dire straits at some later date then Darcy would be in a position to extricate her and bring her to Pemberley. This was a far more attractive prospect and one that allowed Darcy the luxury of imagining himself as a contented husband to Elizabeth.

"I wonder, Mr. Bennet," ventured Bingley, "why you ask our opinions in this matter. I must agree with Colonel Fitzwilliam that is really isn't our place to offer suggestions and with Mr. Wickham already agreeing to honour the customary arrangements in cases such as these it truly is your decision alone."

Mr. Bennet was surprised by the responses from both young men. He had expected Mr. Bingley to agree without question and Mr. Darcy to present a rational evaluation of the situation without any emotional attachment. Mr. Bingley had now risen in his estimation as more than a man who blindly followed where his friends led while his opinion of Mr. Darcy underwent a less appealing reconsideration. A man of such strong and unpredictable feelings could present a problem for his Lizzy with her outspoken ways. As for Mr. Wickham, he'd recognised the look in that young man's eyes when his behaviour had come under scrutiny. Mary would derive great pleasure from keeping this one on the straight and narrow. Mr. Bennet nodded as he came to his decision, a decision no different from that he had expected from the onset.

"Mary," he called, "please come here." All three of his daughters responded immediately, proving that they had not been as inattentive to the gentleman as they had appeared. Mr. Bennet looked fondly upon them all. Jane with her shy innocence waited with hopeful anticipation. Mary's chin was thrust bravely toward her father and whatever fate he decreed. Lizzy.... my little Lizzy, he sighed to himself. What am I to do? I have already given Darcy my consent. What if I have made a mistake? It is in your hands to refuse him, my girl. Do not be as foolish in your choosing as I was. He turned his attention to Mary, startling her by taking her hand in his. "I am sure you are aware that your reputation is in jeopardy once the gossip mill learns of your private recital for Lieutenant Wickham."

"Papa!" Mary was mortified by his description of the incident.

"Now, now," he soothed. "Do not alarm yourself. The young man has willingly agreed to save you from such humiliation as that would entail. You understand what this means, of course."

Her voice never wavered in her reply although a rapid blinking of her eyelids betrayed an anxiety Mary would rather not reveal. "I am not a child, Papa. You are speaking of my marrying Mr. Wickham." She added as an amused afterthought, "What a shock for Lydia and Kitty."

"Yes," he agreed, less amused by it all than Mary seemed to be. "This does present problems for your sisters, though."

"How so, Papa?" Jane asked.

"My dear Jane," her father smiled. "As the eldest it was always your privilege to be first to wed. I don't need to explain how your younger sister marrying first reflects upon you, and upon Lizzy, as well."

"Oh, but -." Jane stopped and blushed a pretty pink. "Please don't worry about that, Papa. I am not offended by these things and I'm sure Lizzy is of the same mind."

"Are you, Lizzy?" There was no doubt in Mr. Bennet's mind that his favourite daughter would be highly offended by some of the comments that would be made.

"I-." Elizabeth paused, the truth staring her in the face. Jane would not be the subject of such derisive remarks. She was already engaged. This comfort was not available to Elizabeth. She risked a quick glance toward Darcy but in his eyes she could read only distance. The most pressing concern, however, was the insupportable notion that Mary must become Mrs. Wickham. Yet how could she object to the match without appearing to be thinking only of herself? Anyone believing as much would summarily dismiss her concerns without another thought.

"It is as I suspected," sighed her father. "The horns of a dilemma, you see. Who will suffer more from the wagging tongues; Mary or Jane and Lizzy?"

It was at this moment that Bingley could stand no more. He stepped forward smartly and addressed Mr. Bennet. "Let me assure you that Miss Bennet will suffer not one whit, sir!"

"You are referring to Jane?"

"Yes, sir," Bingley grinned foolishly. "I had planned to speak with you tomorrow but in light of this evening's ... er... well, it seems the proper thing to do now. We.. that is, Jane... um.. Miss Bennet... and I... hoped that you would favour us with your approval to marry." There. It was said.

"Well now," cried Mr. Bennet. "This is a surprise!"

Jane's colour was a deep rosy hue. "Oh, Papa!"

"Am I not allowed a little teasing?" he laughed before turning to Bingley. "Young man, I heartily approve and can think of no better match for my Jane."

Bingley grasped Mr. Bennet's outstretched hand and accepted his congratulations as well as those from Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy. Suddenly his sister was before him, tears filling her eyes.

"Charles," she whispered. "I truly am happy for you, both you and Jane. I am sorry if I made things difficult for you."

Even Bingley was a bit overwhelmed by Caroline's change of heart although his forgiving nature served him well. "Thank you," he said. "It is a relief to know that you approve of my choice."

Caroline nodded but was unable to say more. She stepped back and found the comfort of Colonel Fitzwilliam's arm taking hers in support. He gently patted her hand and smiled in encouragement.

"This has certainly been an eventful night." Mr. Bennet looked at all the faces in the room. "Is there anyone else wishing to make a declaration? It seems to be quite the fashion at the moment."

Elizabeth's gaze quickly fell to the floor where she found herself minutely examining the toes of her slippers. Her cheeks were burning with shame, unable to find anything amusing in her father's remarks. The silence in the room was unbearable but at last the hum of conversation allowed her to breathe again. The moment had passed.

"Miss Elizabeth."

The familiar voice startled her. Elizabeth looked up slowly, drawing in a steadying breath as the presence of Mr. Darcy filled her senses.

Part Sixteen

Posted on Monday, 11 August 2003, at 8:46 a.m.

"Bring him to me at once!"

The servants scattered in a flurry to locate their master. Reports were that he was not to be found in the dining room. He had not been seen in the ballroom. Just where Mr. Bingley had gone was not known. Further enquiries revealed the absence of several others, both residents of the house and guests at this evening's festivities. Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley were missing, not necessarily odd in itself as Mr. Darcy was known to frequently remove himself from large social gatherings and Miss Bingley often sought him out accordingly. However, it appeared that the two eldest Misses Bennet had also left the rooms. Now began the speculation amongst the less discreet members of the staff. Mr. Bingley's partiality for Miss Bennet was well known, as was Miss Bingley's desire to become the wife of her brother's friend. Where did Miss Elizabeth Bennet fit into this? Some nodded sagely, relating the 'well-known' fact that the local lady had shamelessly set her sights on Mr. Darcy, a man decidedly above her station. Another ridiculed that idea but was ignored as she was a local herself. No matter what the truth may have been, the immediate task was to find Mr. Bingley and so the available servants spread themselves throughout the house to do just that.

Mr. Collins bowed low at the feet of his patroness. "If I may be of service, Madam," he grovelled.

Lady Catharine's eyes focussed down the length of her nose to the top of his head. "You? What do you suppose you could do that the servants cannot?"

Not deterred by her tone, the clergyman supplied her with an answer. "I shall enlist the aide of my cousin, Bennet. I'm sure he will know where Mr. Bingley has gone."

The logic behind this escaped her. "Why should he have this information when the servants do not?"

"Ah," smiled Mr. Collins as if a great secret were to be imparted. "Miss Jane Bennet, his eldest daughter, is practically engaged to Mr. Bingley."

"One of the ladies who has also been misplaced. I see." Lady Catharine waved a hand at him. "Off you go, then." She watched Mr. Collins scurry away before turning her attention on her daughter. "How are you feeling, Anne?"

"Oh do stop fussing, Mother," said Anne de Bourgh with a roll of her eyes. "I am perfectly fine. I've never felt better. Must we stay in these stuffy rooms? I'd much rather go downstairs and see the dancing!"

"That is not advisable, Anne. Your delicate health -."

"Is not delicate anymore! I want to go downstairs. I want to dance!" She gathered up her skirts and jumped up from her seat. "I am going to dance," she announced.

"Anne, sit down," her mother commanded.

"No. I am going to join in the fun." With that, Anne walked out of the room.

"Anne! ANNE!" Lady Catherine huffed in annoyance, her comfort disturbed by this sudden exit and the resulting need to follow her daughter. "Do not run you silly girl! Oh, where is Mrs. Jenkinson?" This last cry went completely unheeded as Mrs. Jenkinson had long ago vacated the confinement of the rooms for the freedom of the servants' hall.

Despite Anne's eagerness her mother had no difficulty overtaking her in the passage. Together they made a determined entry into the ballroom. Lively music greeted them, the sight of colourful gowns, sparkling jewellery and the fragrance of fresh flowers bringing a light to Anne's eyes and blush to her cheeks that reflected her excitement.

"Oh," she breathed. "How beautiful!"

"Anne," began Lady Catherine, "you are not to overexcite yourself. You will choose a seat in a quiet corner and observe from there."

"Yes, Mother." Anne walked away into the centre of activity. Lady Catherine's mouth fell open but before she could reprimand her daughter an interruption in the form of Mr. Collins appeared.

"I have found Mrs. Bennet."

Annoyed, Lady Catherine frowned at him. "I wanted Mr. Bingley. Why have you brought me Mrs. Bennet?"

Rubbing his hands together to warm their dampness, Mr. Collins explained, "Mrs. Bennet observed the departure of Mr. Bingley from this room. He was in the company of her two eldest daughters."

"Is that so?" Fixing the other woman with a cool stare Lady Catherine asked the first question. "Where did he go?"

"He.. um.. yes, my Lady," Mrs. Bennet stammered. "I watched them leave and followed.... you see, my dear girls were with him, my Jane and Lizzy, so I had to know where they were going. So I followed them when I realised they were leaving the room."

"Yes, yes," Lady Catherine barked. "Where is he now?"

"Oh, dear me!" fluttered the other lady. "They turned left.. no, right! No, it was left when they entered the hall. Yes, left." She closed her eyes tightly, forehead wrinkling with the effort of recalling what she had seen. "And then-."

"Come. You will show me." Lady Catherine waited for Mrs. Bennet to lead the way, no small amount of impatience in her manner.

Self consciousness was not a familiar feeling to Mrs. Bennet yet she felt it in full force at this moment. Hesitating for only a moment, she drew a deep breath before complying. The two ladies, with Mr. Collins in tow, traced the steps that Mr. Bingley had walked only a short time before. The clergyman turned to look back into the ballroom as they were about to walk through the doorway. He was shocked to see Miss de Bourgh engaged in a lively reel with a young red-coated officer.

"Lady Catherine," he impulsively cried out.

"Not now!" The good Lady silenced him with her sharp retort and he meekly fell in behind their quick steps.

As they came to the end of the hall Mrs. Bennet said, "They turned here."

Raising an eyebrow Lady Catherine sarcastically pointed out that there was really no choice; the end of the hall meant they had to have turned. "But which way? Did you see that?"

"Yes. Yes, of course I saw it. I followed them right to here, I did." Mrs. Bennet once again scowled in concentration. "This way," she said, pointing to the right. "And then I heard several voices. I didn't see them but Miss Bingley's I knew and there was also a gentleman's that I did not recognise."

This information was of no concern to Lady Catherine. She wished only to locate Mr. Bingley. "We shall look further, then." The hallway was short with only a few doors. One was open near the end of the corridor, light spilling out onto the floor and opposite wall. This was, naturally, where she was drawn. Her purposeful stride brought Lady Catherine to her destination within seconds but she was not prepared for what she saw.

"What is this?" she demanded, taking in the presence of her two nephews, niece and several faces she did not recognise. Noticing her hostess amongst them, Lady Catherine continued into the room. "Miss Bingley, I must speak with you and your brother."

"Now?"

She gazed at her nephew over the rims of her spectacles. "Of course I mean now, Fitzwilliam. What sort of a question is that? Have you forgotten your manners?"

"It is just that now is not the most convenient time," the Colonel explained, ignoring the latter question.

"Why not? Oh, never mind. I will speak with Darcy first, then." She began to walk away but the Colonel, desperate to keep his aunt as far from Wickham's vicinity as possible, placed his boot firmly upon the trailing edge of her skirt. The fabric was strong and the seamstress talented. Lady Catherine was pulled to a sudden and graceless halt which did not go unnoticed. Darcy frowned slightly, annoyed with even the smallest distraction at this moment. Taking Elizabeth's elbow, he guided her to a quieter corner of the room, knowing there was no chance of leaving even for a private moment such as this.

"Miss-." The words froze in his mouth. Elizabeth was looking up at him, her eyes wide and apprehensive. Darcy's heart leaped. Everything else was forgotten as his attention focussed solely on her. "Are you quite well, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes. Yes, I am well, thank you." She bit the edge of her lip nervously. "No, actually I'm not. I simply must apologise for Papa's heavy handedness. Poor Mr. Bingley and Jane! To have goaded him into asking for her hand in front of everyone was just cruel."

"I don't think Bingley really minded." Darcy smiled fondly at her affronted sensibilities.

"That is not the point," maintained Elizabeth, her words now coming in a rush. "He should have had more consideration for Mr. Bingley's feelings. Oh, and poor Mary! There really was no reason to force her into such a marriage. I'm sure none of us here believed she was compromised in any way. Her reputation would have been safe and you know what sort of a man he is. If that isn't all, there is your sister. How I feel for her having to bear the presence of that man and see my sister promised to him as well! Is there no end to the shame my father inflicts upon me?" She closed her eyes and drew another breath. "It was perfectly obvious to everybody that he now expects you to make an offer to me. I cannot understand his reasons but there it is. I admit that my first impression of you, Mr. Darcy, was ill formed and completely in the wrong. I have come to appreciate your true character and am now heartily sorry that our acquaintance can no longer continue. As you are no doubt aware, I am familiar with the history of Mr. Wickham and yourself. I trust you have not forgotten that I was in the library during the discussion with your aunt. If you have forgotten and believed that conversation to have been conducted in privacy I am sorry to remind you of it. Be assured that it will not go any further." Her regret had now become so intense that she could no longer look him in the face. Casting her eyes down for fear that tears would spill over, Elizabeth's voice wavered with her final words. "I perfectly understand your wish to take Miss Darcy away from here and never have to expose her to Mr. Wickham again."

"Oh, Elizabeth," breathed Darcy. His real wish was to shield her from the pain of humiliation that she was being forced to endure. Another was that he could untie his tongue long enough to say what he really wanted to say to her. "I have no plans to leave." She did not seem to have heard him and he felt her shoulders begin to shake when he pulled her close. Placing his lips beside her ear he whispered, "I am not going anywhere. Not even Wickham could make me leave without you."

"Wh-what?" she stammered, turning a tear stained face upward.

The temptation was great. Darcy wanted to take her in his arms, to soothe her wounded feelings and reassure her that his love for her was stronger and more constant than a mere man such as Wickham could destroy. His sense of propriety warred with his feelings, however. There were too many eyes watching their every move. Words would have to suffice. "Elizabeth, Wickham is no deterrent and your father has intimated no more than the truth of what is in my thoughts. He is perfectly aware of my feelings. I have no idea of yours, however. If you are willing to accept me I would be honoured to have you for my wife."

Tension drained from her body and with it flowed more tears. Elizabeth was unable to speak, her throat closed on the syllables leaving her lips forming a soundless reply. The corners of her mouth had spread wide in a joyful smile, though, and Darcy needed no more sign than that. His own joy overwhelmed all other senses and, sweeping Elizabeth to him, sealed their agreement with a kiss softly pressed against her warm lips. She leaned against him, willing the kiss to continue and so it did, concluding only when a loud squeal of delight was heard which could mean only one source.

"Oh, I knew it! I just knew it would be so. Oh, Jane, I am so happy for you!" Clapping her hands together in glee Mrs Bennet positively beamed at her husband. "Did I not tell you? I did, didn't I? Yes, yes. Some people would not believe me but I could see from the very beginning that you were perfectly suited for one another. Oh, where is my hankie?" She fluttered about her person, vainly searching for her lace handkerchief.

"Will this one do?" blandly asked her husband. He held aloft his own linen handkerchief, the one his wife had given him on his most recent birthday, with his initials boldly embroidered in one corner.

"Thank you, my dear." Mrs. Bennet gratefully accepted the offering and dabbed at her nose. "Such exciting news! We must tell the other girls!"

"Ah, but there is still more news to be related."

"What is this you say? More news? What is it, pray tell? Do not keep me in suspense!" The handkerchief was now suffering as she wrung it in her hands.

"We shall have a second son-in-law to join the Bennet ranks," related Mr. Bennet. "Mr. Wickham has asked for the hand of -."

"But it cannot be! Did you not hear me in the ballroom when I told you?" His wife was now beside herself with distraction. She moved toward the lieutenant, adopting an expression of sincere remorse. "I am sorry, Mr. Wickham, but Lizzy cannot marry you. I'm sure that it is very disappointing for you but -."

"Madam," her husband curtly interrupted. "You have overstepped your bounds. Mr. Wickham has asked and been granted permission to marry our daughter." His tone silenced her. "Mary has accepted his offer, as well."

Mrs. Bennet blinked. "Mary? He wants to marry Mary?" It took but a moment for her to adjust to this information. "Such wonderful news! My dear Mr. Bennet, did you ever suppose we should be so fortunate? Two daughters engaged in one evening!"

"What is all this commotion?" an imperious voiced demanded. "I must know what is going on! Mr. Collins, these are you relations. What is all of this fuss?"

"It appears, my Lady," the clergyman quickly supplied his explanation with a bow from which he did not recover, "that my two cousins, Miss Bennet and Miss Mary Bennet, have been made offers of marriage this evening."

"Oh. I suppose that is reason enough for being excited but could you please advise your cousin's wife that her display is quite distasteful to the eye... and ear." Lady Catherine turned her attention back to Miss Bingley. "Now, what was I saying?"

"Something about the soup," Fitzwilliam reminded her.

"Of course," his aunt nodded. "Now, I shall need your brother to release his cook to my authority so that we may return to Rosings as soon as possible."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," a puzzled Caroline responded.

"What is there to understand? It is perfectly clear. My daughter and I shall be leaving for Rosings in the morning and your brother's cook will accompany us." Lady Catherine was impatient and her frosty gaze made it known.

"May I ask why our cook is going to Rosings?" Miss Bingley was having difficulty comprehending the reason behind this action. Surely Rosings had a number of cooks that Lady Catherine did not need one more, least of all her brother's only one.

"The soup, Miss Bingley. The soup." Lady Catherine breathed a frustrated sigh. "That soup has been a tonic for my Anne. Nothing has brought such colour to her cheeks and vivacity to her health. I simply must have it made for her every day at Rosings. Why, before long I shall be presenting her at court and every eligible man of fortune will be vying for her hand!"

Caroline had her doubts about the soup being responsible for this change in Miss de Bourgh but held her tongue. It was enough to think how ridiculous it was to believe a simple food could inspire such extraordinary changes in a person's character. "Does my brother know of this?"

"Of course not, you stupid girl," snapped Lady Catherine. "That is why I wish to speak with him."

"Aunt Catherine," an offended Colonel Fitzwilliam interjected. "There is no need to be insulting."

"Insulting?" The frosty gaze was turned on her nephew.

The Colonel's eyes narrowed. "Insulting and rude."

"Need I remind you of your place, Fitzwilliam?" Lady Catherine was not amused. "I will not be addressed in this manner."

"I will not have you addressing Miss Bingley in that manner, either. Need I remind you of your place, aunt? You are a guest in her home." He took a step closer to Caroline, subtly placing himself between the two ladies.

"Insufferable impudence!" Had the world gone mad around her? Lady Catherine stared at him, noticing for the first time how the young woman's arm was wound around her nephew's. "I see how it is now. I will forgive this outburst, Fitzwilliam, for you will come to your senses soon enough."

To her horror his answer was, "It is all well and good for you to forgive my outburst but that still leaves us with the problem of yours."

"Richard," whispered Caroline. "Please do not make things worse for yourself. She is your family, after all." Her voice compelled him to look at her, the expression in her eyes soft but urgent. "Please."

The good opinion of his aunt was of little interest to him but Fitzwilliam was touched by the concern Miss Bingley showed for himself and his family. Most eligible young ladies with ambitions into his circle would have welcomed his defence of them, the alienation of an irascible aunt being of no consequence for she would only be an obstacle to achieving the ultimate goal. Could there be any better woman in all of England?

"Disgraceful, insolent young man! Is this really my nephew? What corruption has been imposed upon you already cannot be too late to undo. You will return to Rosings with us." Sniffing disdainfully, Lady Catherine dusted her sleeves. "You need to be removed from the influence of this woman."

"This woman!" repeated Fitzwilliam but his aunt had tired of the conversation. She dismissed his comment with a look over her shoulder to see what had become of Mr. Collins. The Colonel was provoked. "This woman, as you so coldly describe her, is to be the next Mrs. Fitzwilliam. I would thank you to remember that and treat her accordingly!"

A small squeak of surprise was all that Caroline could manage upon hearing his bold proclamation. He had not asked her, had not even approached her brother, yet she was not offended. She was not shocked. Pleased and flattered, eager and excited was Miss Bingley. Never in her girlhood fantasies had she dreamt of a man sweeping her off her feet quite like this. It left her feeling rather breathless!

Lady Catherine frowned. There really was nothing to be done about Fitzwilliam at the moment. The foolish young man had dropped himself in a mess and it would take more than a stern lecture on his familial obligations to extricate him this time. She left the couple staring dreamily into one another's eyes and turned her attention once more to locating Mr. Bingley. Of the remaining men in the room there was only one who could be Netherfield's master. Ruling out Mr. Collins, an older man who must be Mr. Bennet and a young man in military uniform, that left one in evening dress and she concluded him to be the man she sought. Without further adieu she requested his attendance for a brief interview. Bingley excused himself from Jane's presence as well as that of her mother and father before escorting Lady Catherine away from the assembled group.

Mrs. Bennet lost no time in attaching herself to her daughter's arm, immediately launching into her ideas for the wedding. Drawing Mary aside as well, she soon had her girls in rapt attention... or at least unable to get a word in edgewise. Mr. Bennet took advantage of this opportunity to escape but did not get very far before Mr. Collins slid up beside him, obviously intent on speaking. Perceiving that his entertainment for the evening was far from over, Mr. Bennet politely greeted his cousin.

"Have you come to offer your congratulations, Mr. Collins?"

The clergyman bobbed uncertainly, leading the other man to wonder how much punch he had consumed. "Oh, yes," he smirked at last. "What good fortune has befallen you and your family, cousin. I cannot help but be concerned for Miss Elizabeth, though. The engagement of her elder sister is a wonderful event but that of her younger one..." Here Mr. Collins placed a hand to his mouth as if imparting a secret which he feared another would hear. "May I caution you, sir, that an announcement of Miss Mary's betrothal before Miss Elizabeth's would place her in a most awkward position."

"I assure you that Mary is more than capable of dealing with any ill opinions directed her way."

"I fear you have misunderstood me." Mr. Collins hurried to correct him. "It is Miss Elizabeth's reputation that would suffer with a younger sister marrying before her. Such things will be said that should not reach a lady's ears, certainly not a lady as sweet and charming and innocent of the charges that will be made. It is for this express purpose that I have approached you now. Having already requested your approval in seeking the hand of the lovely Miss Elizabeth I feel it is my duty to offer her my protection from the bitter tongues of envious and spiteful individuals."

"Oh, that will not be necessary, Mr. Collins." Mr. Bennet pressed his lips firmly together to avoid betraying his amusement.

"Lady Catherine, my noble patroness, will have no objection and may even offer the use of her carriage for the drive back to Hunsford." The young clergyman was becoming quite excited at the prospect. He rubbed his hands together and swayed from one foot to the other, all the while looking anywhere but directly at Mr. Bennet. It was as if he was seeing his future played out before him on an invisible canvas. "Although I have not had the privilege of securing her acceptance, yet, I know Miss Elizabeth with be gratified to know that you have already approved."

"There really is no need -."

Mr. Collins held up a hand to stem his cousin's words. "Please do not thank me. This Christian act is the very least I could do under the circumstances. Shall I speak with Miss Elizabeth or do you feel it your duty to inform her of the happy news?"

"Oh, please do," managed Mr. Bennet. "I would not deprive you of the benefit of witnessing my daughter's delight when you tell her."

Bowing low, Mr. Collins effusively expressed his gratefulness as he backed away. Once standing again, he searched the room for Elizabeth's location, at last spotting what surely was the skirt of her gown behind the impeccably attired form of Mr. Darcy. Eager to impart the change in their circumstances he was at first offended that the lady was not alone but was then flattered to see that Mr. Darcy was thoughtful enough to be shielding her from the prying eyes of the rest of those gathered in the room. There could be no doubt that she was distressed. How could she not be? To be slighted in such a manner, overlooked for her younger sister! Ah, but she would soon be relieved of the burden of spinsterhood and that saviour would be none other but himself. Mr. Collins could barely restrain his excitement as he approached them; his heavy breathing gave away his presence before he could announce himself.

"Mr. Collins!" a breathless Elizabeth cried. Her face was flushed with the evidence of recent weeping.

The gentleman appeared not to notice. "I beg your pardon Mr. Darcy but I have come to speak with my cousin on a very urgent matter. I'm sure you understand given the recent turn of events." Darcy slowly turned to regard the person responsible for interrupting them. Even his steady gaze was not enough to fully deflate Mr. Collins. "I would beg you excuse us for a moment, sir."

"I beg you would not," murmured Elizabeth, quietly enough that only Darcy could hear. He had no intention of abandoning her to the clutches of this ridiculous toady, however.

"As you see, I am currently speaking with Miss Bennet." Darcy fixed Mr. Collins with a steady gaze and used the voice he reserved for disciplining servants. "Leave us."

It was unfortunate for Mr. Collins that the euphoria of his recent good fortune prompted him to disobey this command from the nephew of Lady Catherine for he would soon be reminded of their familial connection. "Under ordinary circumstances I would, naturally, honour your request Mr. Darcy but the situation is such that I must reveal the honour that has been bestowed upon myself and Miss Elizabeth; we are to be joined as man and wife!" His smug smile gave him the appearance of a grotesque frog that had just swallowed a horsefly.

"Never!" That one word thundered across the space between the two men. Darcy drew himself up straight, his full height bringing him towering over the now quivering Collins. "You will not be marrying Miss Elizabeth. That privilege is mine and mine alone."

The clergyman's lips flapped uselessly. "Y-y-you are marrying her?"

"Are you deaf?" Darcy refrained from adding as well as stupid. Mr. Collins was clearly unable to form any further reply. Taking Elizabeth's hand, Darcy's expression softened and his voice became quiet once again. "Come, my dear. Let us speak with your father." They left the stunned clergyman behind without a second glance. Elizabeth's smile had returned within seconds and when they joined her father there was no doubt what Darcy was about to say.

"Well, young man, I take it my daughter is not unwilling to have you?"

"Papa," Elizabeth blushed, "can you not be serious for even one moment?"

"Lizzy, how can I possibly be serious when this evening has seen an almost miraculous occurrence?" Mr. Bennet's eyes twinkled. "Your mother has foretold two of these matches. Do you not think that a miracle?"

Darcy chuckled, surprising both of his companions. "I doubt anyone could have foretold that particular match." He directed Elizabeth's attention to where his own cousin, Fitzwilliam, stood in an intimate embrace with Miss Bingley.

"Mr. Bingley!" Mr. Bennet called. "What a profitable evening you have provided, sir. Four engagements in the space of twenty minutes!"

"Four?" squealed Mrs. Bennet. "Four? What are you saying? Who are these other couples?" She came hurrying over to her husband, pulling both Jane and Mary by the hand. "Do not tease me. Say you are not teasing me!"

"If that is not an engaged couple then I dare say they will be soon." Gesturing to Fitzwilliam and Caroline, Mr. Bennet calculated the time required before he would need to reveal the identity of the fourth couple and was not far wrong. Three seconds was all it took for his wife to lose interest in that pair.

"And??" she prompted.

"Caroline!" cried Bingley, finally noticing his sister's unusual behaviour. "What are you doing?"

"Darcy!" barked Lady Catherine. "My carriage leaves in the morning. Have Georgiana ready immediately after breakfast."

"I am not going!" protested Miss Darcy who had remained unnoticed in all the fuss. She ran to her brother's side as her aunt drew near. "Tell her I'm not going to Rosings, Fitzwilliam!"

"Enough of this foolishness, Georgiana. You need a woman's guidance and you will not find that at Pemberley."

"On the contrary, Lady Catherine," Darcy said in a loud voice, stepping forward but maintaining his hold on Elizabeth's arm. "A woman's guidance is what Georgiana will have at Pemberley, very soon. Miss Elizabeth Bennet has this evening accepted my offer of marriage and will become the new Mistress of Pemberley."

If asked later, no-one was quite sure who hit the floor first; Mrs. Bennet or Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Epilogue

Posted on Thursday, 14 August 2003, at 11:07 a.m.

One Year Later

"Tea?"

"Tea! I should think something stronger would be in order." Mr. Bennet poured brandy into several glasses and handed one to each of his daughter's husbands. "May it be a short wait."

"Aye," chorused the others before raising their glasses and drinking.

"What time is it?" Bingley asked.

Darcy looked at his watch. "Ten minutes since you last asked."

"Has there been any word?" Wickham tapped the side of his glass thoughtfully.

Mr. Bennet shook his head. A change of subject was required. "Have you found any suitable prospects in your search for an estate, Bingley?"

"Hmmm? Oh, yes. There are three I've arranged to view," he replied absently. "Darcy is familiar with one of them."

As no comment was forthcoming from that gentleman Mr. Bennet prompted him. "Darcy?"

"Yes?" He stared blankly at his father-in-law, wondering what he was being asked.

Mr. Bennet gave a sigh. "Have you been assisting Bingley with finding an estate?"

Nodding in confirmation, Darcy stood to relieve the tension in his legs. "I was fortunate to have heard about a property with which I was familiar in a neighbouring county. It is well worth the price and will serve Bingley and his family for many years."

"Ah, very good." Silence reigned again for several minutes as the mantel clock ticked the seconds. Mr. Bennet mused on the circumstances of the past year that had brought them all together here, awaiting the birth of a baby. Mr. Bingley had been comfortably settled at Netherfield for many months but even his good nature could not withstand the daily assault upon his senses by his mother-in-law. In recent weeks he and Jane had been looking over several property recommendations that had been supplied by Bingley's attorneys. Mr. Bennet clearly understood their need to move further away even if he didn't like it. It was difficult enough that Elizabeth was a full two days of travel away in the North. This was the only complaint he could find in the marriage of his favourite daughter. The young couple gave every appearance of domestic bliss and private conversations with Elizabeth proved it was no different in reality. So pleased was he for the happiness of his two eldest daughters that Mr. Bennet found no room to be envious. As for his third son-in-law, nothing short of the word 'incredible' could describe the changes observed in him in these months following his marriage to Mary. Military life did not appeal to Mary Wickham and, if truth be told, neither did it appeal to George. Under her strict management their household budget flourished, or more precisely their savings did, such that Lieutenant Wickham was able to cash himself out of the army when an unparalleled offer arose. His wife's uncle, Mr. Philips, always a soft touch when it came to Mary, chose to redirect his will and make the husband of his favoured niece the recipient of his business interests and what little property he owned. There was a condition attached to this, of course, and that was Mr. Wickham's immediate immersion into the business, seeing as he had made some previous study of the law, albeit a curtailed venture. With Mary's guidance, her husband applied himself studiously and their savings were prudently utilised to forward his education and subsequently his career which began near, but not at, the bottom of the clerk positions of her uncle's practice.

"What time is it?"

"Ten minutes since you last asked."

Chuckling at the impatience of the young men, Mr. Bennet next directed his thoughts to events of that night at Netherfield. What a shock to all when the collection of engagements and elopements had been discovered! Bingley and Jane had been expected, even predicted by many, but Darcy and Lizzy? Sir William seemed to be one of the few who saw that match as inevitable long before the evening of the Ball. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, once she had recovered from the concussion sustained from the impact of her head on the floor, found no reason to object to her nephews' choices in brides. Her own daughter, at one time absurdly promised to Darcy, had soon thereafter cultivated a life of her own, taking her mother to London and hosting soirees that were the envy of the ton. Lady Catherine had been appalled at first, her darling daughter having spent her entire life in an invalid's existence, but soon warmed to the change in lifestyle. It was even rumoured that she was seen kicking up her heels at Almack's.

Picking up the decanter he refilled the glasses of the other men. "Bingley, how fares your sister?" he asked as he topped up that man's brandy.

"Oh, she's fine. Hurst seems to have adapted well to fatherhood. It's amazing how a baby can turn anyone into a babbling idiot." Bingley smiled, thinking of the impending arrival in the room above them.

"And your other sister?"

Distracted from his distraction, Bingley replied, "Yes, Caroline is quite well, too. I would never have believed it possible but she is actually enjoying the life of a officer's wife. Where are they now?" he asked of Darcy.

The other man looked up, holding out his glass as Mr. Bennet directed. "I had a letter from Fitzwilliam last week. All he could tell me is that they are on the Continent, not that I couldn't divine that from the postmark. Everything is shrouded in secrecy these days."

Bingley sat up straighter, suddenly very interested. "Did he say anything about Caroline? How is she coping with the deprivation of luxuries?"

"Did he say anything about Caroline?" Darcy snorted. "Does he say anything else? You'd think no other woman existed on this planet the way he goes on about her. Fear not, Bingley. Your sister would make a satin blanket out of a moth-eaten rag and a four course dinner out of a potato if you believe what my cousin has to say about her."

"Ah, that sounds like a match made in heaven," laughed Mr. Bennet.

"Speaking of cousins," Wickham suddenly said, "has there been any word about Mr. Collins since...."

"Since he ran off with Miss King?" Darcy was still highly offended by the thought that the man had actually entertained the notion that he would have married Elizabeth.

"Silly girl." Mr. Bennet shook his head. "She was extremely fortunate that the militia was quick in responding."

"And that Mr. Collins has no sense of direction," Bingley chuckled. "Imagine getting a mere three miles from Netherfield, making a wrong turn and being discovered practically on my doorstep." All four men laughed at that. "Such a diversion for Colonel Forster, though. Sending his men off in search of Collins and Miss King while he escapes with Miss Charlotte Lucas!"

"Rather clever of him, I thought," Darcy mused. "Miss Lucas, or Mrs. Forster I should say, suits him far better than the young lady he originally had chosen. She and Elizabeth were close friends and have kept up a regular campaign of letter writing. The couple is comfortably settled and quite happy."

"Yes, that is what Sir William and Lady Lucas have said," chuckled his friend. "Of course, they had to get over the shock of the elopement first."

"I did have a letter from Mr. Collins," Mr. Bennet finally spoke. "A couple of months ago, I believe it was. I have no idea how he managed but he did secure the forgiveness of your aunt, Darcy, and although she removed him from the Hunsford parish there was another living that became vacant when she moved one clergyman to replace him. He is not as well off as before but this village is more remote and had not heard about his little misadventure."

A frown appeared on Wickham's brow. "I wonder at his impertinence in contacting you."

Darcy rolled his eyes heavenward. He would never become accustomed to this new George Wickham. If Mary Wickham's penchant for quoting Fordyce wasn't enough, her husband's newfound moral backbone found him echoing his wife with examples from the scriptures. Fitzwilliam Darcy was as faithful a churchgoer as one would find but hearing these words from the mouth of one of the most profligate men he'd had the misfortune to know was difficult to accept. He kept expecting Elizabeth to receive a letter from her family, bemoaning the disappearance of the delightful Mr. Wickham once he'd grown weary of the charade of married life. The moralising had gone on for too long for it to be an act, however, and Darcy was genuinely mystified at his sister-in-law's power over her husband.

"His letter," Mr. Bennet was explaining, "was primarily intended to convey his congratulations. He had heard the news although I'm not sure how."

"Ah, I suppose we may thank my aunt for that." Setting his glass down on a table, Darcy walked to the window and gazed out on the darkening landscape. "Lady Catherine has maintained an active correspondence with myself and more frequently with my sister. It would have given her great pleasure to see Mr. Collins' reaction to the news of this expected birth."

"No doubt it would," wryly agreed Mr. Bennet.

Once again there was silence. The fire crackled in the grate. Footsteps sounded outside the door and as one the men looked up when it opened. As one they sighed in disappointment when Lydia was revealed in the opening. She marched across the room, the heels of her shoes banging on the floor with every step. Throwing herself into Darcy's vacant chair she heaved a great sigh and lamented,

"Lord, how dull it is up there."

When there was no response from any of the gentlemen her face was transformed by a pout and she sulkily added, "Nobody wants to do anything."

"I think they are all a bit busy at the moment," offered Bingley, rather charitably the others thought.

"Trouble produces patience, patience produces tested virtue, and tested virtue produces hope."

Lydia's head lolled back against the chair and she shot Wickham a long-suffering look. "You know I hate it when you do that."

Putting a stop to an argument before it could begin, Mr. Bennet addressed his daughter. "What is happening upstairs?"

"Nothing much." Lydia inspected her fingernails.

Darcy's frown deepened. This particular sister of Elizabeth he found most annoying. The conversation in the room would be stifled with her presence. With this in mind he left the window alcove to approach her seat and stood, looking down at her. "I'm sure there is something you may find to do that would be of assistance."

"Why should I -," she began but then glanced up to see the figure of her most intimidating brother. "Y-yes. I g-guess I could." Lydia excused herself and quickly left the room.

"Well done, Darcy," Bingley exclaimed.

"Yes," added Wickham. "Idle hands are the -."

"Just shut it!"

Wickham blinked but complied. The minutes ticked by in silence. Bingley stared into the fire, Wickham contemplated the words of the last Sunday's sermon and Darcy returned to his station at the window. Mr. Bennet observed them all, amused by their preoccupation. He thought about reading a book but it would be nowhere near as entertaining as watching the three other men. Having been through this waiting game five times already there was nothing really new in the experience. He tried to remember what it was like all those years ago, the first time, when Jane was born. The memory of the event eluded him but not the feelings. The rush of excitement, the thrill of hearing the baby's first cry, pride of a new father; all of these erased the weariness of hours of pacing and worrying. There was no disappointment upon discovering he had a daughter instead of a son. After five, however, the novelty had worn off. Mr. Bennet looked upon his daughters' husbands again. What will they be feeling when that moment comes?

"What time is-?

"Oh, for crying out loud, look at the clock!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Mr. Bennet hastened to say. "I think it high time we have something to eat." He rang for Hill and informed her that they would be requiring refreshments. "None of this biscuits and fruit nonsense, either. Meat, cold if there is none hot, and breads."

It was only a matter of moments before the meal appeared, proving that Hill and her kitchen staff let nothing interfere with their duties. Upheaval in the household was reserved for the family. The male members of the family now set to the fare eagerly, only realising how hungry they were when the food was before them. Thankfully there was no need for conversation during those first few minutes that the gentlemen sated their appetites. This proved extremely fortunate for it was not long after talk resumed that the noises from above stairs took on a different sound. A hurried footstep was heard on the landing and all of them, though never admitting it, collectively held their breaths, waiting for the door to open.

And open it did.

Kitty smiled broadly at them.

"Yes?" Four pairs of eyes pinned her to the spot.

"A boy!" she excitedly reported.

"I cannot believe it. After all these years..." Mr. Bennet suddenly knew how his wife felt when she called for her smelling salts... just before everything went dark.

"Oh, my." Kitty's hand strayed to her mouth. She watched helplessly as her sister's husbands carried her father to the sofa. "I suppose it's a good thing I didn't mention that it's twins?"

"Twins?" Darcy looked at her, waiting for the rest of her news.

Kitty nodded. "Twin boys! Just think! I have five brothers now!"

With those words, the fate of William Collins was sealed. The heir to Longbourn no more, he lost what little favour remained with Lady Catherine and lived a long and lonely life in a remote parish in Kent, preaching to a congregation of elderly parishioners whose hearing had failed them many years previously.

Less than three months later, Charles and Jane Bingley welcomed their daughter, Elizabeth Anne, to their family. She was born two weeks after they moved to a new estate, purchased by Bingley after the recommendation of his friend and brother-in-law had proved to be just the place the young couple was looking for.

Society in London was amazed to learn of the sudden marriage, by special license, of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the elderly Earl of - . After months of chaperoning her daughter Anne de Bourgh, the heiress of Rosings Park, to every party and social gathering imaginable, Lady Catherine decided that there was more fun to be had in a marriage of her own than in trying to arrange her daughter's. Anne, for all the advice and guidance her mother had provided, quickly fell prey to a fortune hunter who subsequently lost Rosings Park in a game of dice. Anne obtained a divorce and moved in with her mother and the Earl, never hearing the end of it until the day she died.

Mary Wickham's exposure to the rigours of childbirth when witnessing her mother's labours that day gave her the strength to resist all temptation to enter into the state of motherhood herself. Her husband, although not unduly disappointed to escape the responsibilities of being a father, did experience profound dissatisfaction with the methods employed to retain this childless state. He sought, and found, solace in the writings of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

After a very brief courtship, which was conducted in private and the remote paths surrounding Meryton, Lydia Bennet eloped to Gretna Green with Lieutenant Denny. It had not come as a great surprise, and was even less of a concern considering the expense of two new babies to clothe and feed, but Mrs. Bennet allowed a small amount of motherly affection to persuade her husband to supply the young couple with a one way ticket to London, where Lydia had always wanted to go. This suited Denny as well. He had timed the elopement with a two week leave from his regiment and during their time in London performed so well in the gaming parlours that he was able to present his young bride with the keys to a new home before his leave was up. Rosings Park had never seen the likes of its new mistress in all the years it had stood and was about to be rocked to its very foundation.

Colonel Fitzwilliam returned to England after serving six months in France, helping His Majesty's Forces in the battle against Nappy. His nappy days were only beginning, however, as he was accompanied by his wife and six orphaned babies that she had rescued from a burning town. Caroline and Fitzwilliam were warmly welcomed at Matlock, the home of his parents, and his father provided the means of procuring a more permanent abode in the form of a large manor house within a half hour's ride of their own estate. It wanted only a little fixing up which the Earl was only too happy to arrange. Lady Matlock was able to visit her 'grandchildren' daily for she had found them irresistible and her experienced assistance was gratefully received by Mrs. Fitzwilliam. So delightful was this family circle that in no short time it was apparent that it would be enlarged with the addition of another, this time not a rescued orphan but a baby of their own, created in the image of her lovely mother, or so Colonel Fitzwilliam hoped. Caroline, for her part, wished for a little boy to complement her beloved husband's own boyish nature. Neither would be disappointed as eventually their family would be increased by four more babies before it was complete.

By the end of the summer Elizabeth Darcy had given birth to a son, the dilemma of selecting a name having left him with one that was far too big for such a little person. 'Henry Bennet George Fitzwilliam Darcy' was forthwith shortened to 'George Bennet Darcy' within a week of his arrival. His father had recovered from the periodic bursts of short temper that Elizabeth inflicted in the early months of her pregnancy and could be seen escorting his wife and son on daily tours of the grounds of Pemberley. Some might call him proud and they would be right.

The End

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