Pride And Education

By Kate P.

Beginning, Next Section

Chapter 1 - A New Neighbor

Posted on Thursday, 24 April 2008

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. Thus it was that after church Mr Bennet was accosted by his sister Mrs Phillips.

"Mr Bennet! Have you heard that Netherfield is let at last?"

The gentleman admitted that he had not.

Mrs Phillips took his non-committal response as encouragement. "My own Mr Phillips told me about it this very morning, Mr Bennet." She adjusted her bonnet to protect her skin from the spring sunshine.

Mr Bennet merely raised one eyebrow, although he could now hear the chatter of the townsfolk of Meryton, and the matter of Netherfield's new occupants seemed to be on all minds save his own.

"A fine gentleman, a Mr Bingley, has come from London, so Mr Phillips says, and he has no wife, and five thousand a year, Mr Bennet. Five thousand!"

Now Mr Bennet understood his sister's enthusiasm. A wealthy gentleman in a district so bereft of eligible young men that many young ladies remained single long after they would have been well married in better locations could not fail to be of interest. He must own that he too held an interest in the matter, having five daughters and his estate entailed upon a distant relative in the absence of a male heir.

Perhaps he should have sought another wife after Mrs Bennet's death, but there had been so much to arrange, and then the relief of a quiet household absent his wife's nerves and her moods had been so great he hesitated to risk his peace with another lady who might prove even sillier.

Instead, he had engaged a recently widowed distant relative as governess for his daughters. Mrs Carlisle had proved an admirable addition to the household, so severe in demeanor and appearance that there could be no suggestion of impropriety, and so capable that Mr Bennet had no difficulty resuming his former habits.

Now and again he experienced a touch of guilt that he had not allowed his sister Mrs Gardiner to give his girls a London season, but when Jane had come out things had been too unsettled and finances too tight for him to even consider such a thing. It would, of course, be entirely unfair to deny his older girls a season and allow it for the younger ones.

"Perhaps we should give the gentleman time to appreciate the joys of country living before we descend upon him with the unmarried daughters of Meryton, Mrs Phillips?" Mr Bennet suggested.

She puffed up in indignation, looking, Mr Bennet thought, entirely too much like an affronted pigeon. "Why Mr Bennet! A man in your position should not tease so!"

This was one of the many times Mr Bennet found being in such close proximity to someone so like the late Mrs Bennet a tiresome experience. He knew -- too well -- his position. Whether he chose to make light of it or allow misfortune to sour his disposition was no business of anyone but himself.

Mrs Carlisle redeemed the situation as she so often did, saying in tones fit to freeze the air itself, "Such speculation is most improper, Mrs Phillips. Mr Bennet's actions are quite reasonable." She returned her attention to her sole remaining charge. "Come, Lydia. We must not linger in pointless gossip."

As always, Mrs Carlisle reminded Mr Bennet of a black crane, all angles and harshness. Though she had been a widow near fifteen years, she still wore black, her gowns serviceable and neither enhancing nor concealing her stick-thin figure. She had been severely plain the day she arrived at Longbourn, and severely plain she remained, with her dark hair pulled back and tucked into her bonnet and not a trace of finery.

"Hmph!" Mrs Phillips shook her head at him and turned towards the town of Meryton leaving Mr Bennet to walk in peace towards Longbourn, his estate.

His daughters ahead of him on the road presented a pleasant prospect. Jane, the eldest and at two and twenty perilously close to spinsterhood, was the acknowledged beauty of the district. She had inherited her mother's beauty, leavened with a calm disposition and sweet temper. If Jane had any fault, Mr Bennet mused, it was her wish to believe the best of all people.

Her sister Elizabeth, twenty and possessed of no particular beauty other than her green eyes and a playful manner that bewitched as well as charmed, kept Jane's optimism checked, ensuring that Mr Bennet felt no need to intervene.

Eighteen year old Mary was perhaps the least attractive of his daughters. She had been a small and sickly child, and her eyes remained weak. Her sober and studious nature intimidated many, although she was no less willing to enjoy a dance than her more outgoing sisters.

At sixteen, Kitty was still enjoying the novelty of being out, her liveliness hiding the ease with which she could be influenced. Mr Bennet had no fears that anyone would take advantage of her, for she still deferred to the excellent Mrs Carlisle on most matters, and to her older sisters on the rest.

As for his youngest, Lydia was the most like her late mother, though hopefully with Mrs Carlisle's guidance would not disgrace herself when she came out. Even with her hair braided back and the plain dresses of a girl not yet out, she attracted attention. Though only fourteen, Lydia was so eager to be out that she overstepped almost every time she left Longbourn.

It was, he reflected ruefully, not a family a man might be proud of. Attractive, certainly, but he did wish that one of them could have been born male. Lizzie, most likely, for her sportive nature concealed a leavening of solid good sense. With her love of the outdoors, Lizzie had taken to managing Longbourn in her father's name with both good grace and admirable skill.

Again, Mr Bennet found a touch of guilt intruding into his thoughts. He must own that Lizzie managed Longbourn better than he, but such management only enriched his heir, a distant cousin he had never met. At least Lizzie's skill spared him complaints from his tenants and ensured that Mary had few difficulties with the household accounts. While by no means wealthy, Longbourn was a respectable estate for a country gentleman, even if it was managed by that gentleman's three oldest daughters.

As had been their custom for many years, the Bennet sisters repaired to the south parlor upon their return to Longbourn. Lydia had barely seated herself before she asked the question that had clearly been nagging her for the entire walk from church. "Will the gentleman who has let Netherfield be congenial, do you think? I do hope so! We have had no neighbor on that side for so long."

"Oh, indeed." Jane said before Mrs Carlisle could reprimand Lydia for her over-eager chatter. "It would be nice if our new neighbor were to tend to the outer fields. Lizzy was saying that field adjoining our sheep pasture is a complete wilderness." She lifted her work basket and pulled out the gown she was making over, held it up to the sunlight streaming in the windows so she could inspect her work.

Kitty nodded her agreement. "Surely Papa would like to have another neighbor to hunt with and visit. I think he is not so fond of Sir Lucas, though he is perfectly amiable." She considered her own work basket, then asked, "Jane, may I help you? You will look a perfect angel at the next Assembly."

"Thank you, Kitty." Jane smiled serenely. "You have a new gown for the Assembly, do you not?"

"Indeed I do." Kitty knelt beside Jane. "You have your hem marked. Shall I start there?"

Jane held the gown up. "What think you, sisters? Should the sleeves be long or short? Aunt Gardiner's latest Harpers says that both are in mode this season."

Lydia cocked her head. "Make them long, Jane, do. That fawn will make your whole face glow, and with a little lace edging the sleeves will show your delicate hands to advantage." She took out her own basket and set her lace pillow upon her lap. "I believe I have enough of this pattern for your hem now. It is a copy of the latest in mode." She unwrapped her lace bobbins and set them on her lap, taking care not to tangle them. "Mary, would you please play for us? I believe there is light enough not to strain your eyes." She cast a quick look towards Mrs Carlisle, relaxing when that lady nodded her approval.

Mary seated herself at the pianoforte -- which stood in the center of the parlor, positioned so that light from the windows reached it for much of the day. "What would you like me to play?"

"Oh, anything! You play so nicely."

Lizzy smiled, mischief dancing in her eyes. "You should be careful of such requests, Lydia. Mary might decide to treat us to practicing scales."

All of the Bennet sisters laughed when Lydia protested, "But she would still play them nicely!"

Lizzy bent to her own basket and extracted a large wrapped parcel. "I meant to give you this tomorrow, Mary, but I might as well give it early if you are to play for us." She handed the parcel to her sister. "It is a compendium of Mr Mozart's most recent works."

"Oh, Lizzy!" Mary breathed. "Thank you!" She blinked rapidly as she carefully unwrapped the parcel and folded the wrapping to be used later. "Would you join me in one of the duets? There must be some."

"Certainly." Lizzy seated herself beside her sister. "Though I am sure I will only make your playing most ill with my own poor skills."

"Modesty is becoming, Miss Elizabeth, but one should not belittle oneself." Mrs Carlisle observed. She drove her needle through black fabric of the dress she was altering with quick, tiny stitches.

Lizzy only smiled and bent her head to the pianoforte.

Chapter 2 - Of Gentlemen and Sheep

Posted on Monday, 28 April 2008

The next day after she and her family had broken their fast, Lizzy changed into her old riding habit - it was two years old and thus far from being in mode - and began her weekly tour of the estate. As usual, she rode Demeter, a gentle mare Lizzy had raised from a foal and trained herself. Mrs Carlisle had refused to allow young Lizzy's fear of horses to prevent her from learning to ride as well as any young lady ought, and the sickly little filly had quite overcome Lizzy's youthful fears. She could - and often did - ride any horse in Longbourn's stables, even the two stallions - although that was an exercise Lizzy never took lightly, and never at a time when the stallions might endanger her.

In poor weather, Lizzy would often have the grooms and stable-hands hitch up the curricle so that she might do her rounds without risking her health. Mrs Carlisle would never allow her to forget it if she were to catch cold through her own foolishness. If only Papa were not so ridiculously proud of her ability to drive! It was less than proper for a lady to drive herself, though acceptable within the confines of Longbourn.

She supposed Papa wished she had been born a boy, for he had once been the talk of Hertfordshire, the best whip in the county. He had certainly not objected to teaching his boisterous young daughter to handle the ribbons.

Demeter knew the route as well as her rider, and walked along it placidly. Fortunately, there were few complaints from the tenants these days, and none were injured or ill. The crops were in good order, the fields a good mix of grains, pulses and fallow lands to ensure that nothing became overworked.

That "Miss Lizzy" was a welcome sight she considered a reflection on the time she had spent learning what a good landowner did and how one ensured that one's tenants remained healthy and happy. Her easy, unaffected manner, while never improper, had convinced many a tenant's wife to confide in her, allowing her to solve problems before they became serious.

She let the hunting grounds be, for they bordered upon Sir Lucas's estate as well as Netherfield Park. Some time back all three estates had agreed to share this corner to increase the prospects of all three land owners. Unless she knew Sir Lucas and her father had other plans, Lizzy did not enter the hunting grounds on her tours. She would have to include the gentleman from Netherfield in those calculations now.

A few words with the field hands managing the home cattle confirmed her impression that Longbourn's herds remained in good health. None of the hands were experienced with cattle, there being a shortage of skilled cow herds and shepherds, but they would learn. All three young men were the sons or grandsons of long-term tenants with few other prospects, and grateful for the opportunity to improve their station.

The sheep field was in somewhat less good order, for here Lizzy had been unable to find anyone capable of whistling a sheepdog, much less a shepherd willing to manage Longbourn's small flock of prime Merinos imported from Spain. Their heavy fleeces were wonderfully soft and fine, the kind of wool ladies prized for their shawls and winter clothing. Lizzy had read that the soft wool took dye well. Last summer's shearing had brought prize rates from the markets, more than enough to justify keeping the sheep despite the lack of a trained shepherd.

The sixteen animals clustered together, their heavy fleece not yet uncomfortable. Nearby, watching for any sign of trouble, young Jackie Hill stood with a staff in one hand. There were no dogs, for young Hill lacked the wit to train a dog. He was gentle with the sheep, though, and a sweet-tempered lad who could charm any animal into holding still to allow him to inspect them for potential injury or illness.

The cow hands checked thrice daily to ensure nothing untoward befell him, leaving Lizzy to coax details from him when she checked the fields. Though young Hill was short of wit and untrained, he cared for the sheep with as much dedication as anyone could wish. Lizzy credited his care with ensuring the animals thrived in the cooler, damper climate of England. She doubted Longbourn's small herd would ever rival the fleeces Mr Macarthur was sending from the colony of New South Wales, but it provided the finest wool in Hertfordshire.

Once she had satisfied herself that all appeared well, Lizzy signaled Demeter towards the sheep. Before the horse had taken more than a few paces, the thunder of gun fire nearby assaulted her ears.

Demeter shied, prancing with nervousness, forcing Lizzy to spend several long moments calming the mare. By then, her worst fears were realized - the panicked sheep were fleeing straight for young Hill, who stood slack-jawed, too frightened to move.

With no time to think of anything but protecting one of Longbourn's charges, Lizzy urged Demeter into a gallop. She bent low, guided the mare into the narrowing space between the sheep and their shepherd.

Demeter's hooves thudded against the earth and the mingled scents of horse, soil and disturbed grass swirled to mix with the less wholesome smell of frightened sheep. She passed between the sheep and young Hill so close that the skirt of her habit all but slapped Hill's face. There was no more space on the off side - sheep bleated their panic and tried to flee into their equally terrified fellows.

Lizzy brought Demeter around as tightly as she dared, and sent her towards the sheep again. This time, the flock broke ahead of her, skittering towards the south fence.

Her heart pounded as she slowed Demeter to a more sedate pace. "Master Hill? Are you hurt?"

Young Hill shook himself all over. "Nay, Miss Lizzy. You never hurt the sheep, did you?"

She almost laughed. How like young Hill to care more for his woolly-headed charges than for himself! "No, Master Hill. They should be well enough." She cast a glare towards the hedge marking the boundary between Longbourn and Netherfield. "Unless some fool decides to go shooting again."

Only then did Lizzy realize that two gentlemen watched from the other side of the hedge. She flushed at the realization that they may have heard her comment, then anger mingled with the fear she had not had time to feel. She nudged Demeter over to the hedge, taking stock of the gentlemen.

The taller was darker and more severe in countenance than his fair companion. She allowed that both were well-proportioned and handsome men, and sat well upon their horses. They seemed to find her appearance amusing, to judge by the glint in the eyes of the dark gentleman, and the smile the fair one wore.

Once Lizzy was close enough to the hedge to speak without raising her voice, she said, "Well sirs, I do hope your hunt was successful, being as it near cost your neighbors a man's life."

The blank shock on both gentlemen's faces fanned her anger. "Did you never think that perhaps there might be fields on the far side of your little wilderness? Surely gentlemen of quality would not presume to hunt in so small an area."

The dark gentleman reddened, and the blond looked shamefaced. "I am sorry, Miss..."

"Bennet. Elizabeth Bennet, at your service." Lizzy said crisply. "My father owns Longbourn and would appreciate warning before you endanger his men and livestock again."

The blond gentleman's face bid fair to match the scarlet trim of his cravat. "I do apologize, Miss Bennet. I have only recently taken the lease of Netherfield Park, and I fear I grew a little over-excited."

Lizzy raised an eyebrow. "Netherfield Park is a handsome estate, sir. No blame attaches to you that many of the outer fields are neglected and have the appearance of hunting fields." She did not repeat her assertion that this particular neglected field was far to small for safe hunting.

The blond gentlemen grew even more scarlet. "I fear the fault is all mine. Darcy - my friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Lizzy bowed in the saddle. "My pleasure, sir." Mrs Carlisle would be pleased. I did not sound angry.

Darcy returned the gesture. "Madam."

His curtness seemed to be embarrassment, for Lizzy would have sworn his ears were reddened by his blush.

"Darcy tried to tell me this was not the ideal place to shoot, but I would have none of it." The blond gentleman bowed. "Charles Bingley, at your service Madam."

Lizzy responded with a respectable courtesy. "My pleasure, sir."

Darcy must have collected himself sufficiently to speak properly by then, for he said, "Your servant, Miss Bennet? He is uninjured?"

At least both gentlemen had some degree of decency, Lizzy thought. "Master Hill is well, sir. Thank you for your concern." She turned to follow Darcy's gaze, and sighed under her breath when she saw that Hill was inspecting each sheep in turn, ensuring that the animals were indeed unharmed.

"Excuse me, Miss Bennet, but... I have never seen sheep such as those before. Would you by any..." Bingley's voice trailed off as the impropriety of asking such a question of a lady occurred to him.

Lizzy met his eyes. "They are merino sheep, imported from Spain, Mr Bingley. We think very highly of them here at Longbourn."

Darcy's features grew more severe, his blush fading.

"Perhaps you could talk to Mr Bennet at your leisure, Mr Bingley?" Lizzy suggested. "Longbourn has been our home for many years, so Mr Bennet may know more of the management of Netherfield than your agent has told you." Small matters like the location of the hunting fields, she thought.

"Capital!" Bingley was all smiles again. "I must say Longbourn looks to be a fine estate, and a credit to Mr Bennet."

Lizzy bowed once more, this time to hide her expression. Of course it would be assumed that Papa managed Longbourn. She should have expected nothing less. "Thank you, Mr Bingley." She forced herself to smile. "If you wish to continue hunting, there is a large field to the south which borders on Sir Lucas's and Longbourn's hunting grounds. I believe the arrangement was made some time ago to ensure that all three estates had sufficient space for game." An imp of mischief caused her to add, "Perhaps you might care to visit Sir Lucas to be sure he is not in the fields when you visit?"

Darcy's lips twitched, but failed to overcome his severe countenance.

Bingley smiled. "Excellent, Miss Bennet. I am sure we shall all be amiable neighbors."

"Miss Lizzy!" Young Hill's distress caused Lizzy to turn. "I think the old gel be lambing!"

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Lizzy said. "I fear I have an emergency." She raised her voice. "I shall be with you directly, Hill."

Rather than waste time farewelling the gentlemen, neither of whom impressed her greatly, Lizzy dismounted and tied Demeter's reins to the hedge. She gathered her skirt in one hand, but before she could take her emergency salves - she had never thought to see them used on sheep! - she heard Darcy's voice quite clearly.

"Really, Bingley! What were you thinking, encouraging such shrewish behavior!"

Shrew, is it, Mr Darcy? Lizzy thought grimly. We shall see about that.

Chapter 3 - The Discomfort of Gentlemen

Posted on Tuesday, 6 May 2008

Temptation and Mr Fitzwillian Darcy were not strangers. In truth, Darcy's acquaintance with temptation was both long and less than friendly. Since the death of his father at a relatively youthful age, Darcy had managed Pemberley's estates and house as well as ensuring that his much younger sister Georgiana received an education and upbringing appropriate both to her status and her nature.

With her mother long dead and then her father, she looked to her brother as her guardian and her guide, a regard Darcy regretted only in that Georgiana had no women of her class to act as either friend or confidante. His assumption of such responsibility at an age when other young gentlemen were amusing themselves hunting or playing the affections of young ladies -- and trying to avoid getting themselves caught in a marriage to those same young ladies...

Though Darcy was not unhappy with his life, there were times when his responsibilities chafed. Even this visit with his friend Bingley was as much chore as it was pleasure, for he found himself guiding his younger friend on matters relating to the management of a large establishment.

Not that he had any expectation Bingley would become a parasitic creature who exploited his tenants and lands and then complained bitterly at the failure of the estates to provide. It was simply that Bingley continually asked for advice on this or that matter, and Darcy felt honor-bound to give it as best he could.

None of which explained why he found himself unable to turn his thoughts from the unseemly spectacle of an obviously well-bred young lady acting as though she were the son of the landowner.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet had shown horsemanship and courage to rival any man's when she had so skillfully herded those wretched sheep from the half-witted boy set to tend them. That was entirely admirable. Her later behavior was not.

Darcy found his face heating at the memory of her rebuke, one doubly humiliating because it was so well deserved. He should have prevented Bingley from shooting in so small a field. Yet, for a lady to pass such censure was intolerable. The management of an estate was a man's duty. Surely if Mr Bennet were unable to tend to the estate himself there was another who could perform the task in his stead.

"Come, Darcy, I swear you have not heard a word I have spoken." Bingley's tone was, as ever, cheerful and friendly.

Darcy raised one eyebrow. "I assume that the praise of one field is much the same as that of another."

Bingley flushed. "I am sorry, William. Netherfield Park is so... so perfect for my situation I forget that you have been managing Pemberley for some years now."

"My apologies," Darcy said. "The strangeness of your neighbor's arrangements has been bothering me."

"And not the young lady's pretty face?" Bingley's grin held no malice. "It would be no shame for that to captivate even you, Darcy."

"Heaven forbid." Darcy shook his head, and nudged his horse -- one of Bingley's geldings -- closer to his friend. "Surely you found it odd that a young lady should be acting so."

"Quite so," Bingley agreed. "But Darcy, she may not have a choice."

In answer to Darcy's curious look, Bingley explained. "The agent was telling me I could have trouble finding good men for Netherfield Park. The wars took their toll, of course, but in addition when Lord Altmont married so well, most of the experienced men took themselves to Tormont Hall in the hopes of hiring on there, and never returned." He gestured in a way Darcy took to mean helpless agreement. "It does explain why there are so few men here."

He had not noticed, Darcy realized with some chagrin. Though he prided himself on his discernment, he had failed to see that there was indeed a lamentable shortage of mature men. Old and young aplenty amongst Netherfield's servants and tenants, but fewer mature men than he would have expected amongst the tenants, and fewer still among the servants. "You are correct." Darcy forced a smile. "I should have noticed."

If only Miss Bennet's angry eyes -- and the twinkling amusement they had shown later when she teased them about the hunting fields -- would leave him be! He could not associate himself with such a woman. Even were she an heiress she should not have knowledge of such things as breeds of sheep, much less the effrontery to advise a gentleman about them.

Yet... The calm way she had responded to the half-wit shepherd's plaint about one of the ewes lambing, the courage with which she had ridden to the boy's rescue, the kindness she had shown the lad. Darcy had to admit that if Mr Bennet's son had acted in the same fashion he would have been impressed and more than willing to assist in any matter necessary.

He had an uncomfortable suspicion that Miss Bennet would not regard his reasoning kindly, and worse, that she would point out every flaw he failed to see with the impeccable manners she had displayed. Was there ever such contradiction in one slender female?

"If I remember correctly," Bingley was saying, "Miss Elizabeth Bennet is one of five Miss Bennets. The four elder ones are accounted to be beauties, and the youngest is not yet out."

That open, earnest smile would bring trouble from some unscrupulous cad or fortune hunting harpy if Bingley would not learn to guard his nature.

Darcy nodded. "If all have the looks of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, they would be beauties in any company." Not that she met the standards of classical beauty. Her face was too strong for that, but those expressive eyes and her confident manner overwhelmed such flaws. If her figure was flawed in any way he had not seen it.

Bingley laughed. "Ah, so she did catch your eye!" He touched the brim of his hat in a mockery of a bow. "I am impressed, my friend. But fear not. The Miss Bennets do not move in such elevated realms as you."

This time, Darcy raised both eyebrows.

"The agent is a little loquacious," Bingley admitted. "One might even say a gossip, if he were female." His smile widened. "I fear I shall never remember everything he told me. I can only hope I remember the important advice in time to spare myself disaster."

"That is a hope to which we all aspire." Darcy could not stop his throat tightening. The disaster that had so nearly befallen Georgiana could not fail to destroy any pleasant thoughts that might tempt him.

The memory of Miss Bennet did not merely tempt. Even knowing that Miss Bennet was surely beneath him did not release him from the trap of mingled admiration and dismay. So much of her actions in that brief incident had been admirable, and yet the impropriety of a gentleman's daughter acting in his stead... She must know her actions marked her at best a shrew, at worst a hoyden.

Despite his resolve to think no more of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy could not keep his thoughts from returning to her, each time finding more both to admire, and to deplore. If this was to be the pattern of his stay at Netherfield, he had best find excuse to return to Pemberley, and soon.

Chapter 4 - Unexpected Visitors

Posted on Thursday, 15 May 2008

Lizzy did not fully regain her equanimity until after she had returned to Longbourn and changed into a simple day dress of sprigged linen. Her encounter with her new neighbor and his friend was bad enough, but poor Jackie Hill had been quite at a loss when one of the ewes had chosen that moment to give birth.

That birthing was an uncomfortable and unpleasant procedure, Lizzy had long since realized. She had never dreamed it could be so horribly messy. Nothing she had read about animal husbandry mentioned that.

Not that she had directly assisted, of course. She had merely encouraged young Hill and kept the poor boy from panic. Most of the time, she had kept her eyes averted from the sight. Bad enough that she had to provide assistance to young Hill: Lizzy had no intention of exposing herself to far worse by actually observing an animal's birth.

The glimpses she had seen were quite sufficient. She only hoped she had been correct in assuring young Hill that the bloody mass the sheep had expelled after the lamb's birth was perfectly normal, and that it was indeed right and proper that the ewe should eat it and the blood-streaked sac surrounding the lamb. She had been at least as relieved as young Hill that the ewe's licking had caused the gangly newborn to start bleating and struggle to its feet.

The dry commentary in Papa's books said only that the ewe would eat the afterbirth for strength and would lick the newborn lamb clean, after which it would stand for its first meal. Nothing had been mentioned about how much blood there would be, or that the ewe would bleat her protests in deafening tones and try to flee with her lamb half-born, or any of the rest of it.

At least she had not fainted. That would have been too humiliating. Nor had she disgraced herself by helping Hill. The most she had done was to give him some rags to clean his hands afterwards and talk him through the whole procedure. She did not doubt that he would follow her instructions to burn the rags when he came in from the fields.

Still, the lamb was healthy and -- according to young Hill -- male. Another ram gave better breeding options if the youngster remained healthy, and the possibility of stud fees from other estates wishing to improve their wool. Sir William had expressed an interest in cross-breeding Longbourn's merinos with his Whitefaced Dartmoor sheep to see if that produced a finer version of the Dartmoors' sturdy -- but harsh -- wool.

If the lamb survived this winter, he would be able to be put to stud next fall with Longbourn's other ram. Between that and this season's shearing, Lizzy hoped her experiment would earn back the money she had taken from her dowry fund to purchase the merinos. The thousand pounds apiece she and her sisters had saved was a small dowry, but far better than Papa could have managed on his own. All they had from Papa was fifty pounds a year, and the gentleman who would take them with so little to recommend them was either besotted or a fool.

Once she had changed and tidied her hair, Lizzy took herself to the dining room where maids were engaged laying out dishes for a luncheon. Two of the three were daughters of Mrs Hill, Longbourn's housekeeper. Lizzy asked the older of the daughters, Jenny, to have Mrs Hill meet her in the still room as soon as convenient.

The still room was cool and dry, filled with the mixed scents of dried and drying herbs. Bundles of lavender hung from the ceiling, and wooden boxes for dried herbs lined the shelves. Many of the boxes were empty, the supplies depleted over winter and not yet replenished. Their replacements hung with the lavender until they were sufficiently dry to be laid flat and would keep for as long as needed.

Lizzy had spent many happy times here with Jane, tying cut herbs to hang for drying. Of late she was as likely to be here with Lydia, teaching her sister what herbs were most beneficial for which purposes between answering an endless stream of questions about what it was like to be out, and whether there were likely to be any eligible young gentlemen in the district when she came out.

Like her older sisters and their neighbors and friends Charlotte and Maria Lucas, Lydia was well aware that there were few young gentlemen in the Meryton area, a fact that greatly limited her chances of making any match at all. Sir William Lucas's only son was barely thirteen years of age, and the Bennets and Lucases had for many years been the most gently-bred families in the district.

Despite his title, Sir William was in no better straits than the Bennets, so neither Charlotte nor Maria had the benefits of a London season. The other families with whom they might exchange calls were those of wealthier tradesmen, such as attorneys and the like. Even there, the lure of military life and the potential for advancement an officer might enjoy led many of the family sons away from the district.

Mrs Hill entered the cellar in a flurry of skirts and aprons. "Miss Lizzy! There's naught amiss with our Jackie?"

Lizzy hastened to reassure her. "No, Mrs Hill. Your son is well, though he had quite the fright. If he comes home with bloodied clothing, it is from the lamb that made its appearance today."

Mrs Hill dropped a belated courtesy, her hands unclenching from her work apron. "A lamb, Miss Lizzy? Our boy wived a lamb?"

"Indeed he did." Lizzy smiled. "A fine, healthy young lamb to add to our flock. When I left the little one was already on his feet." She took a long, slow breath. "I suspect the excitement of it will lead him to forget that the birthing was a messy business, and that he took quite the fright beforehand when the sheep were panicked by shots from Netherfield Park's adjoining field."

Lizzy explained as much of the incident as was proper to share with the housekeeper, emphasizing that young Hill had suffered nothing more than fright.

Mrs Hill lifted one hand to her mouth, then slowly lowered it as Lizzy quieted her fears. "Thank you, Miss Lizzy," she said when Lizzy had finished. "You've been so good to our boy. There's not many as would do that for a half-wit."

"Young Hill is very capable with the sheep, Mrs Hill," Lizzy reminded her. "They trust him, and so long as nothing startles him he cares for them as well as anyone could hope. I asked the cowherds to check him this afternoon to be sure he has settled, so there should be no problems beyond needing to launder - or perhaps re-make - his shirt."

Mrs Hill relaxed, and essayed a tentative smile. "Thank you, Miss Lizzy. I'll see that he's properly cleaned up and has a clean shirt to wear out tomorrow."

Once Mrs Hill was gone, reassured that her youngest child had suffered no harm, Lizzy selected one of the bundles of dried lavender to scent the trunk freshener she was making. She would enjoy the time between now and luncheon relaxing with her sisters.

"Oh, poor Lizzy! You didn't ruin your credibility with the gentlemen, did you?" Lydia asked.

Lizzy only laughed. On fine afternoons, she and her sisters walked to one of the district's many scenic locations. The exercise was healthy, and Mrs Carlisle's insistence that they walk at least two miles each day, unless the weather prevented it, ensured that she and all her sisters remained in the very bloom of good health. "After seeing me taking a man's role, I very much doubt I have any credibility with the gentlemen," she assured her sister. "It must be left to Jane, Mary or Kitty to snare them."

"Lizzy!" Mary and Jane chorused their protest.

"If they are so foolish as to pass over Mary or Jane, then Lydia's coming out will surely end their resistance."

Kitty shook her head. "Oh, no! You cannot mean for me and Lydia to wed fine gentlemen when you, Jane and Mary are so much more accomplished than we are."

Mrs Carlisle made a clucking sound. "Miss Catherine, you are quite as accomplished as your sisters. Miss Elizabeth being seen managing estate matters is unfortunate, and her involvement a necessary evil. It is not, I think, an impression that cannot be redeemed by proper behavior when in the gentlemen's company at the Assembly."

"Oh, but you did not see their faces, Mrs Carlisle," Lizzy brushed aside a young oak bough that grew across the path and held it so that her sisters might pass without impediment. "I could hardly have been in worse case had I worn Papa's clothing and spoken like a man."

At Mrs Carlisle's horrified gasp, Lizzy added, "They are very fine gentlemen indeed, and no doubt unaccustomed to young ladies being forced by circumstances into unladylike paths."

All of her sisters laughed, although Jane said, "Lizzy, you should not tease so. The gentlemen may merely have been surprised."

"Miss Jane is correct." Mrs Carlisle's judgment was, as always, impeccable. "One should not draw conclusions based on so little evidence, Miss Elizabeth."

Lizzy bowed her head to acknowledge Mrs Carlisle's point. "Have no fear, Mrs Carlisle. I shall be a paragon of ladylike virtue from this moment on." She jumped lightly over a fallen branch. "After all, I too must find a husband willing to take me for what little I have." She turned to help Mary, who had never been as robust as her sisters and tended to stumble on rough paths.

"Silly!" Lydia said with a smile. "You are just as accomplished as Jane and Mary and Kitty."

They emerged from the woods near the front gates of Longbourn and walked along the estate's long drive. Lizzy's breath caught when she saw the two horsemen dismounting at the door.

"Goodness!" Lydia whispered. "Are they the gentlemen?"

Lizzy nodded. She had not expected to see them at Longbourn

"They are very fine gentlemen," Kitty murmured.

On that point, Lizzy had no doubt. The bay geldings both men rode were well-boned animals and accepted the grooms' lead without objection. The men were, as she had noted that morning, as handsome as any lady could desire, and wore fine clothing of the very latest in mode without being excessive. She found that she had reached up to adjust her bonnet, and forced her hands down with a touch of irritation. She would not primp or preen before these gentlemen, no matter how fine they were!

The gentlemen must have heard the sisters' footsteps, for conversation had quite ceased. Both men turned, and Mr Darcy's eyes grew very wide, as though he were startled. His face paled, then grew red.

His gaze fixed on Mary, he demanded, "What are you doing here? Your mother would never allow it!"

Chapter 5 - Games and Words

Posted on Tuesday, 27 May 2008

The shock of Mr Darcy's extraordinary outburst left Lizzy unable to speak for a moment. Fortunately for her resolve to appear the very picture of ladylike virtue before the gentlemen, Mary recovered her voice first.

"I beg your pardon, sir," she said as sweetly as anyone could desire. "I fear you have the advantage over me."

Darcy started. He reddened further, until even his ears flamed scarlet with his blush. After a moment, he offered a short bow. "My apologies, madam. You resemble... a lady I know well." He swallowed, his interest apparently consumed by the gravel beneath his feet. "I fear I have given grave insult. Your resemblance to that lady startled me into... improper speech."

Mary responded with a low curtsy and a sweet smile that Darcy undoubtedly did not see, for his gaze remained firmly upon the ground. "All is forgiven, sir. It must surely be disquieting to see a person one thought far away engaged in other pursuits at a location such as this." No trace of amusement leaked into her voice, although Lizzy could see the gleam of mischief in her sister's eyes.

Darcy looked up, clearly startled, though his embarrassment remained obvious upon his face. "You are all generosity, madam."

I must be reasonable, Lizzy reminded herself. The gentleman had received a great shock and was surely deeply embarrassed. That was reason enough for the shortness of his address.

Jane intervened with a smile and a courtesy. "Sirs, you must be calling upon our father, Mr Bennet. Shall we have someone inform him of your arrival?"

Mr Bingley spoke, all smiles and amiability. "That would be capital, Miss Bennet."

Darcy kept his gaze on the floor as a servant led him and Bingley through Longbourn to the library. If he met no one's eyes, he need not acknowledge his humiliation.

Bad enough that he had taken one of the Miss Bennets for his cousin, but to have blurted out a demand like that - gripped as he was by the terrifying prospect of his aunt bringing herself to this quiet part of Hertfordshire - was inexcusable. Worse, his ill-manners might blight Bingley's standing with the young ladies, and while they were well beneath his station, the daughters of a country gentleman of limited means were a fair prospect for his friend to consider.

The Bennet family could not be of any great note, or he would have seen them on one of the many times he had visited London during the Season. Darcy was certain he had never seen any of the young ladies prior to this day. He would surely have noticed a young lady with Miss Elizabeth Bennet's remarkable eyes, or one as like his cousin as her sister.

The young ladies could not have shunned London for fear their looks were inferior, for even the youngest, still in the plain, demure dresses befitting a girl not yet out, her hair braided back in a severe style, was handsomer than many a woman claimed to be a beauty. The lady he had taken for his cousin was perhaps the least attractive of the sisters, but she would shine when away from her sisters - just as a primrose could never stand against the showier beauty of a rose, but when not overshadowed was no less lovely.

That left either inferior birth, or a lack of funds. Darcy suspected the latter, for he saw nothing about Longbourn that would mark its owner of being of lesser consequence.

There were other signs of economies, too - including a maid escorting him and Bingley to Mr Bennet, not a manservant - enough that Darcy had placed Mr Bennet as an impoverished gentleman of minor consequence in the short walk to Longbourn's study.

There, Darcy and Bingley were cordially greeted by an older gentleman. Darcy judged the gentleman to be in his mid-forties, a man who had been handsome in his youth and had mellowed to a vaguely avuncular figure with graying hair and glasses.

Once introductions were dispensed with, the gentleman, Mr Bennet, invited them to sit and partake of some port. The crystal glasses showed signs of much use and were of a dated style, though excellent quality.

They exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather - remarkably fine for so early in the year - and how Bingley found Netherfield - very much to his liking, of course - before Mr Bennet said, "While this is all very flattering, I very much doubt gentlemen such as yourselves have graced my humble home with your presence merely to be neighborly." There was a hint of something more than the amiable country gentlemen in his gaze, a suggestion that some deeper motive lurked.

"Indeed you are correct, sir." Bingley leaned forward. "We came - well, I did, Darcy bears no blame for any of this - to apologize for scaring your sheep this morning. If Miss Elizabeth had not been present they may have injured your shepherd."

"Who is as woolly-headed as his charges, I know." Bennet set his glass down on the sideboard with a clink. "I must ask you to believe that he is the best we could find for the task."

"I had heard that good hands are in great demand here," Bingley agreed. "How bad is the situation, truly? I fear that while Netherfield's agent talks much, not all of what he said is particularly useful."

Bennet smiled, all avuncular charm once more. "He gossips, you mean? Fear not. My Lizzy will know anything you might need."

Despite his best efforts, Darcy could not help but look startled. Surely Bennet would not openly acknowledge his daughter's unfortunate situation?

The older man sighed heavily and leaned back into his chair. "I should not allow her to do it, I know, but then who would?" He shook his head. "There is not a man worthy to trust with an estate for miles around and I am, alas, sorely unsuited to the task."

Bingley, of course, took Bennet's words at their value. There were times Darcy despaired of his friend's trusting nature - he had caught the thread of irony in the older gentleman's words, the hint that Mr Bennet was not entirely displeased that his daughter had been forced into a man's role.

Bennet eyed him with a sharpness at odds with his genial appearance. "Mr Darcy, I assure you I am aware of the difficulties this places upon my Lizzy's shoulders." The older man spread his hands. "Suffice to say that Longbourn is entailed upon a distant cousin in the absence of male heirs, and thus any economies my girls are able to make can only benefit them in the matter of dowries."

Such a blunt admission of one's financial woes was perhaps unwise, but Darcy imagined the matter was common knowledge in this area, and hence something Mr Bennet found no difficulty admitting.

In a clear attempt to smooth over the tension, Bingley leaned forward and said, "Sir, would you be good enough to tell us more about your sheep?"

Despite supper being - as usual - excellent, Lizzy tasted very little of the meal. She was conscious of their unexpected guests, Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, and the way Darcy's sharp gaze seemed to catalog every item in Longbourn's dining room from the plate to the wallpaper.

Where Mr Bingley was all charm and amiability, Darcy spoke little, and what he did say was curt, as though he found the very need to speak unpleasant. And yet, every time Lizzy chanced to glance in his direction, Darcy was clearly looking at her, for he would look away as if he feared to meet her eyes.

Her determination to be the model of ladylike behavior was sorely strained in such circumstances, relieved only by Jane's quickness to turn to more pleasant topics any time the conversation strayed into dangerous ground, and the playful word games she enjoyed with her younger sisters.

At least, until in response to Bingley's effusive praise of Darcy as a friend and the soundness of Darcy's advice, Mary answered with a quote from Othello: "My friend, honest, honest Darcy".

Lizzy's stomach tightened to true nausea even as she responded with, "Most true it is that I have looked on truth askance and strangely".

Lydia's eyes grew wide. "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer, Lizzy?"

She could have embraced her sister. "Alas, poor Mary. I knew her, Lydia."

"Aye, there's the rub," Kitty added. "To be, or not to be, that is the question."

Darcy raised one eyebrow. "Is this a dagger I see before me?" He looked directly at Lizzy, who blushed and lowered her gaze.

"Sober virtue, years and modesty guard my innocence," she murmured. "I do pray for mercy."

"Oh, Lizzy!" Kitty shook her head, smiling. "The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven."

"And yet, once more unto the breach," Darcy responded, a hint of amusement glinting beneath his severe facade. "For I have seen the vaulty top of heaven, how lovely!"

Lizzy's lips twitched, though she could not help wondering what madness had overtaken the gentleman who thought her a shrew. "An honest gentleman," she said, her head tilting slightly as she regarded Darcy. "And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and - I warrant - a virtuous."

Darcy bowed slightly over his plate. "A hit!"

His smile transformed him, Lizzy thought even as she joined with the gentleman and her sisters in laughing. Smiling and relaxed, Darcy was altogether a different creature. What made him so ill-humored? "I should apologize," she said when all had calmed. "We often play this game together. It was impolite to drag you into it." She allowed a little mischief into her smile. "Though you acquitted yourself well."

"I find it a diverting and pleasing game, Miss Elizabeth." Darcy's moment of pleasure faded, and he returned to his cold, severe demeanor. "Pray, do not discontinue on my account." A tiny flicker of amusement slipped through what must be a mask. "The Bard can never be improper, even in his most... interesting moments."

"Would you say such of Homer, Mr Darcy?" Mary asked. She sounded almost prim. "Or Sappho?"

Before Lizzy could protest Mary's impertinent question, Darcy frowned, his expression darkening a little. "I would say that it would depend on the lady, Miss Mary."

"And a lady who has read of animal husbandry?" Lizzy found herself asking.

Darcy cleared his throat. "Any lady who has read that and remains a lady," He nodded to Lizzy in a clear acknowledgment that he considered her such, "may read the most scandalous of material with a clear conscience, for she is far too sensible to be led astray by either Roman or Greek immorality."

Lizzy swallowed, her face burning. She could not say whether Darcy meant to compliment or to insult her, only that she found herself feeling both at once, and had not the least idea how to respond.

Chapter 6 - Darcy by Moonlight

Posted on Wednesday, 11 June 2008

The light of a waxing moon shafted through the windows of Darcy's room at Netherfield, illuminating his restless pacing. When he had accepted Bingley's request to inspect the younger man's new estate and provide him with a reason to avoid his sisters' company, Darcy had expected nothing more than a pleasant rural excursion marred by the need to avoid Miss Caroline Bingley's incessant and shallow attempts to ensnare him, the avid cooperation of her sister Mrs Louisa Hurst, and the indolent Mr Hurst.

The avoidance was simple enough, since neither lady showed the least interest in leaving the comforts of Netherfield Hall, and Hurst was equally disinclined to sample the country air. Bingley's forbearance with his overbearing sisters was an irritant, but one easily escaped by riding, walking or hunting - or, if the weather was poor, by secluding himself in Netherfield's library.

Darcy had not expected to find himself dining with a local gentleman, much less one with five daughters with no prospects beyond their faces. Even that would have been no hardship were it not for the young ladies themselves. Despite her startling behavior earlier in the day, Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been the very model of propriety this evening, though those extraordinary eyes of hers had betrayed her more than once. She could speak with perfect calm while her expressive eyes told of her true feelings.

That in itself would be intriguing, but hardly disturbing. Miss Mary Bennet's astonishing resemblance to his cousin Anne, on the other hand, had led him to inexcusable bad manners, inspired not least by the fear that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had followed him to Hertfordshire in order to press him to offer for Anne.

While Anne de Bourgh was a pleasant enough young woman, she was also sickly, and completely dominated by her formidable mother. Since the death of Sir Lewis de Bourgh at a lamentably young age, Lady Catherine's determination and stubbornness had run unchecked. Even Darcy's mother's whimsical fancy that he and Anne, so close in age and cousins, would make a charming couple had been taken by Lady Catherine and twisted into inevitability. Darcy knew of only three others who had refused to accept his aunt's whims: his parents, both long dead, and Sir Lewis. The years of having no check on her demands had made his aunt unbearable, and worse, allowed her to believe that all things must eventually turn to her wishes.

Despite her resemblance to Anne, Miss Mary Bennet was in no way like his cousin, or rather, she seemed hauntingly like what Anne could be if she were not always ill and so intimidated by her mother. If that were not disturbing enough, all the Miss Bennets reminded him of his aunt's family in some way.

The eldest, Miss Jane, had a way of lacing her fingers together when she considered some question or problem that matched his aunt's habit when she was provoked into thought on some topic. Miss Elizabeth's gestures, the way her lips pursed when she was unhappy or worried... they reminded him of Sir Lewis. When something startled or disturbed Miss Catherine and she shrank into herself, it was not unlike watching Anne shrink from her mother. And the youngest, Miss Lydia...

She was very like her own mother, Mrs Bennet, whose portrait was so like portraits of the young Lady Catherine it was as uncanny as Miss Mary's resemblance to his cousin.

Discreet questions during the evening had revealed that the late Mrs Bennet had a sister Mrs Phillips who lived in Meryton, the nearby village, and a much younger brother Mr Gardiner who lived in London and was a well-to-do merchant. There could be no possible connection, and yet conversing with the Bennet sisters had the strangest resemblance to his visits to Rosings on the rare occasions his aunt had been in an amiable temper.

Darcy sighed and shook his head. Women who behaved in a shrewish fashion but a few scant hours later were all sweetness, his aunt's mannerisms haunting him so that he saw them everywhere he looked, a gentleman who allowed - nay, encouraged - his daughter to manage his estate in his stead...

Bingley being immediately and deeply besotted by the eldest Miss Bennet did not help matters, Darcy thought. Not that there was anything to object to about the lady herself, but Darcy could well imagine how Bingley's sisters would respond to their brother's infatuation. Hurst was a well-connected and wealthy gentleman, although he seemed to Darcy at times bewildered by his wife, as though the woman he had courted and the one to whom he was married were two entirely different people. Having seen Miss Caroline Bingley's behavior, Darcy could not doubt that Hurst faced exactly that.

The prospect of her condescension at the Meryton Assembly in a few days was almost sufficient to convince Darcy to cut short his visit and return to Pemberley. Almost - the Miss Bennets were attending the Assembly and Misses Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty had promised to rescue him from over-eager young ladies seeking a husband if the need should arise.

Much as he disliked social events - a naturally somber disposition together with shyness he could not altogether conceal made them a trial to him even in the company of friends - Darcy had to admit to a degree of curiosity. The Miss Bennets would, he was sure, make the Society manners of Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst appear cold and affected - all without ever appearing to be anything other than perfectly well-mannered, amiable young ladies.

If such would convince them to return to Hurst's or Bingley's London town house, Darcy would be much more willing to remain at Netherfield.

Perhaps he should write his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and suggest he join them. He and Bingley were tolerably friendly, and Fitzwilliam shared Darcy's view of Bingley's sisters. The Colonel would also be able to reassure Darcy that the Miss Bennets were nothing more than they seemed, that he had been startled by Miss Mary's resemblance to Anne into seeing similarity where there was none.

Yes, that would do nicely. Darcy eyed the moonlight with speculation. Irregular though it might be for a gentleman to write letters by moonlight, it ought to be possible. He nodded decisively.

Chapter 7 - Among the Assembled

Posted on 2008-06-30

With four unmarried daughters out, and unattached gentlemen attending the Assembly, it was inevitable that chaos should reign in the Bennet household prior to their departure. Kitty, as the youngest and therefore most eligible Bennet sister out received the greater share of the attention, with maids making last minute adjustments to her new gown while her sisters helped to remove the rags from her hair so that she would have the mass of ringlets so much in mode.

Lydia wove freshly cut white rosebuds into her sister's hair, using the de-thorned stems to hold the arrangement together, while Mary, whose straight dark hair would not take curls, chose a simple style of such timelessness that it was never out of mode. All the Bennet girls took extra care with their appearance, knowing that every young lady of age in the district would be primped and preened to within an inch of her life in the hope of attracting the eye of Mr Bingley or Mr Darcy.

Lizzy would have found the prospect amusing, save that Mr Darcy's cold manner would quickly see him labeled by Meryton's mamas as proud and disagreeable when Lizzy was quite certain he concealed a more sensitive nature beneath punctilious courtesy. The few unguarded moments she had caught when he and Mr Bingley dined at Longbourn suggested a man who had no great love of society and concealed his discomfort beneath the kind of mask that could well seem proud or disagreeable.

Though she had no reason to like the man, she could not accept that he deserved the ill-natured gossip of those in Meryton with little better to occupy their minds. Thus, she and her sisters must rescue him from his own nature so that the impression he made upon their insignificant little town did not forever poison the small-minded against him.

Mrs Carlisle approved Lizzy's plan, and she, Mary and Kitty had spent many hours discussing how best to disarm Mr Darcy and put him at ease. Jane had not been absent from their plotting, nor had Lydia, but since all the Bennet sisters save Jane were convinced that Mr Bingley would monopolize Jane's hand for the evening, she could contribute little, and Lydia not being out was unable to act directly, though she had vowed to alert her sisters should she observe Mr Darcy trapped by one of Meryton's less observant worthies.

If Mr Darcy had known the plans made on his behalf, Lizzy was sure he would be angry and offended, and in truth, she hoped that there would be no need for them. If her hopes failed, she could apologize later and claim that she believed that he, like Papa, had little fondness for society and thus she had attempted to shield him from its malicious worst. He already thought her quite improper, so having further impropriety to lay at her feet could do her no real harm.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had expected to be dragged to the Meryton Assembly on the very day of his arrival in the little Hertfordshire village. His cousin's express clearly stated as much, for it would be easiest to observe the young ladies whose resemblance to their aunt's family was so disturbing.

Having been posted in many such villages in the early days of his career, he had a good notion of what to expect of the Assembly - rustic manners, over-eager geniality, and a flock of Mamas with the vapors and a desperate need to find husbands for their surplus daughters.

The wars claimed most of the eligible young men of any rural district, for they were eager to improve their prospects. That inevitably left young ladies with few choices, and oft times made them and their mothers desperate, sometimes to the point of subterfuge and outright blackmail to snare a husband. The arrival of not one, but two eligible young men of wealth would have the town buzzing.

In society such as this, the Colonel himself would be considered more than eligible despite his lack of fortune. The younger son of an Earl was a good catch, especially for a young lady with wealth but no standing. There were sure to be those amongst Meryton's finest.

If he were fortunate, they might even be amiable young ladies who danced and conversed with tolerable intelligence. They could not be worse than the cross-eyed harridan who had tried to entrap him in Scotland.

Fortified by that notion, the Colonel felt ready for whatever the Assembly might bring.

After the obligatory dance with Miss Bingley and a courtesy dance with her sister Mrs Hurst, Darcy excused himself from the dance floor and found a relatively shadowed corner of the Assembly hall from which he might observe the gathering. Bingley had, of course, already danced two sets with the lovely Miss Bennet. Hurst retired to the tables where refreshments were laid out, leaving Caroline and Louisa to endure the naïve and inane courtesies offered by Sir William Lucas, who appeared to be the local dignitary.

Lady Lucas appeared to be fully occupied by her young sons, while the daughters - the elder plain, sensible, and undoubtedly on the shelf, the younger nervous and excitable but not without a certain fresh charm - mingled or danced.

A hint of a smile touched Darcy's lips when he noted Colonel Fitzwilliam's thunderstruck expression as he danced with Miss Mary Bennet. Clearly he had not overestimated the resemblance. That expression had not left the Colonel's face since he had been introduced to the Miss Bennets.

"Would you care for refreshments, Mr Darcy?" Miss Elizabeth's Bennet's soft question startled him from his observations. "I fear there is no library here to tempt you, but there is an excellent punch suitable for cooling one's throat after a dance."

Darcy glanced around and saw that Miss Bingley had detached herself from Sir William and was bearing down upon him. Happily, a new set was forming. "That is a fine offer, Miss Elizabeth, but I must admit I would far rather ask if you would join me in a set."

She accepted his offered hand with a smile and a curtsey - and a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "You are very kind, sir, to do your duty with so few gentlemen available."

He led her onto the floor and took his place in one of the smaller sets. "This I would claim as a pleasure." The most eligible local woman in the room, with a fortune of twenty thousand, was a coarse-minded, skinny little thing with the misfortune of a multitude of freckles to add to the woes of an inadequate upbringing.

As he bowed and she curtseyed to begin the dance, Miss Elizabeth asked in a murmur, "Even though I consort with sheep, sir?"

Darcy found a smile creeping across his face despite his efforts to control himself. "Especially that, madam," he said in a dry voice. "One grows bored with the usual entertainments of the Ton after a time."

She raised one eyebrow at him, and gave a hint of a smile. "My. Are all gentlemen of the Ton so broad-minded?"

The movement of the dance separated them briefly, giving Darcy time to compose a tolerable answer to her teasing - teasing he found peculiarly enjoyable and challenging. "Alas, no. Many confine themselves to more staid pursuits and never know the pleasures to be found in animal husbandry."

Though she kept her face quite composed apart from that hint of a smile, the laughter in her eyes spoke more than words of the lady's delight in his response. He must remember that Miss Elizabeth Bennet enjoyed matching wits.

"So you must allow that we rustic country folk have our unique amusements," she said with that lurking amusement.

Darcy's own smile broadened. "There I must concede, madam. While I am conversant with the delights of Ovid and Plato, I had not thought to find similar entertainment amongst ovines."

"Amusements of the bovine sort are more common here, I admit, sir." Elizabeth smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Those, alas, I fear you know all too well."

What was this woman doing trapped in a backwater like this? To deliver such scathing judgment upon society in general and her own in particular, in such a way that it would raise no suspicion... "Alas, your perception is indeed accurate." Darcy managed not to grin openly, but only just. "Clearly your accomplishments would be the envy of an angel."

She blushed prettily. "There is only one angel amongst my sisters, sir, and your friend appears to have claimed her for the evening."

He could not disagree with her assessment of Bingley's attachment to Miss Jane Bennet. "He must be persuaded to share, for it would be unconscionably rude of him to monopolize such a valuable creature."

Once more Miss Elizabeth's lips twitched. "You are indeed considerate, sir, to think of the well-being of others so."

"You credit me with more than my due," Darcy said. "I am quite selfish and prefer my comfort not to be disturbed by angry suitors wishing to punish Mr Bingley for his sins."

Chapter 8 - Dancing Around
Posted on 2008-07-16

After dancing with all four of the available Miss Bennets - the youngest being not yet out - Colonel Fitzwilliam found himself forced to admit that Darcy had not been startled into seeing echoes of the de Bourghs where none existed. The resemblance was, as Darcy had said, most striking with Miss Mary Bennet, who was so like a healthy, happy Anne de Bourgh it was downright uncanny. If that were all Fitzwilliam could have dismissed the resemblance as mere coincidence.

He could not. Not when Miss Elizabeth reminded him of the portrait of his grandmother, Aunt Catherine's mother. Darcy had not visited his cousins often of late, and had no doubt forgotten that portrait, the portrait gallery not being his prime concern. Nor was Darcy likely to have heard that Lady Mary, their common grandmother, had been quite the hoyden in her youth. To hear Fitzwilliam's father tell it, she and the old Earl of Ashton had argued often about the management of Ashfield Park, and that she had often won those arguments. The Earl claimed her experience with her own estate of Bywater - necessitated by the death of both her parents of fever when she was just out - was more extensive than the old Earl's, whose father had lived well into his sixties before succumbing to apoplexy. The Earl had also mentioned more than once that while his sister Lady Anne - Darcy's mother - thought her mother's determination and stubbornness amusing if unsuited to current mores, Lady Catherine found Lady Mary's behavior offensive and had, once married, had as little to do with her mother as was decently possible.

Both Fitzwilliam's parents claimed the problem was with their sisters governesses. Catherine, the eldest of the old Earl's children, had been taught by... well, Fitzwilliam could only call her a harridan. Anne's governess had been far more sensible, mitigating the family stubborn streak and gently molding Lady Anne into an engaging lady whose marriage to Mr Henry Darcy had been a true match of hearts and minds.

None of which answered the question of why the daughters of a minor country gentleman should bear such a remarkable resemblance to a family with which they could have no connection. Since Mrs Bennet was long deceased, Fitzwilliam could not charm her to reveal any old family gossip. The only thing he could say was that Mrs Bennet's sister Mrs Phillips bore no resemblance to any of the Bennet girls, and the two Miss Phillipses were remarkably ill-bred. Fitwilliam had gained nothing from either save a lengthy list of the Miss Bennets' faults, a list which seemed to be largely imagined.

Dancing with ill-mannered country girls was still an improvement on the entirely too condescending manners of Bingley's sisters. Though the behavior of Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley was strictly correct, they contrived to insult all who dared approach them. Fitzwilliam found Darcy's careful arrangements to be elsewhere whenever Miss Bingley was without a partner amusing - Miss Bingley had clearly not realized that to chase Darcy was to drive him further away and increase his resolve to avoid any entrapment.

The Miss Bennets appeared to have recognized Darcy's goal and were assisting him with it, all with sweetness and perfect innocence. That they were also shielding him from the most predatory Mamas and their daughters was something Fitzwilliam found delightful to observe. Any commander would give a great deal to have such easy coordination of effort amongst his troops.

Darcy led Miss Catherine off the dance floor, only to be pounced upon by Miss Bingley, who addressed him with, "You are so kind to tolerate these shameless young ladies chasing you, Mr Darcy."

Fitzwilliam saw his cousin stiffen - usually a sign that Darcy was holding back fury - but before any unfortunate words could be spoken, Miss Catherine Bennet defused the tension with an innocent question. "Why Miss Bingley, surely you do not begrudge a young lady her chance to shine on what is likely the grandest occasion of her first season?"

Miss Bingley's horrified expression in the moment before she controlled herself and said with a smile, "Why no, of course not, Miss Catherine. Mr Darcy is very good to notice you on such an auspicious occasion."

Fitzwilliam did not doubt that Miss Catherine recognized Miss Bingley's sarcasm for what it was. Her answer gave no hint of any such recognition. "Mr Darcy is indeed very kind, Miss Bingley, to give Mr Bingley's associates more notice than their due."

Miss Bingley's face darkened. The insult had been given with such innocence that Miss Catherine appeared to be speaking of herself and not Miss Bingley. Fitzwilliam had to admire the girl for her cleverness - and her courage.

He was given no opportunity to step in and attempt to charm Miss Bingley - Miss Elizabeth Bennet approached and said, "Miss Bingley? I understand you play the pianoforte exceedingly well. Would you condescend to demonstrate your skill while the players rest?"

"I would be honored, Miss Eliza." Caroline smiled triumphantly. "Mr Darcy, would you be so kind as to turn pages for me?"

Though Darcy concealed his emotions with more skill than most, Fitzwilliam knew his cousin well enough to see Darcy's distaste for the task courtesy did not allow him to refuse.

Fitzwilliam drew closer to the two Bennet sisters and heard Miss Catherine murmur, "She needs the pages turned?"

Her sister's response was equally soft. "I do not think Miss Bingley needs assistance, Kitty."

Fitzwilliam choked his laugh, turning it into a clearing of the throat. "Miss Elizabeth, Miss Catherine? Would you do a poor parched soldier the honor of escorting him to the refreshments table?"

Both young ladies eyed him as though trying to determine whether he had heard their criticism of Miss Bingley.

"We could hardly refuse to aid one of England's gallant defenders," Miss Elizabeth said with that hint of laughter in her eyes.

Her sister was quick to agree, adding, "The poor Colonel must be parched."

"Oh quite," Fitzwilliam agreed cheerfully. "All this dancing is quite exhausting. I truly do not know how such frail creatures as yourselves can endure it."

Miss Elizabeth smiled. "For that, we have Mrs Carlisle's excellent advice to thank. Walk not less than two miles each day, unless one is ill, and then walk as much as one may until one can return to longer walks. It builds strength of breath and limb." She sounded remarkably like a dour old spinster, clearly in imitation of Mrs Carlisle's manner.

Miss Bingley began with Mozart's Rondo Alla Turka, too fast but brilliantly executed. Neither Miss Bennet spoke while she played, and they took care to remain quiet while they seated themselves. The small courtesies offered a musician intrigued Fitzwilliam: with as much other chatter as filled the Assembly hall, Miss Bingley would hardly notice two who did her the courtesy of listening.

After the final flourish and a scattering of polite applause, Miss Bingley began a sonata that Fitzwilliam privately believed she had chosen to display her skill rather than to please her listeners. His assessment was confirmed by the look exchanged by the two Miss Bennets, and Miss Catherine's murmured, "I could like her playing better if she had more heart. It is all technique."

Miss Elizabeth's responded equally softly. "Miss Bingley is very proficient. It is a shame she seems not to care for the music she plays."

"Better that than Miss King." Miss Catherine observed with a hint of a smile. "She is all heart with no technique."

Fitzwilliam could not help but notice that despite Miss Elizabeth's attempts to look stern, she could not suppress her amusement entirely. "Indeed, technique without heart is better than heart without technique. A mixture of both is preferable."

As soon as Miss Bingley finished, Sir William loudly called for Mary to play for a set of dances. Lizzy hastened to join her sister at the pianoforte, for she had noticed Mary looking pale and worn. Her sister had never tolerated loud, close gatherings well though she enjoyed them as much as she was able before her own health betrayed her.

Mary's relieved smile when Lizzy slipped in beside her told Lizzy her suspicion had been correct.

Mary began a countrified pavane, a favorite in the district, and Lizzy picked up the thread of the piece. Before long they were simply enjoying the music, ornamenting the dance as they often did when they played at home for the amusement of their sisters. When the first dance ended, Lizzy played a soft bridging section while dancers selected new partners, then moved into a chaconne.

They played several dances that way, alternating between Lizzy's choosing the next dance and then Mary, until the players returned from quenching their thirst and resting their fingers.

Lizzy had no need to ask Mary if she needed fresh air: she knew Mary too well to doubt her sister's need. Instead, once they were freed of the need to provide music, Lizzy assisted her sister to the doors of the Assembly hall and out into the moonlit night. Below, coachmen engaged in their own entertainments, but on the landing above the stairs, all was quiet.

Mary took several deep breaths. "Thank you, Lizzy. I should hate to drive us home early because of my silly ailments."

Lizzy could not help smiling. "I doubt Papa would find it a hardship." Her father had, as usual, found himself a relatively quiet corner to read a book he had brought. When his daughters were ready to depart, he would say his farewells with good cheer and ill-concealed relief - though he would certainly have many biting observations of human folly from the evening.

"Oh, Papa would be delighted." Mary sighed. "I would not deprive Jane of Mr Bingley's company when she enjoys it so, nor would I spoil Kitty's first Assembly."

Lizzy embraced her sister. "You must not forget to consider your own well-being, Mary." Coming out in a place as small as Meryton was more a matter of changing from simple, girlish dresses and braids to adult hairstyles and fashion than any grand occasion. The Lucases were the only family to hold balls for a daughter's coming out, and those were little more than Assemblies held at Lucas Lodge. For Kitty, her first season was a series of firsts - her first modish gown, her first appearance at church as a young lady, her first attendance at one of Aunt Phillips' card parties as a young lady, and now her first Assembly. Lizzy could not help but think it must be terribly intimidating to be introduced at a grand ball and thereafter attend any number of events from which one had been excluded before.

Meryton's small society made it far easier for a girl to come out, for children often attended under the watchful gaze of parents, observing if not participating in the activities of the adults. While it would be unfair to cut short Kitty's first Assembly, it would not be as dramatic a loss as depriving her of a coming out ball.

Not that Lizzy did not understand Mary's reluctance to allow her health to deprive her sisters of enjoyment. She understood too well, having often witnessed Mary's frustration at her own weakness. Though Mary had improved immensely from the sickly child whose health must be constantly guarded, she was more easily fatigued than her sisters, and found occasions like the Assembly difficult to bear.

Mary smiled. "It is only being amidst so many people in such close surroundings, Lizzy. A little fresh air helps." In the bright moonlight, she seemed more ethereal, less a creature of worldly concerns. "I fear I should never be happy in society."

"Then you must find a place where you may be happy," Lizzy declared. "You need not subject yourself to situations that strain your health."

"Ah, but then how should I find a husband to take care of me when Papa is gone?" Mary shook her head. "Such is the way of life - we are given trials to overcome as well as virtues to nurture."

"Misquoting Fordyce, Mary?" Lizzy laughed softly. "How very improper of you."

Mary joined her laughter. "There is nothing improper about taking the cloth and fitting it to oneself." She embraced her sister. "Oh, Lizzy, I shall miss you when we are married."

Chapter 9 - The Morning After
Posted on 2008-08-25

Colonel Fitzwilliam rose early in order to speak privately with his cousin before any of Netherfield's residents or guests could ensnare him. He found Darcy in Netherfield's library, a room far less well appointed than the library at Pemberley, though still more than adequate for a gentleman.

Darcy did not hesitate. "Well, cousin?"

Fitzwilliam shook his head. "You imagined nothing, cousin. It is as you said - the resemblance of the Miss Bennets to the de Bourghs is nothing less than remarkable." He grinned. "And Miss Elizabeth reminds me of our grandmother Lady Mary."

Darcy blinked. Tension drained from his body, tension Fitzwilliam had not noticed. "I feared I was losing my mind," he said to no one in particular, then, "Lady Mary? I do not recall her."

Fitzwilliam chuckled. "That is scarcely surprising. She retired to her childhood home after the old Earl died - we were perhaps five or six at the time, as I recall it - and travelled little. I believe she did so purely so she would not have to give up running the estate."

Darcy's mouth fell open. "I beg your pardon?"

Fitzwilliam wagged a finger at his cousin. "You did not visit us often enough to learn our shameful secret. Grandmamma Mary managed Bywater after her parents died, and took to Ashfield Park's management when she married the old Earl. She would not have it any other way - she used to tell Grandpapa that she had so much more experience than he so he should learn from her example. They argued fearfully, to hear Father tell it - and Grandmamma invariably carried the day."

Darcy's slow smile indicated his amusement, though Fitzwilliam could see uncertainty as well. "I can see why Miss Elizabeth would remind you of her."

"Oh, that is not the whole of it." Fitzwilliam grinned openly. "There is a portrait of her taken shortly after her marriage. Your Miss Elizabeth could be her sister."

"She is hardly my Miss Elizabeth," Darcy protested.

Fitzwilliam very nearly damaged something fighting his desire to laugh. Too much laughter would rouse the rest of Netherfield. "Come, cousin. I saw the way you looked at her. And you must admit, she coordinated her sisters with the hand of a general to see that you were spared the worst of the fortune seeking Mamas and their daughters."

Darcy spluttered, needing several attempts before he was able to speak. "She..." He shook his head. "I cannot claim I am ungrateful, but -"

"But nothing." Fitzwilliam clapped his cousin's shoulder with enough force to make the more lightly built man stagger. "I danced with some of those fortune-chasing harpies. Be grateful you had nothing worse than Miss Bingley's company." He shook his head. "Is there no way the Bennets can be connected to our family?"

Darcy shook his head. "None. You encountered their aunt Mrs Phillips and their cousins the Miss Phillips'. The late Mrs Bennet also had a brother Mr Gardiner who is a tradesman in London."

Fitzwilliam frowned. "Gardiner... That name is familiar, though from where I could not say." He shook his head. "I shall send an express to Father with what details we have, cousin." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Perhaps he and Mother will know more." He did not doubt that there was a connection. Finding that connection would be an interesting diversion from the more mundane matter of working with the young and inexperienced Captain Denny of the militia.

After the Colonel's confirmation of his suspicions, Darcy found taking breakfast with Bingley's family nothing less than a trial. Bingley himself was all amiable charm, and Hurst offered nothing beyond appreciation of the provisions, but Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley chose to season their conversation with denigration of Meryton's society and its members.

Bingley flushed with discomfort, but said nothing until Caroline began to catalog the faults of the Miss Bennets, their slyness in wearing up to the mode gowns when everyone knew they had almost nothing to their names, their low connections and deceitful manners, for such insignificant creatures ought surely to have deportment to match, all to Louisa's laughter.

Darcy glanced at Fitzwilliam, wondering if his cousin too wished Bingley to discipline his sister. The Colonel's bleak expression suggested that he shared Darcy's view.

Only when Caroline singled out Miss Jane Bennet did Bingley say, "Caroline, that is enough. If you cannot speak with civility, say nothing."

For a long moment Miss Bingley stared at her brother with her mouth open in a most unbecoming fashion. She snapped her jaw closed, and applied herself to breaking her fast.

The sullen silence was infinitely preferable to a meal seasoned with malice. Darcy was relieved when Bingley asked if he and Fitzwilliam would accompany him while he interviewed the tenants.

At Longbourn, cheerful reflection reigned. Mr Bennet's usual barbed wit about Meryton society remained sheathed, for he was as pleased as his daughters that Jane appeared to have found a gentleman who not only admired her, but one she admired and could perhaps come to truly care for.

He had enjoyed that rapport once, before the strain of the entail on Longbourn and the steady progression of daughters took its toll on Mrs Bennet's nerves and her health. Their last child had been the long-desired son, but the infant had not lived past his first sunrise. His mother had followed him within a day, broken both mentally and physically.

Now, seeing his daughters rejoicing in Jane's conquest and ruing their inability to completely shield Mr Darcy from the more predatory ladies at the gathering, Mr Bennet wondered if those long years of endlessly dashed hopes had not broken his spirit as well. He had once been as willing to dance as any gentleman, and had taken great pride in escorting Mrs Bennet to the dance floor.

Perhaps he should have been more sympathetic and not allowed his own indolence and bewilderment to drive him to the sanctuary of his library. Perhaps... But such regrets had little point, as his Lizzy would tell him. He could not change what he had done.

Better to share in his daughters joys and make the most of the time he would remain the only man in their lives. Jane's partiality to Mr Bingley made it clear that time was limited. Soon enough the others would find appropriate husbands and move to their new families.

"Are you well, Papa?" Lizzy asked. "You do not seem yourself."

Mr Bennet shed his amusement at his own folly to smile at his favorite daughter. "No, nothing is wrong, Lizzy." He really must discipline his own mind. Fancy becoming maudlin because a young gentleman seemed partial to Jane's company. "I must say, Miss Bingley's performance was quite impressive."

"She played very well, I am sure," Jane said.

"Oh, yes, very well indeed." Lizzy smiled, her eyes alight with mischief. "It is a shame she did not appear to enjoy what she played."

Mary raised one eyebrow. "The quality of Miss Bingley's taste speaks for itself, I believe."

Lydia stifled laughter. Mr Bennet was certain he heard the words, "Oh, that orange!" in her muffled voice, but chose not to mention them.

Mrs Carlisle must have heard, for she said, "There is nothing intrinsically wrong with the color, although I must admit it was not a flattering choice for the lady in question. That particular shade is best used for trimming, since there are so few who have the right skin tone to wear it well." She nodded to Mary and Lizzy. "Your judgment is sound, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, though one should not criticize even in private."

Lizzy raised an eyebrow. "How then are we to gain greater understanding, Mrs Carlisle? Is not understanding gained by thoughtful critique?"

Even Jane had to conceal laughter. Lizzy rarely teased Mrs Carlisle, but when she did it was invariably interesting to watch.

Mrs Carlisle actually smiled. "The line is a fine one, Miss Elizabeth, as you know well from the many times you tread it without crossing it."

Mr Bennet took care to appear disinterested. While he had long hoped that one of his girls would be willing to take Mrs Carlisle as an abigail should they marry sufficiently well, he had not realized until now how much he would miss the lady's sharp wit.

Lizzy made a show of dabbing her lips with her napkin. "You are very generous, Mrs Carlisle, but what of those who are still learning society's mores? How are they to gain understanding?"

Again that not quite smile touched Mrs Carlisle's thin face. "The usual method applies, Miss Elizabeth. One learns by trying, failing, and suffering the consequences."

Continued In Next Section
Š 2008 Copyright held by the author.
Pride And Education ~ Section II

By Kate P.

Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter 10 - A Most Unusual Letter

Posted on 2008-09-06

The Bennets had not yet completed breaking their fast when Mr Bennet was summoned by the arrival of a post express. When he returned bearing an opened letter and an expression of mingled bemusement and amusement, Lizzy wondered what could possibly have caused her normally imperturbable parent to be so astonished.

"My dears, it would seem we are to have a visitor this eve." Papa even sounded stunned. "For reasons best left unknown, our cousin Mr Collins has decided to mend the breach between our families."

Before Lizzy could begin to respond to such extraordinary news - for she knew well that Papa's cousin had stated many times he would cheerfully turn them all out of Longbourn - her father added, "It would seem that my dear cousin's son has a more interesting view of the entail than his father."

Mr Bennet seated himself, and looked over the letter once more, leaving Lizzy to wonder just what absurdity this unknown cousin had produced.

"Perhaps I should simply read the letter and allow you to make your own judgments, my dears?"

Lizzy said nothing. She could tell from Papa's mood that he would read the letter. Kitty and Lydia's entreaties might drown Jane's soft, "Please do, Papa," and Mary's prim, "Of course such a letter is of interest," but they would do nothing more than to furnish their quixotic father with amusement. Much as Lizzy wished that her father would not play the emotions of others, she knew better than to expect him to cease one of his chief amusements.

"What, nothing from my Lizzy?" Papa asked when the tumult had faded.

She smiled at her father. If he would tease his family, then she would tease in turn. "When you have clearly decided already, Papa? Why should I waste my voice on that which is pointless?"

Her father laughed. "Observant as ever, my dear, and as unwilling to pander to an old man's fancies."

All the Bennet girls knew better than to respond to that observation.

"Very well, I shall read."

Their cousin Collins had, it seemed, recently been installed in the living at Hunsford with the support of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a lady the gentleman regarded with obsequious awe, being flattered by what sounded to Lizzy like domineering selfishness rather than generous patronage.

She wondered if Lady Catherine was the mother of Mr Darcy's cousin Anne, whose resemblance to Mary had startled that gentleman into such incivility. There could surely not be two de Bourgh families with daughters named Anne. It was coincidence enough that her cousin Collins should be associated with one.

That Anne de Bourgh was of frail health was perhaps less surprising - Mr Darcy's response had been that of a man concerned for one close to him. It was only inappropriate addressed to a young lady he had never before met. Why Mr Collins should choose to mention such details in a letter to cousins he had never seen was a different question altogether, and one for which Lizzy could find no satisfactory answer. The best notion she could devise was that he was so awed by his noble patroness that he regarded them with near-blasphemous idolatry. That he might be at best a weak-minded man and at worst a pandering one did not speak well for his professed reason for acquainting himself with his cousins.

Mr Collins sought a wife, and viewed Longbourn's bounty of daughters as both a good marriage prospect, and a means to reunite the two branches of the family. Lizzy could not think badly of his intent, for if he should capture the heart of one of her sisters he would spare them all the fear of being turned from their home if their father should die before they were safely married.

Lizzy hoped that despite the ridiculous nature of his letter Mr Collins would prove to be agreeable in person. Perhaps he was simply one of those men who had difficulty expressing himself with the written word - and surely a letter requesting that he be permitted to mend the breach between the two branches of the family could not be easy to write. She must not allow her first impression to color her view of the man: better to withhold judgment until she knew more.

"Well, my dears?" Mr Bennet asked when he had finished reading.

"While I am sure it would disappoint you, Papa, I hope Mr Collins is more sensible than his letter suggests," Lizzy said. "Much as his desire to reunite our family is to be applauded, a truly ridiculous man would find it hard to win any of us to his cause."

Mary nodded solemnly. "Surely a man of the cloth will be a worthy man." A little amusement leaked into her voice and eyes. "Despite his unfortunate letter writing."

Lydia laughed. "Then you are welcome to him, for I am heartily grateful I am not eligible!"

Mrs Carlisle frowned. "To take a noted dislike on the grounds of a single letter is unwise, Miss Lydia. The gentleman may merely be a woeful correspondent."

Lizzy had never heard stronger condemnation from Mrs Carlisle. Clearly the ridiculous letter had disturbed her as well. "I wonder if his patron's family is the same De Bourgh as Mr Darcy's cousin," she mused. "It is such an unusual name: surely there could not be more than one family bearing it."

"Perhaps you would like to investigate Burke's Peerage, Lizzy?" Mr Bennet asked. "Lady Catherine de Bourgh must surely be noted."

Rather than respond to the mischief in her father's tone, Lizzy only said demurely, "That would be wise, Papa. We would not want any unpleasant surprises, after all."

Mr Collins lived down to his extraordinary missive, being at once servile and puffed up with his own importance, filled with insincere praise for all things while comparing all to his noble patroness's manner in a way that eliminated any flattery he might attempt.

If that were not enough, the gentleman took so little care with his appearance that his skin was marred by blemishes, his hair lank and greasy, and his clothing askew. When Lizzy caught herself thinking he looked like a black stork caught in a storm, she had to disguise her laughter as coughing, then try to deflect Mr Collins's entirely unwelcome eulogy on the fragile health of ladies.

Mary diverted the man before Lizzy could distract him. "You read Fordyce, Mr Collins?"

Mr Collins leaned towards Mary, and smiled. "Indeed I do, Miss Mary - may I say, Cousin Mary? I find Fordyce an invaluable reference on the state of mankind and the lamentable ease with which one might fall from grace." He puffed himself up - exactly like the stork, Lizzy thought - "Indeed, I have referred to Fordyce's works often in my own sermons, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh finds such references exceedingly pleasing."

Lizzy had to wonder how Mary could listen to such a statement with a perfectly straight face. All of her sisters were fighting the desire to laugh.

Mary's eyes sparkled with amusement, although her face and voice were perfectly grave when she said, "Do you not think, sir, that Fordyce places over-much emphasis on the strictures society has raised rather than upon scripture? You have studied at seminary - your knowledge of such things must perforce be greater than any I can claim, yet it would seem to me that if one is to speak of morality one's first reference ought to be the Bible."

Perhaps not a stork, Lizzy thought, but some sadly bedraggled black fish with its mouth open as it struggled for air.

"You astound me, Cousin Mary!" Mr Collins did indeed sound astounded. "I had not expected to find scholarly discussion in such amiable company."

Without the wheedling servility, he sounded much more amiable himself.

"Oh, Papa is quite the scholar," Mary said with a smile. "We have all spent much time in his library. Perhaps you would like to see what books Papa has that might suit you?"

Oh, clever Mary! To seize so quickly on what appeared to be a genuine interest could not help but keep Mr Collins occupied in ways that did not include exaggerated praise of his patroness.

The gentleman gazed around the parlor. "If my fair cousins have no objection to me departing for the library, I should be honored, Cousin Mary, although -" He paused, perhaps caught by hitherto concealed sensitivity.

Mary laughed, a soft, gentle laugh. "Oh, Longbourn's library could not match that of Rosings, Mr Collins. It is, however, far more accessible to you now, and with Papa being a scholar himself, may hold more that is suited to your tastes. The de Bourghs have surely filled their library according to their tastes, after all."

Lizzy managed to control herself until the parlor door closed. After that, she could only try to laugh as softly as she might.

When at last she regained control of herself and raised her eyes to apologize to her sisters, she found that all of them, even Jane, had tears of mirth streaming from their eyes.

She shook her head. "I know I should not laugh so, for he has clearly been terribly disappointed in his life, but oh! Such a man!"

Kitty glanced about before launching into a fair imitation of their cousin's manner. "Why Cousin Elizabeth, surely Lady Catherine de Bourgh allows no-one in her care to be disappointed."

"Kitty, please don't!" Jane sounded as though she was likely to choke.

Mary returned shortly thereafter, red-faced and wiping tears from her eyes. "Ah, this I must never do again. It is too cruel of me." She shook her head and dropped gracelessly onto the settee. "Life truly has been hard on our cousin. He was so grateful for the freedom of Papa's library he forgot to mention Rosings Park."

Lizzy took a slow, unsteady breath. "Then he has been ill-used, Mary? The wretched creature with nothing but praise seems... well..."

Mary nodded, sobering. "Papa's cousin Collins could neither read nor write. I gather he was not a kind man. Mr Collins learned first from Mrs Collins in lessons she concealed from her husband, then at the village school. He entered the seminary on scholarship."

That bare description was enough for Lizzy to imagine the details. Small wonder Mr Collins was such an odd mix of pride and cringing flattery. The poor man must have lived much of his life in terror - she ought not to make mirth at his expense.

"We must try to be kind." Jane's voice was not quite steady. "Perhaps his manners will... improve as he grows more confident."

Lizzy nodded, but she could not help thinking that poor Mr Collins was unlikely to become easier to bear.

Chapter 11 - Regimental Blues
Posted on 2008-09-21

The day following Mr Collins' arrival, the Bennet girls walked into Meryton with their cousin. Lizzy desired to see if the books she and Mr Bennet had ordered had arrived, and Jane had need of new ribbons for her best bonnet. Mary hoped to find new sheet music available at Meryton's book store, and neither Kitty nor Lydia wished to miss an opportunity to investigate any new fabrics or bonnets that might be available.

Since Mr Collins had expressed an interest in the walk and the book store, he naturally joined them. Despite his clear lack of familiarity with exercise, he made no complaints, and seemed to Lizzy to be thoughtful. Often his gaze strayed to Mary, and a frown touched his face, quickly pushed away.

Meryton buzzed with excitement, for the Guard regiment had arrived to encamp not two miles from town, and young officers had already made conquests amongst Meryton's mamas. A wealthy gentleman might be a good match, but a handsome officer with a bright future before him could not but be a more exciting prospect for their daughters.

"Why look!" Kitty gestured towards a cluster of red-coated officers. "Is that not Frank Denny? How he has grown!"

Young Denny did indeed look far more impressive than Lizzy remembered. The uniform suited him, and his moustache had grown from the fair fuzz of the boy to a fine gentlemanly specimen. He had filled out and grown taller, too.

Lydia sighed. "He looks so handsome," she murmured. "Not at all like the boy who pulled my braids in church."

Mary, Jane and Mr Collins took themselves into the book store, as none had the least interest in officers in general or Denny in particular. Lizzy stayed to ensure that Mrs Carlisle was not left with both Kitty and Lydia's exuberance. She could make her purchases after the excitement had passed.

Denny must have noticed them, for he excused himself from the cluster of officers and approached, bowing when he was close enough for speech. "Miss Elizabeth, Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia. What a pleasure to see old friends from home looking so well."

Lizzy and her sisters curtseyed.

"You are looking well yourself, Mr Denny." Kitty smiled. "Army life agrees with you."

Lydia retreated to Mrs Carlisle, as was proper, but Lizzy could see how much her sister longed to be able to participate in the conversation.

"Captain Denny," he said with an answering smile and clear pride. "The orders with my promotion came through two days past."

"Congratulations, Captain." Lizzy took care to sound merely courteous. "It is a pleasure to see one of Meryton's sons advancing himself."

Denny's grin was, as always, open and infectious. "There are plenty of opportunities for an eager young man, Miss Lizzy."

"Are you keeping all the pretty young ladies to yourself, Denny?" The voice, a smooth tenor, came from behind them. A moment later, its owner, a handsome young gentleman who did not wear regimentals walked around and offered an engaging smile.

Denny shook his head. "Excuse my friend Wickham. He has just recently purchased his commission and has yet to receive his uniform. Wickham, three of the Miss Bennets, Elizabeth, Catherine, and Lydia."

Lizzy raised one eyebrow. "I was not aware that the possession of a uniform granted a man immediate propriety." She kept her tone light, playful. It was possible Wickham had a reason for his disrespectful manner.

"Indeed, it does not." Wickham bowed. "But a man may be forgiven being struck dumb by such visions of beauty, may he not?"

Lizzy curtseyed. "When he apologizes, forgiveness may be granted," she conceded. She was sure she heard Lydia stifle a giggle.

Wickham smiled again. "Then I must apologize abjectly for my sins, for to be forgiven by a lovely lady such as thee must be almost as ardently desired as pleasing her at all times would be."

A charming rogue, Lizzy decided. "You are forgiven, sir." She allowed no hint of her feelings to escape to her voice. Wickham did not seem altogether trustworthy, though she could not say why.

She heard horses approaching, but before she could turn to the sound, Denny said, "I believe the Colonel's promised assistance is here." The young man smiled. "Colonel Forster has but recently been promoted himself, and this is his first assignment. Colonel Fitzwilliam from the regulars is his advisor for the next few months."

Wickham blinked, and paled a little. He glanced towards the approaching riders, and swallowed. "I must take my leave," he said. "It was a pleasure meeting you, ladies."

Lizzy's lips pursed as she watched Wickham walk away. He seemed to be moving at a leisurely pace, but there was unwonted stealth in the way he kept to the shadows cast by taller buildings, or attached himself to groups of people until he had passed beyond her sight. How very odd.

Denny spread his hands. "I fear I must depart, too." He bowed again. "Colonel Forster will likely have need of his officers."

They made their farewells, then Mrs Carlisle repaired to the haberdashery with Kitty and Lydia, leaving Lizzy to seek the sanctuary of the book store. She longed to discuss the brief meeting with Jane, for something about it disturbed her. Something about Mr Wickham...

"Miss Bennet?"

Lizzy turned to Mr Darcy's voice, and curtseyed. "Good day, Mr Darcy."

A hint of a smile touched the gentleman's severe countenance. "I wished to thank you and your sisters for the trouble you took to ensure I had a pleasant evening at the Assembly." He removed his hat. "Since we seem to have the same goal, I thought this an opportune time."

"Thank you, sir." Lizzy smiled. "I can not say that Meryton will provide all you could desire, but Mr Brooks does keep a good establishment, and if you are planning an extended stay he will order any item you may desire."

Again, Darcy's lips twitched as though he wished to smile but fought the urge. "This is useful information indeed, for I fear Netherfield's library is a trifle lacking." He opened the door.

Lizzy nodded acceptance of the courtesy, and entered the store. "I am sure that Papa would be willing to allow you freedom of his library, if you were inclined to ask. He has already granted a similar favor to our cousin Mr Collins, who visits from Hunsford."

In the dimmer light of the store, Darcy's face seemed to harden. "Hunsford? Is that not the Rosings Park living?"

"It is," Lizzy agreed. "Mr Collins is greatly impressed by Rosings - and his patroness there."

There could be no doubting her observation: Mr Darcy was not pleased.

Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth Bennet walk gracefully to the counter, listened to her inquire of the clerk about her father's order. His stomach remained tight and he had to fight the urge to clench his fists.

Bad enough to see that scoundrel Wickham in conversation with her - though he was reassured in some measure by Miss Elizabeth's frown when the wretch departed: she seemed not at all impressed by Wickham's easy manners and handsome façade. But to learn that his aunt's rector visited, and worse, was cousin to the Bennets, was too much. Lady Catherine had gone too far in her desire to see him married to his cousin Anne.

Much as Darcy liked his cousin, he felt nothing more for her than he felt for his sister. Anne de Bourgh was as much a sister to him as Georgiana, and one in need of more care for her frail health and mother's intemperance left her incapable of fending for herself. Georgiana at least had the Darcy strength of will as well as better health than many of her peers.

That last, Darcy attributed to Georgiana's love of riding and other outdoor pursuits, and her dislike of London.

He sighed under his breath. It seemed the whole world conspired to anger or frustrate him.

Fitzwilliam had also seen Wickham, Darcy reminded himself. His cousin would be more temperate than he. Fitzwilliam was easier in society than Darcy: he would be able to quietly ensure that the people of Meryton were not deceived by the likes of that... Darcy could think of no word vile enough to describe the man.

Miss Elizabeth's voice distracted him from his musings.

"He seemed amiable enough on the surface, Mary, but there is something about him I mistrust. Something... false."

Mary Bennet's response was thoughtful. "And he hastened away in a stealthful manner when Mr - Captain - Denny mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam? That seems odd for a man who has just purchased his commission. Surely he would wish the chance to shine before a superior officer?"

So Wickham had joined the milita? That explained his presence here: it was merely an evil chance. Fitzwilliam would see that Forster knew to watch him.

Many men purchased commissions in order to erase some stain upon their honor or their family. If Wickham intended reform, this might be the path he had chosen.

Darcy could not believe anything so benign. The militia typically maintained a posting for no more than three months - time enough for a man to leave a string of unpaid debt and worse and depart with little or no trace.

He would need to speak with Mr Bennet, and warn him about his daughters. While Bennet had no fortune to speak of, others in the district might, and Bennet undoubtedly knew to whom Darcy's warning should be imparted.

That left only - only the need to control his temper. Darcy wondered if the fabled labors of Heracles might not be less difficult.

Chapter 12 - Distress at Longbourn

Posted on 2008-10-05

Lizzy breathed in deeply as she rode, enjoying the clean smell of the air after rain. After two days trapped inside by spring rainfall, it was a pleasure to make her rounds of Longbourn. Jane should return from her visit to Netherfield in the afternoon, the storm having begun after Martin Hill had seen her safely to her destination and come close to halfway home.

Lizzy hoped her sister had enjoyed her visit. She suspected that in Jane's place she would have found the company of Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley tiresome at best. It was as well she had not been included in the invitation.

Something moved on the road ahead, and Lizzy reined Demeter in although she rode slowly enough to avoid most surprises. Many of the tenants had young children, and those children could be unpredictable.

The shape emerged from the distance as a boy of ten or so, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He did not appear to be running from anything, though as he drew closer Lizzy could see his panicked expression.

"Miss Lizzy!" The boy skidded to a stop near Demeter. "Miss, c'n ye come to Ma's straight off? There's a terrible thing happened to our Maggie."

Maggie Waters, the oldest girl in a large and thriving family, was thirteen and already showing signs of growing into an attractive woman. Rather than waste time wondering what could have happened to the girl, Lizzy nodded and urged Demeter into a gallop. Young Jimmie Waters would not be so panicked if it the need was not truly urgent.

Mrs Waters' eleven year old daughter Lily stood at the door of their modest cottage with her hands clenched in her apron. "Ma's in back wit' Maggie, Miss Lizzy," the girl said while Lizzy dismounted and collected her basket of remedies.

She nodded, and hastened through the carefully tended cottage to the bedroom, where Mrs Waters knelt by the bed, her head bowed and her shoulders shaking. "Mrs Waters?"

The woman scrambled to her feet. "Miss Lizzy! Is there... is there anything you can do?" She gestured to the bed, then scrubbed her eyes with her apron. "My John found her this morning, over by the Millbridge road. She's..." She dropped her head into the apron, shuddering. "My Maggie's a good girl, Miss Lizzy. She'd never do nothing like..."

Lizzy drew closer. Her breath caught when she saw the girl. Maggie Waters might have been pretty once - if she survived she would never be pretty again. Not only was her face bruised and swollen beyond recognition, bandages marked worse damage. Lizzy had to swallow against nausea before she could ask in a trembling voice, "You say she was... violated?"

Mrs Waters nodded, still shuddering. "She's a good girl."

"No fault attaches to her." Lizzy steeled herself, reached into her basket. "I do not know what we can do for Maggie, Mrs Waters, but you have my word that there will be neither shame nor penalty for your family. You have enough to bear."

Lizzy leaned against the wall outside her father's study. She wanted nothing more than to retreat to her bed and cry herself to sleep, but she must complete one last task before she could in conscience take that retreat.

After helping Mrs Waters to clean and bathe her daughter's wounds - the woman's distress rendered her incapable of thought - Lizzy had left the younger children with instructions to send to "the big house" if there was any need. She had instructed the women who had heard of Maggie Waters' plight that no-one was to go anywhere alone and sent them to spread word to the rest of the tenants, then returned to Longbourn to send for the doctor to see to Maggie's injuries and have Mrs Hill send food to the Waters family for as long as there was need.

Cold anger at the perpetrator carried her through those tasks, but now, before she could tell her father what had occurred anger failed her and left only weariness of the soul.

She shuddered, took a deep breath, and entered her father's sanctuary.

Mr Bennet sat in his favorite chair, a battered old thing with faded upholstery he had refused to have re-covered. "Lizzy?" He looked up, and rose, alarmed. "Lizzy, my dear. What has happened?"

She stumbled towards him. "Oh, Papa. It is horrible beyond words." Lizzy gulped back a sob. "The Waters... their girl Maggie..." The whole story tumbled from her lips in a tangle of barely controlled words.

Her father's arms wrapped around her, and he rocked her gently as he had done when she was very small. When she had calmed a little, he guided her to his chair and helped her to sit. A small glass pressed into her hand. "Drink up, Lizzy. It will make you feel better."

She smelled her father's brandy, but drank anyway, coughing a little when the strong liquor burned all the way down to her stomach. It did indeed steady her nerves, making the whole business seem more distant, though no less terrible. "Thank you, Papa."

Her father settled in the guest chair. For once his usual air of benign absentmindedness was replaced by grim anger. "I must speak to the magistrate, the Lucases, the Gouldings, and Mr Bingley and his guests. You are correct that none should go about alone - including you, my dear." He sighed. "I will speak to Hill about having a few of the bigger lads guard the Waters family. As word spreads, the wretch may decide he ought to ensure his victim can tell no-one anything about him.

Lizzy's breath caught. She had not considered anything so vile.

Mr Bennet patted her hand. "I wish this had not happened and exposed you to the very worst of men, dearest Lizzy." He shook his head. "I shall tell your sisters. You need to rest."

At any other time, Lizzy would have objected, but she could find no strength to disagree with father.

Lizzy awakened with her head aching and a bitter taste in her mouth from sleeping during the day. Dreams of being attacked by a faceless man left a cold horror about her, and she shuddered.

There was one remedy, no matter how unladylike, that would protect her from the worst of men. If - heaven forbid it - the need should arise, she would deal with the consequences when they came. Better to live in disgrace for killing a would-be attacker than to be violated because she could not defend herself.

With that thought uppermost in her mind, Lizzy donned her oldest day dress and took herself to the stables, where she removed her flintlock pistol from her saddlebags. The solid weight of the weapon in her hand reassured her.

She knew the pistol as well as any man, from the priming to the firing. Necessity had proved that she could shoot accurately, for more than once she had found need to rescue an inexperienced cowherd from a bullock with ideas above his station. If she could down a charging bullock while mounted and at full gallop, she could shoot a monster in a man's skin.

The only difference, she told herself, was that the cowherd's family would not receive a gift of twenty pounds of prime beef afterwards.

Her stomach refused to accept that reasoning, but Lizzy still felt safer with the flintlock at hand. Cleaning, arming and priming it daily rather than weekly would be tiresome, but well worth the price.

Now she need only devise some means of keeping it with her at all times.

That thought occupied her as she returned to the bedroom she shared with Jane. The flintlock was too heavy for a reticule, and too bulky to be concealed by the folds of a dress.

Lizzy searched her room, a grim smile catching her lips when she found the old basket she had once used to collect polished stones from the stream near the hunting fields. It was still sturdy, and with a little muslin, the basket would look like a slightly countrified reticule. Perfect.

She laid the flintlock in the basket, and took it downstairs with her when she went to join her sisters.

After a startled glance her way, none of Lizzy's sisters said anything about either the basket or its contents. Conversation faltered and stuttered while she worked to disguise the purpose of the basket, all of the Bennet girls seeking to divert their thoughts from the unfortunate victim.

Even Mr Collins was blessedly silenced by the tragedy. If he realized what Lizzy was doing, he chose not to mention it.

Instead, after a long, awkward silence, he asked, "May I ask what will seem a terribly impertinent question, Cousin Mary?"

Mary smiled. "You may ask, Mr Collins. If your question is so very improper, you will receive a response that tells you so." She sounded gently amused, almost as though she teased a younger brother.

Collins swallowed. "It is just... I could not fail to notice, Cousin that you bear a marked resemblance to Miss de Bourgh, and I wondered..." His voice trailed off, and he twisted his handkerchief between his hands.

To her credit, Mary showed no sign of discomfort. "I have heard the resemblance is striking," she agreed serenely. "You may set your mind at rest, Cousin, for to our knowledge it is mere coincidence." A little mischief entered her expression. "Surely if we were connected to a family as notable as the de Bourghs we would know it."

Lady Catherine must be truly a harridan, Lizzy mused. Her rector remained awed and terrified by her even when vacationing in a remote part of Hertfordshire. She watched her cousin's hands twist his handkerchief tighter, then returned her attention to the basket.

"I... forgive me, Cousin, for this is dreadfully presumptuous of me, but..." He swallowed. "It seems to my humble gaze that where poor Miss de Bourgh is blighted by ill health, you are the flower of all that she could be, and much as I admire, nay, more than mere admiration! I am forced to admit that if you were to be so very gracious as to welcome any overtures I might make, Lady Catherine would be terribly offended if I were to return with a wife who is so like her daughter might be were she in the bloom of health."

Lizzy realized her mouth had fallen open, and closed it. Surely her cousin realized that he was in company!

Mary certainly did: she blushed scarlet and dropped her gaze to the plain sewing in her lap. "Sir, you do me too much credit. I am greatly flattered by your regard, but it is too soon for such a decided step."

Mary's influence had already worked wonders on Mr Collins, for he bowed acquiescence. "As you choose, fair Cousin," and said nothing further on the matter. With his skin clearing and his hair clean, he was not so unprepossessing as he had seemed upon his arrival at Longbourn, Lizzy realized, and without the tedious speeches comparing all things to Lady Catherine he was far more likeable than he had initially seemed.

"You were not here when Charlotte came by, Lizzy," Kitty said. "The Lucases are to hold a ball. They are inviting the officers as well as our neighbors." She smiled. "The rest of us are well set for it, but you have not had a new gown since Mary's first Season."

The thought of dancing and festivities only made Lizzy feel ill. "Oh, no. Please Kitty... not now." She shuddered. "I... will need a little time before I can think of such things without discomfort."

Chapter 13 - Investigations

Posted on 2009-11-05

"Good Lord!" Bingley laid the note down, then lifted it again, re-reading as though he could not believe what lay within.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Might one ask what is so disturbing?"

Bingley handed him the note with a shaking hand. Before Darcy had read more than half the message, he understood his friend's shock. "You will, of course, inform your servants and tenants?"

"Of course." Bingley's voice was less than steady. "What an appalling thing to happen."

Darcy could not argue. Such an attack could only be committed by the most craven, most perverse of men. Rumors that such things occurred and were condoned by certain parties for reasons of honor did nothing to make them more palatable. Bennet's action was correct: whoever was responsible should be brought to justice and as quickly as may be. Had one of his tenants suffered a similar attack, he would have done the same thing.

"If you have no objections, I will take this to my cousin. Unfortunately, due to their recent arrival the men in the militia will be suspected - it is best if investigation there begins as soon as possible."

Bingley nodded. "I suggest you take a weapon in case you are delayed. If anyone were to happen on this creature while he went about his foul business..."

That consideration was not one Darcy had expected from his usually good-natured friend. "I intend to," he assured Bingley. The sad truth was that men of perverse tastes came from all classes, though in town those "gentlemen" could sponsor "orphanages". Much as he might wish to eliminate such perversity, he could not. He could only protect those within his influence to the best of his ability.

He strode through the front door only to see Fitzwilliam dismounting. The Colonel's grim face said clearly that he, too, had heard. "Good day, cousin. What urgent business sends you out alone?"

"I suspect the same business that brings you here." Darcy handed Fitzwilliam the note.

His cousin nodded. "Meryton is buzzing. The good townsfolk are convinced that the officers are not keeping the men sufficiently controlled."

"I feared as much." Darcy sighed. "I assume investigations have started?"

"Forster has begun inquiries." Fitzwilliam grimaced. "I fear they will be of little use. The man has clearly been advanced too early at the behest of his uncle General Williams. Oh, and I received this." He pulled a letter from his saddlebag and extended it to Darcy.

Darcy's brows rose as he scanned the letter. A moment later, he stepped back, alarmed. "They told Aunt Cat?"

"You need not fear." Fitzwilliam shook his head. "I am the one to drag her here on this 'arrant nonsense'." He imitated their aunt's sour manner so well Darcy found himself fighting a smile.

"She will bring Anne," Darcy pointed out. "Then she will tell anyone who will listen that we are engaged and press me to marry my 'intended'."

Fitzwilliam grinned. "Come, now Darce, there are compensations. Think how quickly Miss Bingley will leave off her attentions to you in favor of my brother."

An ungentlemanly snort escaped Darcy's control. "Randall would likely find her delightful." He shook his head. "But... did they say nothing of the reason they are all coming here?"

"Not a word." The Colonel shrugged. "No doubt we shall find out soon enough." He eyed Netherfield speculatively. "It may be just adequate for Aunt Cat, but I imagine the rest of the family will find this a congenial place. You had best warn Bingley of his guests, for there is no other place they can stay."

"And you?" The thought of adding more bad - or at least, awkward - news to Bingley's day did not appeal.

Fitzwilliam lost all his good humor. "I am going to have a little discussion with our old friend Wickham."

Wickham had changed little over the years, Fitzwilliam thought with distaste. Cheerful and amiable, easy in company, able to inspire trust in others and betray it without a second thought. In fewer than seven days he had accumulated significant gaming debts against Meryton's finest. Fitzwilliam had found him in the worst tavern in Meryton along with several other young officers. Forster was not going to enjoy his interview.

The Colonel nodded to Wickham. "Take a seat." When he had moved from Netherfield to Meryton, the landlord of Meryton's best inn had been kind enough to provide him with a small private parlor for interviews. Fitzwilliam had already found it invaluable.

Wickham seated himself with a cheerful - and insolent - smile. "Thank you, sir. What can I do for you?"

Fitzwilliam would have cheerfully broken a few teeth for that. To face him so calmly when he had very nearly ruined Darcy's sister! Georgiana had believed herself in love with the callous rogue, and had almost eloped. That Wickham showed not a hint of remorse only emphasized the man's lack of decency.

Rather than allow his anger to overrule him, Fitzwilliam said, "Considering your associates, I find it quite possible that you have heard more than the regular gossip about the child found this morning."

Wickham appeared unconcerned. "Some farmer's brat getting herself in trouble, as I heard it," he said in a casual voice. "Hardly anything for someone of your rank to concern yourself with, I would have thought, sir."

Fitzwilliam allowed none of his anger to show. "I imagine whoever was responsible would like people to think of it that way," he said coolly. "The townsfolk think differently, and blame the militia. I want this settled."

A slow blink was Wickham's only change of expression. "And here I thought you had come to accuse me of the deed."

"I recommend you reconsider that comment." The colonel would have liked nothing better than to do precisely as Wickham suggested. There were many young women who would find it a fitting punishment for his misdeeds. "Your offer is entirely too tempting."

He grinned. "Ah, but you are a man of honor, Colonel."

"And you are a man in debt to some characters who would happily break every bone in your body should you fail to pay them." Fitzwilliam knew the type. Like his cousin, he had dealt with Wickham's leavings in the past. "If you choose to be difficult, I may just leave you to your fate."

Wickham only smiled. "Poor Georgie. It would be so unfortunate if the letters we shared were to become known."

Fitzwilliam favored the man with his coldest stare. "Yes, it would. A certain young man by the name of Wickham might find himself demoted and assigned to the Peninsula front lines." That penetrated the man's smug superiority. "War orders have not been rescinded, so any man in the militia may be transferred to the regulars."

Wickham swallowed. That possibility had evidently not occurred to him when he had purchased his commission.

Chapter 14 - The Ball Before the Storm

Posted on 2009-11-14

For the first time in his life, Darcy found himself looking forward to a ball. That he did had little to do with the charms of the Lucas family, who he found sadly provincial, much less the congeniality of Lucas Lodge - it was inferior to Longbourn, and that estate was modest enough. Darcy's eagerness lay in the release from tension the ball would provide, and the last freedom it represented. The following day, the Fitzwilliam family would descend upon Netherfield en masse, bringing Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Anne with them.

That Lady Catherine would have it that she was the one descending and her brother's family trailing in her wake did nothing to cheer him. The prospect of her arrival held the same qualities for Darcy as a man facing his own execution.

Worse, another girl, the ten year old daughter of a Meryton laborer, had been attacked in the same way as the tenant farmer's child. Colonel Fitzwilliam had been forced to overrule Colonel Forster and confine all the militia to camp until each man's whereabouts on the nights of the attacks had been attested to. The death of the first victim would likely have been followed by the deaths of one or more soldiers at the hands of the townsfolk without that measure.

Darcy privately suspected that Fitzwilliam longed for the release from tedious sorting through records and statements that the ball would give him. He had paroled close to half the officers by virtue of a card party held the night the second girl was attacked, and many of the enlisted men had been in camp with their movements fully accounted for. Of the remainder... Darcy was unsurprised that one Lieutenant Wickham was among those whose time could not be fully accounted for. Though he had attended the card party, three of the Miss Bennets had noticed that he was absent for a time between his arrival and his eventual departure, an observation corroborated by several other observers including more than one of Wickham's fellow officers.

Darcy sighed. He could not suppress a wish that Fitzwilliam was here to relieve him of Miss Bingley's attentions. It was unconscionably selfish of him to think so, and unfair as well. Caroline Bingley was merely a typical example of Society, and as such, she was hardly to blame for behaving according to expectations. Women as cheerfully unconventional as Miss Elizabeth Bennet were rare creatures. He had never met any who were also as accomplished as she.

The combination intrigued him. He had yet to defeat her in a game of chess - Mr Bennet was perhaps the best player Darcy had ever met, and had taught his daughter the game ? he could discuss military strategy with her with the same ease as music or literature, but never once did she make any attempt to claim superiority over any other woman.

It was... intoxicating. In Miss Elizabeth's company, Darcy found himself stretching, like an old stallion exercising long unused muscles to outrun a new rival. It made him wonder just how much he had set aside when he had returned to Pemberley after his father's death. Immured in estate management and disliking society, he had done himself a disservice by failing to seek out like-minded friends.

If Bingley had not been so cheerfully insistent, Darcy might never have become the younger man's friend, never have journeyed with him to Hertfordshire. The thought that his own increasing solitude might have denied him his friendship with Miss Elizabeth was a goad to spur him into more openness than he had ever offered.

Lucas Lodge was a rambling old estate, the oldest portions dating back to Elizabethan times, with new sections added seemingly at whim. For all its age and erratic improvements, it was a comfortable home and had the advantage of an ancient great hall with high ceilings supported by great beams of oak.

At any other time, Lizzy would have enjoyed a ball at Lucas Lodge, but with the horrible attacks on young girls, she was in no mood to parry Sir William's effusive goodwill.

She knew Sir William cared about the victims of the attacks, for he had been among the first to offer assistance to both families. It was simply that, having rendered appropriate assistance and arranged for his tenants and servants to take precautions, Sir William put the matter from his mind and went on with the serious business of being affable and cheerful to everyone from the highest to the lowest.

Lizzy envied her father, who had retreated to Sir William's library, where he would likely remain until the ball was over. She had no such retreat.

"Miss Elizabeth? May I have the pleasure of the next dance?"

Lizzy smiled up at Mr Darcy, though her smile seemed forced to her. "I would be honored, sir, although I fear I cannot promise not to discuss unsuitable topics."

He returned her smile, though his eyes were tight with worry. "A lady such as yourself must render all topics suitable. Even --" His smile widened, and his eyes sparked a little. "-- animal husbandry." He extended his hand.

Lizzy accepted the gesture, and walked with Darcy to take a place in the sets forming. "Or Sappho?"

"Even so." More tension faded from Darcy's eyes. "A true lady can bring respectability to the most disreputable of Greeks."

The music began, and he bowed to her curtsey. Lizzy found herself warming to the verbal duel. "How truly remarkable, sir. I was under the impression the ancient Greeks maintained habits beyond respectability."

"They were somewhat indiscriminate," Darcy conceded.

The movement of the dance separated them briefly, after which Lizzy said archly, "You are too generous, Mr Darcy."

He regarded her soberly. "With an inspiration such as yourself, how could I not?"

Lizzy's face heated. She was neither generous nor inspiring. "Ah. You seek to unsettle me with lavish praise."

"I assure you, I give praise only where it is due."

Surely she was bright red by now. "Are you certain your bill has been correctly tallied, sir? The amount due seems excessive."

"I believe it has been calculated with impunity," Darcy said with a perfectly straight face.

Lizzy feigned shock. "Alas, my honor is thus impunned."

Fitzwilliam had begun to relax when he realized that several officers who had not been cleared were at the ball. It was only with the greatest of difficulty that he finished the dance without offending his partner.

Forster's explanation for their presence did nothing for the Colonel's state of mind. It was not acceptable to permit men under investigation to attend a ball because their more fortunate companion officers were attending.

Darcy joined him in the quiet corner of Lucas Lodge's great room. "What is that scoundrel doing here?"

Fitzwilliam sighed. "Forster believes it unjust to require the officers who have not been cleared to remain in camp."

"What?"

The Colonel met his cousin's glare calmly. "Indeed. At this point our best effort is to watch the men in question and hope there are no more incidents." He shook his head when Darcy made a half-gesture towards a sword or pistol he did not wear. "No duels, cousin. They will serve nothing."

"So we simply watch?"

"Really, Darce. You will give yourself a horrible headache." Fitzwilliam made a shushing motion. "Several of the cleared men are no friends of certain of those in doubt. I will speak with them during the evening." Such measures were inadequate, as Fitzwilliam well knew, but they were all that was available to him at present. "Go and dance with your Miss Elizabeth."

"She is not 'my' Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said through clenched teeth.

Army life had taught Fitzwilliam to take every opportunity for enjoyment available to him. He chuckled at his cousin's discomfort. "The way she smiles when you speak? Oh, I think she is very much yours, cousin."

Darcy's blush was truly entertaining.

"Go on, Darce. You must not let that scoundrel destroy your pleasure." Fitzwilliam half-pushed his cousin towards the Miss Bennets. If any man deserved happiness, it was Darcy.

Fitzwilliam was far more thankful than he ought to be that his military duties would prevent him from attending his family's invasion of Hertfordshire. Darcy had no such excuse to protect him from their aunt's excesses.

Chapter 15 - Invasion at Longbourn

Posted on 2009-11-30

The chaos that attended Longbourn was the inevitable result of five lively young women living in the same home. Though all ran smoothly, Mr Bennet was frequently obliged to retreat to his library simply to escape the overwhelming femininity. The animated discussions following the Lucas's ball ? and their focus on the joys attendant on a surplus of young gentlemen ensuring that no young lady was obliged to sit out a set ? were quite enough to drive him to his favored retreat, where the topics of young gentlemen and dancing were quite forbidden.

Thus, it fell to Lizzy as the first Miss Bennet the flustered servant could locate, to discover that Longbourn was invaded by fine carriages and noble gentlemen come with Mr Darcy.

A peek through the curtains of the front parlor confirmed the servant's panicked estimation. No fewer than three carriages stood outside the estate, with gentlemen assisting ladies Lizzy had never seen.

Though she wondered what had possessed Mr Darcy and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam to inflict such an extraordinary gathering upon their small estate, Lizzy was quick to discard such speculation in favor of ordering a light tea for the unexpected guests, to be served with the best china, and to show their guests into the front parlor ? the only room Longbourn possessed capable of accommodating so many.

There was no time to change from day dresses to something more suitable for receiving visitors: there was barely time for her sisters to move from the south parlor to the darker and colder front parlor. Extracting her father from the library proved as difficult as she feared. Though Lizzy was quite capable of receiving guests, she saw no reason to impress upon them how very unusual the Bennet household could be.

The introductions were no less startling. Lizzy found herself murmuring polite greetings to what seemed like Mr Darcy's entire extended family. Only his sister was absent from the extraordinary collection.

Longbourn had been invaded by Lord James Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Ashton, his wife Lady Eleanor, their older son Lord Randall Fitzwilliam, the Viscount of ? Lizzy did not hear the full title in the buzz of discussion ? Colonel Fitzwilliam, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Anne ? who did indeed bear a most startling resemblance to Mary ? and Mr Darcy, who seemed the least notable of the guests.

Even Lydia's usual liveliness was overwhelmed and she retreated behind Mrs Carlisle's black skirts. Lizzy had to admit she longed to do the same.

Once their guests were seated in the front parlor, Mr Bennet said, "I must say, while I am honored by such an illustrious gathering, I am equally bemused as to its reason."

The Earl looked from Mr Bennet to Mary, then Anne. "Can you not guess, sir?"

Had she been alone, Lizzy would have winced when her father replied, "The resemblance is remarkable, yes, but surely that is mere coincidence."

"That, sir, is what we are here to determine." Though the Earl appeared to be a friendly gentleman of her father's age or thereabouts, Lizzy could hear the steel in his voice. On this matter, he would not be deterred.

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed. "There can be no connection," she declared. "That chit," She indicated Mary with her chin, "is nothing like Anne."

Miss de Bourgh did not wince: she seemed to shrink into her chair. She seemed so pale Lizzy feared she would swoon.

Mary flushed with anger, but she said only, "We would not think to demean someone of your standing by claiming a connection, Lady Catherine."

All the gentlemen coughed, and amusement lit Mr Bennet's eyes.

The Earl cleared his throat. "The late Mrs Bennet was a Miss Gardiner, I understand?"

Lady Catherine drew in a hissing breath.

"That is correct." Lizzy's father seemed more than a little bewildered by the question. "Miss Fanny Gardiner."

"The sister of Miss Julia Gardiner and Mr Edward Gardiner?"

Her father nodded. Lizzy could not help wondering how the Earl should know so much about her mother's family.

"Then, sir, we have a problem." The Earl spread his hands in a gesture of apparent helplessness. "You see, twenty five years ago, my sister Catherine's daughter Frances vanished, along with her governess Mrs Gardiner. That Mrs Gardiner had two children, a daughter Julia who was fourteen at the time, and a son Edward, who was not yet five years of age."

It was clear to Lizzy that Miss de Bourgh had never known of her lost sister: she swayed in her chair. Mary hastened to the young lady's side, and helped her to rise. The two slipped from the room with no others noticing ? all were focused on the Earl and on Lady Catherine.

"Impossible!" that worthy insisted. "My Frances died. She did not disappear." The lady continued on that vein at length, repeating many times the obvious inferiority of the Bennets, and the impossibility of any connection.

It was not often that Lizzy saw her father shocked into silence. She suspected the Earl's astonishing revelation was the cause, for Lady Catherine's tirade, while insulting, would more normally inspire only amusement and quixotic mockery.

When Lady Catherine finally finished with, "I will not have it!" the Earl shook his head.

"The decision, sister dearest, is not yours to make," he said in a dry voice. "Sir Lewis's will is quite clear on the matter. Rosings Park is left to his daughter Frances if she lived still, her heirs if she left any, and only then to Anne."

Lady Catherine paled. "You will not steal Anne's inheritance!"

Lizzy could not help but wonder whether the lady realized how very obvious it was that she did not so much as look to where her daughter had been seated. Poor Anne must lead a miserable life with such a mother.

"Speaking of which, where is Anne?" the Viscount asked.

Lady Catherine clutched her chest.

Lizzy intervened before another tirade could erupt. "Miss de Bourgh was looking unwell, so my sister Mary helped her from the room. Shall I see where they are?"

Lady Catherine's expression was one of pure venom, but the other members of Mr Darcy's extended family appeared relieved and grateful.

Lizzy curtseyed, and hastened from the room. No wonder poor Mr Collins was so overwhelmed by his patroness. Lady Catherine was the kind of harridan who would terrorize anyone, even the Prince Regent.

As Lizzy expected, Mary had taken Miss de Bourgh to the south parlor. The two young women were talking cheerfully, and Miss de Bourgh seemed much improved by the warmer, quieter environment.

"Miss de Bourgh?"

The young lady shrank into herself.

Lizzy tried to smile reassuringly. "May I inform your family that you are well and comfortable here, and need not be disturbed?"

She winced at the sound of raised voices from the front parlor, then offered a wry twist of a smile. "That would be wonderful. Mama can be... overwhelming."

"Evidently," Lizzy said in a dry voice. "On one thing you need not fear, Miss de Bourgh. I can safely say that neither I nor my sisters have any desire to deprive you of your inheritance even if there is a connection such as your uncle believes may be possible."

Miss de Bourgh shook her head. "Please, call me Anne. If there is a connection, then we are closely related."

"Then you must call me Lizzy." With a smile, Lizzy added, "Though I fear I could not possibly call you Aunt, though if there is a connection you would indeed by my aunt."

Anne ? who appeared to Lizzy to be of an age with Jane ? smiled, color returning to her face. "Oh, that would be so very silly. I could not possibly be an Aunt to five young ladies: it is positively spinsterish."

Mary laughed softly. "Oh, yes. We young ladies must avoid spinsterish appearances at all costs for fear they become the reality."

All of Longbourn's illustrious guests with the exception of Lady Catherine responded to Lizzy's report that Miss Anne de Bourgh was resting comfortably in the south parlor with relief. Lady Catherine was somewhat displeased.

"Is my daughter to be subjected to such inferior conditions?" She glowered at the earl. "I fail to see why it was necessary for poor Anne to be subjected to this."

The earl sighed. "No, Catherine. You simply do not wish to acknowledge that Anne, not you, is mistress of Rosings Park, much less that Miss Bennet may be the rightful owner."

Jane flushed and looked down. "I have no wish to deprive anyone of their home."

Lizzy was not certain whether to bless or condemn the servant ? another of Mrs Hill's many daughters ? who opened the door quietly and whispered to her, "Pardon, Miss Lizzy, but Mrs Phillips is here."

Her Aunt Phillips was certainly a distraction, and might well have some light to shed on what seemed to Lizzy to be a pointless argument, but why had she come, and why now?

A partial answer to that question could be seen in the looks exchanged by the colonel and Mr Darcy, both of whom appeared to find Lady Catherine's vehement denial that there could be any connection between the Bennets and herself highly amusing.

They were not the subject of the vicious tirades.

"Show Aunt Phillips here." Lizzy murmured. She did not add that one more overwrought person could hardly make things worse. She half expected Mrs Carlisle to apply her ? most effective ? cure for hysterics: a sharp slap to the face of the hysterical party. If that failed, a glass of cold water in the face generally succeeded.

The viscount's whispered conference with his brother and Mr Darcy did nothing for Lizzy's composure. This whole situation was simply ridiculous. If Mama had been anyone other than the daughter of a moderately well-off widow, she would surely have told Papa so.

The parlor door opened once more, admitting Mrs Phillips. That worthy froze in place and stared around the parlor as though she faced her worst fears. All color drained from her face.

She tried several times to speak, but it seemed to Lizzy that her aunt could not force sound from her mouth.

Lady Catherine drew in a hissing breath. "You! Ungrateful chit! You and your thieving mother should have been transported."

Mrs Phillips flushed and straightened. "Mama took nothing: it was all Fanny's mad notions."

While Lizzy tried to collect her thoughts and Lady Catherine remained open-mouthed with the shock of being contradicted, the Earl asked, "It is true then? Fanny Gardiner was in truth Frances de Bourgh?"

Mrs Phillips nodded. "Fanny planned it all," she said in an oddly tight voice. "She hated Rosings and her mother." Following that remarkable statement, Mrs Phillips swayed on her feet, and fainted dead away.

Chapter 16 - Past Secrets

Posted on 2009-12-29

Though Darcy had begun to expect some connection between the Bennets and the de Bourghs, if only by virtue of his aunt's vehement denial that any such thing could be possible, he did not expect so dramatic a confirmation.

He half-rose, intending to offer assistance to Mrs Phillips, then sank back when that worthy was surrounded by the Miss Bennets. Aunt Cat's loud protestations merely made his head ache.

Fitzwilliam caught his gaze and made a wry face.

Darcy shook his head at his cousin. At least Anne was away from this insanity. It would do her no good to see her mother shrieking like a harpy that Mrs Phillips must be a liar of the most degraded sort to claim that her Frances would ever do anything so disrespectful.

He blinked when the governess ? Mrs Carlisle, if he remembered correctly ? rose and stalked across to Aunt Catherine, slapped her twice, once on each cheek.

For a long ? blessedly quiet ? moment, Lady Catherine de Bourgh was rendered silent by the assault.

Mrs Carlisle nodded to the startled Earl. "Sir. I find a sharp shock is usually sufficient to quiet a bout of hysterics. The lady should take a little brandy to calm her nerves."

Darcy bit his lips. It would not do to smile, especially as his uncle was having difficulty keeping a straight face.

"Thank you, madam." The Earl's voice was not quite steady. "Would you be so kind as to arrange it? I bow to your good sense in this matter."

Mrs Carlisle curtseyed and took herself to the door, where Darcy did not doubt as many servants as could gather about it waited and listened. If he were to be honest with himself, he would have preferred to listen at the door himself: he would not be targeted by Aunt Cat.

Lady Catherine finally found her voice. "How... how can..."

To Darcy's surprise, his Aunt Eleanor replied, calmly, but with an edge of steel to her voice. "My dear sister, you were overwrought. Do try to remain calm until brandy is brought for you."

Perhaps it was the shock of gentle, quiet Lady Eleanor approving of the treatment that caused Aunt Cat to subside. At any rate, she had not found her voice until the redoubtable Mrs Carlisle returned with brandy.

"Sip slowly, madam. It will settle your nerves." Though the governess's tone was properly respectful, Darcy had the disconcerting impression she was taking a quite improper amount of amusement from the matter.

Certainly, her presence was sufficient to keep Aunt Cat quiet and ? astonishingly ? obedient.

Darcy doubted Mrs Phillips was any happier: waking to a flock of Bennet girls and their genuine solicitation must have been in stark contrast to the curious and not entirely friendly gazes of Darcy's family.

The Earl bowed slightly. "I do apologize, madam. I had not intended to cause such a shock."

Mrs Phillips, once helped to a chair, could only blink.

He continued as though he was unaware of her reaction. "Please, do not fear that you will suffer for the actions of others. You were not old enough to fully appreciate what was happening, and if Frances prevailed upon your mother, then no blame attaches to her either. We seek only the truth."

Brandy was supplied to Mrs Phillips to settle her nerves ? a remedy Darcy found more to his taste than smelling salts ? and the Earl waited until her breathing had settled a little before he asked, "Would you be so kind as to relate what you know of Frances's departure from Rosings and her life after that?"

Mrs Phillips blinked, then swallowed. Darcy doubted she found Miss Kitty Bennet's solicitous presence at all comforting.

"She... insisted we call her Fanny, when her mother was not present," Mrs Phillips said at last. "Frances was too formal, she said." Another swallow. "Fanny loved company. She was never happier than when there were people around her. Mama indulged her as much as she could ? sometimes I think Mama cared more for her than she did for us."

If that were true, it would explain the sourness of Mrs Phillips tone. "When she was sixteen, there was a regiment stationed in the village. Mama thought an officer would be a good catch for me, so she often allowed me to walk there. Fanny would come too ? she would flirt and chatter and pretend to be my sister so they did not suspect her to be the heir of Rosings. She wanted to marry for love, she said, not some fortune chasing lord or anyone her parents deemed suitable."

By now, Mrs Phillips had consumed enough brandy to be quite relaxed indeed. She leaned back with her eyes half-closed. "She adored her father, but Sir Lewis was often away on business, and she claimed her mother was far too strict and had forgotten what it was to be sixteen and long for freedom."

Lady Catherine opened her mouth to object, and took another sip of brandy instead when Mrs Carlisle raised one hand.

"That was when Mama's brother in Meryton died, and left everything to her. It was no great fortune, but there was a town house, and enough for Mama to live comfortably and to give me a good dowry without harming Edward's chances." Mrs Phillips closed her eyes. "Only Fanny insisted on coming with us. The regiment had left, and she wanted... I truly do not know what she wanted. She said it would be a great lark, to be Miss Fanny Gardiner instead of the untouchable Miss de Bourgh, and she brought some of her jewelry ? enough to sell so that she would have a dowry matching mine so no-one would suspect anything."

No wonder the Miss Bennets were such resourceful young ladies, Darcy thought bemusedly. With a mother like that, they could hardly be anything else.

Mr Bennet looked as though he had swallowed a live frog. "Why did she never tell me?" he asked softly, presumably not expecting an answer.

He received one anyway. "Fanny was afraid you would insist on contacting the de Bourghs if you knew, brother," Mrs Phillips said. "Her only regret was that she never did provide you with a son."

Mr Bennet turned his head and dabbed at his eyes. He looked much older, haunted by grief. "My poor Fanny." That, too, was clearly not intended to be heard.

Mrs Phillips fortunately had the sense to ignore the comment. "Mama tried to refuse her, but Fanny disguised herself as one of the carriage drivers, and by the time we knew, it was too late. She could not return alone, and she claimed her mother had disowned her. Mama was too soft-hearted to send her back, so when we reached Meryton, Fanny was part of Mama's family as she had intended."

Mrs Phillips sighed. "There is little to tell after that. Fanny married Mr Bennet, and I married Mr Phillips. She told no-one, not even Edward, that she had adopted Mama and me. He was too little to remember any of it. When she died, she was buried as Fanny Bennet nee Gardiner. I still miss her." With that, Mrs Phillips's eyes closed, and she sighed again.

After such an extraordinary confession, it was a long time before anyone spoke. Finally, Fitzwilliam broke the silence. "Well, Darce. You were clearly not mistaken about the family resemblance."

Darcy cleared his throat and reminded himself that dueling his cousin would gain him nothing, and lose him his closest friend. "So it would seem." He shook his head. "I expected to hear of some distant connection, not this." He had not doubted that Fanny Gardiner was in some way connected to the de Bourgh family, but that she was Frances de Bourgh, the long-lost heir of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, strained credibility.

Lady Catherine opened her mouth, glanced at the grimly determined Mrs Carlisle, and ? possibly the only time Darcy could remember her ever doing so ? decided discretion was the better part of valor.

The Miss Bennets drew close together, their whispered conversation quite animated if their expressions and gestures were any guide. Not that there was any disagreement ? they appeared to be emphatically in agreement.

"Sadly, I feared something like this," the Earl said in a tired voice. "Frances was always... impetuous."

Mrs Phillips nodded, but she did not speak.

Miss Jane Bennet's normally tranquil expression held the kind of determination Darcy had become accustomed to seeing from Miss Elizabeth. "With all due respect, sir, we do not see that this changes anything. Aunt Phillips surely speaks truth, but her word is not evidence enough to deprive Miss de Bourgh of her inheritance ? and we do not desire any involvement in any such attempt."

Her sisters nodded.

The Earl blinked. "Young lady, you must realize your determination is impossible."

"Not so, sir." Miss Elizabeth leaned forward, as though entering combat. "The general knowledge is that Miss Frances de Bourgh died young. To resurrect her and claim Mrs Bennet, nee Gardiner, was once Miss de Bourgh, would require an extraordinary degree of evidence. Further, it would forever brand us as fortune chasing harridans who had deprived an innocent young lady of her inheritance."

Darcy had to turn a bark of laughter to a cough. "Sadly, Uncle, Miss Elizabeth is correct on that account. However much evidence was offered, society would regard the Miss Bennets as fortune hunters."

The Viscount muttered something that sounded remarkably like, "Damn society, anyway."

Darcy chose not to hear him.

His uncle was not deterred. "Young lady, your grandfather's will explicitly stipulates that your sister Miss Bennet is the rightful heir of Rosings Park and the de Bourgh fortune."

Miss Jane's expression hardened. "Mama left everything she possessed equally between the five of us. As I understand it, that would require Rosings Park to be sold."

Lady Catherine drew in a hissing breath.

Miss Jane continued, "None of us would wish to deprive anyone of her home."

Darcy could not help thinking that it was fortunate Bingley was not privy to this gathering, or he would beg Miss Jane Bennet for her hand on the spot. Darcy would never have suspected such strength from such a serene, gentle woman.

Miss Catherine added, "We are content to be acknowledged as cousins, if need be. That will satisfy those who wonder at the resemblance between Mary and Miss de Bourgh, without requiring anyone's expectations to be destroyed."

The Colonel chuckled. "If I were a gambling man, I would back the Miss Bennets, father. They would give old Boney pause."

The Earl folded his arms. "All the more reason to restore what is rightfully theirs." His frown dared anyone to disagree.

"Must this be decided now?" Miss Elizabeth asked. "This news has been a terrible shock to many of us here. It might be wiser to take time to consider the situation." She nodded in Lady Catherine's direction. "I cannot imagine any of us truly expected news such as this."

Mrs Phillips appeared to have taken too much brandy to sensibly respond ? or to respond at all. Somewhat to Darcy's relief, Lady Catherine seemed to be suffering the same affliction, complete with a dazed, somewhat foxed expression.

Though he knew it was wrong of him, Darcy could not help but wonder if it was possible to ply his aunt with brandy every time he was in her company. She appeared almost amiable.

Chapter 17 - Research and Recovery

Posted on 2010-01-22

While the good people of Meryton puzzled at the arrival of a host of eminent personages at Netherfield and worried over the discovery of another attack ? this time the sixteen year old daughter of one of Sir William Lucas's tenants, who had been missing for some days before her body was found ? those residing at Netherfield dealt with Lady Catherine's steadfast refusal to accept any part of the extraordinary confession of Mrs Phillips, a refusal as loud as it was unmoving, and the Miss Bennets searched Longbourn for evidence of their mother's past. Mr Bennet retreated to his library and his port, though none could have said which held the greater attraction.

Had she been asked, Lizzy would have replied that her father was taking consolation from his library, though she privately considered his port was his principal comfort. Rumor from Meryton that Colonel Fitzwilliam was inspecting every man's clothing and had applied to the Home Office to replace Colonel Forster did little to calm her nerves.

She had retreated to Longbourn's attic on the second day of steady rain for fear her already fragile temper would snap, and now sat amidst the dust, sorting through the trunks which held her mother's belongings. There were a few gowns, those she supposed had held some special sentimental value to her father, a number of embroidered handkerchiefs, bonnets of a style now sadly outdated, a few pieces of jewelry ? none of it of a style or quality that a daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh might expect ? and in the very bottom of the trunk, a leather bound book with a worn clasp.

Lizzy moved the lamp a little closer and opened the book.

On the flyleaf was written in a round, childish hand, 'The Diary of Frances de Bourgh'.

Lizzy's hands trembled. This was evidence that a court of law would consider inarguable. She swallowed and, despite the poor light, began to read.

"Lizzy?" Lydia's voice brought Lizzy back to the present. She rubbed her eyes and carefully closed the diary, fastened the clasp. It was all as Aunt Phillips had said, and yet she felt guilty for holding the confirmation in her hands. It would have been far better for the connection to be mere unproven anecdote, based on the word of one who was not yet fifteen at the time.

With both her mother and the elder Mrs Gardiner long dead, who would not accept the word of a Lady Catherine de Bourgh over that of a mere Miss Bennet or a Mrs Phillips?

"Lizzy?" Lydia sounded worried, even a little fearful. "Are you well?"

"I am quite well, Lydia." Lizzy swallowed. "I have been reading too long."

"Here?" Lydia's voice drew closer. "You will ruin your eyes reading in such dim light."

To hear one of Mrs Carlisle's favored complaints ? not that she had ever been short of complaint about Lizzy's reading in any location whatever the light ? from Lydia's lips brought a flicker of amusement. "I had not thought to read this long," she admitted. "I found Mama's diary."

Lydia stood immediately behind her, Lizzy guessed. "Oh." It was little more than a breath. "Is it very... romantic?"

"It is not like the novels where the heroine falls in love with the gentlemen who rescues her from terrible danger," Lizzy said instead of a simple answer. She suspected that what she regarded as headstrong folly her sister would see as romantic. Had she read this diary at Lydia's age, she would certainly have thought their mother's actions terribly romantic.

"Not that!" Lydia sounded as though she was fighting laughter. "Everyone knows those are all made up and quite ridiculous."

Lizzy stood, wincing. She had been sitting reading for far too long. She picked up the lamp. "Mama was only your age when she ran away from home, Lydia." She started to pick her way towards the stairs. "She was fortunate Grandmama Gardiner was willing to treat her as her daughter."

"It is all true then?" Lydia asked. "Lord, what a surprise that was!"

Lizzy chose to ignore her sister's choice of language. The attic stairs were steep, worn smooth by much use. It was best to watch one's footing when using them.

"I should much rather have Grandmama Gardiner than Lady Catherine for a grandmother." Lydia seemed oblivious to her sister's mood. "Grandmama Gardiner was nice."

"Lydia!" Lizzy's reprimand could hold little force: not when she agreed wholly with Lydia's opinion. "That is very impolite."

Lydia made a very unladylike sound of derision. "Poor Mr Collins, having to be nice to someone like that! You should have heard him when he learned she had been here. Poor Mary had to spend all afternoon calming him down."

Though it was hardly proper, Lizzy could not help but wince at the memory. She had fled to the herb garden rather than be trapped listening to the unfortunate clergyman. Alas, rain had closed in the following day, and penned her indoors.

Lizzy hesitated at the door to the room she shared with Jane. Part of her longed to hide the diary, to keep her mother's secret a little longer, though her conscience told her it must be shared with her sisters at least, and with Mr Darcy's relatives as well.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Lydia shook her head. "There is so much happening I have no memory. We have visitors. Mr Bingley is here, with Mr and Mrs Hurst, and Miss Bingley. Jane says will you please rescue her, for Mr Collins is having hysterics in the North Parlor and Mary and Kitty dare not leave him for fear he does something ridiculous, and she cannot entertain all those guests on her own."

Lizzy swallowed. She dared not try to speak, much less ask why Mr Collins would be hysterical ? an ailment more common to overly pampered ladies. Presumably he had learned the reason for Lady Catherine de Bourgh's presence in Hertfordshire.

She allowed Lydia to lead her to the South Parlor where Jane greeted her with a relieved smile. Lydia excused herself, for she had lessons to attend, leaving Lizzy to settle herself and try to act as though the old diary in her hand was nothing of any importance.

Mr Hurst appeared to be half asleep and not at all eager for the visit, while his wife perched upon a chair as though she feared it might somehow infect her with some terrible ailment.

Once Lizzy had made apologies for not being available when the unexpected visitors had arrived, Miss Bingley said, "Oh, that is of no consequence, Miss Eliza. Only fancy, you and dear Jane being related to Mr Darcy! It must have been such a surprise."

Mr Bingley appeared uncomfortable with his sister's effusions, though not willing to quiet them.

Lizzy risked a glance a Jane, and was unsurprised to see her sister's head bowed and a blush on her cheeks. It would be Lizzy's task to counter Miss Bingley's attempt to form an attachment ? no doubt another hurdle in the woman's quest to wed Mr Darcy. "Please, Miss Bingley, whatever you have heard can make little difference to my sisters and me. Relations of Mr Darcy we may be, but very poor and insignificant ones."

Darcy had begun to wonder how he might escape his relatives. The wisdom of asking about the Miss Bennets began to seem questionable the moment he learned Aunt Cat would be bestirring herself to pass judgment upon the young ladies in question. After several days trapped between his aunt and his uncle the Earl, Darcy regretted even wondering at the resemblance. Not even liberal application of brandy would blot out these headaches.

Even though Colonel Fitzwilliam had his own headaches with the militia and the discovery of another attack ? surely not even Wickham was that depraved, and Darcy knew, too well, that Wickham was quite capable of arranging ample feminine company whenever he chose ? Darcy could not help envying his cousin the absence of an overabundance of relatives.

Relatives who seemed determined to make Darcy's life a trial if not by design, then certainly by effect. Even Bingley and his sisters ? and Hurst ? had chanced the inclement weather to visit the Bennets. No doubt Longbourn was more peaceful than Netherfield.

If that were not enough, the Earl's lawyer would arrive within two days, to determine the precise legal standing of the Miss Bennets, no doubt occasioning even more arguing. At least the lawyer would not be swayed by Aunt Cat's arguments ? she was not among his clients, nor was she ever likely to be.

Mr Bennet could perhaps have been more surprised when Mr Darcy all but begged for the freedom of that gentleman's library, though it would have taken some truly remarkable event. To his credit, Bennet masked his astonishment, and granted the request without further comment.

Darcy thanked the older man, and sighed. "This must have been a terrible shock for you as well, sir."

Mr Bennet appeared older, more careworn than Darcy recalled. "It has been unsettling." A little amusement crept into his expression. "Though I imagine your fate has been a trifle more difficult than mine."

"One could say that." Darcy was a little surprised at his agreement ? not that Bennet was incorrect, but it was hardly something one acknowledged. "The discussions have been quite animated."

"Of that I have no doubt." Bennet poured brandy, handing Darcy the glass. "You are very welcome to take refuge here. This may not be a great library, but I know the state of Netherfield's library, so I dare say you might find a few items of interest."

"One hopes," Darcy observed in a dry voice. He could not help but feel relief that Bennet had not mentioned the other reason for visiting Longbourn and the estate's library: one did not admit one was hiding from one's relatives.

Fortunately, Mr Bennet did indeed keep a well-stocked library. Darcy could claim that he merely sought congenial reading material and speak perfect truth. Equally beneficial, if not precisely something Darcy had sought, the well-lined shelves were arranged so that they formed quiet ? and hidden ? corners furnished with old but comfortable seats where one might settle and read with little fear of interruption.

He claimed a recent edition of the scandalous Lord Byron's works, and settled in one such reading nook, noting as he did a faint hint of lavender with an undertone of a more familiar scent. Presumably at least some of the Miss Bennets used these reading corners as well.

That surmise was quickly proved accurate ? Miss Elizabeth entered, an old, dusty book in one hand.

Darcy tensed, unsure of that quick-witted young lady's opinion of him ? or his family.

Miss Elizabeth merely raised one eyebrow, then claimed the other chair in this corner, curling her legs into the oversized chair in a most unladylike ? and completely unselfconscious ? manner. She opened her book and began to read, frowning a little and biting her lip.

Darcy tried to focus upon his own book, and failed. Elizabeth seemed utterly unaware of the play of emotion across her face, and though he knew he ought not eavesdrop in such an intimate fashion, he could not bring himself to look away.

She should have been raised with the family, he found himself thinking. With connections and a London season, she would have been the toast of the Ton. Her figure might not be perfectly formed, but she moved with easy grace, and her liveliness and expressive eyes ensured that the overall impression was one of beauty though she did not possess the classical attributes of such.

This was a young woman who would not marry merely to form a connection: Darcy could not imagine her agreeing to the proposal of a man she did not at least respect. He sighed under his breath. If only Georgiana had the same strength of spirit. His sister had been so lost since the Ramsgate debacle, as though Wickham's callousness had crushed her.

At length Elizabeth looked up and regarded him with open curiosity. "Have I a bird's nest in my hair or some other deformity, Mr Darcy?" she asked in a soft voice. "I do not believe you have read a single page since my arrival."

His face heated: the truth of her assertion regarding his reading ? or lack thereof ? could not be denied. "I apologize, Miss Bennet. Your appearance is, as always, magnificent, and I found myself drawn by the expressiveness with which you read."

Her blush matched his. "Oh dear. Mrs Carlisle tells me I should not allow that, but I have never been able to prevent it."

Darcy's lips twitched. "Sadly, we are not all able to meet the standards of Mrs Carlisle."

Chapter 18 - A Most Propitious Ball

Posted on 2010-02-14

It was perhaps fortunate that the much-anticipated Netherfield ball should occur while that estate was occupied by its surfeit of notable guests: the presence of those guests ensured that the good people of Meryton were considerably more exercised in displaying their virtues both real and imagined to the visitors than in speculating about the purpose of such a gathering.

Lizzy certainly welcomed the distraction the ball provided. She had, in the end, given her mother's diary to Mr Darcy after one of his visits ? and after defeating him soundly in a game of chess, much to her father's amusement ? and wished to hear nothing more of the matter.

That Jane was bereft of good sense in Mr Bingley's presence helped not one whit in Lizzy's opinion, while Mary had quite lost her head to whatever charms the unfortunate Mr Collins presented. All of her sisters had nursed orphaned kittens and puppies to health, though none so fiercely as Mary. Lizzy could only think that Mary saw their cousin in the same light.

With Kitty and Lydia both besotted by the romance of their mother's life ? it seemed not at all romantic to Lizzy, to risk everything for an uncertain future without even the surety of a suitor to save her from her folly ? and her father hiding in his study, Longbourn seemed far more confining than usual.

If that were not problem enough, it seemed that Colonel Forster had ceased to care about keeping his men under guard until the perpetrator of the attacks was found, for Denny, Wickham, and two others whose names Lizzy could not recall, seemed always to be about in town whenever Lizzy was there. Worse, it seemed to Lizzy that whenever Mrs Carlisle was distracted ? Denny often seemed to provide one, having been stationed in Mrs Carlisle's home county of Cornwall for a time and always willing to speak of the places he had been ? Wickham would pay entirely too much attention to Lydia.

With both the other young officers vying for Kitty's attention, no others had noticed anything out of the ordinary, and Wickham was always properly deferential when any attention was turned his way ? so much so that Lizzy could not be certain she truly saw improper attentions. Perhaps she was being too quick to judge?

Still, she found herself seeking to assure herself Wickham was nowhere near Lydia as the night progressed.

Darcy, too, found the ball trying. His ears still rang from Aunt Catherine's accusation that he attended to spite his cousin Anne, who was ? of course ? too ill to attend.

Fitzwilliam had warned him that Forster had paroled all his officers, claiming it was entirely too problematic to keep them in the camp while no progress was made in the investigations. It was fortunate for Darcy's self-control that Wickham at least had the sense to stay well away from Darcy as much as the flow of the crowd permitted.

He had hoped to be treated to some of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's wit, but that was, alas, lacking. As the dance ended, she apologized for her distraction, and expressing the hope that she had not entirely spoiled the evening for him.

"Miss Elizabeth, you do not spoil evenings: rather you make them worthy." Though a little startled by such outright flattery from his own lips, Darcy could not regret the words, not when the young lady blushed and smiled so charmingly in response.

"Truly, sir, you have spent far too much time in your cousin the Colonel's company, for I would swear it was he who offered such outrageous compliments."

He smiled, unable to conceal his amusement. "There was a time, Miss Elizabeth, when the two of us were counted the greatest rogues in the country."

She raised an eyebrow. "Truly, Mr Darcy? It seems very unlike you. I am sure you were a serious, studious child who never gave your parents the least reason for concern."

Darcy chuckled. "If my parents were here to ask, they would tell you you were quite mistaken, madam. No doubt they would also find reason to regale you with tales of my childhood indiscretions merely to prove the point."

"Impossible!" she declared. "You can have no childhood indiscretions. Now I am a regular hoyden, and have been guilty of many things from climbing trees far too large for a small child to the mysterious appearance of frogs in Mama's bed."

Darcy found his lips twitching. "I recall a well-deserved thrashing for a similar offense." he admitted. "Father was quite determined that I remember that young gentlemen do not populate lady's beds with amphibious wildlife."

He was rewarded with one of Elizabeth's brilliant smiles. "If young gentlemen do not do such things, then clearly you did not."

The interlude was, alas, too short, for Elizabeth was claimed for a dance soon after, leaving Darcy to wonder at her determination to regard him so highly. Her animation did not last: that haunted, somewhat distant expression returned to her face soon after Bingley led her back to the dance floor.

He retreated to the shadows, chuckling to himself at the crowd surrounding his cousins. A Viscount and a Colonel must always outshine a mere Mr when it came to associations, something Darcy did not regret. He truly was not inclined to conviviality, and much preferred the quiet of his library or the peace of Pemberley's grounds.

His thoughts drifted to the old diary Elizabeth had given him. From the pages the late Mrs Bennet showed herself as a heedless, impulsive girl who had never truly matured ? but had nonetheless loved her husband dearly, and been slowly transformed by her failure to provide an heir. Darcy could understand why she had lost any desire to live following the birth of a boy at last, and the infant's death within a day.

There were shadows of Sir Lewis de Bourgh in Mrs Bennet's manners, and none who read the diary could doubt its accuracy. The lawyers would be drawing up a settlement within days, for Sir Lewis's will had explicitly prohibited any final settlement until the fate of his older daughter was known.

In truth, Darcy suspected the greatest battle would be the attempt to remove Aunt Cat to the London townhouse her husband had provided for her. There was no question of his aunt living within the income provided: she was far too accustomed to being the mistress of Rosings Park, with all that entailed.

Secrets could not be kept for any length of time, and one as momentous as the connection between the Bennets and the de Bourghs had begun to leak within hours of the first argument at Netherfield Park ? for while the servants at Longbourn liked and respected their employers too much to gossip, the same could not be said for those of Netherfield.

The Bennets being the leading family in the district, and well liked, many of those who had begun the spread of information were delighted that the Bennets should have such stellar connections, believing that the Miss Bennets would now be able to marry as they deserved instead of being confined to such a limited circle as Meryton's.

The man watching the ball found the information worthy of consideration. He would soon have to quit the area, for his necessary activities did not permit him to remain in one location any length of time. Even in the worst parts of London he could not be assured of satisfying the demonic urges for more than a few months without causing uproar.

He loathed that unclean need, but had never been able to suppress it. Any little thing might trigger it: anger, frustration... If he could find no better answer than seeking those least likely to be missed, the thing would drive him to the noose.

His gaze fixed briefly on the cause of it, the man who had frustrated his plans at every turn and was ? maddeningly ? unaware of what he had done. Without his presence as a goad and a foil, he might perhaps never have known to what depths he could sink.

There was little point gnawing at what might have been. His adversary was well-established here, fortune once more serving the enemy well while slapping him in the face. He grew weary of it, for it seemed that everywhere he went, the enemy was there, driving him without realizing he did so.

His preparations for departure were made, the debts he had accumulated enough to occupy his adversary for some time. All he required was the agreement of the mark he had chosen to give his flight a reason wholly at odds with his true purpose. That she was attractive and innocent helped: she might perhaps be sufficiently charming to calm the inner demons.

If not... well, he would deal with that when the time came.

Chapter 19 - Family Matters

Posted on 2010-03-13

To say that the final settlement of Sir Lewis de Bourgh's will was not met with universal acclaim was akin to claiming that relations between England and France were a little awkward. Darcy wished he could have devised a means of plying Aunt Cat with sufficient brandy to quiet her.

When she attempted to beat the unfortunate lawyers with her cane ? an item she did not need to walk but which provided her with a formidable weapon should anyone provoke her ire ? Darcy responded without thought, moving quickly to remove the cane from his aunt's hands.

"Sit down, Aunt. You are making a fool of yourself." Darcy wondered when he had learned to speak so bluntly. He had neglected to fortify himself with brandy, so that could not be the cause.

"I will not stand for this... travesty!" Lady Catherine appeared beyond persuasion. "My late husband would never stand for this."

Darcy pushed her ? gently, though firmly ? back into her seat. "You can read, can you not, Aunt?"

The implied insult left Lady Catherine speechless, though alas, not for long. "You ungrateful..."

Darcy glared around the room. His uncle and cousins could be helping instead of trying not to laugh. "Randall, if you would hold the will? I will hold Aunt Catherine's hands." It would not do to have her shred the will in a fit of rage.

While his aunt sputtered in incoherent fury, Darcy moved to one side and caught her hands. "You are overwrought, Aunt. Now, if you would be kind enough to read the document Randall is holding, we can settle the question in your mind. That is Sir Lewis's handwriting, is it not?"

After another tirade, this time against the cruelty of her nephews and how none of them would be permitted to set foot in her home, Lady Catherine eventually conceded, that the writing was indeed Sir Lewis's hand.

Darcy said in a gentle tone, "Thank you, Aunt. Please read the document for us."

She tried to pull her hands free, but though Darcy was remaining gentle, he would not allow her to free herself. Eventually, after glaring around the room and insulting every person in it, she began to read.

Darcy was quite certain the will did not contain any statements decrying his father's or Lady Eleanor's lineage, nor did it include the many references to ungrateful relatives that seasoned Aunt Cat's reading. The gist of the will remained perfectly clear despite this: Sir Lewis had forbidden his executor to perform any duties not demanded by necessity until the fate of his missing daughter Frances was determined. If Frances de Bourgh did in fact survive her father, she was to inherit. If she died without issue, Anne was the heir.

Sir Lewis had even made provisions in the case of his daughters' presumptive offspring: Frances's son if she should have one, otherwise the oldest daughter, then her son, and so forth. With five Bennet daughters, the likelihood of Anne de Bourgh inheriting Rosings Park was minimal.

There was no question that the Miss Bennets were the daughters of Frances de Bourgh ? the diary Miss Elizabeth Bennet had located provided the final proof. That left Miss Bennet heir to Rosings Park, with the other Miss Bennets entitled to a substantial dowry. For Anne, there was one of the de Bourgh townhouses as well as fifty thousand pounds, though Sir Lewis had expressed the wish that his daughters be able to live together at Rosings, despite those daughters never having met.

Darcy doubted any of the Miss Bennets would appreciate their newly discovered fortunes, for the conditions Sir Lewis had placed in his will overrode the much simpler will left by Mrs Bennet.

That Aunt Cat would denounce the Miss Bennets as the worst kind of fortune hunters was inevitable. Without any check on her demands, Aunt Cat had come to believe that she had merely to state something and it would, of necessity, be so.

Darcy hoped that he need not be involved in moving his aunt from Rosings Park to the townhouse Sir Lewis had left her. That was a task that would strain the most benevolent of tempers: something not even his closest friends would claim he possessed.

When Darcy, the Viscount and the Earl arrived at Longbourn, Lizzy suspected she knew the purpose of their call. Jane being called in to Papa's study some time after the gentlemen ensconced themselves there merely confirmed her suspicions.

Lizzy's concern was not in any way decreased by Jane emerging from the study with an expression not unlike the time she had found a frog in her bed. Lizzy was not greatly comforted by the certain knowledge that the ? this time strictly metaphorical ? frog was no doing of hers.

Jane's goodness was not, as Lizzy had thought when she was a child, in any way false or intended to gain praise in a large, boisterous family. As Lizzy had come to realize, her sister truly was as gentle and forgiving as her demeanor suggested. The one thing Jane concealed was her strongest emotions: those Jane kept beneath the mask of her normal manner.

Lizzy caught her sister's hands. "Jane! Your hands are freezing. Come, sit down and have some tea." Though she itched to ask what Jane had been told, Lizzy knew better than to speak now. Jane would speak in her own time.

They were at least able to sit alone in the south parlor: the younger girls had gone to Meryton, taking Mr Collins with them. Mary planned to collect the music she had ordered from the bookstore, Kitty to purchase new ribbons for her best bonnet, and Lydia to look wistfully at the fabrics and dream of her coming out ? as well as hoping there might be officers about, no doubt.

Lizzy did not expect any of them to return until quite late.

Jane's hands shook, though she was able to avoid spilling any tea. After two cups ? both sweetened with far more honey than Jane normally took ? she set the cup down and sighed. "Oh, Lizzy, this is terrible!" She shook her head. "The earl says I am the heir of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, and there is nothing that can be done to change this."

Since Lizzy had expected as much, she said nothing.

"Poor Miss de Bourgh!" Jane twisted her hands together. "I would never want to take her home, but it seems I must."

"Surely Miss de Bourgh is not entirely overlooked?" Lizzy's view of Sir Lewis de Bourgh would be far from flattering if he had cut his younger daughter in favor of the elder.

"No... But she has believed all her life that she would inherit all, and now her portion is much reduced."

That would be a terrible shock, Lizzy supposed. She had yet to truly accept that Mama was the daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh ? someone Lizzy could not imagine being anyone's grandmother, much less her own. "What of Lady Catherine?" That lady could not have taken this well. "She must be dreadfully upset."

Jane flinched. "The earl says Lady Catherine claims she will never acknowledge us, but Mr Darcy said she is well provided for and ?" Jane winced. "--deserves to learn a little humility."

Lizzy raised an eyebrow. She could imagine Colonel Fitzwilliam saying something like that, but Mr Darcy, who was so very uncomfortable in company that he retreated to stiff formality? She would have said it was impossible, save that she would also have said it was impossible she and her sisters could be related to anyone so well-connected as the earl and his family.

The Bennet family was old and well-established, but had never been among the first circle of society, and the Gardiners were, by society's standards, far beneath even that. It was one reason Lizzy cared for society only as an arbitrary nuisance. She saw as much worth in Uncle Gardiner's business and growing fortunes as in the more genteel pursuits of gentlemen.

In truth, Uncle Gardiner was better situated than many a gentleman who sneered at his earned fortune: he would have no difficulty providing for his children.

Footsteps alerted Lizzy to the imminent presence of the visitors. Jane had more color in her face now, and her hands no longer trembled.

Papa entered the parlor with the three gentlemen. "My dears, where are your sisters?"

Lizzy and Jane rose to greet the guests, and as a maid ? one of Mrs Hill's daughters ? hastened to bring more tea and extra china, Lizzy told her father, "They are gone to Meryton, Papa. Mary wished to collect the music she had ordered, and Kitty's best bonnet is in need of new ribbons."

"And Lydia convinced Mrs Carlisle that such an outing would be beneficial, no doubt," Papa said with amusement. "Did our cousin join them?"

"Yes, Papa." Jane's usual serenity appeared unruffled.

Tea was served, then Papa said ? his usual humor clearly unaffected by the momentous information conveyed to him ? "Well, my dears, it seems I have the sad duty of informing you that our little corner of Hertfordshire is soon to be invaded by fortune-chasing young gentlemen, all of whom I shall fight off with what skills remain to me."

The earl's eyes showed his amusement, although he kept his expression unchanged. "Really, sir, you exaggerate. You will have my assistance in fending off the unworthy, and I suspect that of my sons and my nephew."

Lizzy supposed it was a good thing the earl had taken a liking to her father, although she was far from sanguine about the changes in her fortunes.

"That, sir, is a father's privilege," Papa said with a smile. He nodded to Lizzy. "Jane has already heard of her good fortune, Lizzy, but you should know that you and your sisters each have a dowry of twenty five thousand."

Lizzy swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. So much! "How... How can there be so much?" she asked finally. "What of Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh?"

The earl chuckled softly. "Sir Lewis was immensely wealthy, my dear niece. Much of his fortune has been held in trust since his death, and the investments he made have continued to bear fruit. My sister receives deBourgh House in London and ample income for her needs. Anne's portion is another of the townhouses Sir Lewis owned in addition to her fifty thousand." His expression softened. "You need not fear for Anne's welfare: she is well provided for."

"Thank you, sir," Jane said softly. "I... hope she wishes to stay: Rosings is her home."

"Just separate her from Aunt Cat and all will be well," the viscount murmured.

That the earl heard could not be doubted: he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I have no fear for Anne's adjustment." He sighed. "I do ask that you give your grandmother more time: my sister is not taking this well."

The viscount leaned forward. "Father understates, as usual. Aunt Cat had one of her notorious tantrums, and claims she will never leave Rosings, and never acknowledge anyone except Anne as the rightful heir of Rosings." He paused and looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you could lend us your Mrs Carlisle for a time. I am sure Aunt Cat needs a companion."

"Randall!"

Lizzy noted that Mr Darcy's lips twitched: evidently he too found amusement in the prospect of Mrs Carlisle's brusque common sense applied to his aunt. Not that Lizzy could entirely fault him.

"Sorry, father." There was no contrition in the viscount's words or manner.

"In any case, my dears," Papa said after a time, "You need no longer fear for your fate should I leave this world before you find husbands. I have no doubt that Rosings Park is quite large enough for all of you, and Jane will undoubtedly find it impossible to deny you." He shook his head. "I do hope the place has a good manager."

"He would be excellent if Aunt Cat did not constantly overrule him," Darcy said. "You may have noticed she is rather... set in her ways."

As polite understatements went, Darcy's comment was remarkable.

20 - Disaster at Longbourn

Posted on 2010-04-14

Given the esteem in which the Bennet family was held, it was not surprising that the whole of Meryton knew of their vastly improved fortunes and connections within the passing of a day. While there was a certain amount of bemusement that Fanny Gardiner had also been Frances de Bourgh and the granddaughter of an Earl, it was not unknown for such things to occur ? or so it was said ? and Mrs Phillips was congratulated on her kindness to her adoptive sister.

Since the removal of the Miss Bennets to a much higher social sphere left Mrs Phillips' daughters among the most eligible young ladies in the district, she could not harbor resentment that the deception of over twenty years was now past.

To the Miss Bennets, no real changes were noticeable in their reception from the people of Meryton, though the increase in the attention given by the officers was noticeable. That an attractive young lady with a substantial dowry should be more interesting to an officer on a limited salary than an attractive young lady of modest means was perhaps understandable, though far from admirable.

Jane's heart was engaged with Mr Bingley, so she noticed little of the increased deference, and Mary was gradually transforming Mr Collins into a likeable young man who clearly benefitted from the attentions of a young lady whose education and inclinations so matched his.

Kitty appeared to take the attentions of the officers as no more than her due, though she showed no partiality towards any specific man. Lizzy suspected her sister simply delighted in the novelty, as a young lady only recently out might well do.

Lydia, though... She seemed entirely delighted by the romance of it all, and chafed under Mrs Carlisle's chaperonage. Lizzy feared her too-impressionable sister would be overwhelmed by the entire experience, especially with the ? she was certain ? wholly improper attentions Wickham lavished upon her whenever Mrs Carlisle's attention was not on her young charge.

As Lizzy knew well, Mrs Carlisle was but one person: she could not be in all places at all times, nor could she see all things. Unfortunately, the improper attentions of a handsome young officer were a different order of mischief than frogs in Jane's bed. The latter might be startling, even distressing, but would not ruin any reputations.

Finding a time when Mrs Carlisle could be warned was a more difficult matter than it seemed. Lizzy's new ? or perhaps rediscovered ? family desired the company of the Miss Bennets daily, or nearly, though it was perhaps a blessing that Lady Catherine de Bourgh absented herself from these occasions. Certainly that worthy did not make the journey to Longbourn, and when the Bennets visited Netherfield could be relied upon to have some ailment too minor for concern but severe enough to prevent her from gracing her relatives with her company.

Mr Bingley was all that could be desired of a host on those visits, and Miss Bingley an attentive if less than sincere hostess. Of the Hursts Lizzy saw little, though when they were present both seemed to harbor a hidden amusement when they observed Miss Bingley.

Lizzy suspected that Mr and Mrs Hurst had effected a reconciliation of sorts, for they seemed easier in each other's company than they had been when she had first been introduced to them. At any other time she might have wondered at this: now her attentions were fully occupied by more unusual circumstances.

The Earl's contention that Bingley was beneath his niece ? his fortune having been made in trade ? engendered spirited debate, though both Jane and Mr Bingley himself seemed unaware of the dispute. Mary's response to the suggestion that a mere parson ? and one whose patron was her grandmother ? was far beneath her left Lizzy open-mouthed and unable to speak.

Mary had never been so fierce as she was in defense of Mr Collins.

Not that anything Mary said was improper: she did not even raise her voice. It was simply that Lizzy had not expected supporting quotations from sources as varied as Fordyce ? a use that gentleman had certainly not expected his sermons to see ? and Shakespeare.

The Viscount's delighted amusement at the whole thing did little for Lizzy's composure. It seemed he and Mr Darcy had engaged in a less-than-subtle competition for her regard, though the Viscount's attentions seemed more those of an older brother than Mr Darcy's.

It was small wonder, then, that Lydia's disappearance one night less than a week after the extent of the Miss Bennets' improved fortunes became known struck with the force of a thunderclap.

Lizzy was preparing to depart for her check of the estate and tenants when a white-faced Mrs Hill called her to the still-room ? the most private part of the house.

"Mrs Hill? Is anything--"

The folded paper in Mrs Hill's extended hand was enough to quiet Lizzy, particularly when she recognized Lydia's hand.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded the paper, and read the words within.

My dear sisters,
I beg you do not judge me too harshly, for I am truly in love. My dear Lieutenant Wickham and I are gone to Gretna Green to marry, where we shall be very happy indeed. I want none of the inheritance from the de Bourghs: you may share it between yourselves as you wish.

With love and regret,

Lydia Bennet (soon to be Wickham)

The paper fluttered to the floor, released by Lizzy's nerveless fingers.

"Miss Lizzy?"

Lizzy swallowed, and fought the urge to weep. Poor, foolish Lydia! To have been deceived by a man who had almost certainly designs on her portion of the de Bourgh fortune. "Please have Papa, my sisters, and Mrs Carlisle come to the north parlor," she said in a choked voice. "And ensure those who attend us know not to breathe a word of this."

Mrs Hill nodded and curtseyed. "I'll have my Annie bring tea."

They were a dismal gathering: Jane weeping quietly, Kitty white-faced and twisting her handkerchief between her hands, Mary sitting frozen. Mrs Carlisle was grim-faced, and had to be diverted from endless self-recrimination, and Papa...

Lizzy feared her father's heart might give out. He looked gray rather than pale, and his hands trembled so that he could not keep his tea in the cup.

Though Lizzy wanted nothing more than to flee the whole dreadful scene, she could not. She seemed the only one able to think past the horror of Lydia's elopement ? and Lydia not yet out.

"Lydia believed Wickham would take her to Gretna Green." Her voice sounded weak, trembling. "We do not know if this is the case." She swallowed, and blinked until her eyes cleared. "Papa, we should send people we trust to the roads: they surely cannot pass unnoticed."

"My dear, we have no notion how they are travelling." Papa sighed and closed his eyes. "They may be on horseback themselves."

The tightness in her chest did not leave when Lizzy took a deep breath. "Lydia took a valise and her lace basket. That could not be taken on horseback."

Mrs Carlisle nodded, but she did not speak, and her lips pressed tight together.

"Would you arrange it, dear Lizzy," Mr Bennet asked in a breathless voice. "I find I--"

"Papa!"

Of all of them, it was Mrs Carlisle who reached Mr Bennet first, steadying him as he swayed in his seat and moving to loosen his coat.

To Lizzy it seemed that she watched from a distance as she rose and called for someone to bring help to carry her father to his bed, and someone else to send for the doctor. It was that other, calm Lizzy who sent Mary to the still room for the lavender-based tincture that eased tension and Kitty to make a fresh batch of herbal mix rub to ease strain on the heart and lungs.

She set Mrs Carlisle to watch over her father ? none could be a better guardian, and Lizzy had long suspected Mrs Carlisle would consent to a very different role within the household, should her father realize how very much he relied upon her and ask for her hand.

How many times Lizzy reminded the servants and her sisters that nothing should be said of Lydia's absence she could not say. The shameful knowledge could not be concealed for long, but it must be kept within the household for now. Let Meryton believe Longbourn shunned visitors because of Mr Bennet's illness. It would be true enough ere long.

No sooner had the doctor been directed upstairs than Mrs Hill was at Lizzy's side to tell her Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy waited in the hall.

The calm, controlled Lizzy asked Mrs Hill to have them shown to the parlor, and to bring tea. She would apologize for the state of the household, and request that they? Lizzy was not entirely certain what she should ask of the gentlemen, only that she trusted both.

Oddly, Mr Darcy was the one who blurted, "Good Lord! What has happened?"

Lizzy would have expected Mr Bingley to react so impulsively, not his self-controlled friend. "Our father has been taken ill. The doctor is with him now: you must forgive our lack of courtesy."

"But of course!" Bingley hastened to Jane's side, where he took her hands in his. "What may we do to assist?"

Lizzy swallowed. The calm detachment was crumbling. "Sir, I do not know. I think it may be? Papa's heart? Too many shocks?" She struggled to push words past the tightness of her throat, and her eyes blurred. She could not allow tears now, not yet. "Doctor Byers?"

Control failed her altogether. She was aware of the quite improper closeness of Mr Darcy, the comfort of his warm hands closing about hers ? was she so cold that he should feel so very warm? ? but she could not pull away, could not cease her silly tears, and in front of her sisters, too.

When Annie Hill entered the parlor to say that Doctor Byers had requested that the vicar be fetched, the world grayed, and faded.

21 - Harsh Lessons

Posted on 2010-05-16

Lydia sat in the corner of the carriage and kept as still and quiet as she could. This was all so wrong!

She had been impressed that Mr Wickham would elope with her in such a fine carriage, and he had been all gentlemanly concern at first. But when the carriage had taken the London road instead of the north road, he snapped at her to hold her silly tongue.

She had not dared to speak when he began drinking ? directly from the jug ? something that smelled of the vile, cheap drink sold in Meryton's least salubrious taverns. Not that Lydia had ever tasted any such devil's brew: her awareness was entirely based on the smell of the patrons of the places and Mrs Carlisle's sharp comments on the kind of person who would present himself in public in such a state.

To Lydia's admittedly limited knowledge of such things, Mr Wickham appeared to be well on the way to a similar level of drunkenness.

The carriage swayed and jolted: it was being driven far too fast.

Lydia clutched her lace basket, and prayed silently that the poor horse would not stumble, for at this speed that would surely kill them all.

Wickham set the jug down. In the dim light ? with the carriage shades down very little moonlight penetrated ? Lydia could not tell if he smiled, sneered, or worse, leered.

"Well, my dear. This is not what you imagined, is it?"

Lydia gathered what courage she could to reply. "Why no, my dear Mr Wickham. In the novels exercises such as this involve ladders, not fine carriages."

He laughed. "Even such as I can find those willing to help me gain my heart's desire."

That meant the carriage had been lent to him: Lydia had to wonder by whom, and with what motive. Surely nobody with wealth enough for a carriage like this would lend it to an officer with few prospects so he could elope. She tried to sound impressed, even awed. "You are so resourceful, dear sir."

Another of those ugly laughs. "A man in my position has little choice, my dear."

Mrs Carlisle despised simpering, flirtatious behavior, but Lydia had seen enough in the assemblies she had attended to be able to summon a passable imitation. "Your cleverness will surely help you rise in society."

She could not guess the meaning of the sound he made, save that it did not compliment anyone, not even Wickham himself.

He leaned close, and Lydia had to force herself not to wrinkle her nose or show any sign of displeasure. Where had the charming young officer gone? More important, perhaps, what kind of man lay below that façade?

"So, my dear, what shall we do until we reach our destination?" His breath reeked.

Lydia swallowed, and did her best to smile. "Perhaps sleep, sir? We have a long journey to Gretna Green."

"Only that?"

Now she was truly afraid. "We are not yet married, dear sir. Surely more than that can wait a little longer."

Wickham's harsh bark of laughter gusted warm, alcohol-tainted air over Lydia's face. "So modest, my dear. Surely a day or two early will make no difference."

No honorable man would even consider such a thing. For a moment, Lydia sat frozen, unable to respond.

Wickham plucked her lace basket from her hands and set it with her valise. Before she could summon words, he stood over her, his legs on either side of hers as he bent to kiss her.

If it could be called a kiss. There was none of the tenderness Lydia had read of in the novels she slipped past Mrs Carlisle's gaze, just Wickham's hot breath and his lips pressed hard against hers. Then his tongue pushed between her lips and one of his hands moved roughly down, to her coat.

With strength born of terror, Lydia kicked both legs upwards. One knee caught softer flesh: that part of a man more sensitive than any other.

Wickham yelped and fell back, landing awkwardly in the facing seat.

She kicked again, this time making sure the pointed toe of her walking boot struck his shin, and again when he bent to the injury, catching his head this time.

He toppled onto the floor of the carriage.

Lydia swallowed a sob.

"You little harlot!" Had Wickham been less drunk, he might have been able to rise from the rocking carriage floor.

Lydia kicked again, and again, until Wickham finally slumped back to the floor of the carriage, breathing hard.

This time, she took no chances. Despite the unsteady footing and Wickham occupying most of the floor, she stood, and kicked his head as hard as she could, aiming for just behind his ear. According to Papa's anatomy books, that was a place where a sharp blow could render a man unconscious for a long time.

Wickham twitched, and his breathing grew very quiet.

Lydia hoped she had not killed him. She shuddered, thinking of those girls who had died. Had Wickham been responsible? There had been something? wrong in the way he behaved. Not merely unprincipled, but deeply, horribly wrong.

She choked back a sob. She must not be in this carriage when it reached its destination, but she had nothing. Only her clothes and her lace basket.

Lydia's hands trembled as she searched Wickham, though feeling the strong beat of his heart reassured her that she had not killed him. She would not face execution as a murderess.

A heavy pouch filled with silver coins, a note she could not read in the dim light, and a flintlock pistol proved her decision was a good one. She could pay for lodging if need be, and possibly even defend herself. In any case, depriving Wickham of the weapon ensured that he would not use it against her.

The note might explain where he had obtained the carriage.

Lydia stowed them all in her lace basket, and pulled it and her valise over to the nearer carriage door. She braced herself with her feet against the seat walls, and opened the door.

Moonlight and sound flooded in. Lydia held the door frame tight. She could not jump out where there was nothing to cushion her fall.

The dark line of a wall or hedge drew close: Lydia prayed it was a hedge, and that the driver would not hear the door banging against the side of the carriage. Soon she could see the softened lines that indicated a hedge.

Before she could lose her nerve, Lydia grasped her valise with one hand, her lace basket with the other, and jumped.

The carriage raced on, leaving Lydia in the hedge, sore of heart and body. For a long time she did not move, and only her stifled sobs indicated that she still lived.

At length Lydia pulled herself upright and stumbled to the road, dragging her valise and lace basket with her. She turned away from the direction the carriage had taken, and began to walk, trudging back towards Meryton.

She would need to stay hidden: she looked a perfect fright, and any who recognized her would? Lydia was unsure what would happen, only that she needed to return home and apologize to Papa and her sisters. What would happen after that? She did not know.

She had disgraced herself and them with her foolish romantic notions.

Tears blurred her vision as she plodded on. How could she have been so silly? She should have known no decent man would pay court to a girl too young to be out, much less do so while her governess was distracted.

The very least she could do was stay hidden until she reached home, where she could apologize and then? Lydia could not even think of it.

What was it Lizzy said when things were bad? One step at a time. You could only take one step at a time. Lydia had thought that was silly. Of course if you tried to take more than one step you would fall over.

Now she understood, and she wished with all her heart that she did not.

Continued In Next Section
Š 2008, 2009, 2010 Copyright held by the author.
Pride And Education ~ Section III

By Kate P.

Beginning, Previous Section, Section III

22 - The Prodigal

Posted on 2010-06-20

Lizzy could not say how much time passed. Day and night faded together into a gray haze where all things were done by the other, calm Lizzy, the one who tasked Mrs Hill with ensuring that the servants believed Lydia ill as well as Papa, who had a trundle bed brought into Papa's room for Mrs Carlisle, who would not leave Papa even when she desperately needed sleep, who sat and listened to Papa struggle to breathe while Mrs Carlisle slept ? a duty she and her sisters shared.

Food was tasteless, and duty performed solely because the business of managing Longbourn remained whether the master was ill or not. For Lizzy there was almost relief in the normal business: she could think solely of that and not worry on other matters.

Mr Collins became a comfort to them all, performing any task that required a man's assistance and never once complaining. His hesitant offer to assist with the management of Longbourn, and diffident observation that he did not wish his cousins to believe he sought to claim the estate while their father remained so very ill, helped to redeem him of the poor impression he had initially created.

Lizzy was vaguely aware that Mary and Mr Collins worked together as though already married, each deferring to the other at need. She knew, too, that the news of Lydia's elopement must inevitably spread. Papa's illness could not keep that information concealed for very long. None of it mattered.

Sleep was something that came only when she was so utterly exhausted her body forced her to rest, and lasted only as long as necessity demanded. She could not have said what the day was, much less the time, when she left the house by the side door, intending to harvest from the herb garden.

The dim pre-dawn light surprised her, but not so much as the bedraggled figure outside the door. "Lydia?"

Her eyes did not deceive her: Lydia gave a choked sob of, "Oh, Lizzy!" and threw herself into her sister's arms.

"Sh." Lizzy held her sister, stroking her rough, tangled hair. "You are home and safe."

That seemed only to upset Lydia further. "I am so sorry, Lizzy. I had no idea?" She shuddered. "Can you forgive me?"

Anger welled: Lizzy pushed it away. Lydia could not know what her rash actions had precipitated. She was remorseful enough without Papa's illness upon her soul as well. "Of course." Her voice was calmer than she expected. "Now come. We must get you inside and to bed. We have maintained the fiction that you were ill ? now let it be fact."

Lydia blinked, but she did not resist the gentle orders, nor did she question Lizzy's use of back stairs ? and the least used ones at that. At this time of morning, the servants would be at breakfast, leaving the rest of the house quiet, but Lizzy saw no reason to take more chances than needed.

They reached Lydia's room ? the smallest of Longbourn's bedrooms, but possessing the inestimable luxury of not being shared ? without being seen. Lizzy closed the door softly, and let her breath out in a long sigh.

Lydia stood by the narrow bed clutching her basket as though her very life depended on it. In the dimness her pallor was very clear. "Lizzy?"

She had to answer that plea. "Come, into your nightdress and I shall explain all."

For a little while the matter of returning Lydia's clothes to the press and helping her to change was sufficient that Lizzy could avoid unwelcome thought. Days in a sick-bed would explain Lydia's tangled hair, and the dirt and grass-stained dress could be passed off as an oversight due to the chaos in the household.

She brought Lydia water from the jug ? stale, but that seemed not to matter ? and sat beside her. "Here is what happened after you? left."

Lydia winced.

Lizzy took a deep breath. "Papa took ill." She did not add that the elopement note had triggered that illness. "His heart? He has been abed since the day you left, and we watch him at all times."

Lydia clutched her hand, "I never? Oh, I am so sorry, Lizzy! Please? He will not? will he recover?"

"We pray so." There was little other answer Lizzy could give. "The worst danger was in the time after the attack, but he is still very ill." She held her sister's hand. "Only a few people know you were absent, Lydia. Most believe that you were taken ill because of Papa's attack."

"That may be more true than it seems," Lydia said bitterly. "I was such a fool."

Lizzy squeezed Lydia's hand gently, trying to reassure her sister. "So he did deceive you then," she said in a voice far calmer than it ought to be. "I feared as much."

"Oh, Lizzy." Lydia gulped back a sob. "I truly thought?" She shuddered. "He tried to? you know? in the carriage."

For a moment it was all Lizzy could do to hold still. She longed to run from the room, to chase Wickham down and kill him. The violence of her anger frightened her. "Did he hurt you, dearest?" Again, her voice was far calmer than the emotions raging inside her.

"No." Malice and satisfaction mingled in Lydia's voice. "I kicked him where a man is most vulnerable, and then until he stopped trying to move." Another shudder. "He had a note, and money. I took them." More malice, even a vicious little smile. "I do not envy him explaining to the coachman where his pay went."

Lizzy reached down to embrace her sister. "You were very brave, Lydia. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Those girls," Lydia whispered. "The ones who died." She shuddered again and bit her lip. "I think he attacked them." She swallowed. "He was so different, Lizzy, as though what I thought I knew was no more than a coat he had taken off."

That notion sent ice cascading down Lizzy's spine. To think her sister had come so close to such a fate! Small wonder Lydia was so shaken. "And you walked here?" How could she sound so very calm?

Lydia nodded. She leaned back, her face very pale. "I walked at night, and hid during the day." Her eyes drifted closed. "Lizzy?"

"Yes, dearest?"

"Could you please have someone bring me something to eat?" Lydia's voice faded. "I have not eaten in? two days?"

"Of course." Lizzy was relieved to have reason to leave the room. She was unsure how she should think, but she could not help but be thankful Lydia had returned unharmed, with some prospect of her reputation surviving.

23 - Changes of Heart

Posted on 2010-06-27

To Lizzy's relief, Lydia's return was not mentioned, nor did Mrs Hill report any gossip from Meryton ? at least, not about Lydia. Gossip about Wickham was rife. It seemed that he had absconded from his regiment, leaving debts that totaled several hundred pounds.

Even more astonishing was the news three days later that Mr Darcy had gone to every shopkeeper in Meryton to determine the extent of Wickham's debts, and had personally repaid every one. In addition, he had mentioned that he had known Wickham for many years, and had hoped that the man had finally mended his ways ? the reason he had not informed any body of that young man's prior deeds.

Lizzy could not help but be thankful she and her sisters had good reason to be absent from Meryton. It was the way of villages and of people with little variation in their lives to speculate in great detail on any event that varied their lives, but Lizzy did not think she could have endured it, any more than she could have endured the equally inevitable speculation about Papa's health.

Lydia remained abed ? or at least in her room ? for two days following her return. When she did venture out, she was pale and subdued, looking often to Lizzy or Jane for reassurance. She spent much of her day in Papa's room with Mrs Carlisle, leaving only when necessity forced her to seek the earth closet or her bed.

In such circumstances, a visit from Miss Bingley became both a welcome relief and a complete shock.

In the south parlor, which seemed to Lizzy to be terribly empty without her sisters and Mrs Carlisle, Miss Bingley perched on the very edge of the chaise-lounge, her hands trembling and her head bowed.

"Miss Bingley?" Lizzy did her best to sound friendly. "Please, forgive the lax greeting and the disorder here. Would you like tea?"

Miss Bingley looked up, revealing a pale face reddened on one side as though she had been slapped, and red-rimmed, teary eyes. "Please, do not trouble yourself. I know it is very ill of me to impose myself so, but I simply could not endure? Oh, that old ? I am sorry, I should not speak ill of your grandmother, but--"

Lizzy sat beside her and took the taller woman's hands in hers. "In truth, my sisters and I all find it difficult to think of Lady Catherine as our grandmother." She paused, wondering how she could best calm Miss Bingley ? who seemed unaware to whom she spoke, and simply sought the comfort of a sympathetic fellow woman. "I understand she is also having difficulty adjusting."

Miss Bingley laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "Oh, she rants daily of how those 'fortune-chasing harlots' have cheated her dear Anne. Poor Miss de Bourgh hides away in her room to escape it."

Lizzy could well believe that. A sickly young lady's only escape from an overbearing mother was to retreat to her room. "And you, as hostess, cannot?"

Another of those odd laughs. "Alas, no. She called me a title-chasing social climber, Miss Eliza. A-and ordered me to stay away from her nephews. Ordered me, Miss Eliza, as though I were her servant!"

"I understand Lady Catherine is accustomed to her wishes being followed to the least particular." It was perhaps the most neutral thing she could think of.

"Horrid creature!" Miss Bingley's pent up indignation and resentment burst forth. "I am no servant to be ordered hither and thither at her whims! To call me a tradesman's girl and a coarse, shallow flirt, and then to strike me when I told her I was a gentleman's sister and she a gentleman's wife so we were equals." The anger passed, replaced by sobs.

Lizzy said nothing. If truth be told, she could think of nothing she could say. She merely held Miss Bingley while she cried, and wondered that the party at Netherfield had not flown apart with such tensions between its members.

Some time passed before Miss Bingley collected herself and pulled away. She managed a sad little laugh. "I must seem a perfect fool, Miss Eliza."

"Please, Miss Bingley," Lizzy said softly. "Call me Lizzy. All my friends do." She smiled. "You do not seem foolish to me. Lady Catherine should not have abused you so."

"Then you must call me Caro, as Louisa does." That simple statement told Lizzy a great deal about Miss Bingley's friendships ? or rather, the lack of them.

"I would be honored." Lizzy handed Miss Bingley a handkerchief. "Here. Your handkerchief must be thoroughly abused by now."

"Oh!" Miss Bingley flushed, then managed a timid smile. "Yes, it is quite damp." She dabbed at her eyes, then abandoned delicacy and wiped her eyes properly before blowing her nose. "I am sorry. Now I have ruined yours."

Lizzy laughed softly. "It is no matter, Miss? Caro. We have been laundering handkerchiefs daily of late."

The comment earned her a startled look, followed by a more thoughtful one. "Miss? Lizzy? May I ask a horribly selfish question of you?"

"Of course." Lizzy took care to keep her voice soft, reassuring. "Though I pray you allow me to determine if it is selfish or not."

Caroline Bingley blinked, clearly trying to hold back further tears. "I? am I coarse?"

Lady Catherine de Bourgh must have been in quite the mood, Lizzy thought. "Absolutely not." The worst that could be said of Miss Bingley was that she was overly mannered and shallow ? a fault that could be attributed to most young ladies, as few were taught any other mode of being.

Caroline shuddered. "It? You see, Papa sent me to a fashionable finishing school, and the girls there were horrible, all because he made his fortune in trade." She spat the last word out as though it tasted bad.

"Which shows a lack of manners and restraint on their part," Lizzy said in a crisp tone that could have come from Mrs Carlisle's throat. "The measure of a man is not in how he treats his equals or betters, but in how he treats those he sees as inferior."

Caroline looked thoughtful, and bit her lip. "Mr Darcy is never less than polite, even to the least of the servants."
"Precisely." Lizzy smiled to soften her tone.

For a moment, it seemed that Caroline would lose to the threatening tears once more, then she swallowed, blinked several times, and applied the now soaked handkerchief to her eyes. "You seem so very wise? I was a fool not to see it." She shook her head. "Lady Catherine says that Mr Darcy will marry Miss De Bourgh, but?" More tears welled.

Though at first Lizzy wondered why Lady Catherine's insistence on her daughter's marriage would bring Miss Bingley to tears, she was soon berating herself for failing to realize that lady's excessive deference to Mr Darcy was the polite method of attempting to endear herself to the gentleman. Lizzy had cared not one whit for Mr Darcy's good opinion, and as such had challenged and teased him ? with the result that a friendship of sorts had taken root between them. "Do you love Mr Darcy?"

"I?" Caroline gave a sad little laugh. "I do not know." She bent her head. "I confess, I understand so little of what he says. He is so very odd about social matters. How silly that sounds."

Lizzy smiled. "Would you wish to spend the remainder of your life with a man you did not understand?" She took care to keep her voice neutral, even as she wondered at the twist of fate that placed her in this position. Certainly since she and her sisters had been revealed to be the granddaughters of Lady Catherine de Bourgh they had risen in esteem with Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, but for Caroline Bingley to seek out Lizzy as a confidante?

No, Caroline had merely sought a sympathetic ear. The rest had occurred because Lizzy had listened and not condemned.

"Oh!" Caroline straightened, one hand rising to her mouth. "I had not thought? I mean, do not most married couples spend much of their time separate?"

"That may be," Lizzy allowed. "But surely such estrangement within marriage is hardly to be desired."

This was a very different Caroline Bingley. Without the façade of society manners, she was quick-witted and not at all superior. Lizzy supposed Caroline had modeled her manners on the young ladies of her school, never realizing that the behavior of those young ladies rendered their manner inferior. She would likely have made the same error.

"I? I had never thought of that." Caroline's eyes narrowed and she nibbled her lower lip. "It must be perfectly horrid to be trapped in a marriage with no regard for one's partner." She frowned. "Yet all my schooling has attracted nothing!" Though her voice did not rise, the words were a wail of frustration. "How does one find a? a partner one respects?"

Lizzy laughed softly. "I am hardly the person to ask," she said with a smile. "I am as single as you." She squeezed Caroline's hand. "If I were to ask Mrs Carlisle that question, she would say that I would be best served by remaining true to myself and not claiming identical interests to a gentleman I admire."

Caroline looked startled, then thoughtful. "It cannot have worse results than society manners," she admitted. After a moment, a little amusement entered her expression. "Lady Catherine can hardly think less of me, so why not?"

It was hardly the best of reasons to reform oneself, but Lizzy supposed there were worse. That Caroline intended reform was more important than her reasons.

The hall clock struck the hour: Lizzy sighed under her breath. "Caroline? I fear I must leave you. It is my turn to sit with Papa. Would you like me to send one of my sisters to keep you company?"

She caught her breath and paled. "Here I have been complaining of my ills without a word for your family. Lizzy, I am so sorry." Caroline swallowed. "How is Mr Bennet? And your sister? Lydia?"

Lizzy rose, and smiled. "Papa is stable, though he sleeps a great deal and does not always recognize us. Lydia recovers well."

"Please, give them my regards." Caroline sounded almost humble. "I pray both will be in full health soon."

"Thank you."

24 - The Reputations of Ladies

Posted on 2010-07-04

Though Lady Catherine de Bourgh was unaccustomed to admitting weakness, in the relative privacy of her room at Netherfield, that lady could not help but admit that she was afraid. If she were to be honest with herself, she was terrified.

She had expected that once she gave that wretched creature the elder Mr Darcy had so unaccountably favored sufficient wealth and lent him her carriage so he could disgrace those fortune chasing Bennet women, she would never see him again.

Instead, she found the insolent creature waiting in her room, bruised, unkempt, and frighteningly angry.

Lady Catherine was not accustomed to such disrespect: she curbed her tongue with difficulty. Only fear could have enabled her to do so, and she detested the weakness that obliged her to restrain herself with this? There were no words vile enough for him.

He suffered no such restraint. Lady Catherine had no knowledge of the meaning of much of his soft tirade, though she was certain that it was not appropriate for a lady's ears. What she did gather appalled her. "I told you to compromise and disgrace the girl, not abduct her." If anyone was to learn of her part in this!

The snarl she received in reply left her in no doubt of his opinion. "And find myself married to the little harlot for the pittance you offered? Oh, no, madam. You will not purchase that for so little."

Lady Catherine took an involuntary step backwards. "Be thankful you failed then," she said with as much crisp dignity as she could summon. "Else you would be forced to cover your debts as well."

The man flushed, his hands clenching tight. Evidently he was well aware that word of the debts accumulated by one Lieutenant Wickham had spread from Meryton to all the surrounding villages, and that the militia hunted for him. "Perhaps."

Something in his tone sent a chill akin to ice water cascading down Lady Catherine's spine. Surely the scoundrel would not expect her ? but he was in her room. She took another step back.

"You see, the little harlot escaped. With your letter to your acquaintance in London, the one recommending me as a helpful assistant."

Lady Catherine could feel blood draining from her face. She might be able to claim coercion should the letter come to public view, but even so her reputation would be forever suspect. This was? not to be borne. "So you come to threaten me?" she demanded with more courage than she felt.

He sneered. "I need do nothing, madam. By now the chit is surely with her family." His eyes narrowed. "Although if you would like the problem removed, for enough of a consideration that could be arranged."

It seemed to Mr Bennet that he dreamed a great deal. He remembered a note from Lydia, and a terrible, crushing weight upon his chest, but all else was garbled, lost in confusion. He was so very tired that even when he wished to remain awake he found himself slipping back to the dreams.

Different voices, all comforting in their way, soothed him as he slid between half-dreaming wakefulness and true sleep. Mrs Carlisle, Jane, Lizzy, Mary, Kitty, Lydia? but that was impossible, for Lydia had eloped with Lieutenant Wickham, and Mrs Carlisle would not compromise herself by being alone with him. Those voices must be dreams.

And yet, when he finally found awakened feeling not the all-encompassing weariness or the crushing weight, Mrs Carlisle sat in a wing-backed chair drawn up beside the bed, her head resting against one of the wings as she dozed. She did not seem so severe when she slept.

Not, Mr Bennet found himself thinking, that Mrs Carlisle would ever be a beauty, but with her hair fallen loose and her face relaxed in sleep her appearance was far less severe. At his age, a sensible woman was far more to his taste than an attractive, silly one. He did hope she would be willing to remain in the household when his girls married. Her presence was unaccountably soothing.

Other matters needed immediate attention. Mr Bennet moved to rise, and found he lacked the strength.

Mrs Carlisle started awake. She studied him intently for a moment, then a smile of pure delight transformed her severe features. "It is good to have you with us again, sir. Should I call someone to aid you to the closet?"

"That would be? very much appreciated." How long had he been abed? And ? perhaps more concerning ? who had tended to those functions normally performed by oneself during that time. Surely not his daughters ? or Mrs Carlisle.

The arrival Mr Hill and one of his sons ? the oldest boy, Jason ? prevented any further thought on the question. Mr Bennet required all his concentration to direct recalcitrant limbs and maintain his balance.

Once necessity had been attended to and he was back in his bed ? though propped upright with the aid of cushions ? the two men departed, promising that broth would be brought to him. Their obvious relief told Mr Bennet that his life had been in danger. He winced to think of the fuss he must have caused.

"Dare I ask what manner of madness has possessed this household of late?" he asked. Even his voice seemed thin.

An odd smile touched Mrs Carlisle's face. "Every possible sort of madness, sir," she said in a dry voice. "Lydia returned unharmed, though I gather the scoundrel was not so fortunate. Those who noticed her absence from Meryton believed it to be caused by your illness. They have not been enlightened."

That was a relief. There would be no need to find an understanding husband for a girl not yet out, and no disgrace to keep her sisters from marriage.

"The scoundrel's debts are the talk of the village," Mrs Carlisle continued. "I fear your health has long been supplanted by more interesting gossip."

Mr Bennet could not help but smile. "I must confess extreme disappointment. Is it not my role in society to provide speculation for idle minds?" He must own that he would prefer such speculation to focus on matters other than his imminent demise, but that was a matter in which he had little say.

She returned the smile. "Oh, I imagine you will regain your status once it becomes known that I sat at your bedside for over a week."

Had it been so long? Mr Bennet could not say. He had no memory of the passage of time.

Rather than consider the severity of his illness, he focused instead on Mrs Carlisle's admission. "We can not have that, Mrs Carlisle." Oddly, he found it difficult to speak. "Obviously I must marry you to preserve your reputation."

There was something almost radiant about her. Why had he never seen it before? "That is very kind of you, sir."

"Oh, no," Mr Bennet said, smiling. "It is unconscionably selfish of me, since I could not bear to have you leave."

She blinked several times, then wiped her eyes with her sleeve ? an indiscretion she would never have allowed any of his daughters ? then reached forward to clasp his hand. "If that is selfishness, I suffer the same sin."

25 - Walking Into Difficulty

Posted on 2010-07-11

Darcy paced Netherfield's library, occasionally pausing to cast glares at the gray skies and steady rain visible through the windows. It seemed the entire world conspired to frustrate and bewilder him.

Being pent indoors when he would far rather be out riding ? and by chance find his way to Longbourn ? was bad enough. The spate of attacks having ceased with Wickham's departure made it clear to him that Wickham had been the culprit, leaving Darcy to wonder if he could have prevented them ? and to shudder at how close his sister had come to eloping with the man.

Georgiana had believed Wickham's protestations of love, until Darcy offered to settle a fraction of his sister's dowry for the marriage. She had been willing to marry without a farthing to her name, but Wickham? Never.

Mr Bennet's slow but steady recovery lifted the gloom from Longbourn, and that gentleman's quiet marriage to Mrs Carlisle had been met with surprise by many, and genuine delight by the five Miss Bennets.

Once Mr Bennet had recovered sufficiently to venture downstairs to his library, Darcy had resumed his frequent visits. Many of those visits featured the chess table, and no few of them involved intense matches with Miss Elizabeth Bennet ? who was possibly a better player than her father.

Darcy was accounted among the better players of his set, but he needed to keep his wits about him to defeat either Bennet: not an easy task when Miss Elizabeth laughed and smiled so bewitchingly.

He really must find a way to help Anne escape her mother's tyranny. She still spoke wistfully of her one short visit to Longbourn. If Miss Mary Bennet could thrive despite a sickly disposition, then so could his cousin.

Although? That was yet another confusion. Of late, Miss Bingley had taken it upon herself to visit Anne as often as she could slip past Aunt Cat's vigilant gaze. When Bingley had asked her about that, she had claimed it to be her duty as hostess to see to the comfort of all her guests, but there had been something different about her manner, something almost diffident.

Certainly, Anne enjoyed Miss Bingley's visits: Darcy had heard the two ladies laughing together more than once. Perhaps more important, Miss Bingley's laughter had been entirely unaffected, and far more pleasant than Darcy was accustomed to hearing from her.

Her behavior towards him had undergone an equally dramatic change. Instead of the pronounced, slavish deference that was the normal behavior of well-bred young ladies seeking to catch themselves a husband, she acted as though he were simply an acquaintance whose company she enjoyed.

Darcy had to admit Miss Bingley was much more pleasant company when she was not so obviously hunting him, though he was not prepared to believe she had abandoned her pursuit altogether. Surely a set-down from Aunt Cat ? which was something few people who knew his aunt could escape ? could not have had such a marked effect.

He would have found some excuse to ask, save that he feared any attentions from him would result in a renewal of the excessive deference that left him feeling not unlike a hunted animal. Unlike Bingley, he lacked the gift of being easy in company, especially among those he knew but little. It was a serious failing for a young gentleman of fortune, but nothing Darcy had tried had eased his discomfort.

In many ways the need to withdraw to Pemberley upon his father's death had been a relief. There, he need not battle the nausea that afflicted him upon every social occasion, nor was he required to defend himself from predatory young ladies who would not hesitate to trap him into appearing to compromise their honor in order to win the prize of becoming Mrs Darcy.

Perhaps that was what intrigued him so about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She had never attempted to force her company upon him, nor did she defer to him save where she knew his expertise exceeded her own ? and her expertise was remarkable indeed.

Darcy had sought out his uncle to ask him about his grandmother, Lady Mary, and heard the fond reminiscences of both Uncle James and Aunt Eleanor. Both were of the opinion that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was very like Lady Mary in temperament, and that society was needlessly restrictive when it came to what was appropriate behavior and knowledge for ladies.

"One plays society's game," Aunt Eleanor had said, "because one must, not because it is either admirable or enjoyable."

The tart comment struck a chord: Darcy cared little for the approval of society, yet he had fallen into the trap of judging by society's standards. While social sphere might have some relevance, that relevance was really limited to the likelihood of common interest and experience. His friendship with Bingley was evidence enough of that.

He sighed, and glared out the window again. If he could ride, perhaps his restless thoughts would settle. Idleness sat ill with him, and at Netherfield he was essentially at loose ends. At Pemberley, there were always improvements to be considered, visits to tenants and on occasion helping to repair their homes or outbuildings ? a rare occurrence, as his father's teaching had emphasized the value of small maintenance often preventing major repair save in the case of major storms or other such disasters. When the weather forbade venturing outside, there was always the management of Pemberley to attend to and the unending list of minor repairs and improvements if he was not discussing music with Georgiana or they were not reading together in the library.

Darcy sighed again. He missed those companionable times with Georgiana, and he missed his home. Yet, he could not bring himself to leave. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had made this otherwise unremarkable corner of Hertfordshire a paradise ? but only when it was enlivened by her presence.

Worse, he was the worst kind of coward, unable to muster the courage to ask the lady for permission to court her.

Much as Lizzy delighted in her father's steady recovery and his marriage to Mrs Carlisle ? she could not think of Amelia Carlisle as 'Mama' no matter how she tried ? five days of steady rain was quite sufficient to try her nerves. Kitty and Lydia were equally restless: Like Lizzy, they were fond of walking out at least once a day, often more.
Jane, of course, was her usual serene self, and Mary would be content in the presence of books for all that she too enjoyed regular exercise.

Thus, with the blessing of the new Mrs Bennet, Lizzy, Kitty, and Lydia set off for a brisk walk to Oakham Mount as soon as the rain had passed. All three wore older dresses, for they fully expected their hems to be liberally spattered with mud before they returned, and Lizzy carried her basket with the freshly loaded flintlock ? more as a matter of habit than because she expected any trouble. The weight of the weapon was comforting.

The woods seemed lent a new freshness by the recent rain, the green of young leaves brightened and wildflowers bloomed with vigor.

All three sisters lost no opportunity to harvest any wild herbs they found as they walked, so that Lizzy's basket was soon filled with greenery and Kitty and Lydia carried fragrant posies.

As the path grew steeper, Kitty said, "I shall miss this." She sighed. "It seems Jane will have to go to Rosings, as she is the heiress. I think I was happier when Mama was just? Mama."

"Yes!" Lydia left no doubt as to her opinion. "This change in fortune brings more trouble than it is worth." Her expression grew grave, no doubt due to her close brush with disgrace and worse.

Though Lizzy was inclined to agree, she could not allow her sisters to see their new fortunes in such a poor light. "Ah, but think of the new places we can visit with our new relations," she said as cheerfully as she could manage. "Rosings Park must have some wonderful gardens and wildernesses where we may walk. The homes of our new cousins are also lovely, I believe." She could not resist adding, "Besides, Papa may well desire a little time alone with Mrs? with Mama Amelia."

Kitty laughed softly. "Oh, Lizzy! That is too wicked! Though certainly Papa should have a honeymoon."

"Indeed he should," Lydia agreed, though she blushed.

Lizzy smiled at her sisters. "There, you see? It is not all bad. No doubt we shall adapt." She lifted her skirts to step over a large branch which had fallen across the path. "In any case, I dare say we should have been separated soon. Mr Collins is courting Mary, and if Mr Bingley does not ask Jane soon then I am blind."

Kitty only sighed. "I do wish it were not necessary for families to go off in so many different directions."

Lydia giggled. "Yes, but think of all of us and our husbands in Longbourn. What a crush! We would drive poor Mrs Hill to Bedlam."

"Poor Papa, you mean," Kitty retorted. "He hates crowding so. He would retreat to his library and bar the door."

Lizzy tried not to frown. She knew the sounds of the woods, and something was? not right. The birds seemed too quiet here, and shadows not quite right. She shifted her basket so that she could easily slip her hand inside and bring the flintlock forth, and hoped that the unease was nothing more than her imagination.

"Ah, but not if doing so meant locking Mama Amelia out." Lydia shook her head. "No, Papa would set up camp for both of them in the library."

"And they would read books by candle light." Kitty blushed, clearly imagining rather more intimate activities than her words suggested.

"And Mrs Hill would send meals to them through the windows," Lydia added. "And everyone would be scandalized, but as they are married it would matter not a fig."

Both girls laughed, and Lizzy smiled.

"How strange it will be," Lydia said, her mood changing from cheery to thoughtful. "I can not imagine Longbourn without Jane. She is so very calm."

"Oh, yes. I shall miss Jane when she--" Kitty's words were lost in the sound of a gun, so loud it seemed like an explosion.

Lydia screamed.

26 - Revenge and Wickham

Posted on 2010-07-18

Lizzy whirled to Lydia in time to catch her sister as she fell. Lydia clutched at her side, where blood covered her hand.

Rather than fuss with seeking material for a bandage, Lizzy pulled her jacket off and pressed it against the injury as soon as she and Kitty had eased Lydia to the ground.

"How very touching." The voice belonged to Wickham, but it was somehow? wrong. He was behind them, and could not see Lizzy's basket. She found the hilt of the flintlock in the basket, curled her hand around it, seeking the trigger.

"You may save your sneers for some other target," Lizzy retorted.

"He has another gun," Kitty whispered.

Some part of Lizzy's mind remained detached, calm. If Wickham had another weapon, she must take him by surprise and shoot first. Even so there was a chance he might kill her or Kitty. "Be ready to run for help," she replied, easing the flintlock free.

Kitty's eyes grew very wide, but she nodded.

"Get up. Both of you. And turn so I can see you."

"So you may gloat? I had not thought you so trite." Lizzy climbed to her feet as slowly as she could without losing her balance. She would have only one chance.

"Silence!" The taunts were clearly unsettling Wickham: perhaps he had expected cowering fear. Lizzy had no intention of providing any such thing, no matter how frightened she was.

Before she could reconsider, she turned, the hand holding the flintlock concealed by her dress.

Wickham stood not twenty feet distant, a pistol in each hand, one aimed at her and one at Kitty.

He smiled in a way that made Lizzy's stomach clench. Now she understood what Lydia had seen: this was the real Wickham, without the veneer of charm and manners. She raised her flintlock, fired.

Wickham's guns roared, then as though time itself slowed to a crawl he fell back, his face a ruined mass of shattered flesh. He did not scream.

Lizzy took the few paces to where Wickham lay struggling to breathe. Both his pistols had two shots apiece: she lifted each, and took the heavier. It was not unlike putting down a mad bull, she told herself until her hands steadied.

This time she took careful aim: Wickham could not live, injured as he was. This was mercy. It could be nothing else.

She fired.

Wickham's body gave a single spasm, then he was still.

Lizzy let the gun fall. All the strength seemed to have fled her body: she could not think what she should do next. She had killed a man: that meant hanging, or transportation if she was fortunate.

"Lizzy?" Kitty's voice seemed strangely distant, frightened. "Your arm, Lizzy! I cannot leave you like this."

Darcy's eagerness to be outdoors was shared by Bingley, Colonel Fitzwilliam and the viscount. Both his cousins found the atmosphere at Netherfield as confining as Darcy did, and with the imminent departure of the militia to Brighton, the Colonel had lost his best reason to be elsewhere.

Though they seemed to be riding aimlessly, Darcy suspected they would eventually find themselves at Longbourn: the Miss Bennets were a formidable attraction. Until then, the woods around Oakham Mount were pleasant, and on a fine day such as this there was always the possibility they would encounter those young ladies on one of their frequent walks.

A shot and a scream shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

Darcy spurred his horse towards the sound, realizing only later that all three of his companions reacted the same way. They raced towards the mount, until what seemed a fusillade nearby forced him to calm his horse.

As soon as he had steadied the animal, he dismounted, looping the reins around the nearest branch, and ran towards the shots, a distant corner of his mind regretting that he had no weapons save his fists.

And froze at the sight of Miss Elizabeth Bennet standing over a dying man. Blood stained one of her sleeves, though she seemed unaware of it as she held a pistol with both hands, her face an empty mask.

Miss Lydia Bennet lay nearby, her sister Kitty beside her clearly unable to decide which sister she should be aiding.

Elizabeth raised the pistol, aimed, and fired into the dying man's chest.

It was a mercy shot, Darcy realized. The man's face was a ruin: he could not survive those injuries, though he could perhaps have lingered some days before dying.

Elizabeth let the pistol fall, and shuddered.

Kitty looked from her to Lydia, and back. "Lizzy? Your arm, Lizzy! I cannot leave you like this."

Darcy forced himself forward. Whatever Elizabeth had done, and why, could wait until the injured sisters were treated and help brought.

Elizabeth turned, more clumsy than her wont. She did not seem to see him at first, and when she did realize she and her sisters were no longer alone, she paled and swayed on her feet.
Darcy caught her before she could fall, taking care not to jar her injured arm. Though she did not swoon, she allowed him to guide her to her sisters without a word.

"Oh, thank goodness you have found us!" Kitty helped Darcy to ease Elizabeth to sit, leaning against a tree. "It was Wickham ? he shot Lydia, and he would have killed us too, only Lizzy stopped him. You will not let anyone hang her for it will you?"

Dear Lord! Small wonder Elizabeth was in such a state. To kill a man to protect her sisters ? and her self ? and now face the prospect of the gallows for her actions...

He shook his head. "I will take care of this. Will you look after your sisters until I can bring help, Miss Catherine?"

Kitty looked up at him with tears streaking her cheeks. "Thank you, Mr Darcy. I will do what I can."

He turned, and faced the startled expressions of his Fitzwilliam cousins. Bingley seemed more as though he wished to be ill: not that Bingley's reaction was surprising. Both Fitzwilliams had served in the army, and in active service at that. Bingley had not.

"Charles, please go to Longbourn and tell Mr Bennet we came across Wickham threatening his daughters and shot the scoundrel, but not before he wounded Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lydia. Have Bennet send for the authorities to deal with Wickham's remains and tell him we will bring his daughters home as soon as we can. If you can bring back bandages and anything else that seems needed that would be helpful."

Bingley nodded and swallowed, then hurried towards the horses.

Both Fitzwilliams nodded approval of Darcy's actions. Randall smiled wryly. "So, which of us hit killed the wretch?"

"I fired one shot," Darcy said without hesitation. "Richard, would you like to have the honor of the second? Naturally, we are not sure which of us fired the fatal shot."

"Naturally." The Colonel seemed to find that amusing. "In these situations with a scoundrel menacing young ladies, one reacts without thinking."

Kitty made a choked sound that could have been a sob.

"There, now, Miss Catherine," Randall said in a soothing voice. "It is over now. No-one will hang: we will see to that." He knelt by Lydia and pressed the jacket serving as an impromptu bandage closer. "Have you anything to staunch bleeding?"

Kitty finished tying a strip of cloth Darcy suspected she had torn from her petticoat around Elizabeth's arm. "Let me see. I think we collected some [herb], though it is not as effective as a salve."
Darcy busied himself arranging the weapons, claiming the flintlock for himself and handing one of the two-shot pistols to the Colonel. The other he placed by Wickham's right hand, as though it had fallen there.

"That should be sufficient, cuz," Richard said with a grim smile. "Our story would be enough even if the ladies held the weapons."

"Best there be no doubts," Darcy reminded him. "Though I must say Miss Elizabeth's courage and strength of mind ought to be celebrated, not hidden like this."

Richard shook his head. "Now that is the voice of a man who has lost his heart to the lady in question."

"For God's sake, Richard! Miss Elizabeth is neither deaf nor unconscious." A fine sight he would make, blushing like a guilty child while he relayed the lies intended to protect the lady's reputation.

Elizabeth's shaky laughter did nothing for his composure. "Yes, Colonel." Her voice was less than steady. "Do give Mr Darcy the chance to declare himself before condemning him to such a dire fate."

"Lizzy, be still!" Kitty sounded frantic. "You must not move that arm until it has been properly bandaged."

"Should I fall into a decorous swoon, then?" Elizabeth asked.

Darcy dared not look that way. Instead, he concentrated on obscuring all evidence of her footsteps, ensuring there was no indication any of the Miss Bennets had been closer than the clearing's width to the dead man.

"Lizzy!" Kitty made a gulping sound, then asked, "Which of your salves is for bleeding? I cannot tell them apart, and Lydia?"

"It is wrapped in red muslin." If Darcy judged the sounds correctly, Elizabeth tried to rise and was promptly stopped ? most likely by Randall.

"This?" Randall asked.

"Yes."

Fortunately for Darcy's self-control, he heard hoofbeats approaching, just as Richard said, "This must be Bingley now." He turned towards the sound, watching for Bingley and ? he hoped ? some form of assistance for the injured ladies.

It was perhaps not surprising that Bingley entered the clearing at a run, followed by a middle-aged man Darcy vaguely recognized as one of Bennet's men. The man carried a large basket and took himself directly to the ladies.

"Hill here has brought bandages and salves." Bingley spoke quickly. "Men are following with sedan chairs ? the path is too rough for a carriage. Bennet has gone to fetch Sir William Lucas, Mr Goulding and Mr Phillips: Goulding is the magistrate and Phillips the chief attorney in town."

Darcy nodded. "That should be sufficient to clear this matter."

"Yes." Bingley glanced at the body, and swallowed again. "Hill has an old blanket? Should we perhaps cover that? For the ladies."

Darcy flushed at not having thought of something so obvious. "Of course. Thank you, Charles. I should have thought of that myself."

Chapter 27 - The Protection of a Lady's Reputation

Posted on 2010-07-25

No questions were raised by any of the gentlemen when Darcy and his cousin described their version of events. Though he was uncomfortable with the praise heaped upon them for their supposed heroism, it was better that he endure it than risk compromising Miss Elizabeth's reputation.

Not until he had accompanied Mr Bennet and his daughters to Longbourn and seen Lydia and Elizabeth helped to their beds and the waiting doctor did Darcy learn how mistaken he was.

As soon as he and Mr Bennet were alone in the hallway, Bennet said, "Let us adjourn to the library, young man." The older man regarded him gravely. "Where you may tell me what really occurred."

Once fortified by a little brandy, Darcy found that tale far easier to tell than the falsehoods he had concocted for Elizabeth's sake.

"Hm." Bennet frowned. "Interesting. Were you aware of this?" He handed Darcy a much folded letter.

If Aunt Cat's handwriting was not shock enough, the contents of the letter were sufficient that Darcy gulped his remaining brandy in a single draught. "Dear God. I had no idea, sir."

"You have no notion how relieved I am to know that." Bennet's tone had resumed its usual dryness. "It makes the information I received earlier today far easier to impart."

Darcy could feel blood draining from his face. "You have evidence my aunt was involved in this? attempt?" It was a scandal that could ruin the entire family, as well as the Bennets ? but more importantly, evidence that Aunt Cat had conspired to murder required that justice be done, even if privately.

Bennet sighed and closed his eyes. "I do. Bingley arrived as I was readying a party to find my girls and bring them home. A heavily armed party."

Darcy winced. "It is fortunate that Miss Elizabeth is as courageous as cool-headed as the best of men," he admitted. "Richard already laments that he cannot claim her for the army."

A hint of a smile touched the older man's face. "I daresay the army would be insufficient challenge for my Lizzy. No matter what instructions the doctor gives I expect to find her on her feet on the morrow." He shook his head. "When she was a child, her first words after 'Mama' and 'Papa' were 'Lizzy do!'."

In his mind, Darcy envisioned a curly-headed toddler looking up at her parents with those wonderful eyes and declaring in a tone that brooked no argument, "Lizzy do!" He could well imagine that child succeeding in whatever attempt she made, however unlikely that success might seem.

"You must be tremendously proud, sir."

"Indeed." Bennet chuckled softly. "Had she been a boy, there would have been no stopping her."

Darcy nodded, then swallowed. "I should return to Netherfield. This must? I must inform my uncle and cousins of this."

"Of course."

"She did what?" The Earl frowned. "I know Cat is overbearing, but I can not believe she would do something this? vile."

Darcy merely handed him the letter. Bennet had been quite willing to part with it on condition it was not given to its author ? a condition with which Darcy was in full agreement.

The Earl's frown grew more pronounced and his color deepened as he read. He gave the damning missive back to Darcy before he spoke. "And the? other matter?"

"Bingley and I have interviewed the servants who witnessed the meetings," Darcy informed him. "I am satisfied they speak truth." He saw no reason to add any particulars of those interviews.

The Earl's curse could have come from a stable hand. He sighed. "Very well. I will ask you and my sons to be present when this matter is discussed with Cat. I can only pray that she shows some remorse for her folly."

Darcy nodded. "I will be present. Bingley also, if you desire it: we have discussed the matter."

"I appreciate the offer." The Earl sighed again. "This occurred under his roof: of course Bingley must be present."

Darcy appreciated his uncle's reluctance to deal with the matter. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was his sister. "I gather Wickham approached her initially, and his manner grew more threatening with each encounter." It was small consolation: Aunt Cat could have confided in any of her relatives. All of them knew Wickham was not to be trusted, though none had realized the true extent of the man's evil. "It is possible she felt sufficiently threatened to provide the man with funds and appear to condone his actions."

Though a flicker of hope crossed the Earl's features, he shook his head. "Darce, you know as well as I that Cat could have asked any one of us for protection and been given it. I admit, I can see no explanation she can give that frees her from culpability."

Darcy could see none either, and he dearly wished that he could. The memory of Elizabeth standing blank-faced over Wickham, firing the mercy shot? She should never have been forced to that extremity.

He could easily agree with Bennet that no matter what the doctor decreed, Elizabeth would be rising on the morrow, and no doubt occupying herself in some useful manner.

It was almost a shame that Aunt Cat could not be forced into the custody of the Bennets. That family was quite capable of working miracles, transforming Aunt Cat's cringing parody of a parson into a sensible ? even likeable ? man in a matter of weeks. He suspected one or more of the Miss Bennets had a hand in Miss Bingley's transformation, as well.

She had contrived to encounter him in the library, where she apologized for her manner in the past, and admitted that while she would be honored if he were to regard her as more than the sister of his very good friend, she truly doubted there could be anything more than that between them and she would far prefer that both of them found partners they could respect and love.

By the time Darcy recovered from his astonishment and thanked her for her candor, Miss Bingley was already retreating. Such a change in manner could only have been wrought by the Miss Bennets: she had visited Longbourn more than once.

Darcy hoped Bingley had been able to pass on his suggestion that she contrive to include Anne on those visits: his frail cousin could certainly benefit from whatever miraculous transformation the Bennet family could offer. Not that the Bennets would be desirous of visitors for a time: Lydia's injury would keep her abed for a time, and could be fatal if infection set in.

Both Randall and Richard had seen men killed by lesser injury.

To Darcy's relief, his aunt showed no concern about joining the family in Netherfield's second parlor, a cozy room designed for informal gatherings. Aunt Eleanor's presence no doubt allayed any concerns Aunt Cat might have harbored.

They had spared Anne the confrontation: she and Miss Bingley were practicing duets at the far end of the building ? an activity Miss Bingley had suggested. Not that Anne was ignorant of her mother's perfidy: Darcy and both Fitzwilliam sons had insisted their cousin deserved to know what was to occur, and why. Anne was frail, not stupid.

Aunt Cat gave Bingley a cold glare, silently accusing him of befouling the room with his presence, but she ? uncharacteristically ? said nothing to that effect. "Is there some matter that needs my attention, brother? You have attended to me only when circumstances required it."

"That is because you make your company unpleasant, sister," the Earl said evenly. "Randall, do help your aunt be seated."

The Viscount and his brother were quick to assist, and ? not incidentally ? relieve their aunt of her heavy cane.

"I have disturbing news, sister," the Earl continued. "It seems that Wickham attempted to murder two of your granddaughters this morning. He was prevented by the timely arrival of your nephews and Mr Bingley."

All the color drained from Aunt Cat's face. "That? monster!" Her hands tightened on the arms of the chair. For a moment, Darcy fancied his aunt's hands looked like claws.

"Sadly, there is evidence that you aided him." Still no expression touched the Earl's voice.

Aunt Cat leaned forward. "And you believe that scoundrel's lies over me?" she demanded. "I am deeply offended, brother."

"As a matter of fact, 'that scoundrel' had no opportunity to say anything," the Viscount observed in a dry voice. "Thanks in no small part to the marksmanship of Darce and Richard, he was dead before he could be questioned, though not, sadly, before he had grievously wounded the young ladies."

"Then there can be no connection." Aunt Cat's decisive tone was at odds with the way she clutched at the arms of her chair.

"There are witnesses to your meetings with the man."

She gave a sharp catch of breath, and shook her head. "Servants," she said dismissively. "One does not rely on the word of the lesser classes."

Now a little disapproval leaked into the Earl's voice. "When it is in keeping with the information in your handwriting, sister, one does."

Aunt Cat's response surprised everyone in the room. She seemed to fold into herself. "Then it is over. I cannot say I regret being rid of that vile creature even though he brings me with him." She closed her eyes. "Only take care of Anne."

Darcy swallowed, but Aunt Eleanor spoke before he could find words. "Oh, Catherine. No-one plans to condemn you out of hand. Will you not tell us why you wrote this?"

"I should have thought that obvious," Aunt Cat said in a brittle voice. "I do not accept these Bennet women."

"That much is clear, Aunt." Darcy found his voice. "But of Wickham? How did he come to have contact with you?"

Aunt Cat lifted her head and turned away.

"Damn it, woman! The man has made fools of all of us. Lay aside your pride for once."

The Earl's vehemence ? and likely his language ? made Aunt Cat flinch, but she straightened and fixed him with a cold glare. "I will not be someone's object of pity," she spat. "You treat me with contempt unless you desire something of me, yes, all of you." Her gaze softened a little when she fixed on Darcy, "Though you, nephew, have at least been courteous despite your refusal to care for Anne."

Darcy bowed: somehow formality seemed more appropriate here. "Madam, I have never denied that I will give Anne what care I may ? including respect for her desire to never enter the married state." He could not help but admit that Anne had ample reason to dread marriage. "However, if Wickham has imposed upon you as well, then at least grant us knowledge of it so we can assure no associate of his has the knowledge to trouble you or Anne further."

The prospect of harm to her sole surviving child was sufficient to overcome Aunt Cat's considerable self-control. Her eyes grew very bright. "You will see to that." It was not a question.

Darcy only nodded.

"Very well." The decision made, his aunt seemed to shrink once more. "It began soon after your father's death, Darcy. He demanded a scandalous sum, claiming he would ruin Anne and me if I failed to provide."

Darcy sighed. "He is ? was ? very adept at that."

Aunt Cat gave a small shrug. "His claim was plausible enough to be believed by the Ton, though a vicious falsehood. I gave him what he desired on condition he never trouble me again."

A condition Wickham had ignored. That much was obvious.

"He returned several times after that, though he had not disturbed me for some years until recently." She laughed, a hollow sound, and pulled her wrap more closely about her shoulders. "I had begun to hope I might be rid of him." Her eyes overflowed when she blinked, but she ignored the tears. "I had thought his plan was to elope with the child ? a scandalous act, to be sure, but ultimately harmless. He misled me."

It was hardly a surprise. Darcy had been misled by Wickham often enough to know that the man was extremely capable of deception. The world was better by far with Wickham no longer part of it.

After a long silence, Aunt Cat asked hesitantly, "The young ladies? They will live?"

"Miss Elizabeth assuredly will be well. Miss Lydia? I had intended to visit Longbourn on the morrow to ask after both young ladies." Darcy kept his words calm, matter-of-fact.

At that assurance, his aunt drew in a shuddering breath, then began to cry: gulping sobs of deep distress.

Rather than embarrass her by witnessing what she would consider a weakness, Darcy quietly edged towards the parlor door. All save his Aunt Eleanor followed with as much discretion as they could contrive. Even Richard seemed sobered.

"Eleanor will sort things out," the Earl said once they were far enough from the room they need not fear being overheard. "Cat will need to retire to somewhere obscure: the Ashton dower house ought to suffice." He made a sour face. "None could accuse Ashton Hall of being too close to Society."

Given that his uncle's estate was many miles north of Darcy's own, he could not disagree. He glanced at his cousins.

Both men looked grim, but it was the Colonel who spoke. "I'll see to it, Darce. Much as it pains me to leave the delightful company hereabouts ? while I am on leave, too ? I have the contacts to find Wickham's associates and ensure they cause no trouble." He grinned. "In any case, you would be far too obvious in the places I will need to search."

Darcy gave an ironic bow. "That, my dear cousin, is because you are an irrepressible scoundrel. I am astonished Home Office has not called upon your services."

"Perhaps they have, but I am not at liberty to speak of it." The Colonel waved a finger in admonishment. "Or perhaps I merely tease."

Randall snorted. "I would be far more inclined to place money on the latter case than the former."

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam winked. "I shall retire early, gentlemen. I should be on my way at first light."

Chapter 28 - Improper Determinations

Posted on 2010-08-01

Though her arm ached horribly, Lizzy was indeed about the day after her injury. The doctor's orders that she rest sufficed only to keep her indoors, and that only because she tired too quickly to walk more than the length of a room without stopping to rest.

With the new Mrs Bennet attending to Lydia ? who was in far worse case ? Lizzy moved from the sunny parlor to her father's study and back as restlessness drove her.

She was engaged in that journey and had paused in the vestibule to rest a little when Mr Darcy arrived with Mr Bingley and the Viscount.

The three gentlemen exchanged startled and amused expressions, then the Viscount said, "Well, cuz, you have the right of it." He bowed in Lizzy's direction. "Dear cousin, our reprobate cousin Darcy claimed you would be up and about irrespective of the doctor's orders."

Lizzy could not repress a smile. "It would seem that Mr Darcy has learned entirely too much of my nature, sir."

Darcy bowed. "That, madam, is no sorrow to me." He appeared torn between concern and amusement. "Though you should be resting."

She chuckled softly. "I am resting. I am entirely indoors, and my wanderings limited to the much-worn path between Papa's study and the parlor."

Darcy's lips twitched.

"How fares Miss Lydia?" Bingley asked, apparently unable to suppress the question any longer.

"She is abed and feverish." Lizzy saw no reason to mince words with these gentlemen. "Mrs? Mama Amelia is with her."

When all three gentlemen appeared grave, Lizzy added, "There is no sign of infection. Mama Amelia believes the fever to be induced by loss of blood."

The Viscount nodded slowly. "That is indeed likely."

"Lizzy?" Papa's voice emerged from the direction of the library, followed by Papa himself. Though thinner than he had been, and walking with the aid of a cane, he was well enough to find amusement where he might. "Why are you holding court in the vestibule? Surely the parlor would be more pleasant."

The Viscount was quick to assure her father that nothing improper had occurred, and that they had only recently entered the house and having found Miss Bennet resting there, had naturally paused to inquire after her health and her sister's health.

Since Lizzy's destination had been the library, the gentlemen assisted her to that destination before Mr Darcy broached the other subject of their visit.

"Richard ? Colonel Fitzwilliam ? has gone to London to track down any associates Wickham may have had in this plot, and ensure they cause no further problems," he said simply. "We spoke to Aunt Catherine yesterday: it would seem the wretch had been imposing upon her for some time, threatening her and Anne."

Papa nodded. "Forgive me if I am not quick to overlook the lady's part in all this," he said in the quiet, serious voice that meant he was truly angry. "I shall say nothing, of course, but her actions have caused my family a great deal of harm."

"Of course, sir." Darcy did not seem at all surprised by Papa's response. "Aunt Catherine will be retiring to the dower house at Ashton, in [county]. I have agreed to manage Rosings until such time as Miss Bennet is able to take up residence there, and to see to Anne's welfare."

"A reasonable compromise," Papa agreed. "However, my girls will not be visiting Ashton while the lady remains in residence in the area."

The Viscount nodded gravely. "Father expected as much. Aunt Catherine is? distraught at present, but there is some hope that she may regret her actions. Would you be willing to reconsider, sir, if she does?"

Papa's lips quirked at the corners.

Lizzy was unsurprised: it was rare that Papa's quixotic humor left him for more than a short time. He would unquestionably consider these bizarre negotiations amusing.

A little dryness crept into his voice when he said, "If the lady's apologies are sufficient to convince me and my girls are willing, I would be prepared to reconsider."

"Thank you, sir." There was no mistaking the relief in the Viscount's tone. "I should hate to be estranged from my newly-discovered cousins over this."

As he had no doubt intended, his words drew a chuckle from Papa. "You need not fear that, young man. All other members of your family ? and yours, Darcy ? are quite welcome to visit here whenever you desire." He twinkled at Bingley. "The same invitation of course extends to you and your sisters ? if they wish to associate with us."

Lizzy was unsure how it was arranged, with Longbourn overwhelmed with gentlemen, but Bingley contrived enough time alone with Jane to ask for her hand, a request she joyfully accepted. Bingley's expression when he emerged from her father's study made it clear Papa had approved the union.

While Kitty and Mary congratulated Jane, Darcy and Mr Collins each shook Bingley's hand and congratulated him, then the Viscount welcomed him to the family.

Lizzy supposed there was something in the air, for soon after that congratulations were being given to Mary and Mr Collins, both of whom blushed hotly and tried to withdraw from attention. The suggestion of a double wedding was instantly dismissed by both, Mr Collins claiming he would be out of place at such a gathering, and Mary that she would not spoil Jane's glory for anything.

The Viscount, Mr Bingley, Jane and Kitty were all attempting to change both minds when Darcy quietly took a seat beside Lizzy. "That is quite the tumult," he said in soft voice.

"Indeed it is." 'Tumult' was not the word Lizzy would have used, but it sufficed. "But they are all so very happy, I can find no reason to object."

He smiled in a way that made Lizzy feel almost queasy ? a sensation that was not quite illness but was instead pleasurable. She was given no opportunity to wonder at the strange feeling, for Darcy spoke again.

"Miss Elizabeth, when I saw you standing over that villain yesterday, I realized how very much I love and admire you." Darcy blushed as he spoke, and he leaned towards her, only to draw back and look down. "I know I have little to recommend me ? apart from the little matter of a fortune and an estate ? but I would be honored and delighted if you would consent to allow me to court you."

Lizzy swallowed, suddenly fighting tears of purest joy. "You have a great deal to recommend you, Mr Darcy, though little of it is fashionable." She could not keep scorn from her voice when she mentioned fashion. "Only one thing would make me happier ? and you have not made that request."

She was as bad as her father, jesting when a man had all but declared his love for her.

Fortunately Mr Darcy seemed to understand her response. He smiled, and leaned forward again, this time clasping her hands. "In that case, would you do me the inestimable honor of becoming Mrs Darcy?"

She smiled, swallowed against the sudden tightness of her throat, and nodded. Then, finding her voice, said, "Unless there is another Mr Darcy I know nothing about."

He chuckled softly. "None that I am aware of."

Despite the evident eagerness of all three engaged couples to enter the delights of matrimony ? and the addition of Randall Fitzwilliam to the list of soon-to-be-married a few weeks later when he proposed to Miss Bingley and was accepted, none of the weddings were held until fall, by which time Lydia Bennet had recovered her health and could join Kitty and Georgiana Darcy ? who, like her cousin Anne de Bourgh, had quickly become a close friend of the Bennet sisters ? as bridesmaids for the weddings.

With her mother absent, and aided by frequent visits to Longbourn, Anne's health had begun to improve. It was the private opinion of all concerned that Anne would always be frail, but there was color to her cheeks, and she smiled often: something all her cousins considered a triumph.

Reports of Anne's improved health seemed to soften the tone of the letters sent from Ashton Dower House. While no reconciliation was likely immediately, the prospect of eventual reconciliation improved over the months before the weddings.

It was decided that Bingley and Jane would not take possession of Rosings Park until after their honeymoon ? to be spent at a much quieter Netherfield, for the Earl and his wife had returned to Ashton, the Viscount to his estate, Darcy to Pemberly, and the Colonel to his duties. Following the wedding, Mr and Mrs Hurst would be returning to their London townhouse with Caroline, and Anne and Georgiana would be moving from Netherfield to Longbourn to stay for some weeks. Mr Bennet was heard to comment more than once that all this moving about had inspired so much letter writing that any increases in the price of the Post were entirely justified.

Mr Collins had returned to his duties, where his changed outlook was much appreciated by his parishioners. After much discussion with Mr Bennet, he had decided to remain at the living for a further five years, after which he would retire to Longbourn, where he and Mary could assist with the management of the estate, ensuring that Mr Bennet's still-fragile health would not suffer unduly. Neither he nor Mary desired a honeymoon: both agreed that the living itself would be sufficient for that.

Of all the couples, Lizzy and Darcy were the last to wed: Darcy retained management of Rosings until after the Bingleys returned from their honeymoon, then required some weeks to transfer control: though Bingley had managed Netherfield ably, Rosings was so vast that Bingley was quite overwhelmed at first.

The Viscount had claimed second place, arguing that the isolation of his home and the difficulty of travel there in poor weather would prevent his marrying at all if he did not tie the knot as soon as it was possible for the Bingleys to attend. He and his new wife honeymooned in Bath before returning to Hertfordshire in order to be present for Mary's wedding.

Finally, towards the end of October, Lizzy's wedding day dawned ? with weather more pleasant than was normal at that time of year. Once more Netherfield and Longbourn were filled with visitors, including a newly-promoted Captain Fitzwilliam.

The particulars of the day escaped her, for mostly she remembered the mingled eagerness and nervousness with which she awaited the time of her marriage, the warmth of Darcy's hands when he held hers, and the greater warmth whenever their eyes chanced to meet.

The news that reached them on their return from a honeymoon tour of the Lakes district of Captain Fitzwilliam's engagement to Miss Charlotte Lucas ? who, the Captain wrote, was so utterly unlike any of the ladies he had danced with, and so very practical ? left Darcy scratching his head and Lizzy laughing with delight.

Of what followed little remains to be said: in due course Georgiana Darcy, Kitty Bennet and Lydia Bennet all found suitors who engaged their love. Anne de Bourgh resided at Rosings in better health than she had ever enjoyed, living to a respectable age as the much-loved spinster aunt of all her cousins' children.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh eventually grew reconciled to the daughters of her elder daughter: though relations between them were never easy, there was less strain, and her passing was met with genuine grief on the part of all five Bennet sisters.

Mr Bennet lived long enough to watch many of his grandchildren grow to marry and have children of their own, before he and Mrs Bennet passed within days of each other.

Darcy and Lizzy always credited the happiness of their extended family to the happenstance of that first meeting, when Lizzy had roundly scolded Darcy and Bingley for shooting in too small a wilderness and scaring Longbourn's sheep ? which, it must be added, continued to thrive, transforming Longbourn to a truly prosperous estate.

The End
Š 2008, 2009, 2010 Copyright held by the author.