Overhearings More to the Purpose

Sharni

Section I, Next Section

Chapter 1

Posted on Friday, 15 March 2002

Elizabeth was not at all concerned about having to sit out the dance. Truth be told she actually felt a small, smug sense of triumph over managing to avoid a certain potential partner once again - and sitting out the set was a small price to pay for continued freedom from his attentions.

She congratulated herself on her successful maneuvering, and allowed herself a smile as she looked across to see her enthusiastic admirer dancing instead with Kitty. Perhaps he was finally getting the hint that his interest was not reciprocated. It then occurred to her that she'd already promised the remaining few dances of the evening, and she relaxed with the satisfaction of knowing she'd successfully side-stepped Mr. Henry Elton for the whole of the assembly.

Appreciating the opportunity she now had to sit back and observe, Elizabeth chose to sit in a quieter corner of the hall rather than join the matrons in their gossip, or the other girls who had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit out the two dances.

As she cast her eye around the room she was pleasantly surprised to see Mary, who didn't get the opportunity to dance as frequently as her sisters, standing up with one of the Lucas boys. Continuing to run her eye down the couples, her smile broadened as she discerned Jane, again with Mr. Bingley. Her sister's countenance showed a restrained pleasure at being afforded the honour of partnering this amiable and handsome man for a second time that evening. Bingley had requested Elizabeth's hand for the two dances that would follow, but as she could already discern a promising inclination toward her older sister, she fully intended to make Jane the topic of conversation during her own dances with Bingley.

Bingley's sisters were also both standing up in this set, Mrs. Hurst with her husband, a young foppish looking man, and Miss Bingley with the eldest Witherspoon boy. The look of condescending patience on Miss Bingley's face amused Elizabeth no end. She had already come to the conclusion that the sisters were not nearly as amiable as the brother, and she enjoyed the fact that Miss Bingley looked somewhat discomforted. Actually, it occurred to Elizabeth, she'd not seen Miss Bingley look comfortable once over the whole course of the evening... not even during her dances with the superior looking Mr. Darcy - then she looked as if she were trying too hard to be the perfect partner.

Mr. Darcy, she thought to herself, was an odd one indeed, and she wondered at him being such good friends with the open and personable Mr. Bingley. Aside from dancing only once with each of the Bingley sisters, he'd spent the evening roaming the room and looking generally unapproachable.

It was only upon Bingley's taking a moment from Jane and drawing quite near, that she discerned that Mr. Darcy was, at that moment, actually standing close by - close enough, if fact, to enable Elizabeth to clearly overhear the beginnings of their conversation.

``Come, Darcy,'' Bingley began, ``I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.''

``I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.''

Elizabeth suppressed a smirk at his arrogance, and was pleased to hear Mr. Bingley rejoin with a defense.

``I would not be so fastidious as you are,'' cried Bingley, ``for a kingdom! Upon my honour I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty.''

Elizabeth, however did not get to hear Mr. Darcy's reply, as Charlotte had discovered her hiding place, and approached to claim her attention.

"Lizzy! So here you are. When I saw you'd managed to evade this dance with Mr. Elton, I felt sure you'd join our circle for conversation."

"I might have Charlotte, but I'm afraid Mother has been too much inspired by the sight of Jane receiving a second invitation to dance with Mr. Bingley, and I decided to maintain my distance in order to escape from her effusions. I'll have enough of it on the way home. Sadly, in a carriage, there's no means of escape."

"I'm surprised he didn't ask you to dance Lizzy - politeness really would have required it."

"Oh, he has - for the next two - but I think I may have been rather an afterthought," Elizabeth grinned, "...and who can blame him? Jane looks absolutely stunning again this evening, and the animation her pleasure has given her, makes her look more beautiful still."

"She does look lovely," Charlotte replied, "but really Lizzy, I wouldn't undervalue yourself. You might still have a chance if you play your cards right during your dance... you have both beauty and spirit."

The dignified Mr. Darcy turned as he heard laughter from the girl he had just described as 'tolerable' to his friend. He was momentarily caught by the humour in her countenance, and by her laughter's natural ring, before reminding himself of the lack of fashionable decorum that such frivolity displayed, and walking away.

"You can be so funny Charlotte," Elizabeth countered. "Why would I want to cut my sister out?"

"Well," Charlotte replied, ever the advocate for the promotion of her pretty young friend, "Maybe you'll get an opportunity to try for his friend."

Elizabeth felt a burst of apprehension, and looked up quickly, fearing that Mr. Darcy might still be close enough to overhear her friend's comment. It was with relief she discerned he had moved to the other end of the room.

"I think Charlotte," Elizabeth replied, her cheekiness rising with her relief, "that Mr. Darcy is a little too enamoured with himself , and is unlikely to have time, or inclination, for anyone of our society."

"Come now Lizzy, I'm sure you're judging him too quickly. You've not even spoken with the man."

"I may have not exchanged words with him Charlotte, but his behaviour and manners speak volumes."

"He may just be of a reserved nature," Charlotte countered. "We really have no basis to assume otherwise."

"Ah ... but here I have the advantage over you." Elizabeth smiled triumphantly. "Only minutes ago I overheard him tell his friend it would be a punishment to stand up with anyone outside his party... I kid you not."

"Are you certain you heard quite correctly Lizzy?"

"Yes quite certain. He hates dancing and 'it would be quite insupportable at an assembly such as this'," Lizzy finished off in a superior clipped tone.

Charlotte looked a warning at her friend.

"I wouldn't be so eager to Judge Lizzy," she said with seriousness a little alien to their conversation so far. "His pride doesn't offend me so much as pride often does, because there's an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, every thing in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud.''

Elizabeth took a moment to reflect on her friend's words, before answering with equal seriousness.

"That may be true, but it doesn't necessarily follow that in order to think highly of ones-self, that you have to think meanly of others... No, I reserve my right to think what I will of the man."

Chapter 2

Posted on Friday, 15 March 2002

The next few weeks gave Elizabeth a number of opportunities to again observe the newcomers, and these only served to confirm her initial assessments of the occupants of Netherfield. She still discerned a superciliousness in the Bingley sisters' treatment of everyone, hardly even excepting Jane, who'd been adopted by them as a particular favourite, and Mr. Darcy remained the man who thought himself above his company, and made himself agreeable no-where. Mr. Bingley though, continued to prove himself pleasant and amiable, and his admiration of Jane only became more evident.

Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware.

He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. He even managed to exchange a few words with her before, upon the urgings of Charlotte, she was obliged to leave their circle and move to the instrument.

Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for display.

Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, with some of the Lucases and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one end of the room.

Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too much engrossed by his own thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was his neighbour, till Sir William thus began.

``What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! -- There is nothing like dancing after all. -- I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.''

``Certainly, Sir -- and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.''

Sir William only smiled. ``Your friend performs delightfully;'' he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group, ``and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy.''

``You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, Sir.''

``Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at St. James's?''

``Never, sir.''

``Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?''

``It is a compliment which I never pay to any place, if I can avoid it.''

``You have a house in town, I conclude?''

Mr. Darcy bowed.

``I had once some thoughts of fixing in town myself -- for I am fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas.''

He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to make any; and seeing Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was struck with the notion of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to her,

``My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.'' And taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William,

``Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.''

Mr. Darcy with grave propriety requested to be allowed the honour of her hand; and Elizabeth was almost persuaded to take it. She might have, had she not recalled anew his disdainful comment about there being 'no woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to stand up with' at the Meryton assembly.

``You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half hour.''

``Mr. Darcy is all politeness,'' said Elizabeth, smiling.

``He is indeed -- but considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who would object to such a partner?''

Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away.

Her resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency when he was, only a few minutes later, accosted by Miss Bingley.

Her voice, though conspiratorial, was not low enough to prevent it from being heard by Elizabeth, who was at that moment moving close by at the back of them, as she returned to again seek Charlotte's company.

``I can guess the subject of your reverie.''

``I should imagine not,'' Darcy replied.

``You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner -- in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people! -- What would I give to hear your strictures on them!''

Feeling, despite her indignation, that discretion was the greater part of valour, Elizabeth was about to move away, determining she'd rather not be privy to the derisive or condescending agreement that would doubtless follow from Darcy's lips, but instead she was taken completely by surprise at his assertion that Miss Bingley's conjecture was totally wrong, and that his mind was more agreeably engaged.

"I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.''

As Miss Bingley fixed her eyes on his face, desiring him to tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections, Elizabeth began to stealthily remove herself from her awkward and unwanted position as eaves-dropper - the idea of being to privy to an intimate moment between these two, being almost as offensive as being privy to their condescension.

Elizabeth's thoughts thus engaged, Mr. Darcy managed to take her completely by surprise - for a second time that evening - with his intrepid reply...

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Chapter 3

Posted on Wednesday, 27 March 2002

Moments of reflection in the days that followed, were insufficient for Elizabeth to reconcile herself with that which she had overheard between Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so great a man, but was unable to deny the testimony of her own ears. Although she had determined to put the matter aside and not think on it again, she found her mind sometimes returning to it in unguarded moments, and was never quite able to make sense of it.

She had been in the same company as Mr. Darcy on a number of occasions now, and the Lucas's party was the first occasion on which he had spoken to her. Now she thought on it, Mr. Darcy had not initiated either of the short exchanges they'd shared; the first she began herself, as an impertinent reaction to his attending to her conversation with Colonel Forster, and the second was only due to Sir William's interference. She had no assurance that he would have even spoken to her had he been left to his own devices.

Maybe Elizabeth would have been able to make more sense of that which she'd heard had she been able to talk it over with someone else, but she dare not. She would keep this one to tight to herself, knowing that her mother would be unbearable if she picked up even the slightest inking, that Mr. Darcy might find one of her daughters attractive.

Elizabeth couldn't help smiling at the humour of situation though, and she found it amusing on more levels that one. Firstly, she was unable to forget the look between disbelief and disgust that had crossed Caroline's face upon Darcy's disclosure. It was obvious that Caroline had expected to hear her own name, at least quite as much as Elizabeth had expected to hear it, and Lizzy found it hard not to feel a little evil pleasure at the disappointment of such a 'superior' and self-important woman.

Her second source of amusement was her own ill luck in regard to the men she seemed to attract. Having just managed to dissuade the persistent and earnest Mr. Henry Elton from his pursuit, it seemed perverse indeed, that she had apparently gained the attention of another man whom she could just not like.

Doubtless he was good looking, there was no denying of that... actually, he was more than good looking... he was very handsome indeed... and his figure was unquestionably tall and striking... and he had an easy independence, an established estate... and there was a part of her which found pleasure in being able to catch the eye of such a man... Still, Elizabeth reminded herself, pulling her mind from where it had wandered, he was also an incredibly condescending an arrogant man, which rather spoilt the picture.

"Well," Elizabeth consoled herself, "it seems rather unlikely that he will lower himself to pay me any particular attention, and if he does, at least I'm forewarned against giving anything that might be construed as encouragement."

Elizabeth's thoughts on the subject faded however, as days passed with no personal contact at all with the Netherfield party. Jane, who has been claimed as a particular friend by the Bingley sisters, had received an invitation to visit with the women, but as Elizabeth had made no effort to become in anyway intimate with the two, she had not been included in this hospitable request. This created no jealousy for the younger sister, and in fact she found herself rather more than relieved that she was not in Jane's position, when Jane became trapped at Netherfield over night due to a heavy fall of rain.

Elizabeth found now, that thoughts of Mr. Darcy were easily put aside when considerations of her sister were foremost in her mind, and this was certainly the case upon Elizabeth's reading the note that she received from Jane on the morning following Jane's visit to the Netherfield ladies.

My dearest Lizzy,
I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning home till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones -- therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me -- and excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me.

Yours, &c.'

She felt resentment anew at Mrs. Bennet's instance, on the preceding day, that Jane not take the carriage in answer to her invitation to Netherfield. The mother's hopes that her daughter might become stranded at Mr. Bingley's home if the weather turned bad, had certainly come to fruition, but in the sister's mind a mild concern had arisen since the rain had indeed arrived, and now this letter confirmed her uneasiness.

``Well, my dear,'' said Mr. Bennet, ``if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness, if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.''

``Oh! I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long is she stays there, it is all very well. I would go and see her, if I could have the carriage.''

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.

``How can you be so silly,'' cried her mother, ``as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get there.''

``I shall be very fit to see Jane -- which is all I want.''

``Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,'' said her father, ``to send for the horses?''

``No, indeed. I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing, when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner.''

On the way to Netherfield Elizabeth worked off some of her indignation toward her mother, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.

She gave little thought to what the occupants of Netherfield might think, until just before she was shown into the breakfast-parlour, and took only a short moment to slightly adjust her dress to cover a little of the mud she had accumulated during her walk.

All but Jane were assembled, and she could not fail to notice her appearance created a great deal of surprise. -- That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt for it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their brother's manners there was something better than politeness; there was good humour and kindness.

Mr. Darcy said very little, but Elizabeth found it impossible not to try to somewhat assess his reaction. That he was looking at her with some interest, she could not deny, but she was unable to read his thoughts from his expression... which was really not surprising, as Mr. Darcy was having difficulty in determining his thoughts himself. He was too divided between admiration of the brilliancy, which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone.

Her enquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish and not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her immediately; and on her way to Jane's room, only had time to think briefly, that her dishevelled appearance that morning was probably enough to put an end to any of Mr. Darcy's admiration.

Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience, from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them together, could attempt little beside expressions of gratitude for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended her.

When breakfast was over, they were joined by the sisters, and Elizabeth began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude they showed for Jane, whose feverish symptoms increased, and whose head ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment, nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had in fact nothing to do elsewhere.

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go; and very unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern in parting with her that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer of the chaise into an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present. Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay, and bring back a supply of clothes.

AT five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half past six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. She found herself very glad for the clothes her mother had sent, but was a little annoyed at herself at the same time for being so concerned that her appearance that evening should make up somewhat, for her state upon her arrival that morning. Despite telling herself that she did not care to impress anyone, she could not help but take special care with her hair, dress, and toilet, before going downstairs.

The small surge of triumph she felt upon discerning Darcy's interest as she entered the room, showed her clearly that there had been some dishonesty in denying that she was trying to impress, and she could not help but feel a little hypocritical in knowing that, on some level, she liked Darcy's attention - despite disliking the man himself.

To the civil enquiries which then poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill themselves, and then thought no more of the matter; and their indifference towards Jane, when not immediately before them, restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original dislike.

When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, so was not party to the conversation that immediately took place upon her leaving the room.

Miss Bingley wasted no time in beginning her abuse. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no stile, no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added,

``She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.''

``She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair so untidy, so blowsy!''

``Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office.''

``Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,'' said Bingley; ``but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well, when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.''

``You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,'' said Miss Bingley, ``and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.''

``Certainly not.''

``To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.''

``It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,'' said Bingley.

``I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,'' observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, ``that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.''

``Not at all,'' he replied; ``they were brightened by the exercise."

Chapter 4

Posted on Wednesday, 27 March 2002

Jane was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and when it appeared to her rather right than pleasant that she should go down stairs herself. She still felt a little awkward, after catching herself caring as to Mr. Darcy's opinion of her, and she now wanted to spend as little time in his company as possible. She was more than determined to continue her dislike of the man.

On entering the drawing room she found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but wishing to maintain some distance, she declined it, and making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

``Do you prefer reading to cards?'' said he; ``that is rather singular.''

``Miss Eliza Bennet,'' said Miss Bingley, ``despises cards. She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else.''

``I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,'' cried Elizabeth; ``I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.''

``In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,'' said Bingley; ``and I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well.''

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards a table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others; all that his library afforded.

``And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever look into.''

Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those in the room.

``I am astonished,'' said Miss Bingley, ``that my father should have left so small a collection of books. -- What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!''

Elizabeth chided herself as she found her interest caught by this reference to Mr. Darcy's home, and his feeling for books.

``It ought to be good,'' he replied, ``it has been the work of many generations.''

``And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books.''

``I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these.''

``Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley.''

``I wish it may.''

``But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire.''

``With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it.''

``I am talking of possibilities, Charles.''

``Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than by imitation.''

Elizabeth was so much caught by what passed, that despite her resolution to remain somewhat aloof, she could summon very little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister to observe the game.

``Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?'' said Miss Bingley; ``will she be as tall as I am?''

``I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller.''

Elizabeth was struck by this comparison to her person, and so apparently was Miss Bingley, who quickly moved to redirect the subject.

``How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners, and so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the piano-forte is exquisite.''

``It is amazing to me,'' said Bingley, ``how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.''

``All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?''

``Yes all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know any one who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.''

``Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,'' said Darcy, ``has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse, or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.''

``Nor I, I am sure,'' said Miss Bingley.

``Then,'' observed Elizabeth, pleased to find more evidence of his disdain for people generally, ``you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished women.''

``Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it.''

``Oh! certainly,'' cried his faithful assistant, ``no one can be really esteemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved.''

Elizabeth could not suppress a slight smile at such a demanding list of essentials, and wondered if even the great Mr. Darcy could expect such accomplishment in the one woman. She found it even more difficult to contain her smile as he went so far as to add to it.

``All this she must possess,'' added Darcy, ``and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.''

``I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.''

``Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?''

``I never saw such a woman, I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united.''

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who answered this description, completely oblivious to the inconsistency of such a position, after their claims of only a few moments ago.

A look at Mr. Darcy showed however, that the irony of sudden change of opinion had not been lost on him, and before Mr. Hurst was able to call everyone's attention back to the game, she had time to reflect that though he was, without a doubt, demanding and critical, he was by no means stupid.

As all conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the room, glad to have her initial opinion of Mr. Darcy's arrogance and vanity again confirmed, as she again reiterated to herself would not like the man!

Chapter 5

Posted on Wednesday, 3 April 2002, at 6:21 a.m.

The afternoon of the day that followed, found Lizzy 'hiding' in Jane's room, watching over her sleeping sister, and trying to force aside the sense of embarrassment she felt over the visit of her mother and two youngest sisters that morning. It had been on her own suggestion that her mother had come to appraise the situation in regard to Jane's illness. Elizabeth's love and concern for Jane had given some doubt in regard her personal, and cautiously positive, assessment of Jane's health, and she had dearly desired a second opinion to confirm her own.

Though she had found comfort in her mother's view that Jane's illness was not alarming, she now wondered whether the solace she'd received was worth the shame she had suffered each time her mother had opened her mouth during the course of her visit.

Her mother's boasting of Jane's beauty, her meanness about Charlotte's plain countenance and domestic duties, and even her public censure of Elizabeth for 'running on in a wild manner', paled to insignificance in comparison with her misguided and ill-informed outburst to Mr Darcy. He must have wondered how such an innocuous comment on the number of subjects for the study of character, could receive such an aggressive response.

She blushed again as he thought of her mother's ill considered and inane tirade against 'that man', while she stood by wishing that the floor could open up and swallow her.

She was grateful though, that Mr Darcy had been gentlemanly enough not to retaliate, and that Mr Bingley had performed the work of a consummate diplomat in soothing Mrs Bennet on the occasion. She had noticed too, that Mr Darcy had not carried any resentment he might justly feel for her mother, over to herself, and she felt a little relief as she recalled his later comment on poetry being the food of love, and his smile at her, admittedly flippant and impatient, reply. It was nice to know that he did have a sense of humour somewhere beneath his forbidding facade... and it was rather nice to see him smile...

That night, even more than the last, Elizabeth simply wished she could stay in the privacy of her own or Jane's room, but she knew she could not avoid the others in the house forever. After again taking care with her dress and presentation, she ventured down stairs, and joined the party in the drawing room.

The loo table, did not appear this evening. Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was exactly in unison with her opinion of each.

``How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!''

He made no answer.

``You write uncommonly fast.''

``You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.''

``How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of the year! Letters of business too! How odious I should think them!''

``It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours.''

``Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.''

``I have already told her so once, by your desire.''

``I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well.''

``Thank you -- but I always mend my own.''

``How can you contrive to write so even?''

He was silent.

By this time Elizabeth was fighting to contain a smirk. For a woman of some understanding, Miss Bingley was certainly deficient on knowing when to take a hint.

``Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp, and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grantley's.''

``Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? -- At present I have not room to do them justice.''

As often was the case, Mr Darcy skated very close to the edge of rudeness in his reply, the dryness in his tone making his exasperation more than obvious. Elizabeth was therefore amazed at Miss Bingley's perseverance, as she again interrupted his writing.

``Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?''

``They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for me to determine.''

``It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with ease, cannot write ill.''

``That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline,'' cried her brother -- ``because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. -- Do not you, Darcy?''

Elizabeth could not help but grin at Bingley's sally at Darcy.

``My style of writing is very different from yours,'' Darcy replied with a slight smile to his friend.

``Oh!'' cried Miss Bingley, ``Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest.''

``My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them -- by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents.''

``Your humility, Mr. Bingley,'' said Elizabeth, ``must disarm reproof.''

``Nothing is more deceitful,'' said Darcy, finding himself more willing to talk now that Elizabeth looked likely to join the conversation, ``than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast.''

``And which of the two do you call my little recent piece of modesty?''

``The indirect boast; -- for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of doing any thing with quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself -- and yet what is there so very laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or any one else?''

``Nay,'' cried Bingley, ``this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless precipitance merely to show off before the ladies.''

``I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as dependant on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, "Bingley, you had better stay till next week," you would probably do it, you would probably not go -- and, at another word, might stay a month.''

``You have only proved by this,'' Elizabeth interjected, perceiving that her host might find himself slightly outweighed in this battle of wits, ``that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself.''

``I am exceedingly gratified,'' said Bingley, ``by your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could.''

``Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?''

``Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must speak for himself.''

``You expect me to account for opinions which you chose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged," Darcy objected. "Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favour of its propriety.''

``To yield readily -- easily -- to the persuasion of a friend is no merit with you," Elizabeth returned calmly, not put off by the force of his argument.

``To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either,"

``You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make one readily yield to a request without waiting for arguments to reason one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?''

``Will it not be advisable," Darcy replied, both taken aback, and amused, by her tenacity, "before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties?''

``By all means,'' cried Bingley; ``Let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more aweful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do.''

Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was rather offended; and therefore checked her laugh. She also took note that Bingley could look after himself, even when the superior Mr Darcy was involved.

``I see your design, Bingley,'' said his friend. -- ``You dislike an argument, and want to silence this.''

``Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me.''

``What you ask,'' said Elizabeth, ``is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr. Darcy had much better finish his letter.''

Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter, despite finding it more difficult to concentrate than before, even though Miss Bingley had finally ceased her interjections. Thoughts of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's challenging eyes and quickness of opinion were too much in the forefront of his mind.

The end of his letter may not have been quite as communicative as he might have wished, but as he realised he would not do better, he sealed it and applied instead to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth for the indulgence of some music.

Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to the piano-forte, and after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead the way, which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she seated herself.

Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed, Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed on her.

Had she not known of his admiration, such an examination might have confused her. As it was, she still found it a little difficult to believe that she'd caught the eye of such a great, and generally aloof, man. His gaze however, did have the power to discomfort her, as it carried with it something like an air of disapproval, not of herself exactly, but possibly of the fact that he was drawn to someone so decidedly beneath himself. This supposition did not pain her and she told herself, yet again, that she did not care for his approbation.

After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth, said to her --

``Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?''

She smiled, but made no answer. The truth was that his application had surprised her so completely that she knew not how to reply. The quickness of mind which had been very much with her as she'd defended Bingley only a short time before, had wholly deserted her. Now she struggled between a puzzlement, given her knowledge of his customary dislike of dance, and a treacherous feeling of pleasure at his invitation. These feelings were overlaid too, by a scepticism born of her early notice of his general disdain, and a certitude that she should discourage any particular attention toward herself.

He repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.

``Oh!'' said she, ``I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say "Yes," that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell you that I do not want to dance a reel at all -- and now despise me if you dare.''

``Indeed I do not dare.''

Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger.


Chapter 6

Posted on Wednesday, 10 April 2002, at 2:00 a.m.

The truth was that Elizabeth was more struck by Darcy's gallantry than she wished to be, and in her perversity found herself actually wishing that he'd been offended, or at least that little bit cutting, in return for her impertinent reply to his invitation to dance.

Over the last few days, certain aspects of Darcy's behaviour had confused the rather set opinion she'd formed of him earlier in their acquaintance, and she was finding it just that little bit harder to maintain an enjoyment in her professed dislike of the man. Though she continued to recognise in his manner, an arrogance and unforgiving cynicism, it was hard not to be equally struck by his intelligence, and by his gentlemanly decorum even in the face of an overt challenge.

Elizabeth found however, that her better understanding of his essentials, despite making her more sensible to the compliment of his admiration, did not make her wish to encourage his attentions any further, as the disdain with which he viewed so much of the world was, to put it simply, too much to overlook.

She was glad to put her musings on the man aside the next morning, in order to take a stroll around the gardens at the request of Mrs Hurst. Some of the pleasure of the walk was lost though, as her companion made known her annoyance at Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy for having walked out earlier without advising her of their intention. On the most part Elizabeth simply listened to Mrs Hurst's lament, but upon her sitting down for a moment to remove an irritation from her shoe, Lizzy walked a little ahead on her own... but she began to turn back as she discerned the voices from another walk.

"...And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, which your lady possesses,'' came Miss Bingley's voice, a little distant, but still quite audible.

``Have you any thing else to propose for my domestic felicity?'' Darcy replied coolly.

``Oh! yes. -- Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Philips be placed in the gallery at Pemberley."

It was only at this point that Elizabeth began to comprehend that she was the subject of this little derision, and she stopped dead in her tracks as she felt feel the indignation begin to rise within her.

"Put them next to your great uncle, the judge. They are in the same profession, you know; only in different lines," Caroline continued, obviously well amused by her own wit. "As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not attempt to have it taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?''

``It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression," Darcy answered, quite effectively silencing Miss Bingley's laugh, " but their colour and shape, and the eye-lashes, so remarkably fine, might be copied.''

At that moment, Elizabeth was caught up with by Mrs. Hurst and she had no real time to recover before, from around the corner, they found themselves face to face with the couple to whom she had just been listening.

``I did not know that you intended to walk,'' said Miss Bingley, in some confusion, lest they had been overheard.

``You used us abominably ill,'' answered Mrs. Hurst, ``in running away without telling us that you were coming out.'' Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk by herself. The path just admitted three.

Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness and immediately said, --

``This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the avenue.''

But Elizabeth, who, unsurprisingly, had not the least inclination to remain with them, pertly answered,

``No, no; stay where you are. -- You are charmingly group'd, and appear to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a fourth. Good bye.''

She then ran off, rejoicing in her freedom from their company as she rambled about, trying to arrange her thoughts into some kind of recognisable order.

Although she was already aware of Miss Bingley's duplicity in behaviour, and had more than once suspected her of talking behind the backs of herself and Jane, actually hearing it oneself still had the power to shock. At first Elizabeth found herself rather more angry than she would have expected. The easy and supercilious derision of her uncle's occupation effected her even more than the comments on herself. What right did that woman have to judge people she'd not even met, based solely on their occupation. Oh! the insufferable arrogance!

She would have been very happy to lay the same charges at the feet of Mr Darcy, but even she had to admit that at that point, the case against him was rather lacking in evidence. His tone had been just as it was the previous evening when he had been trying to cut off Miss Bingley's commentary on his letter, he did not appear to have shared any of her amusement, and certainly had not joined in her mockery. On top of which she could hardly be insensitive to his compliment - her cheeks warmed simply on recalling it.

Still, in Elizabeth's mind there was something in Mr Darcy's behaviour that continued to not sit easily with her. Exasperated, she determined not to return indoors until she could come closer to the root of her discomfort, and more than an hour later, when she felt she may have answered her dilemma, she was unsure of who she was most cross with, Mr Darcy or herself!

Despite her initial impression upon first overhearing his censure on "an assembly such as this", Elizabeth had no real complaint against his manners toward her, other than his general his general aloofness, that was. In truth, she found it hard to recall an occasion where he'd been overtly rude, unsociable - yes, but rude - no. Quite conversely, she could actually recall occasions, one only last evening, where his decorum went further than the simple demands of etiquette.

In this was Elizabeth's difficulty, as she had to admit to herself that it was not really his manners which she found upsetting, but possibly his lack of particular attention to herself. True, she had often caught him looking at her, but he had never really gone out of his way to speak with her, to court her company, or even seek her good opinion. Despite being obviously attracted to her, it was equally clear that he had determined not to act upon that attraction.

Elizabeth's beauty and her spirit of fun, had garnered her possibly more than her fair share of unwanted admirers over the years, and as had been the case with Mr Elton, she had needed to keep that one step ahead of them in order to discourage their attentions. Mr Darcy was another matter though. As she had no desire for his admiration, should she not now have been pleased with his restraint rather than frustrated by it?

Elizabeth could only conclude that it was the judgement implicit in his cool control, which annoyed her so much. His unwillingness to act strongly indicated, as she'd assumed last evening, that he felt either her worth, or her family connections, too far beneath him to allow himself any movement where she was concerned, despite his being drawn to her personally.

Elizabeth was pragmatic enough to appreciate the social and fiscal considerations which those of consequence consulted, almost invariably, when contemplating appropriate alliance, yet somehow Darcy's controlled adherence to the demands of civic protocol in this regard, had the capacity to truly irk her. In a way, she understood that she despised his pride... but it was only because her own pride was affronted, and she was honest enough to recognise the contradiction in such feelings. She also chided her own contrariness in desiring the attentions from him, which she would not have wanted to reciprocate.

Given the dilemma of her conflicted musings, she rambled about the gardens for a long time more, encouraged in the hope of being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.

Chapter 7

WHEN the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth ran up to her sister, and, seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the drawing-room; where she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit. Despite her negative feelings, particularly about one of these ladies, she was quite happy to be with them alone, rather than in the company of the men.

When the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object. Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned towards Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed himself directly to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and said he was ``very glad;'' but diffuseness and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and attention. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be farther from the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to any one else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, although still feeling quite conflicted regarding the presence of Mr Darcy, saw it all with great delight.

When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the card-table -- but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr. Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr. Hurst had therefore nothing to do but to stretch himself on one of the sophas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with Miss Bennet.

Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr. Darcy's progress through his book, as in reading her own; and she was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her question, and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said, ``How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! -- When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.''

No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest of some amusement; when, hearing her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and said,

``By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? -- I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure.''

``If you mean Darcy,'' cried her brother, ``he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins -- but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my cards.''

``I should like balls infinitely better,'' she replied, ``if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day.''

``Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball.''

Elizabeth almost laughed out loud at this dry reply, and shot a grin at Bingley.

Miss Bingley made no answer though; and soon afterwards got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; -- but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In the desperation of her feelings she resolved on one effort more; and turning to Elizabeth, said,

``Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. -- I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.''

Elizabeth was surprised, but owned she would like to walk. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would interfere. ``What could he mean? she was dying to know what could be his meaning'' -- and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand him?

``Not at all,'' was her answer; ``but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it.''

Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in any thing, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two motives.

``I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,'' said he, as soon as she allowed him to speak. ``You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; -- if the first, I should be completely in your way; -- and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.''

``Oh! shocking!'' cooed Miss Bingley, immensely pleased at her inclusion in the compliment. ``I never heard any thing so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?''

``Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination,'' said Elizabeth, willing Miss Bingley to be just that little less fawning where Darcy was concerned. ``We can all plague and punish one another. Teaze him -- laugh at him. -- Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.''

``But upon my honour I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Teaze calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, no -- I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself.''

``Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!'' cried Elizabeth. ``That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintance. I dearly love a laugh.''

``Miss Bingley,'' said he, ``has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.''

``Certainly,'' replied Elizabeth -- ``there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. -- But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.''

``Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.''

``Such as vanity and pride.'' She'd been unable to help herself. The challenge was out there now, whether she liked it or not.

``Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed, But pride..." replied Darcy, cooling holding her eye as he answered her charge, "...where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.''

Elizabeth gave him an arch look before turning away to hide a smile.

``Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,'' said Miss Bingley; -- ``and pray what is the result?''

``I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.''

``No'' -- said Darcy, unable to not be at least a little amused at Elizabeth's twisting of his words, ``I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. -- It is I believe too little yielding -- certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself," he went on rather candidly. "My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. -- My good opinion once lost is lost for ever.''

``That is a failing indeed!'' -- cried Elizabeth. ``Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. -- I really cannot laugh at it; you are safe from me.''

``There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.''

``And your defect is a propensity to hate every body.''

``And yours,'' he replied with a smile, ``is wilfully to misunderstand them.''

``Do let us have a little music,'' -- cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. -- ``Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst.''

Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the piano-forte was opened, and Darcy, after a few moments recollection, was not sorry for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.

Elizabeth, all too taken aback by his smile, was not sorry for it either. There was something altogether too unsettling about this man.

Chapter 8

IN consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to her mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive hem with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at least not to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was impatient to get home.

Mrs. Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added that, if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. -- Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively resolved -- nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long, she urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and at length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield that morning should be mentioned, and the request made.

The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day, to work on Jane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.

The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her -- that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right.

To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence -- Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked -- and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her, and more teazing than usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it.

Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday morning, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.

Truth be told though, he needn't have expended such an effort in this regard, because Elizabeth was equally determined to be withdrawn from him!. On two occasions she had waited for him to vacate a room before entering it, and she had been very tempted to leave the library upon being forced to share it after the appearance Mr Darcy, but had decided that such an action would be allowing him too much influence over her behaviour. Instead, she remained in her seat, determined to be unaffected, and tried to concentrate on finishing her book.

Finish it she did, but in her state of distraction it took her at least twice as long as she would have anticipated, even though the novel was really a compelling tale. With the satisfaction of having completed the story, Elizabeth stood to return the book to its place. Her annoyance at Mr Darcy's presence was therefore multiplied as she recalled that the book belonged to a shelf just outside her comfortable reach, and that it would no doubt demonstrate a lack of decorum if she were to pull up a foot stool to stand on, in the same way she had procured the book in the first place.

As she stood on her toes and stretched up to try to return the volume, she became aware of someone's eyes upon her, and turned to find herself being regarded with a look which held both appreciation, and amusement. Determined not to show herself self-conscious in his presence, she returned his gaze and added a challenge.

"Mr Darcy, you may enjoy sitting there simply as a spectator to my predicament, but a true gentlemen might offer some assistance."

"At your service Miss Bennet," Darcy replied in an insouciant manner which belied his actual feelings. Miss Bennet was altogether too distracting.

'Distracted' though would be a vast understatement for what Elizabeth was about to feel upon the approach of Mr Darcy. He took the book from her hand, and without waiting for Elizabeth to move reached above her, effectively trapping her in her place, not simply to reposition the book in its place, but also to take the time to straighten the surrounding books she had managed to disturb in her vain attempt to restore the book herself.

Elizabeth was, all of a sudden, acutely aware of Darcy's physical stature, and was rather displeased with herself when she realised she was holding her breath. Desperately fighting against the appearance of discomposure at his proximity, she eyed him archly upon his stepping back.

"Is it orderly enough for your taste now?" she queried, a mild tone of remonstrance in her voice.

" There's no excuse for disarray, particularly when it is just the work of a moment to set it right," Darcy replied evenly. Elizabeth was not to know he was fighting a 'disarray' in his own rather unsettled emotions - the sensations he had experienced at her closeness having yet not fully dissipated.

Elizabeth watched him as he returned to his seat. Before taking a new novel and returning to her own, Elizabeth - determined not to feel intimidated - couldn't help but reach out and perversely, and very deliberately, push a couple of volumes out of alignment.

She looked up after having seated herself, to find Darcy regarding her with an amused challenge in his eyes, but whether or not he would have spoken will never be known, as Miss Bingley chose that moment to join them in the library, unaware that never had these two persons been so happy to have her company.

On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former.

Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest spirits, and Darcy's relief was every bit equal to that of Elizabeth's, both fully convinced they'd spent more than enough time in the other's company.

Chapter 9

Posted on Saturday, 13 April 2002, at 4:41 p.m.

If Elizabeth had thought that life would be simple upon returning home, she found herself vastly mistaken, as the following day an addition was made to the Bennet family party. A cousin, Mr Collins, to whom the Longbourn estate was entailed, in seeking to repair a familial breach had arrived in Hertfordshire, and was making his presence very much felt. In fact, his presence had been felt even prior to his arrival, as it had sent Mrs Bennet into one of her states of nervous irritation, as she fumed against the man who was heir to her home.

If her mother's antics weren't enough in themselves to exasperate Elizabeth, Mr Collins' nature certainly was. The young clergyman was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him originally great humility of manner, but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity.

A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his rights as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

Having now a good house and very sufficient income, he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends -- of atonement -- for inheriting their father's estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.

His plan did not vary on seeing them. -- Miss Bennet's lovely face confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what was due to seniority; and for the first evening she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour's tęte-ą-tęte with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes that a mistress for it might be found at Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. -- ``As to her younger daughters she could not take upon her to say -- she could not positively answer -- but she did not know of any prepossession; -- her eldest daughter, she must just mention -- she felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged.''

Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth -- and it was soon done -- done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course.

Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.

The irritation of his company would have been felt much less by Elizabeth had his particular interest in herself had not become quickly evident, and she was thankful when his sense of propriety sent him to annoy her father in his library, rather than herself. Her gratitude was short lived though, as Mr Bennet, being most anxious to be rid of his intrusive guest, suggested Mr Collins join with his daughters, as Lydia had suggested a walk to the town.

Mr Collins therefore set off with his cousins, and in pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them.

But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be, and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot.

Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say, had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty -- a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation -- a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street.

On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat -- a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? -- It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.

In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.

Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they would come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips' throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the invitation. Lydia's disappointment however, was short lived as she learned some of the officers were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards.

As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister.

As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in the house.

Until the arrival of the officers, Elizabeth sensibly tried to avoid her cousin, and her mind turned again to what she had observed in the street on the preceding day. Mr Wickham certainly did appear to be a remarkably handsome and gentlemanlike man, and she wondered again at what association he'd had with Mr Darcy which could make them both react in such a way. When he walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the ----shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.

Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the probability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker. Elizabeth found it hard not to be drawn to him.

With such rivals for the notice of the fair, as Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed likely to sink into insignificance; to the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin.
When the card tables were placed, he had an opportunity of obliging her in return, by sitting down to whist.

``I know little of the game, at present,'' said he, ``but I shall be glad to improve myself, for in my situation of life --'' Mrs. Philips was very thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.

Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely for she was a most determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes, to have attention for any one in particular. Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in an hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.

``About a month,'' said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, ``He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand.''

``Yes,'' replied Wickham; -- ``his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself -- for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy.''

Elizabeth could not but look surprised.

``You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. -- Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?''

``As much as she'd ever wish to be,'' cried Lydia from across the table, picking up on the end of their exchange. "She detests the man."

Elizabeth blushed a little at Lydia's assertion, and knowing that since her stay at Netherfield this was not strictly true, she wished her former opinions had been more reasonable and her expressions on him had been more moderate.

``I have no right to give my opinion,'' said Wickham, ``as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and to well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish -- and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. -- Here you are in your own family.''

``Upon my word she would say no more here than she might say in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield," chipped in Lydia again. "He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Every body is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by any one.''

Elizabeth blushed again, but as she perceived that Wickham now seemed on the point of some revelation, she held her tongue.

``I cannot pretend to be sorry,'' said Wickham, after a short interruption, ``that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.''

``I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man,'' Elizabeth tried, in an attempt to draw Wickham out, suppressing a smile at her remembrance of their spirited exchange not long ago at Netherfield.

Wickham only shook his head.

``I wonder,'' said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, ``whether he is likely to be in this country much longer.''

``I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood.''

``Oh! no -- it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim to all the world; a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him any thing and every thing, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father.''

Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented farther inquiry.

Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter especially, with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.

``It was the prospect of constant society, and good society,'' he added, ``which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me farther by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them. Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession -- I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now.''

``Indeed!'' cried Elizabeth, hoping this might encourage him to keep talking.

``Yes -- the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere.''

``Good heavens!'' cried Elizabeth; momentarily disconcerted, ``but how could that be? -- How could his will be disregarded? -- Why did not you seek legal redress?''

``There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it -- or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short any thing or nothing. Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done any thing to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me.''

``This is quite shocking! -- if true he deserves to be publicly disgraced.''

``Some time or other he will be -- but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him.''

Then why are quite openly telling me this on our first acquaintance? Lizzy was dying to ask, stuck by the contradiction between his words and his actions, but she was too curious as to what else he might have to say to stay silent on the subject.

``But what,'' she ventured after a pause, ``can have been his motive? -- what can have induced him to behave so cruelly?''

``A thorough, determined dislike of me -- a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me, irritated him I believe very early in life. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood -- the sort of preference which was often given me.''

``I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this -- though his pride is more than obvious, I had not thought so very ill of him," Elizabeth could not help but say. " I had supposed him to be capable of looking down upon his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this!''

Elizabeth had cause to regret this slight expression of doubt, as Wickham now seemed to have dried up on the subject. After a few minutes reflection, however, she attempted to again draw him out with the words,

``I do remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful.''

``I will not trust myself on the subject,'' replied Wickham, ``I can hardly be just to him.''

Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time ventured, ``It seems almost unbelievable to treat in such a manner, the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father! And one, too, who had probably been his own companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!''

``We were born in the same parish, within the same park, the greatest part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit to -- but he gave up every thing to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged. himself to be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendance, and when immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him, as of affection to myself.''

``How strange!'' said Elizabeth, broaching what she saw as the heart of the problem with Wickham's assertions. "I wonder that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! -- If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest, -- for dishonesty I must call it.''

``It is a wonder,'' -- replied Wickham, -- ``for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; -- and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me, there were stronger impulses even than pride.''

``Can such abominable pride as his, have ever done him good?'' Elizabeth queried, her scepticism in Wickham's story rising ever. She knew Darcy to be proud, but she had also seen enough of him to be convinced of underlying good principles.

``Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, -- to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride, for he is very proud of what his father was, have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers.''

With the subtlety of these words Wickham might almost have convinced Elizabeth to give more credit to his claims, but in his implication that Darcy felt little real affection for his sister, he made his fatal error. The tender manner in which Darcy had, unsolicited, spoken of his younger sister on more than one occasion whilst Elizabeth was at Netherfield, had convinced her of a closeness and devotion which she could not doubt, and she suddenly knew that she trusted to the certainty of Mr Darcy's underlying goodness. In fact, Wickham's mention of Darcy as a liberal landlord and generous man, had actually made her aware of qualities to which she had been previously ignorant.

Wickham though, thought too well of his own abilities to question whether Elizabeth had believed his story or not, and remained assured that his simple blackening of motive had given such a twist on reality as to completely turn her against his old adversary.

``What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy?'' Elizabeth continued to push the conversation.

He shook his head. -- ``I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother, -- very, very proud. -- As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education.''

This seemed to Elizabeth, like a rather cutting assessment the daughter of his 'beloved' godfather, particularly of a girl who was only fifteen or sixteen, so she let the topic fall. After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying with a cynicism that Wickham, in his smug confidence, failed to notice,

``I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? -- Do you know Mr. Bingley?''

``Not at all.''

``He is a sweet tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what, you claim, Mr. Darcy is.''

Elizabeth marvelled at the smoothness of the man beside her, as he answered without almost a moment's hesitation.

``Probably not; -- but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich, he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable, -- allowing something for fortune and figure.''

As the whist party soon afterwards broke up, the players gathered round the other table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips.

-- The usual inquiries as to his success were made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged she would not make herself uneasy.

``I know very well, madam,'' said he, ``that when persons sit down to a card table, they must take their chance of these things, -- and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters.''

Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation were very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh.

``Lady Catherine de Bourgh,'' she replied, ``has very lately given him a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long.''

``You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy.''

``No, indeed, I did not. -- I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday.''

``Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates.''

This information made Elizabeth start. The idea that Mr Darcy might be engaged had never occurred to her, and she was annoyed to find herself, all of a sudden, quite discomforted at the thought. Her doubt at Mr Wickham's reliability returned though, on recalling all of Miss Bingley's efforts toward Mr Darcy. She could not imagine this lady's attentions would be so lavished, if all her hope was vain. Her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, would have all been wasted indeed, if he were already self-destined to another, and Elizabeth could not see Miss Bingley as being that foolish.

``Mr. Collins,'' said she, on recovering herself, ``speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his patroness, she is a conceited woman.''

``I believe her to be in a great degree,'' replied Wickham; ``I have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who chooses that every one connected with him should have an understanding of the first class.''

Elizabeth allowed, after the things she understood from Mr Collins, that he had probably given a very rational account of this, but not much more was said as supper put an end to cards; and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions.

There could be no conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips's supper party, but Elizabeth watched as Wickham's manners recommended him to every body. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully.

Elizabeth went away with her head full of his easy style and his - she was now convinced false - charges against Mr Darcy. She could think of nothing but of and of what he had told her, all the way home, and she chided herself that the claim her mind returned to most, was his assertion that Darcy was destined to marry his cousin. Fortunately she did not have to speak as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won, and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House.

Continued in the next section

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.
Overhearings More to the Purpose

Sharni

Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter 10

Posted on Friday, 19 April 2002, at 12:44 p.m.

Elizabeth related to Jane the next day, what had passed between Mr. Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern; it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham-- but neither could she believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr. Bingley's regard. -- Yet the slightest possibility of Wickham having really endured such unkindness, was enough to interest all her tender feelings; and nothing therefore remained to be done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, and throw into the account of accident or mistake, whatever could not be otherwise explained.

``They have both,'' said she, ``been deceived, I dare say, in some way or other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them, without actual blame on either side.''

``Very true, indeed; -- and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say in behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the business? -- Do clear them too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of somebody.''

``Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light it places Mr Wickham to be maligning his Godfather's son in such a way. His charges really are impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his character as Mr Darcy certainly has, could be capable of it. If this were the case his most intimate friends could not be so excessively deceived in him? oh! no.''

``I can't easily imagine Mr Bingley's being imposed on either, but why Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me last night; names, facts, every thing mentioned without ceremony, I would truly like to know. -- If such a story gets abroad it may be difficult for Mr Darcy to contradict it. Mr Wickham has such an appearence of truth in his looks.''

``It is difficult indeed -- it is distressing. -- One does not know what to think,'' Jane answered, still unwilling to pass any judgement, but Elizabeth felt certain that she knew what to think!

The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery where this conversation passed, by the arrival of some of the very persons of whom they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their personal invitation for the long expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see their dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. To the rest of the family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to the others. They were soon gone again, rising from their seats with an activity which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities.

The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every female of the family. To the younger two it was simply an opportunity to dance, Mary foresaw that she might have the chance to perform, but Mrs Bennet chose to consider it as given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the society of her two friends, and the attention of their brother. Elizabeth also looked forward to the social aspects of the evening but hoped too, that she might perhaps have her curiosity regarding Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy further sated. She didn't really question why matters pertaining to Mr Darcy were of such fascination to herself.

Elizabeth's spirits were high with the prospect of the ball, and though she did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and, if he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance.

``I am by no means of opinion, I assure you,'' said he, ``that a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character to respectable people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening, and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially, -- a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her.''

Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in, and though she had no pleasure at the prospect, Mr Collins's proposal was accepted with as good a grace as she could find.

She was not the better pleased with his gallantry from the idea it seemed to confirm her suspicion that she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors. The idea soon reached full conviction, as she observed his increasing civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than gratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long before her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage was exceedingly agreeable to her.

Elizabeth, however, did not choose to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.

If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a pitiable state at this time, for from the day of the invitation to the day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after; -- the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy - and nothing less than a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia.

The evening of the ball did eventually arrive, and Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield and scanned the guests to see if she could discern Mr Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled. She was not surprised when the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied. He told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile,

``I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here.''

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by Elizabeth, and it assured her that she was right to be suspicious of Mr Wickham, particularly as she remembered his boast of having no fear of seeing Mr Darcy -- that Mr Darcy might leave the country, but that he should stand his ground. A little smile came to her face as she again discerned the inconsistency between his actions and his professions.

She found Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week, she was able to transfer her thoughts to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular notice. The two first dances, however, brought distress; they were dances of mortification. Mr Collins, awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy.

Elizabeth had been too much distracted by her situation to notice that once again a pair of dark eyes had been following her almost from the moment she had entered the room. Darcy, who had spent much of the last week convincing himself that he should not be enamoured of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, found all his hard work undone within minutes of her arrival. He had watched her first two dances with a sense of contempt for Mr Collins, mingled with an astonishment that he would be presumptuous enough to believe he was equal to stand up beside Elizabeth.

She enjoyed the next set of dances with an officer, unaware that with each smile given, Darcy's feelings were bending toward jealousy. When those dances were over she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took her very much by surprise in his application for her hand. Elizabeth found herself accepting his invitation with a - somewhat nervous - pleasure.

``I dare say you will find him very agreeable," Charlotte whispered to her as he walked away, misreading Elizabeth's nervousness as she not yet aware of her changed opinion of Darcy.

Elizabeth simply smiled at her friend as she recalled her earlier determination to hate the man.

"You needn't worry for me Charlotte. I've found Mr Darcy does improve on acquaintance. I'm sure I will find him agreeable, but I do not wish to find him too agreeable, because there has been enough in his manner to make his awareness of the disparity of our positions, very clear indeed.

When the dancing recommenced, and Darcy approached to claim her hand.

Elizabeth took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time though, without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, so she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, in which she began to observe that he might be as nervous as she, Elizabeth addressed him a second time with:

``It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. -- I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.''

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

``Very well. -- That reply will do for the present. -- Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. -- But now we may be silent.''

``Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?''

``Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible.''

``Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?''

``Both,'' replied Elizabeth archly; ``for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. -- We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.''

``This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,'' said he, allowing himself a little smile. ``How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. -- You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.''

``I must not decide on my own performance," she cheekily replied.

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added,

``When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.''

The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said,

``Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends -- whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain.''

``I wondered if that might be the case," Elizabeth confided. "He would have me believe he has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship, and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.''

Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.

``I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley), shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: -- but let me not interrupt you, Sir. -- You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me.''

The latter part of this address was scarcely, heard by Darcy; but Sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together.

He was brought back to earth though, by an exasperated comment from Elizabeth.

"I wish people could be content to hold their conjectures to themselves. I can see Jane retreat further into her reserve with every misapplied interference!"

She suddenly blushed on realising to whom she had addressed such a personal comment.

Darcy's surprise at Sir William's supposition was quickly supplanted by a comprehension of Elizabeth's words and an accompanying feeling of blindness in having not discerned Jane's shyness himself. He felt a little ashamed at this realisation, thinking that if anyone might understand reserve, it should be him.

Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said,

``Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of.''

``I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. -- We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine.''

``What think you of books?'' said he, smiling.

``Books -- I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.''

``I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. -- We may compare our different opinions. What was the novel you read whilst you were nursing Miss Bennet?''

Lizzy blushed again, this time in remembrance of what had passed between the two of them in the library, and she quickly answered his question in order to divert attention from her discomposure. She was surprised to learn that Darcy had actually read the novel himself, and they were able to have quite a lively and interesting exchange regarding the plot twists and character developments. What Darcy neglected to tell Elizabeth was that he'd only read the book during the past week, and he'd taken it from the shelf simply to satisfy a curiosity as to what had interested the fair Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

They moved down the dance in silence once more and Darcy, having enjoyed the last few minutes of conversation very much indeed, was completely taken aback by the totally unrelated question with which Elizabeth now addressed him. Still, he was not unwilling to answer.

``I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created.''

``I am,'' said he, with a firm voice.

``And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?''

``I hope not.''

``It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first.''

``May I ask to what these questions tend?''

``They tend to the illustration of your character,'' said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. ``I am trying to make it out.''

``And what is your success?''

She shook her head. ``I believe I begin to comprehend the essence of your nature Mr Darcy, but I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.''

``I can readily believe,'' answered he gravely, ``that report may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.''

" Oh... do not think that your character is in danger from me Mr Darcy, but I feel it might be right to warn you there is another who is laying charges against it."

"What has Mr Wickham had to say of me Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked with a sigh.

"That you have dishonoured the intentions of your father's will in denying him a living which was intended for him," she said simply.

"He did not also happen to mention that he firmly resolved against taking orders, and received three thousand pounds in lieu of his claim to further assistance in the church?"

"No," Elizabeth answered with small smile. "That aspect of his story seemed to have quite slipped his mind. He's a rather smooth character this Mr Wickham of yours."

Elizabeth laughed aloud at the expression on Mr Darcy's face upon her calling him his Mr Wickham, but went on seriously enough.

"Thank you for telling me of this Mr Darcy. Next time he tries to importune me with such tales I shall let him understand that I know what he is about."

Elizabeth found herself much lightened upon hearing Mr Darcy's very adequate explanation, though she continued to wonder at the depth of enmity there seemed to be between these two men, which seemed somehow out of proportion to the circumstances. Still, she asked no further questions in that regard, and they moved down the other dance in discussion of other more trivial and light-hearted matters.

They separated at the end of the set, on each side satisfied, but not to an equal degree. The pleasure Darcy felt over his time with her was diluted by the continued awareness that it would be inappropriate to try to further this relationship with someone as socially inferior as Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He now had more reason to rue his weakness in asking her to dance, because rather than sating his desires, it had simply caused an increase in the power of his feeling toward her, and that would not do!

Chapter 11

Posted on Friday, 26 April 2002, at 9:06 a.m.

Elizabeth was pleased to find Jane by herself for a moment after the dance, and was able to pass on what she had learned of Mr Darcy's innocence.

"Yes, I broached the matter with Mr Bingley too," Jane replied, "and though he did not know the whole of his history, and was quite ignorant of the circumstances which principally offended Mr. Darcy; he vouches for the good conduct, the probity and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received."

Elizabeth could not help but smile at how easily the uninformed assurance of Mr Bingley had carried so much weight with her sister, and she then changed the discourse to that of Mr Bingley himself, a subject even more gratifying.

Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it. Whist listening to her sister's longings though, she was vaguely becoming aware of her own. The more time she spent with Mr Darcy, the more alert she became to his superior qualities, and the more her awareness of his pride receded in significance.

On their being joined by Mr. Bingley however, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.

``I have found out,'' said he, ``by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of this house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with -- perhaps -- a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly! -- I am most thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.''

``You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?'' asked Elizabeth, horrified by the idea of her cousin imposing on him in such an inappropriate manner.

``Indeed I am. I shall intreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. It will be in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight.''

Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme; assuring him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side, and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. -- Mr. Collins listened to her with the determined air of following his own inclination and when she ceased speaking, replied thus,

``My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world of your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your understanding, but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy; for give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom -- provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself.''

There seemed nothing else Elizabeth could do to forestall such an ill-conceived venture, and with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception of his advances she watched with discomfiture and unease. His astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow, and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words ``apology,'' ``Hunsford,'' and ``Lady Catherine de Bourgh.'' -- It vexed her to see Darcy exposed to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way.

Mr. Collins then returned to Elizabeth. Why he could not go elsewhere she did not know.

``I have no reason, I assure you,'' Mr Collins launched in without thought, ``to be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.''

Her embarrassment in being associated with her cousin was acute, and in her humiliation she felt unable to face Mr Darcy any more that evening.

As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley, and the train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her, in idea, settled in that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters.

Her mother's thoughts she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, openly, and of nothing else but of her expectation that Jane would be soon married to Mr. Bingley. -- It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such occasions it is the etiquette, but no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to find comfort in staying at home at any period of her life. She concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.

In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her mother only scolded her for being nonsensical.

``What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear.''

``For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. -- What advantage can it be to you to offend Mr. Darcy? -- You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing.''

Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone.

Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was fixed by her.

This at least moved Elizabeth to speak to him, in the vain hope of at least distracting him from her mother's humiliating and precipitous bragging, and when he looked at her she was surprised that among other anticipated emotions, she could also read compassion for her predicament in his eyes.

"Mr Darcy," she ventured, " Would it be too much of an imposition to ask if I might borrow the novel which you recommended to me during our dance?"

" Not at all Miss Bennet," Darcy answered, and in noting a touch of mortification in her face, his concern for Elizabeth momentarily overwhelmed his indignation at the behaviour of the mother, so moving him to suggest they excuse themselves from the table for a moment in order to locate the volume.

Elizabeth accepted his invitation with relief, and made her apologies to her mother and Lady Lucas as she stood to remove herself from her unenviable position.

There was so much of interest and activity in the room that most guests paid little attention to the exit of these two, Miss Bingley though, watched them leave the room together in alarm, particularly as she was unable to immediately extricate herself from the conversation she was having with her neighbour.

Darcy noted Elizabeth's sigh on escaping the room and wondered anew at how this daughter could have such a mother. He almost took her hand in his as an expression of comfort, but remembered himself in time, and turned his thoughts to the promised novel.

"Ah... Miss Elizabeth..." he began, suddenly disconcerted as he realised that being his personal copy, the book was not in the library but in his own room. A fleeting idea that it mightn't hurt to ask her to walk up with him, was rejected as not only highly improper, but also absurd. Still... a recollection of Bingley's comment when the ball was first considered, made him muse that such a proposition was most certainly not what Bingley had in mind when saying Darcy could go to bed during the ball if he chose. He repressed a smile at this inappropriate wandering of his mind, and brought his thoughts back to the task at hand before continuing. "It was thoughtless of me to pull you away from company, as I realise I'll have to leave you alone whilst I retrieve the novel from beside my bed."

"Oh, please don't apologise for pulling me away from the crowd," she nodded toward the room they'd just exited. " A moment or two of solitude is exactly what I'm yearning."

Darcy registered a slight disappointment that she seemed happier with the idea of some space, than with the prospect of time with him, and with a soft "I'll be but a moment", was gone.

Miss Bingley, having expeditiously cut off the conversation with her supper companion, looked from the door unseen, to note Mr Darcy almost to the top of the stairs, and Miss Bennet by herself at a window, simply looking out. Feeling a great sense of relief in the assurance that their simultaneous departure from the room was purely co-incidental, she returned to the party in a happier frame of mind, but still keenly watching for Darcy's return.

Darcy, true to his word was gone for only a few minutes, but on his return found the foyer empty. He was momentarily taken aback by Elizabeth's absence before discerning a far door left slightly ajar. His instinct that Elizabeth had slipped outside proved correct as he espied her not far off, looking up into the heavens. Rather than approach her immediately Darcy took the time to appreciate the image before him. Her skin looked almost incandescent in the soft light thrown by the half moon, and a light breeze played with the loose wisps which had managed to escape from her hair, and pressed the gown against her slender figure. The whole image fitted so well with expression of pure satisfaction in her eyes and the half smile on her parted lips, as she obviously delighted in the wonder of the night sky.

"Sometimes one can become almost too familiar with such beauty, and begin to take it for granted," he spoke quietly, but still caused her to jump at the unexpected sound of his the voice, "but then you take the time to look at it anew, and it again overwhelms."

"I know exactly what you mean Mr Darcy," she answered with a self conscious smile, as she felt he'd noted her start. "Upon looking out the window it caught me by surprise tonight, and just called me to come out for a clearer view."

"You should have told it no," Darcy smiled, "at least until you had a chance to put your coat on. The sky should know better than to entice young women out of doors on such a brisk November night. You'd better come inside now."

Elizabeth didn't argue as he took her arm and lead her to the door, and she appreciated the warmth which greeted her as she re-entered house. Before they could talk further though, a few more guest, no doubt seeking release from the confines of the supper room, began to move into the area, and with a short exchange of words with no great import, Darcy handed her the novel, and watched her leave to place it with her cloak, before he returned to the hubbub of the party. Miss Bingley did not miss his entry, and quickly moved to his side to claim him for what remained of the evening.

After her break and the pleasantness of her exchange with Mr Darcy, Elizabeth had begun to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquillity; for when she returned supper was over and singing was talked of. She had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance, -- but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations; and she watched her progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to favour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another. Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner affected. -- Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked at Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued however impenetrably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud,

``That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.''

Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and Elizabeth sorry for her, and sorry for her father's speech, was afraid her anxiety had done no good. -- Others of the party were now applied to.

``If I,'' said Mr. Collins, ``were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. -- I do not mean however to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The rector of a parish has much to do. -- In the first place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards every body, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards any body connected with the family.''

And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. -- Many stared. -- Many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.

To Elizabeth it appeared, that had her family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit, or finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must have witnessed.

That his two sisters however, should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations was bad enough, without the more personal shame she felt on Mr Darcy seeing such a display by her family. She could not determine whether the silent and steady gravity of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, upset her more.

The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teazed by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he could not prevail with her to dance with him again, put it out of her power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to her, and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.

Mr Collinses perseverance though, seemed enough to deter Mr. Darcy's farther notice; though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She also was beginning to feel an whisper of uneasiness, when upon looking across to Darcy, she as often found him looking at Jane as herself.

The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart; and by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriages a quarter of an hour after every body else was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing, threw a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests.

Darcy said nothing at all, but seemed immovably grave and distracted by whatever he was going over in his mind. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of ``Lord how tired I am!'' accompanied by a violent yawn.

When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and addressed herself particularly to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied; and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.

Chapter 12

Posted on Monday, 29 April 2002, at 9:22 a.m.

If Elizabeth had reason to feel uncomfortable at the Netherfield ball, the new day brought no relief. Mr Collins made his declaration in form, and Elizabeth was left to deal with all the unpleasantness of making her refusal of marriage understood, over the man's inclination to believe such a response impossible. As if this had not been enough to deal with alone, her mother added to her mortification through also refusing to take no for an answer, leaving Elizabeth's only refuge in the, albeit somewhat eccentric, protection of her father, who soundly denied permission for such a marriage.

Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again; coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Jane in her interest but Jane with all possible mildness declined interfering; -- and Elizabeth, sometimes with real earnestness and sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her manner varied, however, her determination never did.

With the family in this state of confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to her, cried in a half whisper, ``I am glad you are come, for there is such fun here! -- What do you think has happened this morning? -- Mr. Collins has made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him.''

Charlotte had hardly time to answer, before they were joined by Kitty, who came to tell the same news, and no sooner had they entered the breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began on the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of all her family. ``Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas,'' she added in a melancholy tone, ``for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me, I am cruelly used, nobody feels for my poor nerves.''

Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth.

``Aye, there she comes,'' continued Mrs. Bennet, ``looking as unconcerned as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided she can have her own way. -- But I tell you what, Miss Lizzy, if you take it into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way, you will never get a husband at all -- and I am sure I do not know who is to maintain you when your father is dead. -- I shall not be able to keep you -- and so I warn you. -- I have done with you from this very day. -- I told you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you again, and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in talking to undutiful children, -- Not that I have much pleasure indeed in talking to any body. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! -- But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.''

Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any attempt to reason with or soothe her would only increase the irritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of them till they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered with an air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to the girls,

``Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold your tongues, and let Mr. Collins and me have a little conversation together.''

Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte, detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet thus began the projected conversation. -- ``Oh! Mr. Collins!'' -

Before she could continue however, a long, proud, but somehow obsequious speech followed from Mr Collins, the content of which finally laid all of Mrs Bennet's hope to rest.

THE discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now nearly at an end, and Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusion of her mother. As for the gentleman himself, his feelings were chiefly expressed, not by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, but by stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke to her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of himself, were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose civility in listening to him, was a seasonable relief to them all, and especially to her friend.

The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet's ill humour or ill health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on Saturday, and to Saturday he still meant to stay.

Some say that trouble comes in threes, and Elizabeth found herself inclined to believe there was truth in this saying, when a distressing letter was delivered to Miss Bennet.

On top of the happenings at the ball and Mr Collins's proposal, it almost seemed too much. As the missive came from Netherfield, it was opened immediately. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little, hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady's fair, flowing hand; and Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as she read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages. Jane recollected herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to join with her usual cheerfulness in the general conversation; but Elizabeth felt an anxiety on the subject which drew her attention, and she was quick to follow when a glance from Jane invited her to follow her up stairs. When they had gained their own room, Jane taking out the letter, said,

``This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains, has surprised me a good deal. The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and are on their way to town; and without any intention of coming back again. You shall hear what she says.''

She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly, and of their meaning to dine that day in Grosvenor street, where Mr. Hurst had a house. The next was in these words.

``I do not pretend to regret any thing I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest friend; but we will hope at some future period, to enjoy many returns of the delightful intercourse we have known, and in the mean while may lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that.''
To these high flown expressions, Elizabeth listened with all the insensibility of distrust; and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she saw nothing in it to lament but the absence of Mr Darcy; it was not to be supposed that their absence from Netherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley's being there; and as to the loss of their society, she was persuaded that Jane must soon cease to regard it, in the enjoyment of his. Her own sense of loss concerning Mr Darcy, she did not wish to dwell on.

``It is unlucky,'' said she, after a short pause, ``that you should not be able to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we not hope that the period of future happiness to which Miss Bingley looks forward, may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful intercourse you have known as friends, will be renewed with yet greater satisfaction as sisters? -- Mr. Bingley will not be detained in London by them.''

``Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into Hertfordshire this winter. I will read it to you --''

````When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which took him to London, might be concluded in three or four days, but as we are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintance are already there for the winter; I wish I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one in the crowd, but of that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you.''
``It is evident by this,'' added Jane, ``that he comes back no more this winter.''

``It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean he should.''

``Why will you think so? It must be his own doing. -- He is his own master. But you do not know all. I will read you the passage which particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from you.''

````Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister, and to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject, but I will not leave the country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already, he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing, her relations all wish the connection as much as his own, and a sister's partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?''
``What think you of this sentence, my dear Lizzy?'' -- said Jane as she finished it.

``Is it not clear enough? -- Does it not expressly declare that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister; that she is perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference, and that if she suspects the nature of my feelings for him, she means (most kindly!) to put me on my guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?''

``Yes, there can; for mine is totally different. -- Will you hear it?''

``Most willingly.''

``You shall have it in few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother is in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him to town in the hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he does not care about you.''

Jane shook her head.

``Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. -- No one who has ever seen you together, can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley I am sure cannot. She is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the case is this. We are not rich enough, or grand enough for them; and she is the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion that when there has been one intermarriage, she may have less trouble in achieving a second. But, my dearest Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest degree less sensible of your merit than when he took leave of you on Tuesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that instead of being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend.''

``If we thought alike of Miss Bingley,'' replied Jane, ``your representation of all this, might make me quite easy. But I know the foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving any one; and all that I can hope in this case is, that she is deceived herself.''

``That is right. -- You could not have started a more happy idea, since you will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived by all means. You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer.''

``But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry elsewhere?''

``You must decide for yourself,'' said Elizabeth, ``and if, upon mature deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters is more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, I advise you by all means to refuse him.''

``How can you talk so?'' -- said Jane faintly smiling, -- ``You must know that though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could not hesitate.''

``I did not think you would; -- and that being the case, I cannot consider your situation with much compassion.''

``But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be required. A thousand things may arise in six months!''

The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline's interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man so totally independent of every one.

She represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felt on the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect. Jane's temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope, though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that Bingley would return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her heart.

They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of the family, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman's conduct; but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern, and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen to go away, just as they were all getting so intimate together. After lamenting it however at some length, she had the consolation of thinking that Mr. Bingley would be soon down again and soon dining at Longbourn, and the conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration that, though he had been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have two full courses.

Chapter 13

Mrs Bennet's plans for dinner were straight away rewarded upon Mr Bingley's return to Hertfordshire, on the day which he had always intended to come back to Netherfield.

Jane learned of his arrival as soon as might be possible, as he wasted no time in paying a visit to the Bennet household. He was received by Mrs Bennet with a degree of civility that caused her two older daughters to blush, but even Elizabeth was able to put aside her embarrassment, as she watched the increase in animation in her sister's countenance. The fears against which Jane had struggled for the last few days had proved unfounded - just as Elizabeth had said they would be - and the happiness she felt upon the assurance of his company, was too much for her to disguise, even under her usual mask of serenity.

Mr Bingley, though naturally possessed of a unaffected modesty, could not fail to discern that Miss Bennet felt real pleasure at his return, and the recognition of this gave him a great sense of relief. His sisters had just spent two days trying to convince him that Jane held him in no real esteem, simply tolerating his attentions for the sake of his wealth and a desire to be well settled. Despite rejecting their opinion of Jane as mistaken, until he actually experienced Jane's reaction to his presence, he had been unable to feel completely at ease.

He'd received some earlier relief from his concerns though, on talking the matter through with his friend. Mr Darcy had refused to offer an opinion on Jane's feelings, saying he simply did not know her well enough to make such a assessment.

"I'm afraid it is difficult to comprehend the heart of one who is naturally reserved," he had offered. "I believe however, that you know her far better than any of us, and as your decision primarily effects yourself, it might be appropriate to trust your own judgement on the matter."

That simple statement had decided Bingley, and though his friend had gone on to point out the social and fiscal disadvantages of an alignment with the Bennet family, such considerations could mean nothing to him above his own belief that Jane did, in fact, care for him.

The Longbourn party remained a while in the drawing room until Mrs Bennet, wanting to ensure everything would be perfect for dinner, shoed the young people out for a walk. Mary, disliking exercise, took with herself a volume and quickly found a corner of the garden in which to read, the two younger girls spied some officers, and abandoned their sisters just as quickly, leaving Elizabeth, Jane and Bingley to walk alone.

Bingley, feeling a freedom at this release from the more difficult members of the Bennet family gave the older girls a genuine smile and offered his arms to his fair companions. Jane, still feeling a little overwhelmed in her happiness at his return, accepted gratefully, but Elizabeth politely declined, protesting that she did not easily fatigue, and walked a little apart from the couple. She found though that a silence seemed to have fallen over her companions, which she correctly put down to a self-consciousness, and she took it upon herself to ask the question she knew would be burning in her sister's mind, not to mention a question which was pressing in her own.

"Mr Bingley," she began, "the pleasure at you company today is enhanced by it not being totally expected. A letter Jane received from your sister implied that it was improbable that you would return before the end of winter."

"Caroline may have believed she was representing the truth when she was writing the letter," Mr Bingley turned a shade of red upon answering, "but I'm afraid her assumption was incorrect. I did not know she had written to you Miss Bennet."

"Yes, she sent me some correspondence upon leaving Netherfield," Jane replied, feeling distress anew upon recalling what the letter had suggested.

Just looking at Jane's discomfort, Bingley began to have some suspicions as to the content of the letter, and though he knew Jane would be reluctant to inform him of anything his sister may have done to upset her, he hoped that he might be able to find out the purport of the letter from Elizabeth at a later time. Right now though, all he could seek to do was to reassure her.

"My sister has a great enjoyment of he town, and also a tendency to impute her own feelings on subjects to people other than herself," he explained. "She no doubt reasoned that I would desire to remain in London like herself, but I'm afraid that the attractions of Hertfordshire were far to great to make me wish to do so."

He said this with such a meaningful look in Jane's direction that Elizabeth could not but wish herself elsewhere, and she determined that she would make her escape, but not before venturing one more question.

"Is Mr Darcy to also remain in town?" she asked in a manner which she hoped appeared casual.

"Yes, he is pleased to be able to spend more time with his sister," Bingley replied, not knowing he was giving pain, "and I do not expect to see him until..." he stopped himself as he almost said 'my wedding', "... for some time," he finished, a little embarrassed.

Elizabeth repressed the stab of disappointment, and giving the excuse of having promised to visit Charlotte, she left the couple to the most natural and right resolution of their friendship.

~/~

Darcy was breakfasting with Georgiana in his London town house, when the letter he'd been expecting from Bingley arrived. It seemed uncharacteristically long, which Darcy covertly rejoiced in, for though he had deliberately separated himself from Elizabeth Bennet, so much of him still yearned to hear of her spoken of. In a missive of this size, he reasoned, there must be some intelligence of her.

He excused himself from the table and removed himself to the library in order to be free of distractions, and couldn't help but smile as the force of Bingley's ecstasy hit him full on.

My Dear friend,

the letter began, in a hand which, though lacking in uniformity of style, and marred by the occasional blurring of the ink, was really quite intelligible.


You cannot imagine the joy I'm experiencing as I write to tell you that I have been accepted and am in no doubt of Jane's reciprocal happiness and affection. If you believed she smiled to much upon our first association, you had better stay away for the moment, as her beautiful smile is even more open and ever present.
I now feel completely satisfied that my sisters were deceived in thinking her indifferent, as I have been able to receive assurances that her regard for me has been growing ever since our meeting on that night at the Meryton assembly, and for some time has been quite fixed. She tells me there were occasions during my short absence where she was quite despondent in missing my company, and I shudder to think of those moments during my time in London when my sisters almost had me convinced she did not love me. The pain I might have inflicted had I not returned, would have been unforgivable indeed, and I want to thank you now for encouraging me to follow my own understanding.

Darcy moved uncomfortably in his seat as he knew how close he had come to taking the part of the sisters. If it had not been for Elizabeth's inadvertent comment regarding Sir William's interruption, he may very well have seen things in the same way as Caroline and Louisa. Being awakened though, to the idea of Jane's reserve, he had taken opportunities over the rest of the evening to observe her behaviour toward Bingley, and had found himself unconvinced of her emotional indifference, or otherwise, and was unable to honestly offer an opinion on the subject. Given too, how freely he had told Bingley of his reservations regarding the inferior standing of the Bennet family, his friends thanks seemed oddly generous... but that was Bingley.


The timing of our engagement too, has provided certain relief and distraction to members of the family, particularly Miss Elizabeth who, my dear Jane informs me, has been the recipient of unreasonable chastisement from her mother since turning down a proposal herself. It seems that the Reverend Collins made an offer on the morning after the ball, and amazingly would not accept that Miss Elizabeth might not want him. I could not help but laugh when I heard the denouement of the situation, with Mrs Bennet apparently calling her daughter before her husband insisting that he make her marry Mr Collins, stating she would never see her again if she did not. Mr Bennet it seems offered Miss Elizabeth an unhappy alternative - saying from that day forward she would have to be stranger to one of her parents, as her mother would not see her again if she didn't marry Mr Collins, and he would not see her again if she did.
Darcy laughed aloud at such a description of absurdity.

The strangest thing is that we have just found that Mr Collins has engaged Miss Lucas to himself, only days after proclaiming undying love to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. My sister-to-be is quite saddened by the situation, not through any sense of loss as regards Mr Collins of course, but through disappointment that Miss Lucas could make such a choice. My Jane, finding it almost impossible to believe that anyone could marry without affection, is ready to believe Miss Lucas must feel something like regard and esteem for her cousin, but I'm inclined to side with the sister in this matter, and believe her friend is making a terrible sacrifice for the sake of being well settled.

This observation of Jane's goodness naturally led to Bingley launching into a full page panegyric on the virtues of his bride to be, which left Darcy both amused and almost jealous. Bingley then followed with an open invitation for him to return to Netherfield, reiterating too, that Georgiana would also be most welcome, and ended with a request that Darcy stand up for him at the wedding.

The letter left Darcy in a turmoil of thoughts. He had to feel happy for his friend because it was now obvious that this match was truly one of mutual affection, and any misgivings in regard to her family must take a second seat to such a consideration. His confusion of mind rather related to the strength of his feelings toward Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The letter had more than answered his hopes of gaining some intelligence of her but, rather than satisfying a curiosity, it had instead stirred the flame of his longing. The strength of revulsion he had felt upon his reading of Mr Collins's proposal, had surprised him, and as he'd felt no corresponding emotion on learning of Miss Lucas's engagement, he knew it was more to do with his attraction to Elizabeth than his disdain for the man involved.

Still, he knew he must fight his feelings, and reminded himself again of the disparity in their situations. He had intentionally removed himself from her company, and he knew he now needed to put her out of his mind. Though he acknowledged he could not avoid the wedding, he determined that his stay in Hertfordshire would be short, and in the meantime - he decided - he would involve himself fully in the London season, reasoning that there would have to be a woman of society somewhere, who could help him leave all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet behind.


Chapter 14

Posted on Monday, 6 May 2002, at 11:15 p.m.

Sleep had overtaken Georgiana as the coach made it's way toward Netherfield, finally giving Darcy the opportunity for silent contemplation. The last two months spent in London had been full but, paradoxically, very empty. He had entered into the season with an unprecedented openness, which had not failed to attract attention as it was whispered that this very eligible man had obviously decided the time had come to marry.

The whispers became so loud they were even heard by Lady Catherine of Rosings, Kent, who though dismissing them as 'nonsense', could not do so without feeling some pangs of concern regarding her planned establishment for her daughter.

Lady Catherine was not the only one to experience concern at Darcy's behaviour. Caroline Bingley was watching his changed manner with a desperate alarm. The relief she had felt upon his removal from the company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, had been overwhelmed upon witnessing his willingness to meet with, talk to, and solicit dances from, every young, hopeful and single woman of the ton. She would, in fact, have preferred they were back with the Bennets in Hertfordshire, as she felt an underlying certainty that, unlike her brother, Mr Darcy would never stoop to align himself with this family. She could have no such comfort though, regarding the women of the ton.

~/~

Darcy sighed as he looked back upon his search for a suitable woman over the preceding months. The whole exercise had simply left him feeling hollow, and he was reminded of the words of Solomon, "Vanity of vanities... all is vanity". Some of the women he'd met had impressed him as being self absorbed and grasping; others had come across as overly compliant, too ready to agree, and too quick to please; many had been vacant and insipid; and a few had even been outrageously forward. A number though, had been pretty and pleasant girls with good humour and excellent connections, but Darcy had found himself unable to feel enthused at the prospect of forwarding a relationship with any of them, and though thoughts of another woman tried to intrude into his contemplations, but he pushed them aside.

He may have been more unsettled had he known the woman of whom he refused to think, was currently just 5 miles away at Netherfield, aiding her sister in making some decisions in regard to the décor of certain rooms. Bingley had insisted that his future wife put her stamp on what would soon be their home.

Elizabeth was trying to hurry matters on a little, as she was very keen to depart before the expected arrival of Bingley's visitors. The time she'd spent with Darcy during his previous visit to Hertfordshire, and particularly at the Netherfield ball, had fixed him in her mind as a man she could not only esteem, but as one to whom she could relate on a deeper level. An attraction had formed despite her wariness, and though she had seen, and accepted in her mind, that he would never pursue such an unequal match, she could not help but be disappointed - even hurt - by his making this thoroughly clear through his continued absence.

It had taken her some time, but she had resolved she would not be unhappy over him, that she would treat him simply as a friendly acquaintance at the wedding, but not seek out his company otherwise over the few days he was to spend in the area. She might not hold as privileged position in fashionable society as he, but she still had her pride, and she was determined that he discern neither eagerness, nor disappointment in her behaviour toward him.

Finally accepting that Jane seemed unlikely to be finished soon, Elizabeth announced her intention to walk home, using as an excuse that she was needed by her mother. The matter could not be resolved simply though, as Jane expressed concern over Elizabeth leaving her with the Bennet carriage, and Bingley began to offer her the use of his own, and by the time Elizabeth made them understand she would take neither, and was more than happy to walk, more precious time had passed. She finally made it to the front steps with a sense of relief, and happily saying farewell to Jane, she skipped down the steps ready to be on her way... it was only then she discerned the newly arrived stately carriage, only a matter of yards away, with its owner standing alongside.

As they'd pulled into the drive of Netherfield, My Darcy had allowed himself one consolation, which was that his two months absence, and his rational determination, must have at least have given him some immunity to the charms of Elizabeth Bennet. As he stepped out of the carriage, ready to hand his recently awoken sister down, her heard some soft feminine voices and turned to find Lizzy bidding a laughing farewell to her sister whilst almost dancing down the entryway stairs... and he realised he was wrong, very wrong.

Elizabeth felt at a huge loss for the moment, but was given time to compose herself, as Bingley appeared and instantly moved to greet and welcome his friend. She knew that as much as she wanted to leave Netherfield there and then, such an option was no longer open to her, and she resigned herself to the fact that she would have to make the time for a few polite pleasantries before excusing herself.

She stood back with Jane as the men made their initial re-acquaintance, and Darcy gave Bingley his congratulations in person. Darcy then handed out Georgiana, whom both the sisters viewed with interest, particularly given the implications of Caroline's letter. She was a tall girl, pretty, but not as striking in looks as her brother, neither did she appear to have his confidence, something in her demeanour showing an edge of insecurity. She was greeted by Bingley with a brotherly affection, but neither Elizabeth or Jane could discern anything, on either side, that spoke of particular regard.

Mr Darcy soon approached the Bennet sisters, and cordially offered all his best wishes to Jane in regard to the wedding, then moved to Elizabeth with a polite good morning, before introducing his sister to them both; all the while fighting to appear natural before Elizabeth, despite his longing to draw her aside and give her his particular notice.

A short exchange with Miss Darcy soon confirmed her shyness to Jane and Elizabeth, but it the also revealed to them that this young girl had a grace about her, and also an unassuming gentleness and good humour in her manner. They liked her immediately and both, conscious of her discomfiture, set about making her feel more at ease in their company. Darcy watched this exchange, feeling a warmth of gratitude toward these two young women at their care of his sister. The girls chattered on for a few minutes, and Darcy, despite ostensibly conversing with Bingley, had only half his attention on this exchange as he tried to overhear what the girls were speaking of.

Bingley though, lost all of Darcy's notice upon this comment by Miss Elizabeth.

"I'm am glad you have arrived now Miss Darcy," she smiled, "as I'm sure that Jane will not only appreciate your company, but your opinion. I am just now leaving for home, but was despairing of Jane ever making any decisions without the approval of another woman. She is far to diffident about her own taste, though it is, in fact, excellent."

"It is not that am unable to choose," Jane protested with a laugh. "I simply prefer to confirm my ideas with another. My sister is right Miss Darcy, I will be very grateful for both your company, and your suggestions this afternoon."

"You are leaving now Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked of Elizabeth. "I do not see your carriage."

"Oh, it is currently in Mr Bingley's stables," Elizabeth replied, unable to miss what might be disappointment at her departing so soon. "I intend to walk home."

"She has been pressed to take either her family carriage, or my own," Bingley put in, "but she seemed determined not to put anyone to the trouble of sending for the horses and of setting things up again, just for a short trip."

"Well in that case Miss Bennet," Darcy suggested, "you must allow me to offer you the use of my own transport, as it is right here and ready."

"Thank you Mr Darcy, but I'm sure after a trip from London, that both your driver and the horses are looking forward to a rest."

"I'm sure a few more miles would not signify," Darcy said with assurance, " Would they Martin?" He addressed to his driver.

"It would be my very real pleasure to drive you home Miss," Martin replied with a genuine smile, impressed that this young woman would consider his feelings on the subject.

Elizabeth looked around her, and realising her options were to graciously accept the offer, or to go through a rehash of the argument she had not long before finished with Jane and Bingley, gave her assent to the offer. She almost wished though, that she had her insisted on maintaining her original plan, as not Martin, but Mr Darcy himself, came to walk her to the carriage, and personally took her hand to assist her inside, perhaps holding it for that little longer than was necessary. He held her eye as he asked after her comfort, before stepping back to close the door.

The carriage began to move off, and Elizabeth let out a little moan as she lent back against the seat, her eyes closed.

Why? she asked herself, realising her hand was still tingling from his touch, why if he does not want me, does he have to treat me with such solicitous kindness? Why can't he be more like the man I thought he was when he first came to Hertfordshire?

It was going to a difficult few days... for them both.


Chapter 15

Posted on Sunday, 12 May 2002, at 9:50 p.m.

Author's Note: One of my biggest peeves with the casting of P&P2 was that of Mr and Mrs Gardiner. In the novel we have a couple whom Darcy can easily mistake for people of fashion, who have four little kids, the oldest of whom is eight, so I don't know what they were thinking when they cast a very, very middle aged couple for the role. It always seems to me very wrong indeed, paricularly when Jane Austen describes Mrs Gardiner as several years younger than her sisters-in-law. Please indulge me by pushing that P&P2 image of the Gardiners out of your mind when you read this, and think of a fashionable younger couple instead.

The following afternoon found Elizabeth, after avoiding a social gathering at which Mr Darcy might be present, sitting in her room, again flicking through the novel he had lent her at the Netherfield ball. It was a beautiful volume, leather bound and soft to the touch. Regardless of its gold edging and the illumination of the first word in each chapter, the volume somehow seemed very masculine - not only in appearance, but in its touch, smell, and substance. It reminded her very much of its owner, immaculately presented, tightly bound, rich without ostentation, and with a content which, though subtle, was also challenging and intelligent.

She had read the volume twice during the past few months, and had picked it up on numerous other occasions to re-read some favourite passages, or simply to hold it. She turned again to the first leaf and ran her finger across the tender inscription hand written by Georgiana to her brother, expressing heartfelt gratitude and love, for all he continued to do, and to be, for her. Elizabeth closed the book quickly as a few tears threatened to form in her eyes, and she placed it back on her night stand.

She was very touched that he would entrust her with a volume so valuable, both financially and sentimentally, and she was also flattered that he'd expected her to understand and enjoy, what might be considered by many, a rather demanding work. She was going to find it difficult to part with that evening, but she knew that the dinner gathering at Longbourn would be the most appropriate time for the book's return to its owner.

A sigh escaped her lips, as her thoughts turned in another direction and she mused on how cowardly she felt hiding away at home, when she could be out enjoying company and the excitement in anticipation of the wedding. Still, she knew staying away from Darcy was the wise thing to do; she liked him too much - was too effected by him - to want to spend any more time than necessary in his company. She was no simpleton, and she knew very well that the prolonged absence, without even a word of farewell, was a clear indication that he could not consider Elizabeth as a potential partner - despite his being drawn to her - and she was not about to encourage false hopes, or make herself appear foolish, through vain attempts at pursuit.

She suddenly stood up from her bed, and chastised herself for moping instead of looking for activity. There was much she could do to be of use in these two days before the wedding, and it would clear her mind of thoughts of this gentleman. She would not be unhappy over him... she would not be unhappy over him...

~/~

Darcy retreated once more to the library, the pleasantness of the preceding afternoon spent simply with Georgiana, Charles and Jane, forgotten as the house had been taken over by the arrival of the Hursts and Miss Bingley, a visit from four of the five Bennet girls, and a group of officers from the nearby regiment. The noise and the effort of remaining civil in such company had become oppressive to him, particularly given the attention that Miss Bingley was again subjecting him to, and her return to her subtle snide comments regarding Elizabeth.

At least the concern which he had felt upon hearing that Charles had invited officers for the afternoon, had been quickly alleviated after asking his friend about Wickham. He had brought Georgiana with him in the belief that he could protect her from running across Wickham in the few days spent a Hertfordshire, and thankfully he found his fears to the contrary quieted upon Bingley assuring him that Wickham would not be one of the guests.

"We see very little of Wickham at all," Bingley had told him. "You know, on first being introduced to him, not long after my engagement, I had the impression that he was rather partial to Miss Elizabeth..."

"What was it that made you think so," Darcy had asked before Charles had a chance to continue, unable to keep a note of apprehension from his voice.

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, he'd look for opportunities to seat himself by her, or commend her appearance and opinions... I particularly thought it was the case when he separated himself from our group in order to follow her outside when she left to read in the garden. I'm not sure exactly what went on, but they were not gone long - and the rest of the visit was passed with the appearance, on his side, of his usual cheerfulness - but I couldn't help note that there was no farther attempt to distinguish Elizabeth."

"Did you ever find out any of what was said between them?"

"No, but it's hard not to be curious, because from that day on Wickham seems to have made it point not to avoid the company of the Bennets, and also of myself... I assume due to my close association with that household."

As he sat in the Library Darcy found he had very little attention for his book, and caught himself smiling as he recalled this exchange with Charles, and the pleasure he'd felt in knowing that Elizabeth must have defended him to Wickham; knowing that even Wickham's smooth ways and silver tongue had not swayed her belief and acceptance of his own side of the story... of which she only knew part.

He pulled himself up as he realised he was thinking of Elizabeth yet again. Surely he should be able to find peace from the image of her. If he was this bad when she was not even present, how would he cope with this evening when she'd be in his range of sight and within his hearing. Look at how he'd reacted yesterday afternoon, despite all intentions to remain only distantly friendly. He'd simply not been able to help paying her particular attention, and even in the polite act of handing her into the carriage, he knew he'd held her hand too long. In fact, she was lucky he didn't swing himself into the carriage to accompany her home, as he'd been inclined to do...

Stop thinking of her man! he told himself yet again, and he tried to make himself attend to his book again. He was almost successful until a traitorous little part of his mind recalled that this was just where he'd been sitting that Saturday morning when he'd found himself alone in the library with Elizabeth, and he was once more lost...

~/~

That evening Darcy might have been tempted to stay at Netherfield had not the Hursts and Miss Bingley declined the Bennet's invitation to dine, with the excuse that they were fatigued after their travel from London that day, and apart from this, Georgiana was keen to continue the friendships she had begun to form.

Given his sisters' snide remarks on trade throughout the day, and on the status of Bennet relations who were expected to be in attendance, Bingley was happy to leave them behind. He had met the Gardiners over Christmas, and had found them remarkably good company, and looked forward to renewing the acquaintance.

Darcy, feeling the need to clear his mind and prepare himself to be in the company of Elizabeth, decided that - as the night was well lit by a full moon - he would decline travelling in the carriage and instead ride, using his solitude to steel his resolve, and convince himself to practise an appropriate detachment toward the woman who managed to distract him so severely.

He arrived at the Bennet household with an almost grim determination, and in his manner Elizabeth immediately detected a return to the man she had first seen at the Meryton assembly. He spoke very little, and showed only a cold politeness to those around him. After greeting Elizabeth in no more than a cursory manner, he moved to the other side of the room, where after being introduced to Mr Gardiner, he did no more than simply attend to the conversation between her Uncle and Mr Bingley, adding very little himself, as though the company was beneath him.

On observing his behaviour Elizabeth felt both a confirmation of her understanding of how things stood between herself and Mr Darcy, and a sadness that it must be so, and she determined, once again, to think of him no more. She turned her thoughts instead to Georgiana, who was looking a little out of place, and moved quickly to her side to take her under her wing for the evening, knowing very well that Jane would be more occupied in her position of honour during the evening, and not trusting her younger sisters with the responsibility of sensitively attending to the needs of such a shy girl.

Try as he might Darcy was unable to keep his eyes from being drawn toward Elizabeth and his little sister. He could not hear their conversation, but as the evening wore on he could see Georgiana talking more, and would find himself smiling as he occasionally heard her giggle at something Elizabeth had said. He would then have to remind himself of his determined resolve, and would try and attend again to the conversation of his companions.

Though he added little, he was actually caught by the intelligent discussion going on between Mr Gardiner and Mr Bennet, to whom Bingley had quickly abandoned him as he'd as he'd left to seek the company of Jane. The fact that Mr Gardiner was Mrs Bennet's brother has surprised Darcy no end. His features were handsome in a similar way to Mrs Bennet's, though with a definitely masculine bent. He was obviously far more informed than his older sister, and spoke with humour, and common sense. Darcy felt it was almost a shame that he was a man of trade which meant they would move in very different circles, as he would have otherwise liked to further the acquaintance. Mr Bennet too, was more communicative and less eccentric that evening. He was obviously happy over Jane's match, and enjoying the sound company of his brother-in-law.

It also helped that Mrs Bennet was somewhat restrained that evening. Mr Darcy could not help but notice that Mrs Gardiner managed to have a remarkably calming effect on her. Darcy looked with an increasing respect upon this fashionable woman, not too many years his senior, who seemed to have just the right words or observations to keep the older woman in check.

The distraction of having Elizabeth in the room though, only left Darcy half attention to the things happening around him, and gave the whole evening an indeterminable slowness, as he struggled to hold his feelings in check. He envied his sister's position beside Elizabeth, but feared to join her when the men returned to the women after Brandy. Mr Gardiner had noticed that Darcy had loosened up somewhat when away from the women, and had held a quite an enjoyable conversation with the man, but his aloof reserve seemed to resurface when back in mixed company.

"That Mr Darcy is an odd one," Mr Bennet commented to his bother-in law when they were outside his hearing. "He actually has the power to be quite pleasant, but practises it very little."

"Yes, he does seem a little hot and cold," Mr Gardiner smiled, thinking of the irony of such a statement coming from Mr Bennet, "but I've the impression that he's suffering a little from pre-occupation. Have you noticed how often he looks at our Lizzy?"

"No, I've not noticed..." Mr Bennet replied, suddenly very interested indeed, "but if he is taken by Lizzy he shows remarkably good taste, and certainly has risen in my esteem."

Elizabeth was more successful than Darcy in keeping her mind on her company for the evening. She had enjoyed drawing Georgiana a little from her shell, and had found much to interest her in what the young woman had to say of her home, of her life, and also of her brother. What Georgiana had to say of him though, sometimes seemed incongruous with his behaviour that night, particularly as Elizabeth would look up to find the brother observing them in a grave manner, and as she would note how distant he seemed from her father than uncle.

She knew not whether it was a relief or a vexation that he did not seek out her company, but remembering her own determination to remain separate from him, decided it would be perverse to be irritated. Once or twice in during the course of the evening he did appear to be moving in her direction, but she herself slipped away, only recalling as the Bennets were finally farewelling their guests, that she had not returned the book. It seemed the perfect opportunity to return it at this point, as he wouldn't have time to do more than accept it and leave, so dashing up stairs she grabbed the novel, and arrived back at the front door in time to see her family walk back to the sitting room, and just as Darcy was walking away into the brisk night air.

"Mr Darcy," she called to him, and found her heart skip a little as he turned to come back to her. "I have been remiss in not returning this to you earlier."

"Thank you Miss Bennet," he replied, still impenetrably serious, "I meant to ask how you found it, but we did not have the opportunity of speaking this evening."

Rather than taking the volume though, he took Elizabeth's arm, and led her back into the shelter of the foyer.

"Aren't you keeping your sister and Mr Bingley waiting?" Elizabeth asked in alarm over the sensations again created by his touch.

"Not at all Miss Bennet. I actually rode over tonight," Darcy answered, avoiding the little voice in the back of his mind saying he should leave straight away, and instead listening to the one which told him it couldn't hurt just to talk to her for a few short minutes. "Did you enjoy the book?"

"I did very much Mr Darcy," she answered, wishing that her family had not retreated so quickly into the warmth of the main part of the house. She felt very vulnerable standing alone with this man in the entryway, and the smile he gave her upon her answer, made her feel even more unprotected.

Upon his opening a discussion on certain aspects of the novel though, she forgot much of her insecurity as she entered into the world of the characters, and the circumstances of the book, in a way that could not disguise her interest. As absorbed in the discussion as Darcy was, it was only discerning Elizabeth shiver a little with the cold, that pulled him back to the real world, and on examining his watch he noticed that they had been talking for almost half an hour.

"I'm very sorry, Miss Bennet, that I've been keeping you when you must have been long desiring my departure. I'm afraid I was so caught up in our conversation that I failed to notice how unprotected you are against the cold."

"It is quite alright Mr Darcy," she replied, unaware that a little smile reflected in her eyes as she mused that her discomfort came very much from something quite apart from the temperature, and in fact, until he had mentioned it she had been almost oblivious to the cold. "Though I do believe you should be on your way, or Mr Bingley will be sending out a search party."

Elizabeth thought she heard him curse slightly under his breath at the thought, and he agreed with her, as she put out her hand to pass him the volume she was still holding. Perhaps he was distracted by looking at her eyes, or possibly his mind was on the concern his late return might create at Netherfield, but whatever the cause, he did not fully attend to what he was doing as he accepted the book, and he placed his strong warm hand partly over Elizabeth's petite one.

The fact that Elizabeth did not immediately pull away, neither with her eyes, nor with her hand, momentarily delighted Darcy, but then they both seemed to remember themselves, and Elizabeth dropped her face, as Darcy mumbled an incoherent apology and took the book. It was all he could do to leave when every thing in him cried out take that precious little chin and tilt her face back toward him so he might claim a parting kiss from those inviting lips, even more red tonight with the cold...

A quick farewell and he was gone, very glad of the briskness in the air as he rode away from Elizabeth, and back toward Netherfield.

Continued in the next section

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.
Overhearings More to the Purpose

Sharni

Beginning, Previous Section, Section III, Next Section

Chapter 16

Posted on Monday, 20 May 2002, at 6:13 p.m.

The day prior to the wedding was so full with final preparations that, apart from a visit to Jane by her intended, the Netherfield and Longbourn parties had no time for interaction, which both pleased and frustrated Darcy no end. Knowing that he could not have Elizabeth did nothing to quell his desire to see her and be in her company. It was taking all of his will power to retain some distance from her.

Retain some distance? Darcy thought... who was he trying to fool - it may have been his aim, but he'd failed abysmally . He knew how he should act, and understood the standards he needed to maintain, for his own sake, and for the sake of his family, but somehow all his best resolution went out the window when Elizabeth was near by.

The mixture of longing and self reproach he felt on recalling the previous evening's time together, was palpable. He tried to justify the attention he'd given her by arguing it had been initiated by Elizabeth herself... and that therefore she couldn't possibly construe the circumstance as any indication that he could have intentions toward her - particularly after he'd spent most of the gathering evading her company...

In all honesty however, he could not hold to the comfort of such an inadequate justification, and switched tack to tell himself that it was only polite and appropriate for him to show friendship to a woman who was soon to be his best friend's sister. This explanation sat with him far better than the other, particularly as it would give him reason spend more time in her company at the wedding... and given that he was standing up for Bingley, and that Elizabeth was maid of honour for Jane, it could hardly be avoided anyway...

~/~

Elizabeth had been too occupied on the day before the wedding to really think through Darcy's behaviour, and after the day's busy activity she'd quickly fallen into an exhausted sleep, despite trying to stay awake to make some sense of the matter. She was still inclined to believe that he would not allow himself to entertain serious intentions toward her, but occasionally she could sense something in his manner or words which made her wonder otherwise. It was unfair! Why did she have to find him so attractive when he was out of reach? Why did he have make her like him if he didn't want to follow through?

She had time to wonder over the matter as she went about her personal preparations on the morning of the wedding, and began to feel a rising vexation at the idea he might be trifling with her. If he didn't want to act on his attraction - fine - she could accept that, but she could not accept him avoiding her one minute, and encouraging her the next! The man had to make up his mind.

She then began to question her own behaviour since his return to Hertfordshire - her leaving Netherfield as soon as he arrived, avoiding engagements where he might be present, running from his company during dinner the other night - why should she be behaving in that manner? Why should she feel self conscious in his presence when she had not acted at all inappropriately? It wasn't her fault the man couldn't make up his mind, and it wasn't her role to make things easy for him! Let him hide from her if he wished - but for her there would be no more running away. Let him at least know that which he was missing!

~/~

Elizabeth felt very satisfied as Sarah put the final touches to her hair. It was done in a soft style which had always suited her, and had been enhanced by Sarah's weaving small ivory ribbon flowers throughout. Elizabeth smiled as her maid made the time to loosen a few more curls to frame her face, and took the daring measure of applying a very light rouge to Elizabeth's cheeks and lips, taking care to ensure it did not look unnatural.

Both Elizabeth and Sarah appreciated the time they had to themselves to prepare for the wedding - all the fuss was taking place in Jane's room, with Lydia constantly interrupting, vying for attention. On discerning her mother's voice though, again in the height of irritation, Elizabeth felt she must forgo the luxury of her own space and venture out to rescue Jane. She stood as Sarah finished fastening her gown, and took a moment to examine herself before leaving the room.

The overall effect of the new gown, and the care which Sarah had taken preparing her, surprised even Elizabeth as she looked in the glass. The gown was remarkably fine, in a rich cream silk. Her mother certainly didn't cut any corners on such an occasion. The dressmaker had fitted the gown beautifully, and given a slight french flavour in it's daring enhancement of her figure through its cut and style. It was almost the same as the one Jane was to wear, but with less lace and ribbon, and she actually thought the simplicity of it suited her own taste better. The girl who smiled back at her from the mirror looked confident and beautiful - not just pretty, but beautiful - she would not deny it, and she shot a grin back at Sarah, thanking her once again as she left the room.

Jane sat back in relief as Elizabeth managed to convince their mother that she needed to attend to her own preparation, and sent Lydia away with Sarah to see to her final needs and complaints. Rebekah, who was attempting to finish the bride's hair, looked even more relieved than Jane herself. She had tried to attend to Mrs Bennet's instructions, but this had led to Jane looking more like a flower arrangement than a bride, and she was pleased to be able to pull out the pins and foliage to start again. Elizabeth looked at her sister in admiration as Rebekah expertly pinned Jane's hair into a simple and flattering style, and finished it with ribbon and a few delicate hot-house flowers. She was truly a most beautiful woman, and the glow her countenance had taken on an anticipation of this day's events had given it an added loveliness. This day would give a happiness which Jane truly deserved.

Given the dramas of the morning, it was remarkable that the Bride made it to the church not more than 15 minutes late. Fortunately Bingley, full of restless anticipation, was more impatient than nervous over Jane's delayed arrival, and after having spent almost half an hour pacing in the vestry, he felt a jolt of happiness on hearing the general hubbub in the church which indicated the bridal party had arrived.

Darcy stood up to join his friend at the front of the sanctuary. He had no need to calm his friend with words of encouragement or reassurance, as Bingley knew with a certainty that what he was doing this day was right. It conspired that Darcy was the one who could have done with some calming words as, with all his thoughts centred on the fact this was Bingley's wedding, he'd forgotten that it Elizabeth would enter the church first. On looking up, expecting to see Jane, his eyes had instead found her sister, and she had taken his breath away. He had long thought her beautiful, but today she was simply stunning. He followed her light and graceful progress down the aisle, envying anyone at whom she smiled, not knowing if he more hoped or feared she might turn that look to him, until that very circumstance made his heart lurch within him. As their eyes met she shot him a delightful grin, which he returned with a smile of his own, and he held his gaze even when all other attention, even Elizabeth's, became focussed on the exquisitely lovely bride who had just entered on her proud, but atypically solemn, father's arm.

His acute awareness of Elizabeth made it difficult for Darcy to maintain a focus on all being said by the minister, until the weight of the vows cut through the fog; words like love... honour... comfort... caught in his mind as he pondered to whom he could ever make such promises. They were not things that could be taken lightly by any means. They were serious indeed. He thought over the word honour and what it really entailed... the esteem and mutual respect it required, and he again looked at the woman across the aisle... he had liked women before, possibly even loved them after a fashion, but his feelings for Elizabeth were the closest that had ever come to a love coupled with honour...

Given his distraction it was only through good fortune he caught the words which required him to hand the ring to the minister...

"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship..." he heard Bingley's voice as though distant.

With my body I thee worship... now that would not be difficult, he thought to himself as his gaze shifted yet again to Elizabeth, that would hardly require any effort.

"...and with all my worldly goods I thee endow," he heard Bingley continue. Now there was the rub... the inequity of the match... the difference in what could be brought to the marriage. Could there be due honour in a case of such disparity? Could the divide in their relative social and financial positions, really be of little consequence?

"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder..." pronounced the minister with an authority that resounded in Darcy's head... no, it was not a matter to be entered lightly... it was binding... irrevocable... it was the decision of a lifetime...

It was with a great effort that Darcy forced himself to attend to the sermon on 1 Corinthians 13 and the nature of love, and as the minister spoke of love's humility, its patience, and its belief & hope in others, he could not help but smile at how this encapsulated the essence of character of both Bingley and Jane, and he knew again just how right they were for each other.

Before he could credit it, the service was over and he had the delightful duty of offering his arm to Elizabeth and enjoying her closeness as they followed the newly wed couple down the aisle. Elizabeth, was glad of his support, as the service had touched her deeply, and she was feeling a little overwhelmed at the strength of emotions it had created within her.

As they gained the outside Elizabeth broke from Darcy to embrace and congratulate her sister as Darcy shook hands with his friend, soon though, they were crowded by many other well-wishers, and both stepped back from the centre of activity. Though the stood close by each other neither spoke, but they seemed not to notice the silence as they lost themselves in their own worlds trying to decipher and deal with feelings within them.

Darcy was first to be pulled back to the real world by the approach of Captain Whitehouse, an acquaintance of both himself and Bingley, and one of their few friends who had taken to time to travel from London for such an inauspicious wedding. Darcy greeted him with a smile, which soon turned to a look of concern after discerning that Whitehouse was far more interested in an introduction to Miss Bennet than in a conversation with himself.

He made the introduction with as much grace as he could muster, but stood by almost protectively, as the captain successfully entered into entertaining small talk with Elizabeth. Not for the first time Darcy wished he had the gift of easy conversation. He found reason to feel more irked still, upon the approach of Mr Carlisle, the eldest son of Sir Thomas Carlisle, and heir to a very healthy Estate in Devonshire. Mr Carlisle seemed to have the same interest in meeting Elizabeth as Captain Whitehouse had shown, and Darcy remembered, almost with an alarm, Mrs Bennet's comments about how Jane's match would throw the girls into the way of other rich men. He was very happy indeed when Georgiana joined them, diluting the situation, and taking Elizabeth's attention from the men to herself.

I was with pleasure he noticed the gathering begin to disperse, giving him the excuse to lead Elizabeth away and hand her up into the small open carriage they were to share on the way to the wedding breakfast. Though relieved that he finally had Elizabeth to himself, his state could hardly be described as 'at ease', because every nerve in his body seemed to be experiencing a heightened awareness of the woman sitting so close by his side.

"You really do look very beautiful today," Darcy said, almost without thought, and was surprised that a compliment, which would normally sound laboured from his lips, could come out so naturally.

A small "thank you," was all he received in a slightly self-conscious manner, before Elizabeth quickly turned the focus of the conversation to Jane and the wedding, speaking of how Jane had, almost impossibly, looked lovelier than ever, and of how moving she'd found the ceremony. Darcy was simply willing to listen, not wanting to admit he had hardly seen Jane, and that his mind had wandered dreadfully during the ceremony... in fact, his mind was wandering dreadfully right at the point, and though Longbourn was only a few minutes away he was pondering the propriety of perhaps putting an arm around Elizabeth to shield her from the chill of the February day. Mrs Bennet's choice of transport may have been pretty, but it certainly wasn't practical... and he was sure that Bingley would not be allowing Jane to suffer from the cold... but that thought only made him aware of how very different Bingley's circumstance now was, and he felt a stab of jealousy for his friend's situation.

When they reached the house though, Darcy was able to take Elizabeth's hand as he handed her down from the carriage, and continued to hold it until he tucked it into the crook of his arm in order to escort her into the house after Bingley and Jane.

Elizabeth could not be displeased with such attention, and began to relax into his company, telling herself that any potential for a deeper relationship was in his hands now, not hers. Reasoning it was pointless to be anxious over a situation where she had little power to change things, she would choose to enjoy the day without trying to over-examine every circumstance, and she would wait for whatever the morrow might bring. Despite such resolution she was unable to help being a little perplexed in that, though continued at her side, he said very little.

There was even one point where she had made as if to leave him in order to speak with her Aunt and Uncle, when he had gone as far as possessively placing his own free hand over her own, which rested so lightly on his arm, and instead of letting her go, had walked over with her to her relations. I was at this time that Elizabeth began to feel a little ill at ease, as Darcy went from saying very little, to contributing nothing at all to the conversation, and though she was enjoying the Gardiners' company herself, she wished that he could show more of his relaxed self and not retreat behind his impenetrably serious facade.

The gathering was soon called to dine, and Darcy could not have found himself more happily situated than where he was, seated between Elizabeth and Georgiana, and he pulled himself enough from his introspections to attend to, and occasionally forward, the conversation between the two girls.

The wedding breakfast progressed beautifully, without any major embarrassing displays from the mother or younger sisters... or at least note that Darcy was attentive enough to notice, and he felt a real loss upon Elizabeth finally excusing herself to attend Jane upstairs, in her final preparations to depart on her wedding journey with her new husband.

As soon as Miss Bingley, who had been very put out to find herself seated for the meal beside Mr & Mrs Bennet, saw the opening beside Darcy, she moved with as much haste as might not appear unseemly, to occupy the place at his side, subtly lamenting the company, the seating, the deficiency of the wedding dress, the inopportune match, and being far less subtle in her opinion of Elizabeth Bennet as Maid of Honour. Darcy did not respond at all, and Georgiana, offended on her new friend's behalf, actually exerted herself to attempt to turn the subject by asking about the London season. Shooting his sister a grin Darcy took the opportunity to seek instead the company of Whitehouse and Carlisle, and without Elizabeth there to distract them, they settled into easy conversation which, of course, eventually turned to the wedding.

"There's no question that Bingley has been truly smitten this time," Carlisle commented. "She's certainly a beautiful woman and she seems very pleasant, but you've known her longer Darcy. Is she as good as she appears, or does she have some of her mother in her?"

"I'm happy to say I've never seen any of her mother in her," Darcy laughed in reply.

"Her father seems an intelligent and respectable man," Whitehouse put in. "It must have been a weak moment which trapped him."

"Looking at the daughters I can't really blame him," Carlisle offered. "They are a remarkably handsome family. Even the mother is still quite an attractive woman, particularly for a woman in her forties... until she opens her mouth that is."

"I'm pleased to see the new Mrs Bingley is such an agreeable woman," Whitehouse nodded. "I must admit I was surprised at him marrying so far beneath the level he might have achieved. I'm sure he could have easily commanded the attention of far more eligible women... In fact I've thought the only reason he hasn't married previously, was that you were saving him for your sister Darcy."

Darcy, feeling a little awkward in there possibly being some truth in Whitehouse's assumption, tried to turn the subject by commenting on how well Jane and Bingley seemed suited, only to have Carlisle pick up where Whitehouse had left off.

"As nice as the girl seems though, she is very fortunate indeed in marrying a man of Bingley's consequence. Her father may be a gentleman, but I believe the estate is entailed away from the female line, and that very little money has been settled upon the girls... which is a shame, because at least one other of them seems very nice indeed..." mused Carlisle, his eyes moving to the entry way of the room, where Elizabeth now stood upon rejoining the party.

"...and too little cannot be said of the mother's connections," Whitehouse added, also watching Elizabeth before becoming distracted by Lydia pushing past giggling, closely followed by Kitty. "We were seated by her sister earlier, and a more vulgar woman it would be hard to imagine."

The guests soon began moving outside to farewell the newly married couple, but Darcy did not take this opportunity to seek Elizabeth's company. He needed space. He needed to think. He needed to remove himself from Hertfordshire and really consider what it would be right to do... it was not a matter to be taken lightly...

Georgiana noticed his sullen lack of spirits as, after what seemed only a cursory goodbye, they made their way back to London. She wished her brother could have accepted Mr Bingley's kind offer for them to remain at Netherfield until he and Jane returned, but he had seemed eager to get away.

Darcy sat wondering whether his leaving could be counted as cowardice, but he reasoned that he had always planned to return to London straight after the wedding and added, quite honestly, that it would not do for Georgiana to stay longer and chance running across Wickham.

He half smiled as it occurred to him that he was almost looking forward to his annual duty visit to Kent in only three weeks time, as any distraction at all, anything that might clear his mind of Elizabeth, would be gratefully welcomed by a man in his dilemma, and if anyone could turn ones thoughts from an inappropriate marriage... in fact, from any marriage at all... it would be his Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Chapter 17

Posted on Tuesday, 28 May 2002, at 12:19 a.m.

WITH no more great events in the Longbourn family, and life otherwise diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and sometimes cold, did the rest of February pass away. March was to take Elizabeth to Hunsford on a visit to Charlotte. She had not at first thought very seriously of going thither; but her friend, she soon found, was depending on the plan, and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeing Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There was novelty in the scheme; and as, with such a mother and such uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change was not unwelcome for its own sake. She would hardly let herself admit that it might also be a distraction from the disappointment which still lingered over Mr Darcy's second hasty departure from Hertfordshire. She should have learned the first time not to let even the beginnings of any expectations arise where he was concerned.

The journey would moreover give her a peep at Jane and Bingley who were now staying in London for a few weeks before their return to Netherfield; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have been very sorry for any delay. Every thing, however, went on smoothly, and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement of spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became perfect as plan could be.

The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her, and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going that he told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter.

The stop over in London proved pure delight, and was even improved as Jane had contrived that a visit by the Gardiners also co-inside with the arrival of Elizabeth and her travelling companions. Elizabeth could not help but rejoice at how glowingly happy the newly weds appeared, and she laughed aloud at how many times they seemed to act as one in a comment, an offer, or an opinion. That Bingley simply revelled in his role as Jane's husband was more than obvious as he teasingly ignored her embarrassed entreaties to desist from triumphing over her reception amongst his peers as a 'true beauty', and his own certain discernment of envy in practically every male of his acquaintance. Even though Jane counted his view as biased she could not help but feel a thrill at being so thought of by her husband. Everything in the meeting was joy, and the day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.

Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first subject was her sister; and the deserved happiness of so a fitting match, but Mrs Gardiner was nothing if not discerning, and sensing a underlying longing in Elizabeth's words she vaguely broached the subject of Mr Darcy's apparent friendship with her niece. Elizabeth's reply that 'Mr Darcy might appear friendly when he chose, but that the sincerity of such appearance could not be trusted,' came out with a strength that surprised herself as well as her Aunt.

``Oh, Lizzy, I should be sorry, you know, to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire.''

``I'm sorry," Lizzy gave her Aunt an embarrassed smile. "It's just that at the moment I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in Derbyshire...thank Heaven that I am going to-morrow where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing, after all.''

``Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment.''

Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.

``We have not quite determined how far it shall carry us,'' said Mrs. Gardiner, ``but perhaps to the Lakes.''

No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful.

``My dear, dear aunt,'' she rapturously cried, ``what delight! what felicity! You give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! And when we do return, it shall not be like other travellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of any thing. We will know where we have gone -- we will recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor, when we attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarrelling about its relative situation. Let our first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality of travellers.''

Her Aunt had to laugh, glad that Elizabeth's spirits were not of a nature to be long repressed.

This was further demonstrated on the morrow as Elizabeth, though feeling the tug of a another farewell to Jane, anticipated the day's journey as new and interesting; and her spirits were in a state for enjoyment, for she had seen her sister looking so well and happy as a married woman, and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.

When they left the high-road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. The palings of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants, repressing only a small stab of concern as she recalled Mr Wickham's words about Darcy being intended for his cousin.

At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the road, the house standing in it, the green pales and the laurel hedge, everything declared that they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at a small gate, which led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with coming, when she found herself so affectionately received.

She saw instantly that her cousin's manners were not altered by his marriage; his formal civility was just what it had been, and he detained her some minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his enquiries after all her family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they were in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time with ostentatious formality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's offers of refreshment.

Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But though every thing seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him by any sigh of repentance.

The first fortnight of her stay in Kent passed away comfortably enough; Charlotte had arranged her domestic life very well indeed, and Elizabeth was surprised at how little time was actively spent in the company of her husband. On top of this there were half hours of pleasant conversation with Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year, that she had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where she frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's curiosity.

Lady Catherine she had found to be just as she had suspected; she was a woman who felt very highly of herself and of her own opinions, and Elizabeth had quickly discovered she had no compunction in officious interference in matters, whether great or small, that should have been of no concern to her.

Lady Catherine's attentions though, became insignificant as a greater cause for disquiet arose in Elizabeth. She had heard, soon after her arrival, that Mr. Darcy was expected there in the course of a few weeks and frankly, given that she still felt somewhat cross at his inconsistent treatment of her in Hertfordshire, there were not many of her acquaintance whom she would not have preferred. Her concerns were further exacerbated by wondering what his behaviour would be toward to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined by Lady Catherine; who talked of his coming with the greatest satisfaction and spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration. She seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by Miss Lucas and herself.

Elizabeth insisted to herself she did not care if Darcy was engaged to Miss De Bourgh and even entertained the thought - somewhat maliciously - that it would be very a very fitting for him to marry Anne, who was pale and sickly, insignificant in her features, and often rather cross looking.

On the day he was expected, his arrival was soon known at the Parsonage, for Mr. Collins was walking the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane, in order to have the earliest assurance of it; and after making his bow as the carriage turned into the park, hurried home with the great intelligence.

On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of his uncle, Lord ----; and to the great surprise of all the party, when Mr. Collins returned, the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had seen them, from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding,

``I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me.''

Elizabeth, in her confusion that he would call so soon, had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been used to look in the early part of their acquaintance in Hertfordshire, paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Mrs. Collins; and whatever might be his feelings towards her friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely curtseyed to him, without saying a word, determined to hold onto her ill-humour toward him.

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to any body. It was not that he had no desire to join in the conversation, but rather that he had placed himself in a somewhat awkward position with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Only a few nights previous Darcy, in the freedom that comes after a full dinner and a bottle of good wine, had been unguarded enough to let his cousin learn that he had been quite taken by a woman he'd met that season. Since discovering such a delightful piece of information the Colonel had found hours of sport in conjecturing which lady of the ton had excited such regard, and querying why nothing had come of Darcy's affection.

Darcy at least had the comfort of knowing that his cousin's suspicions had not been excited in regard to Elizabeth, and wanting to keep it that way he sat slightly apart from the conversation, envying the attention that Richard was receiving and wishing that his cousin's easy rapport might fail him this once. At length it became too much for Darcy, and his civility was so far awakened as to enquire of Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in a perfunctory way, but after a moment's pause, added,

``My sister and her husband have been in town these three weeks. Have you had the opportunity to visit with them?''

"Yes," he replied, allowing himself to relax a little, "I was with them only the day before last. They seem to be doing rather well. I must say though, that marriage seems to have made Bingley even more distracted by your sister than before... and I would not have previously thought this possible."

As much as Elizabeth wished to remain cool toward him, she could not but help laugh at such a remark, and followed his answer with her own enquiries after Georgiana. For the remainder of the visit the two spoke with a return of some ease, unfortunately though, the call did not last for many more minutes, as the gentlemen were expected for lunch at Rosings.

This short visit had left Elizabeth in a quandary of emotions. She was cross at Darcy for being so withdrawn at the beginning of the visit, and even more cross at him for being so nice toward the end! She had thought herself steeled against being in his company again, she had assured herself she could be unaffected in his presence, but the whole of the time he was in the room she'd felt his gaze, and every time she'd allowed herself a glance in his direction she'd found those dark eyes regarding her. She had attended to Colonel Fitzwilliam with a determination which was belied by her easy manner, but it had taken little more than a sentence and a smile to break her resolution not to allow herself to feel effected by him, and it would be dishonest to deny that she was still as attracted to Darcy as she ever had been.

Her feelings however, were given a, not inconsequential, dash of reality as the days moved on and Mr Darcy did not take the opportunity to call again. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had only seen at church.

COLONEL Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the parsonage, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of their engagements at Rosings, Elizabeth especially believed he would be a agreeable diversion, given that Darcy would also be present. It was some days, however, before they received any invitation thither, for while there were visitors in the house they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day, almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to come there in the evening. The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined the party in Lady Catherine's drawing room. Her ladyship received them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact, almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, much more than to any other person in the room.

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; any thing was a welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself as well as of Mr. Darcy who was feeling decidedly uncomfortable at the rapport which had so quickly developed between Elizabeth and his cousin. His eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship after a while shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not scruple to call out,

``What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.''

``We are speaking of music, Madam,'' said he, when no longer able to avoid a reply.

``Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation, if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?''

Elizabeth's attention was caught as Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency.

``I am very glad to hear such a good account of her,'' said Lady Catherine; ``and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel, if she does not practise a great deal.''

``I assure you, Madam,'' he replied, ``that she does not need such advice. She practises very constantly.''

Elizabeth was glad to hear his firm defence of his sister, and appreciated why he had not brought her to visit with their Aunt. She could well imagine how overwhelming Lady Catherine would be to a sensitive girl like Georgiana.

``So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often tell young ladies, that no excellence in music is to be acquired, without constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she will never play really well, unless she practises more; and though Mrs. Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the piano forte in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house.''

Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's ill breeding, and made no answer, but for the first time that evening he caught Elizabeth's eye and with a wry smile gave her a subtle look of exasperation, which clearly told her what he thought of his Aunt's offer, but Darcy's empathy unsettled her far more than the Aunt's original rudeness had the power to.

When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away from her, and moving with his usual deliberation towards the piano forte, stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's countenance.

He had found the preceding week excruciatingly difficult, knowing that Elizabeth was so close by, but also knowing that he should maintain some distance. His renewed persuasion that a marriage to her was unworthy of the standing and wealth of his family, might not have been enough to keep him away had he not also feared that his cousin might quickly discern that it had been Elizabeth who had made such a great impact upon his heart over the winter months. Simply being in the same room as her still completely unsettled his inner resolution, and played merry hell with all his long held notions of how life should be. He hoped the Fates, who had again sent her in his direction, were appreciating how well their little torture was working.

Elizabeth, still put out by his hot and cold behaviour toward her, saw what he was doing, and at the first convenient pause, not being quite able to resist the opportunity to challenge him, turned to him with an arch smile, and said,

``You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.''

``I shall not say that you are mistaken,'' he replied, ``because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own.''

Elizabeth, though wanting to remain annoyed at him, could not help but laugh before commenting to Colonel Fitzwilliam,

``Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire -- and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too -- for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out, as will shock your relations to hear.''

``I am not afraid of you,'' said he smilingly, quickly lost again in the enjoyment of her quick repartee.

``Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,'' cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. ``I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.''

``You shall hear then -- but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball -- and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances! I am sorry to pain you -- but so it was. He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.''

``I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party.''

``True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball room." She was not about to let him get away with such an excuse. "Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders.''

``Perhaps,'' said Darcy, ``I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction, but I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers.''

``Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?'' said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam, not willing to reward Darcy with her full attention simply because he had finally deigned to speak to her. ``Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?''

``I can answer your question,'' said Fitzwilliam, ``without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.''

``I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,'' said Darcy, ``of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.''

``My fingers,'' said Elizabeth, ``do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault -- because I would not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman's of superior execution.''

Darcy smiled, and said, ``You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can think any thing wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers.''

"Well," Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed, "from what I heard of his 'performance' this season, he seems to be working hard at overcoming his aversion to meeting new people. Apparently, Miss Bennet, he was quite the man about town this winter."

"Is that so?" Elizabeth answered with a raised brow, as Darcy repressed an urge to cut out his cousin's tongue.

At least he was saved the embarrassment of a reply as they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know what they were talking of. Elizabeth, glad of the interruption, immediately began playing again, frustrated that she seemed incapable of not responding to Mr Darcy's attention, even though it was becoming abundantly clear that he did not care for her in the manner for which she might wish.

Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said to Darcy,

``Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss, if she practised more, and could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn.''

Elizabeth, chastising herself over being unable to force a disinterest, immediately looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his cousin's praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss De Bourgh she could not help but derive some reassurance of his indifference toward his cousin.

Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth's performance, mixing with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received them with all the forbearance of civility; and at the request of the gentlemen, remained at the instrument till her ladyship's carriage was ready to take them all home, the evening on a whole though, left both Darcy and Elizabeth feeling unsettled and dissatisfied.

Chapter 18

Posted on Thursday, 6 June 2002, at 7:18 p.m.

ELIZABETH was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane, while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village, when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions, when the door opened, and to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy only, entered the room.

Though she had to admit some disappointment in the fact, Darcy's inattention during the previous week had done everything within Elizabeth's mind to confirm his disinterest, and the Colonels information about his cousin's open behaviour in London, further bore out his resolve to not treat their friendship with any serious consideration, so Elizabeth's wariness overcame the pleasure she might have otherwise felt upon his visit.

He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to be within. They then sat down, and when her enquiries after Rosings were made, seemed in danger of sinking into total silence, so unlike the last few times they had been alone together. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergency recollecting when she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty departure, she observed,

"Is Georgiana enjoying being in London once more? I had gathered from her comments at the wedding that she was hoping you both might be able to accept my new brother's offer, and stay at Netherfield a little longer."

She found that she was to receive only a short answer to the effect that Georgiana seemed to be happy.

Silence again began to reign, so Elizabeth added a comment on the likelihood of the Bingley's staying in London for longer than they originally had planned.

``I didn't heard him say so; but I can see it as probable that this might be the case. He has numerous friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing; there are many very desirous of meeting your sister, and Bingley is just as eager to let them see his lovely bride.''

Elizabeth made no answer but a small smile. She was not about to let him charm her that easily; and having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him.

He took the hint, and soon began with, ``This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.''

``I believe she did -- and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object.''

``Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife,'' Darcy said before experiencing a slight sensation of awkwardness on recalling that Mr Collins had first solicited for Elizabeth's hand.

If Elizabeth was discomforted it was not over any recollection of Mr Collins proposal, but rather more over discussing the personal matter of marriage with Mr Darcy, but she answered in a reasonably matter of fact manner.

``Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding -- though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her.''

``It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.''

``An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.''

``And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.''

``I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match,'' stated Elizabeth a little incredulously. ``I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family.''

``It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Any thing beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.''

As he spoke there was a sort of smile, which Elizabeth wondered if she understood; and she blushed as she answered, trying to ignore the intensity that came again to Darcy's eyes.

``I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expense of travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil," she spoke quickly, trying to bring the case back to one of more remote interest. "But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys -- and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance.''

Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, ``You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You would not wish to always be at Longbourn.''

Elizabeth looked surprised. He was confusing her again. What did he think and feel concerning her?

The gentleman, experiencing some change of feeling drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and, glancing over it, said, in a colder voice,

``Are you pleased with Kent?''

A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on both sides calm and concise -- and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte and her sister, just returned from their walk. The tęte-ą-tęte surprised them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying much to any body, went away.

``What can be the meaning of this!'' said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. ``My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never have called on us in this familiar way.''

Elizabeth - if she were completely honest - would have been happy to see his visit as such an indication - but when she told of his silence, it did not seem very likely, even to Charlotte's wishes, to be the case; and after various conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding any thing to do, which was the more probable from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table, but gentlemen cannot be always within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their aunt.

It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he had pleasure in their society, but why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice -- a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really animated.

Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told her. She might have been surprised to know that Elizabeth too, could have provided this information. As Charlotte would have liked to believe this change the effect of love, and the object of that love, her friend Eliza, she set herself seriously to work to find it out. -- She watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often wondered whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind.

Charlotte's own confusion was nothing in comparison to Elizabeth's, whose difficulty in understanding his behaviour was compounded by the more unreserved behaviour he exhibited when they happened to meet alone. More than once did Elizabeth in her ramble within the Park, unexpectedly run across Mr Darcy. Initially believing that he might not be pleased to have come upon her alone, took care to inform him at first that it was a favourite haunt of hers, thinking he might likely avoid that area of the park in the future, and therefore she felt both surprise and a reserved pleasure upon meeting him there a second time, and even a third.

On these occasions he seemed in no hurry to leave her, turning to walk with her and introducing such entertaining and informed subjects for discussion, that Elizabeth found it impossible not to respond. When he wished, he could easily rival his cousin for intelligent conversation, so she was at a loss to understand why he was so taciturn when they were in general company.

Darcy had initially felt conflicted upon finding Elizabeth alone but, unable to resist the temptation of her presence, it seemed to take only a few moments for his resolve to completely dissipate. His reason may have told him to maintain an appropriate distance, both mentally and physically, however he found her company singularly enticing and, frankly, felt little inclined to fight to fight his attraction. When at Rosings itself, he had a constant reminder of family expectations, and the chasm in status between himself and Elizabeth was ever before him. Even at the parsonage their difference in situation seemed on display, but alone in the park nothing external intruded upon his understanding of her natural abilities and desirability.

On the first meeting he had been charmed as much as he ever had been. He'd enjoyed her lively spirits and conversation, but on offering her his arm as they walked back toward the parsonage, had found himself disappointed, as Elizabeth civilly denied his assistance with the protestation that she felt not at all tired.

On their second meeting therefore, upon his experiencing the desire for closeness that inevitably arose when in her company, he did not give her the option of refusal but simply took her hand and placed it on his arm as they continued their stroll. He had been right to fear that Elizabeth would have again refused his arm. She found it difficult enough to think collectedly when he gave her such personal attention as he did on their strolls, without her thoughts being confounded by the sensations produced by the intimacy of touch, even when just the light feel of his arm.

She had returned to the parsonage in a turmoil of emotions, wondering what he might feel for her, but any hopes that wanted to arise, were dampened that evening during supper at Rosings, when he hardly spoke ten words to her, and seemed quite content to leave her to the powers of Colonel Fitzwilliam for the whole of the visit.

Her perplexity only increased upon a third rencontre, when it struck her that he was asking some odd unconnected questions -- about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings, and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts, or was he speaking of his own expectations? It distressed her more than a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage. Might it mean he was considering her for himself, or that he was happy to see her with his cousin?

Only a few days later She was engaged, as she walked, in re-perusing Jane's last letter, and dwelling on some passages which made her long for a happiness akin to that which her sister had found, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw on looking up, that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting away the letter immediately and forcing a smile to cover her disappointment at it not being his cousin, she said,

``I did not know before that you ever walked this way.''

``I have been making the tour of the Park,'' he replied, ``as I generally do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?''

``No, I should have turned in a moment.''

And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage together.

``Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?'' said she.

``Yes -- if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases.''

Elizabeth did not quite know how to interpret this last piece of information. She had not known their visit had been drawn out more than initially intended, and in the hope of possibly discovering if she might have been a factor in Darcy's decision to stay longer, tried to prolong the topic through venturing;

``Do you think him pleased in the arrangement, or simply enjoying the great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know any body who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy.'' She stopped herself quickly, hoping her exasperation over Darcy's seemingly uncertain behaviour had not shown through.

``He likes to have his own way very well,'' replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, quite oblivious to the undertones in Elizabeth's comment. ``But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.''

``In my opinion, the younger son of an Earl can know very little of either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring any thing you had a fancy for?'' laughed Elizabeth.

``These are home questions -- and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like.''

``Unless they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do,'' Elizabeth answered with a cheeky smile.

``Our habits of expence make us too dependant, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.''

``Is this,'' thought Elizabeth, ``meant for me?'' and she coloured at the idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, ``And pray, what is the usual price of an Earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds.''

He answered her in the same style, happy that he'd had an opportunity to make such a hint, and genuinely relieved that she did not seem at all disappointed. Elizabeth still felt a little self conscious, so to interrupt a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed, she soon afterwards said somewhat flippantly,

``I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at his disposal when Miss Darcy is otherwise engaged. Having a sister under his sole care, must satisfy his craving to direct things as he likes.''

``Actually,'' said Colonel Fitzwilliam, very glad of the turn of conversation, ``that is an advantage which he must divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy.''

``Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? From my acquaintance with Georgiana I would say you are very lucky in your charge. Young ladies of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage, and if she had the true Darcy spirit, she may have liked to have her own way.''

As she spoke, she observed him looking at her earnestly, and the manner in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other got pretty near the truth. She directly replied,

``You need not be frightened. I never heard or saw any harm of her; she actually impressed me as is one of the most amiable creatures in the world, and I was very glad to have the opportunity of her company when she attended my sister and Mr Bingley's wedding."

Colonel Fitzwilliam feeling reassured on that ground, now happily took up the subject of Bingley's marriage.

"I believe he is a very fortunate man by all accounts," he smiled. "I have heard much of how well marriage suits him. I believe that Darcy is a little jealous."

"Over my sister?" Elizabeth asked, in perhaps too incredulous a tone.

"By no means!" The Colonel laughed. "Simply a little envious of the domestic happiness his friend seems to have found. Actually younger sons are not the only ones under expectations concerning marriage. I suspect that Darcy has suffered a recent trial in this regard himself."

``What is it you mean?'' Elizabeth could not stop herself from asking.

``It is a circumstance which Darcy, of course, would not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady or her family, it would be an unpleasant thing.''

``You may depend upon my not mentioning it.''

``And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be exactly the case," Fitzwilliam continued, "but I have more than an inkling that Darcy was much taken by a woman this season, and it was only strong objections to the family which made him hold back from making an offer."

Even his fair companion's sudden loss of colour did not awaken within the Colonel any notion that Elizabeth could be the woman in question. He had too long assumed Darcy to have been taken by one of the women of the ton to think differently now, on top of which, Darcy's guarded behaviour during their whole stay in Kent had never suggested such a circumstance as a possibility.

Elizabeth made no answer and walked on, her heart swelling with hurt, but also with indignation. In fact the Colonels words had only confirmed what she had, in honest moments, suspected - but hearing it for a certainty effected her more than she might have anticipated. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was so thoughtful.

``I am thinking of what you have been telling me,'' said she. ``Your cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why is the woman's worth to be judged by considerations of her family?''

``You are rather disposed to reproach his considerations?''

``I do not see why Mr Darcy should pay more due to social expectations than to his own inclination or the feelings of the woman involved, particularly if, as you have suggested, she is a woman of society. Why should matters of wealth triumph so much over matters of the heart? But,'' she continued, recollecting herself, ``as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case.''

``That is not an unnatural surmise,'' said Fitzwilliam, ``but it is lessening the honour of my cousin's triumph over his natural inclinations very sadly.''

This was spoken jestingly, but it appeared to her so just a picture of Mr. Darcy that she would not trust herself with an answer; and, therefore, abruptly changing the conversation, talked on indifferent matters till they reached the parsonage. There, shut into her own room as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption of all that she had heard, and after much consideration could not accept that the Colonel had been speaking of anyone but her, where upon she could no longer hold back her tears.

She found some relief in that nothing had been said against herself. "Neither could any thing be urged against my father," she mused "who, though with some peculiarities, has abilities which Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain.'' Elizabeth thought back to her recent conversation again. ``There were some very strong objections against the family," were Colonel Fitzwilliam's very words, and these strong objections probably were her having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in business in London. What right did Mr Darcy have to judge them on so little acquaintance? In doing so he showed himself no better than Caroline Bingley, and much less than her brother!

When she thought of her mother, indeed, her confidence gave way a little, but in the state of hurt and indignation she was now in, she would not allow that any objections there had material weight with Mr Darcy, whose pride, she assured herself, would receive a deeper wound from the want of importance in his connections, than from their want of sense.

In all honesty, she admitted, his pride might have been in part understandable, or even forgivable in her eyes, had he not led her on; if he had not so often gone out of his way to attend to her, to seek her conversation, opinion, and even touch. It appeared to her that he had actively sought her admiration and regard, without any intention that their friendship should go further. It had not been fair!

She was given pause for a moment as she recalled that over their time in Kent she had received even more attention from Colonel Fitzwilliam; and wondered that she had not been at all angered by his making it clear that he harboured no intentions toward her... but that was different she told herself. Why?... the answer was easy in the end - it was different because she didn't love Colonel Fitzwilliam.

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

WHEN they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself, went again over her history with Mr Darcy... this time not allowing herself to dwell on that which she had come to appreciate in him... pushing aside remembrances if his humour, his intelligence, his fine person and his informed opinions. She would not think on the way he listened and understood when she spoke... but instead brought to mind any of his past behaviours which had troubled her. She recalled his early disdain of the Hertfordshire community, how he had originally impressed her as arrogant, and remembered his coolness towards some of her relatives. She thought of how withdrawn he seemed in the company of Mr Gardiner, and of the fact that he was so aloof from herself when in the circle of his own family...

Her mind then naturally turned to the inconsistencies in his attentions toward her. He seemed relaxed and even content when they were alone together, but in company it was almost as if he sought to conceal their friendship, and she felt even more foolish for her feelings toward him, as she recalled his departures from Hertfordshire without any apparent backward glance... Why had she not taken more care to protect her heart more from such capricious behaviour?

She had not the chance to settle this point, as she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door bell, and her spirits knew not what to do when she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In an uneasy manner he immediately began an enquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. And she answered him with as much cold civility as she could muster in her present state. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room.

Elizabeth was determined to say not a word, telling herself over and over again not to show herself a fool... to hold on to her dignity. After a silence which seemed to last several minutes, at last he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began,

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


Chapter 19

Posted on Sunday, 9 June 2002, at 6:53 p.m.

Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. Given that she had spent the last hours dealing with the belief that such a confession was beyond all possibility, she knew not what to say. She stared, coloured, doubted and was silent. As he continued with an avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her, she listened with a melting of the resentment which she had built up since her afternoon exchange with Colonel Fitzwilliam. The tenderness he expressed could not fail to move her, and upon hearing him finally voice such feelings, all her recent musings became anything but relevant, they did not signify in the least...

He spoke beautifully, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority -- of its being a degradation -- of the family obstacles which judgement had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit.

By the time he concluded with representing to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and with expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand, the bubble had burst. The pleasure and emotion she had experienced when he had first spoken of his love had become overwhelmed by the insensitivity of his subsequent language, and she lost all pleasure in the sadness of understanding what was now required of her. She tried, however, to steady herself to answer him with some semblance of composure, when he was done.

"Mr Darcy, I cannot say I am not moved by the strength of your attachment, and I can hardly be insensible to the honour you pay me in making such an offer. I thank you... but I cannot... I am unable to accept. I think it is for the best."

Mr Darcy, who was leaning against the mantle-piece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less confusion than surprise. His complexion became pale, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips, till he believed himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings dreadful, and almost made her repent of her refusal. At length though Darcy spoke in a voice of forced control.

``Is all the reply which you are able to give me. Could you perhaps enlighten me as to why you see such a rejection as necessary? But if you are truly resolved against accepting me, I suppose it is of small importance.''

Elizabeth winced at the bitter tone which lay beneath his question, and felt the beginnings of a rising indignation that he should consider himself the one wronged in this circumstance.

"I am sorry if I have occasioned any pain," Elizabeth answered, an edge of sharpness coming into her own voice. "I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgement of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it!''

"You did not answer my enquiry," Darcy replied coldly. In his disappointment an indignation of his own began to rise to match hers. "And might I also ask why you feel the need to address me in such an uncivil tone?"

``I might as well enquire,'' replied she, ``why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil?"

``So this is the reason for your refusal," Darcy exclaimed in a rather impolitic manner, as he turned and walked toward her. " Your pride has been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. This bitter refusal might have been suppressed, had I with greater policy concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination -- by reason, by reflection, by every thing. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?''

Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry and distressed every moment; yet she tried to the utmost to speak with composure when she said,

``You are mistaken, Mr Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration was foremost in my mind in my reasons for refusing you. It simply spared me the greater pain of uncertainty which I may have otherwise experienced, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.''

She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and feeling more dreadful upon observing the look of pain which crossed his face, she felt the need to go on,

``Mr Darcy, I would be dishonest if I did not tell you I have the greatest regard for you. There are so many things which I admire and respect in you, that I have not the words to do them justice right now... but I too have my own self respect to consider."

Darcy felt a small lifting of his desperation upon her confession, but also a foreboding at the knowledge that there was more to come.

"My family's estate may not be as grand as Pemberley or Rosings, my yearly allowance and the amount to be settled upon me is negligible comparative to those of women such as Miss De Bourgh, Georgiana, and even Miss Bingley."

Here he almost interrupted to say that such things were on no importance, but some wisdom told him it was time to remain silent.

"I do not have an uncle who is as Earl, and if I am at all descended from nobility it is from so many aeons ago that time itself would have forgotten any such connection. You are right though, in saying that it is my pride that has got in the way. I do not feel so little pride in myself to allow me consent to a marriage in which I am accorded so little respect..."

"But my dearest Elizabeth..." Darcy could no longer could stop himself from passionately interjecting, "...you do have my respect... my utmost honour."

At such a confession Elizabeth could no longer contain her tears, but she would not be a fool. Even the last few minutes had strengthened her resolve to do what she should, to do what was right. She brushed the tears from her face and continued.

"Is it honour that lead you to disdain my family, even those of sense and information such as my Uncle Gardiner? He may be in trade, but at least he behaves as a true Gentleman in both manners and principle."

Darcy again tried to defend himself, but Elizabeth went on.

"Was it honour which lead you to play with my affections, as though they were of no consideration? Was it respect to make me care for you, and then to leave without so much as a goodbye? Was it respect for me which led you to be 'quite the man about town' this winter after you left Hertfordshire...?"

By this time Elizabeth was not even trying to hide her pain.

"Is it a form of honour to ignore my existence whilst in the presence of your more illustrious relations, and to only deign to pay me attention when there is no-one to witness...?"

Elizabeth, no longer able to go on, buried her head in her hands and wept, leaving Darcy only able to look on helplessly, his own pain necessarily taking second place to that which he was witnessing... to the pain which he had caused.

He knew not what instinct possessed him to move closer, to hold her, but she bmade no protest, yet simply sobbed into his shoulder as he rocked her and whispered comforting words. Slowly her weeping subsided, but he still held her until she, suddenly remembering herself, pulled away.

"Elizabeth..." Darcy ventured in a husky voice, "...we can overcome this. Isn't love enough."

She yearned to agree, she ached to relent, but some mischance recollected her parents marriage to her... She might overlook many things, but could not overlook something as integral as respect.

"I'm so very sorry Mr Darcy... but it is not."

"Elizabeth... please..." he began but was cut off before he could get any further.

"Mr Darcy, will you at least pay me the honour of believing I have been serious in my refusal, and of accepting my decision."

Darcy found he had no answer to such a request, and indicating his acceptance through a slight nod of the head, silently left the parsonage.

Continued in the next section

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.
Overhearings More to the Purpose ~ Section IV

Sharni

Beginning, Previous Section, Section IV, Next Section

Chapter 20

Posted on Monday, 17 June 2002, at 9:04 p.m.

After a restless and tearful night Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the magnitude of what had happened; it was impossible to think of any thing else. Totally indisposed for employment or company, she resolved soon after breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise in what would, no doubt, prove a vain attempt to bring herself to an acceptance of having rejected the only man she had ever loved; and possibly to find a little comfort in the knowledge that though she would regret her decision, she could not repent it.

There had been so many moments as she had lain awake in bed that night, where she had almost convinced herself, that had she said yes, all would have been well, that love could , even should, be enough... but at the same time as she tried to justify these thoughts, deep down she could feel their naivety. If here, at the very beginnings of passion, he felt all the indignity of her families inferiority, how could she, in any honesty, believe he would not come to feel such inequity more strongly once the first flames of loved had burned? If he now felt enough humiliation at his feelings to have wished them kept secret from his Aunt, and even cousins, how could she assume that he would feel it less amongst his friends and associates in London and Derbyshire?

Without thinking, she had allowed her feet to lead her directly to her favourite walk, but the recollection of Mr. Darcy's often finding her there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, she turned up the lane which led her farther from the turnpike road. The park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one of the gates into the ground.

She sighed as reality and sorrow threatened to again bring tears, and in an attempt to lessen her sense of loss, she brought afresh to her mind of the effects such a match must have on her relationships with her own family. Had she accepted, she would ever have her husband's opinion of them before her, would have felt the tension, the humiliation of knowing his disdain... the hurt of knowing he would wish to distance himself from their company. How could she have born such a separation from her father... from her Uncle and Aunt? A momentary pang made her question the justice of imputing such an opinion to Mr Darcy, but a remembrance of his silences at Longbourn, and of how expediently he had removed Georgiana from their company, made her give it more credit.

No... despite her feelings of love, such a marriage would be all wrong. She was right to desire a marriage in which she could be held as an equal, where she would not have to feel that it had been all to her advantage, where she would not have fear a husband's regret... Her own parents' situation was too much a constant warning of such an unequal relationship.

After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk, when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which edged the park; he was moving that way; and fearful of its being Mr. Darcy, whom she was not yet prepared to meet, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced her name.

She had turned away, but on hearing herself called, though in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the gate, trying to hold tight to her reason, lest her resolve melt.

He had by that time reached it also, and holding out a letter. He gave her a look of such tenderness as she glanced up at him, that her heart almost threatened to break. It appeared as though he had slept as little as she, and she could see a mirroring of her own torment in his eyes.

``I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you," he said softly. "Will you do me the honour of reading this letter?'' He placed the note in her hand, folded her trembling fingers around it and, as if unable to fight the impulse, brought the hand to his lips for a soft kiss before, with a slight bow, he turned again into the plantation, and was soon out of sight.

Fearing that this might simply bring an increase in pain Elizabeth opened the letter, only guessing what might likely be within, but her conjecture was proved wrong upon her reading of the opening line.

``Be not alarmed, Elizabeth, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so distressing to you. I write without any intention of paining you through questioning your decision, or of humbling myself by dwelling on wishes which, given your feelings, cannot be realised. The effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written and read, and had I not believed my behaviour demanded an explanation, alongside an apology. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I ask your attention; and beg of you your justice and your understanding.
May I begin in trying to explain the journey which led to my confession of last night.

I had not been long in Hertfordshire when you began to draw my attention. Your liveliness and spirits first caught me, and with a surprising alacrity established a foundation on which was built such an attraction and admiration that I had never felt before. However, given the of the disparity in our situations, I felt that pursuance would be inappropriate, and not being of the nature to engage in the vanities of empty flirtation, I endevoured to protect myself, and also to behave rightly toward yourself, through remaining aloof.

I have never felt in such danger as I did during your stay at Netherfield during Jane's illness. It was as if my desire and my reason were at war. Previously my admiration had been at a distance, and was based upon my enjoyment of your liveliness and your undoubted attractiveness, but now I was confronted with the truth of your intelligence and quickness, your humour, and your delightful way of looking at the world. It didn't help either that I could also see such compassion in your care of your sister. My difficulty was, that despite my resolution to remain withdrawn, there were times I found the allure of your company and conversation too much, and I dare say you cannot appreciate the relief I felt upon your removal to Longbourn, particularly might I add, after our time alone in the library - your physical presence was far too captivating.

By the evening of Bingley's ball I felt enough in command of myself to believe I could see you without danger, but from the moment I watched you walk in the door I knew that I was wrong. I envied every officer at whom you smiled (you know Elizabeth, you smile at far too many men) and each of your partners, whether in dance or conversation. It was against my every determination that I asked you to dance. I believe I had some dubious excuse such as the dance might be able to sate my longing, and afterwards allow me some desired peace, but such a hope was vain, as any time in your company only served to further increase my appreciation of you.

It was after the ball that I knew I could no longer stay in Hertfordshire. I need to say here though Elizabeth, that though my own partiality to you was beyond that which I ever felt, I also watched you. Your looks and manners were as happy and engaging as ever, but I did not believe you looked on me with any particular regard. Indeed Miss Bennet, it was a relief when you accepted my request, as twice before you had rejected my invitations to dance. Although you received my attentions that night with good humour and pleasure, it did not seem as though you invited them with any singular participation of sentiment. In removing myself to London I had no suspicion that I was causing pain to anyone but myself.

If now Elizabeth, I confess some feelings that may be offensive to yours, I can only say I am sorry. - The necessity must be obeyed - and further apology would be absurd -- My objections to the marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside; I believe had these been the only concerns I would have put them aside all those months ago; but there were objections which I have myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before me. -- These concerns must be stated, though briefly. -- The situation of your mother's family, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father. -- Pardon me. -- It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. -- I will only say farther that, from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led me to preserve myself from what I esteemed an unequal and inappropriate connection. - I left Netherfield for London, on the day following. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn them.

I must now go on to address my behaviour in London, over which my cousin found so much pleasure in teasing me. Given my conviction of your indifference, and my own expectations for myself in regard to a fitting alliance in marriage, I almost felt it a duty to involve myself in society more than is my wont. I will not deny that my main motivation was to put my feelings for you aside, and to perhaps replace them with ones more appropriate to my position, but I could not. I was introduced to, and danced with, more women than I ever knew existed, but not one could displace my thoughts of you. I know how Fitzwilliam's accusation sounded, but can I ask you to believe that my behaviour was not that of a flirt. I met many women, but I encouraged none.

I fear now I have come to a place where I cannot look at my behaviour with such complacence. I fear my actions during my stay for Bingley's wedding will not bear so close an examination. Looking back I can now recognise that from the moment of my seeing you once more I was again lost, and as much as I had intended to, I did not practise restraint in my behaviour toward you. In this I have no excuse to plead but my feelings for you, and can now only be ashamed at how self-centred my actions were, and how little I considered your own feelings in my struggle.

There is one point here on which I might presume to try to clear myself. Last night when you rebuked my attitude toward your uncle I was at a point where I was too overwhelmed to think on it, but later it struck me as odd. Though I was surprised at his connection, I in no way felt disdain. He is an intelligent, well mannered and respectable man whose company I very much enjoyed. If I appeared rude I must offer my apologies, but I believe my behaviour was that of distraction, which I can easily put down to your presence in the room Elizabeth, not that of disdain.

There was no disdain either in the early removal of Georgiana from Hertfordshire. Her acquaintance with yourself and your sister was everything I might have hoped for, and even in that short period she seemed to gain some ease. I will not attempt to deny that my own cowardliness regarding the strength of my feelings for you also facilitated our early departure, but there were other reasons which called for Georgiana's swift departure which I will now relate to you having no doubt of your secrecy.
I early on told you much of my history with Mr Wickham, and though it was all truth, it was not the whole of the story.

I have informed you that I had paid my father's Godson a generous amount of money in lieu of his preferment in the Church, and in doing so I felt relieved. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. He had some intention, I believe, of studying the law.

All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town, I believe, he chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad.

He had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present him to the living in question -- of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered father's intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition of it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances -- and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others, as in his reproaches to myself. After this period, every appearance of acquaintance was dropt. How he lived I know not. But last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice.

I know I am rambling in the attempt to put off the mention of a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. About a year ago, Georgiana was taken from school, and an establishment formed for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and by her connivance and aid he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add that I owed the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement; and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure, but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed. He would be pleased at least to know that my concern over him has caused some misunderstanding between myself and the woman I so admire.

I know you will accept this as an adequate explanation for my hasty removal of Georgiana from your company, and acquit me of the charge of simply trying to separate her from an unequal society.

I am now called upon to review my manners over these last weeks in Kent, and I cannot think of them without abhorrence. I have been so caught up in my own emotions that I thought little of yours. I am ashamed to admit too, that much of my guarded behaviour stemmed from embarrassment, not of you Elizabeth, as you have so reasonably assumed, but of myself. This sounds so foolish now as I come to put it into words, but I will confess it nevertheless. Just prior to our arrival at Rosings, I had, in an unguarded moment, let slip to my cousin my feelings toward you (though not in name) and in doing so had created in him an insatiable curiosity as to which woman of my acquaintance could excite such admiration. Aware of his acute interest, my desire to keep him from the suspicion that you were the lady in question and to avert any consequent interference, has governed much of my behaviour whilst we were in company together. It is no excuse I know. I have been thoughtless and vain in my actions, thinking only of myself and neglecting the feelings of the one whom I claim to love.

It is inexpressibly painful to now review the effects of the inconsistency and thoughtlessness of my behaviour to you, and to accept the justice of your rebuke. Please believe me sincere when I say I would have infinitely preferred to receive your anger, than to witness the pain and the tears for which I am responsible, and I beg of you your forgiveness.

I know I have little right to request more of you, but may I ask that when we meet in the future that it might be as friends. It is more than I deserve, but I cannot help but hope for the chance to show you the respect as a friend, which I was unable to show you as a lover.

I shall endeavour to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.

FITZWILLIAM DARCY.''

Chapter 21

Posted on Wednesday, 26 June 2002, at 7:28 a.m.

In a nervous agitation Elizabeth had begun to walk as she scanned the lines of the letter, and was relieved to soon find herself at a secluded bench on which to sit, fearing her legs would hold her no longer. At first her eyes may have moved over the lines of the letter, but she had taken little in, but on a second perusal the import of words began to take hold, and the contrariety of emotion which began to rise within her can only be imagined. Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined, but that they were real and powerful was evidenced by the tears again flowing unrestrained down her cheeks.

She would have reckoned it impossible, but turmoil of thoughts which had beset her since the previous evening, now seemed almost insignificant compared to those which now descended upon her. In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, she was unable to fully comprehend the particulars of his letter, but its overall essence had laid upon her an even greater sense of sadness and loss, rendering her for a time, incapable of anything but grief.

Her first awakening to thoughts other than ones of her own general oppression, were stirrings of compassion toward the young and insecure Georgiana. She had not for a moment doubted the veracity of Darcy's revelation, it explained very well the puzzling extent of enmity between the two men. This understanding in turn brought prickings of guilt over the injustice of some of her assumptions concerning Darcy's motives and behaviours, and threatened to again bring the tears which had taken so long to subside.

It took every ounce of self control to keep herself from again slipping into the well of overwhelming emotion, and after pausing at this point a considerable while, she once more composed herself to read, to look at the letter with her mind as well as her heart.

She scanned the opening, registering a renewed respect for his straight-forward manner, for the fact that he would write with out recourse to emotional language or the highly charged overtones that might be expected in such a circumstance. Still, she let her eyes and mind linger on the words which told of his attraction to, and growing appreciation of her. Her heart would have had to have been made of stone not to be moved by his sentiments, and rather than dwell on his objections her mind moved more to consider the strength of attachment which had overcome such considerations, causing his disappointed feelings to become the object of an even greater compassion.

A much as it might have comforted her to find his explanations for his early behaviour insufficient, she could not. She was unable to deny that from the very beginning of anything like friendship between them, she had recognised the difficulty of his attraction given his position in society. She had accepted it at first without concern, and it was only as she came to detect emerging feelings within herself that she found any fault with the idea. Neither could she discount his assertion that he had believed her indifferent upon first removing himself from Hertfordshire. Indeed, she could recall how often in her earliest interactions with him, she had meant to give offence rather than not.

Given the heightening of all her feelings, when she came to that part of the letter in which her family were mentioned, in terms of such mortifying yet merited reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded, as having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers. The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which had been thus self-attracted by the rest of her family; -- and as she considered that much of her own disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the credit all members of the family must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond any thing she had ever known before. She wanted to hold his opinions of her family against him, but she could not. She might long to impute his feelings to an arrogant pride, but had to acknowledge they might be based on far more reasonable considerations.

As her eyes moved on to the rest of the missive she felt an overwhelming gratitude for his frank confession of his failings and for his open words of regret and apology, only she now felt them far less called for. His concluding request that they meet again as friends could by no means be scorned, though it in itself caused immeasurable pain, in that she was now convinced that somehow friendship could never be adequate. Such a request gave her hope, and quenched it at the same time. Had he now accepted the rationale that they were not meant to be together, just as she began to question her assurance that such a union could not be?

Feeling the need to clear her head, she stood to walk, hoping activity might help her to work out her thoughts and emotions. After wandering along the lane for more than two hours, giving way to every variety of thought; re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to the situation as it now stood; fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence made her at length return home.

The walk had, however, done her some good, and had given her a modicum of equanimity. By the time she had returned to the parsonage she recognised that though she had misread some of his motives, and had possessed an incomplete understanding of the whole situation, she had in essence been right. In the turmoil of emotions upon first reading his letter, she had not been able to register that his explanations and acknowledgement had in fact confirmed many of her reasons to fear the relationship would be ill fated. He did have grave concerns over an alignment with her family, he had been thoughtless of her feelings and indulgent of his own, and he had in his treatment of her shown a disrespect, that if allowed to continue could only forebode heartache.

There was an enigma in the whole circumstance. If she had accepted his offer he might not have examined his actions, and could have continued in his thoughtless disregard of her feelings, damaging the chance of an equal and healthy relationship, or in the very least building a rather shaky foundation for a marriage. It was her rejection which had lead to his acknowledgement and contrition, but at the same time it had put an effective end to their hopes. The irony of it failed to amuse in the slightest, as she mused that it was, in a large part, his respect of her decision which made her now long for renewal of his offer, but such a circumstance was impossible to hope for if he continued to respect her rejection. Her head hurt to think on it.

She waited for a moment outside the parsonage, then entered the house with the wish of appearing more her usual self, and with the resolution of repressing such reflections as must make her unfit for conversation, but Charlotte was concerned by the pale complexion beneath the strained smile.

Elizabeth was immediately told, that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each called during her absence; and had been sitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her till she could be found. -- Elizabeth was unable to tell if she was more relieved or disappointed at missing them - or more honestly at missing Mr Darcy - but deep down she rejoiced as she knew she was not yet ready to see him. She needed time to think, time to recover.

THE two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning; and Mr. Collins having been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was able to bring home the pleasing intelligence of their appearing in very good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then hastened to console Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his return brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her ladyship, importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of having them all to dine with her.

Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting that, had she chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her as her future niece; nor could she think, without some trepidation, of what her ladyship's indignation would have been. ``What would she have said? -- how would she have behaved?'' were questions which distracted her.

Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party. -- ``I assure you, I feel it exceedingly,'' said Lady Catherine; ``I believe nobody feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly attached to these young men; and know them to be so much attached to me! -- They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy seemed to feel it most acutely, more I think than last year. His attachment to Rosings, certainly increases.''

While Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter, Elizabeth fought again against the mixture of sadness and guilt which threatened to overwhelm. It was a fight she would have face again and again during her remaining few days at Rosings, and by the time of her return to Longbourn she was exhausted by the effort of hiding her despondency.

There was a real relief in returning to the familiarity of home, and she was able to find some comfort, and even enjoyment, in the unceremonious routines of her home and family, and any indifferent observer might have thought her tolerably cheerful.

She was able to find real pleasure though, in her sister's happiness. Keeping in mind her sister's newlywed status, and knowing how unthinking the rest of the family could sometimes be, she visited Jane as much as she might without intrusiveness. That Jane had blossomed in the role of wife, could not be questioned. She was more and more finding her own joy in forming Bingley's happiness, which he returned four-fold. Their mutual fulfilment was clear to all.

Occasionally though, Elizabeth would be struck by poignant emotion over the relationship her sister now shared with her husband, and feel anew a sharp pang of loss at that which she had turned away. Jane had questioned her on a few of such occasions, but Elizabeth was not about to cause Jane concern by burdening her with her sorrows. Jane was entitled to enjoy this new period of her life without another's cares on her shoulders. She could also appreciated the awkwardness of position such information could place upon Jane. Darcy was still Bingley's best friend, and Elizabeth was not inclined divide Jane's loyalties in regard to her sister, and her husband's companion of some years standing.

Mr Bennet though, early noticed his favourite's underlying melancholy and as he saw no improvement as the days wore on, his concern increased. It was very unlike his Lizzy to stay down for such an extended period, and he longed to heal her, or at least distract her, from whatever was causing her pain. She still joined with him in his amused and amusing observations, but he sometimes felt she were only half there.

Another cause for disquiet soon began to intrude upon Elizabeth during this time. It seemed that Wickham, who had had very little to do with the Bennet family whilst either herself or Darcy were in the area, has become more confident over the spring. Lydia's speech was littered with references to the man, and Elizabeth knew not what to do with her knowledge of his character. Her only comfort came with knowing that the regiment was to leave Meryton, and that he soon would be gone.

Lydia and Kitty were far from restrained in their mourning over the loss of such fine military men, and they gave no allowance for any to forget their sorrow, begging there father for a family trip to Brighton where the regiment would be quartered for the summer, and generally speaking of their broken hearts.

Elizabeth tried to make the girls be sensible, but to no avail; while they were supported by their mother's indulgence, what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited, irritable, and completely under Lydia's guidance, had been always affronted by her advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would scarcely give her a hearing. They were hopeless of remedy. Her father, contented with laughing at them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right herself, was entirely insensible of the evil.

Elizabeth could only wish for the regiment's hasty removal, and hope there would finally be an end to the girls' histrionics.

But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away; for she received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the Colonel of the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out of their three months' acquaintance they had been intimate two.

The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstacy, calling for everyone's congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repining at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish.

As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she considered it as the death-warrant of all possibility of common sense for the latter; and detestable as such a step must make her were it known, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let her go. She represented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's general behaviour, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must be greater than at home. He heard her attentively, and then said,
``Lydia will never be easy till she has exposed herself in some public place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so little expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present circumstances.''

``If you were aware,'' said Elizabeth, ``of the very great disadvantage to us all, which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and imprudent manner; nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you would judge differently in the affair.''

``Already arisen!'' repeated Mr. Bennet. ``What, has she frightened away some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy! But do not be cast down. Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of the pitiful fellows who have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly.''

Elizabeth was taken aback momentarily by the how close her father's joking had touched on the truth, and it took a great deal of effort to compose herself to continue.

``Indeed you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent, It is not of peculiar, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our importance, our respectability in the world, must be affected by the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark Lydia's character. Excuse me -- for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt that ever made herself and her family ridiculous. A flirt, too, in the worst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyond youth and a tolerable person; and from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger Kitty is also comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. -- Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled! Oh! my dear father, can you suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the disgrace?''

Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the subject; and affectionately taking her hand, said in reply,
``Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known, you must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to less advantage for having a couple of -- or I may say, three -- very silly sisters. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. Let her go then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to any body. At Brighton she will be of less importance, even as a common flirt, than she has been here. The officers will find women better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow many degrees worse without authorizing us to lock her up for the rest of her life.''

Time was now for Mr Bennet to be taken aback, as he noticed that his assurance had come to nought. His Elizabeth, who was usually so strong and pragmatic had lost all composure and had moved away in an attempt to hide tears which had come unbidden to her eyes. She seemed effected far above that which the situation seemed to call for, and he cast his quick mind over the conversation, and came down fairly close to the heart of her discomposure.

"Are you sure no-one has been frightened off Lizzy?" He paused for a moment and thought. "Did I hear you mention Mr Darcy had been in Kent? If he can not appreciate your full value Lizzy, he's not the man I thought he was."

He could not doubt that his words hit a mark, as he found himself, for the first time since she was small, holding and consoling his sobbing child, murmuring inadequate and inane comforts as he rocked her in his arms.

"Elizabeth my love..." he ventured as her crying subsided, "it may be hard now but it might be for the best. If his love was such that it could not overlook the folly of your family, you are better without it."

He had to wait, as his comment cause a return to her momentary insensibility, but his surprise could not have been more than it was on finally hearing her reply.

"But father, you don't understand. He did ask to marry me. It was I who rejected him."

"Do not distress yourself then Lizzy, " he replied softly, trying to quickly reassess the situation given this new piece of information. "You were right to refuse him if you did not feel as you should. He is rich, to be sure, and you may have had more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane, but without affection they would not make you happy I am proud of your decision Lizzy, though a bit surprised. I quite liked the man, even if only for his good taste in his obvious appreciation of you."

It seemed that he was doomed to misunderstand what was going on in Elizabeth's head, as this again sent her back to tears.

``But I do, I do like him,'' she replied, shaking her head, and only adding more to her poor father's confusion, ``Indeed I love him... it was a matter of respect..."

Mr Bennet tried to pull all the threads together, and in another vain attempt at reassurance, finally ventured - "I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery. My child, be assured you have acted rightly. I would not want the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life. ''

Elizabeth, still more affected, somehow gave him to understand that it had not been her regard in question, but rather his , and after some time spent in earnest and solemn conversation, he came to some understanding of what had actually passed.

A quiet reigned in the room for some time as he regarded his daughter, taking in the full import of that which he had learned, and he was aroused by a slight sigh from Elizabeth.

"I could not stand the thought of being in a marriage where I would ever fear the lessening of my husband's affection... where I might have to live in the shadow of his regret."

The weight of this statement fell on her father with an impact that was not often experienced by a man of his temperament, and he suddenly felt a heavy weight of responsibility for the desolation of his beloved daughter. His behaviour as a husband and a father was now before him in a way he had not seen before. It was not simply his indolence in checking the foolish behaviour of his wife and younger daughters that presented itself, but he was confronted by his lack of appropriate respect in his treatment of his own wife. He could easily understand how Elizabeth could develop and hold such a fear as she had just expressed, and he began to comprehend the insecurities his and her mother's relationship might create in her, particularly in this situation, where the social disparity between herself and Mr Darcy was rather glaring.

"Elizabeth my dear," he could only venture in the end, "I can not blame you for your reaction. From what you have told me some things needed to be addressed. I can only hope that this will not be the end of the story, that he will be man enough to attend to your concerns, and not give you up. If he is as superior and intelligent a man as you describe, he should have the sense to continue."

Elizabeth gave a weak smile at her father's bias and shook her head.

"I am not so conceited about my own charms as to be able to honestly hope for such a thing... oh Father, if you could have heard what I said as I turned him down..."

"Come Lizzy, let us not straight away undervalue the strength of his feelings. Remember too, he is Bingley's best friend and I'm sure we will see much of him. Do you really believe there is no chance this situation might yet be redeemed?"

"But you see Father," she answered with a wry smile, "there is a dilemma. I demanded of him his respect, and told him the way to show it was to honour my refusal."

Mr Bennet could not help but bark out a laugh at these words.

"Oh my love, you really excelled yourself in cleverness there. Small wonder we have not seen the man yet - you have set him very much between a rock and a hard place." Though he laughed, he gave her a reassuring, albeit teasing, smile. "I have thought on all our words today Lizzy, and you are right. It is now a late hour to try to take on the foolishness of certain of our family circle, but it must be attempted. It would be too much for me to go through another interview such as this. Lydia will not go to Brighton... but you must understand it is on your head - and that if your young man does come to visit, she will be here rather than out of sight."

Relief and gratitude washed across Elizabeth's face as she hugged and thanked her father.

"Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret," she quoted back at him with a grin. "Anyway, if he does visit it may be up to you to protect him from exposure to their folly Father. Remember I am off to The Lakes in two week's time."

Chapter 22

Posted on Tuesday, 2 July 2002, at 7:28 p.m.

When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's and departure, she found little other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties, in which she had found at least a little distraction, were less varied than before; and at home she had a mother and two sisters whose constant repining at the dullness of every thing around them threw a real gloom over their domestic circle. Lydia was still particularly bitter at her father's refusal to accept her friend's invitation, and her mother scarcely less so, but they were both learning to curb their tongue about the matter when Mr Bennet was in the room.

Elizabeth had found herself delightedly surprised at her father's firmness in this regard, and truly grateful that he kept her interference in the matter to himself. On top of this, in his behaviours at home she started to see a side of her father which she distantly recalled from her own childhood, and began to appreciate how much his positive influence had been missed by the younger girls as he'd withdrawn more and more into himself and into the escape of his library.

Much to the girls' initial confusion their father had been taking pains to really talk to them, trying to solicit their opinions, or to draw them to open in conversation with himself. Lizzy watched in amusement as first Mary, then Kitty discerned that he was not merely searching for subjects on which to hone his satirical humour, and she began to see a sense of pride and satisfaction developing at their father's renewed interest in their concerns.

Not wanting her father to be alone in such an ambitious endeavour Lizzy also decided to exert herself in the campaign for the improvement of their minds and manners. She surprisingly had more success with Kitty than Mary, as Mary felt too highly of herself to want concede she might benefit from the interference of a sister not quite two years her senior, but she was flattered by, and open to, her father's thoughts, and in her pleasure at his recognition was already showing slight signs of being less overtly pretentious, and seeming not to feel quite the same pressure to prove herself as she used to, occasionally relaxing so far as see the lighter side of a situation, or even to laugh.

Kitty became Elizabeth's special project and every day appeared to grow somewhat less irritable, less ignorant, and less insipid. It was fortunate that Kitty seemed, at this time, particularly susceptible to Lizzy's influence, given that there had been an estrangement of sorts between herself and Lydia, who insisted on blaming Kitty's upset reaction on being left out of the invitation to Brighton, for her father's refusal of permission. Elizabeth was thankful for the diversion of spending time with Kitty, as any activity which kept her mind from a constant re-examination of her refusal of Darcy was a welcome relief - on top of which she was finding some real satisfaction in her younger sister regaining some of her natural degree of sense now she was outside both the regiment's immediate vicinity, and also Lydia's sway.

Elizabeth though, harboured little hope of any real improvement in Lydia who, whilst she had her mother to indulge her, seemed beyond rational reach, but as the weeks wore on she began to notice Lydia too begin to seek her father's approval. Though the roots of this development were obviously implanted in nothing more than a peevish jealousy for anything her sisters, or more particularly Kitty, had which she did not, her father took the opening offered to him and worked with what he could, gaining the occasional small piece of ground.

``Lizzy," Mr Bennet said one day in early June, "I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me last month. If I had been truly interested in my own peace I would have exerted myself for the improvement of these girls years ago - it's easier to live in this house now than it has been for years."

Elizabeth laughed at her father's view of the situation, and thanked him again for the efforts he was making.

"Lizzy, do not thank me for doing something which is my duty, and which I should have not neglected for so long," he replied, suddenly serious. "Let me once in my life feel how much I have been delinquent in my responsibilities toward my family. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough.''

Elizabeth could only smile at her father and hug him affectionately, laughing this representation of himself.

These diversions, though bringing a kind of fulfilment, were not enough to displace the emptiness she still felt in regard to her refusal of Mr Darcy. Rather than weakening the sense of loss, her absence from him, and her constant re-perusal of his letter, had lessened her remembrance of the hurts and the confusion, and had highlighted all that which she saw as good or superior in him.

It was consequently necessary to look forward to some future period for the commencement of real enjoyment and perhaps even some actual felicity; to have some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the present, and prepare for another disappointment - which now seemed inevitable, as in the almost five weeks which had passed since her return from Kent, she had not even heard a whisper that Mr Darcy might be considering a visit to his friend.

Her tour to the Lakes was now the object of her happiest thoughts; it was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness her own mind brought upon her. The time fixed for the beginning of their Northern tour was now fast approaching; and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again within a month; and as that left too short a period for them to go so far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour; and, according to the present plan, were to go no farther northward than Derbyshire. In that county, there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of her curiosity, as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, Dovedale, or the Peak.

Elizabeth was excessively disappointed, having almost convinced herself that this summer trip might be the medicine required to move her past the disappointments of spring. She had set her heart on seeing the Lakes; and still thought there might have been time enough. It was her business though, to be satisfied -- and certainly it was not in her temper to be unhappy with her Uncle and Aunt; but with the mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its owner. ``But surely,'' said she, ``I may enter his county with impunity, and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me.'' She feared the pain of unexpectedly running across him now that now that he had most likely accepted the impossibility of them being together.

The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away before her uncle and aunt's arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at length appear at Longbourn. As a sign of the improvement of the younger Bennet girls, the children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two younger boys, were to be left under the particular care of Mary and Kitty whom, Mr Bennet assured his brother and sister, had matured to a point where jointly they could be trusted with such a charge.

The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn, and set off the next morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement, the irony being that by the time the journey finally began, Elizabeth actually wished it could have been further delayed.

This change of heart had originated not long after the Gardiners had advised of their rearranged plans. Elizabeth had spent much of her time since the arrival of her Aunt's letter, swinging between dreams of possibly seeing Mr Darcy in Derbyshire, and fears of the same - whether she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. His silence since April had damaged her faint hopes that he might not let her go so easily, and she now suspected that their relationship may have been damaged even beyond the point of friendship. It was as she was fighting to accept this conclusion that a timely visit to Netherfield taught her to hope once more.

She was sitting talking with Jane one morning, whilst Bingley - who preferred not to shut himself away from his wife unless absolutely necessary - was sitting on the other side of the room, half attending to some correspondence. After an hour or so in which he seemed to have achieved little, he had sighed with satisfaction as he came to the point where he was able to seal the letter he was writing, and finally put it aside as done, and quite out of the blue he looked up to ask Elizabeth if she had been able to 'read that book yet'.

"Which book would that be?" Elizabeth asked, a little confused.

"The one Darcy asked me to recommend to you," Bingley replied as though Elizabeth would know of what he was speaking.

Elizabeth's felt a wave of overwhelming emotion as she realised she had not been completely outside the man's thoughts, and that in the least he did want a friendship. She was amazed at her own external self control, as she calmly protested she did not know which book, or which recommendation he was referring to.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I was sure I mentioned it to you... at least I intended to. Here..." he said, handing across a letter - the hand of which was so very familiar, for she had seen the same in a letter which she had read over so often that she now knew it by heart - for Elizabeth's own perusal. "The letter is a couple weeks old but I've only come to answer it today... the piece I am referring to is toward the end."

Lizzy's eyes skimmed over the pleasantries and information particularly for her new brother, and quickly found herself at a paragraph where Darcy asked after the Bennets and particularly Elizabeth, mentioning that he'd had the privilege of seeing her in Kent, and requesting Bingley to tell Elizabeth of a book he'd recently read and enjoyed, which he thought would 'amuse and entertain Miss Bennet'.

Elizabeth could feel her pulse begin to race, and was sure her heightened colour must give away her feelings, but neither Jane nor Bingley - who seemed to have forgotten her presence after Jane had walked across to him and seated herself at her husband's side - appeared to notice. She took the time to steady her breathing and to contain herself, before taking the opportunity of a gap in their conversation to ask Mr Bingley to pass on her thanks to Mr Darcy when he answered the letter.

"Oh, I've just sealed my answer," Bingley replied, oblivious to the distress this communication caused to his Elizabeth. "I hope you don't mind if I defer your thanks until I next write."

There was nothing to for Elizabeth to do but agree, despite her doubts that Bingley would actually remember when the time came for him to next respond. Still, at least she had the satisfaction of understanding that Darcy might be experiencing the same uncertainty as to how she might now feel, as she was in regard to his feelings.

A further assurance that she was still in Darcy's mind came the following week upon the receipt of a letter from Miss Darcy. Georgiana had apologised for her forwardness in writing, saying that she would have liked to have begun a correspondence after their introduction last winter, but had felt nervous about initiating it. She had only found the courage, she explained, after her brother's insistence that Elizabeth would welcome such a continuance of their friendship.

Elizabeth found it hard to restrain the hope that bubbled in her at such a communication, and though she tried to calm herself with rationalisations that he was only showing the friendship he had promised, she could not help but dream that a happiness might eventually be theirs after all.

Georgian's letter had also given her a more reliable means by which to answer Mr Darcy's gesture in recommending the novel, and she wrote back immediately, including in her response thanks to the brother, and the information that the book had already been a long time favourite of hers.

It can only be imagined how much more positive Elizabeth's meditations on visiting Derbyshire now grew. There was still the fear that when she next met Mr Darcy it might simply be as a friend, but at least she had no longer the concern that he now held her refusal so much against her that he might not wish for her company at all. She still tried to be realistic in her anticipation, to tell her self that she would probably not even come across him, to stay her thoughts and dreams from getting too far ahead of themselves, but just as her hopes began to predominate over her anxieties, the news came that the Bingleys were to expect a visit from Mr Darcy and his sister... and they were likely to arrive two days after Elizabeth's departure.

Suddenly that on which Elizabeth had previously pinned her hopes of relief, became instead a obstacle in the road of any possible reconciliation. She could no longer look at her time away with any semblance of ease. There were times she questioned if Darcy might chosen this point to visit in the knowledge that she would be away... but in more rational moments she doubted that Bingley would have passed on such information to his friend. She cursed that, due to a fear of looking as though she were angling for an invitation whilst in Derbyshire, she had not mentioned her trip in the letter to Georgiana. It now looked as though her attempt at circumspection might have made the situation even more awkward. She would never know if Mr Darcy had timed the visit to avoid her, or alternately if he would believe that her absence was a message to him, proclaiming a deliberate avoidance.

There was nothing she could do now but make the best of the matter by leaving a letter for Georgiana expressing her disappointment at missing both herself and her brother, and in hoping they might still be there when she returned.

Resigning herself to the situation Elizabeth set out to at least exert herself to some pleasure for the sake of her Aunt and uncle. One enjoyment was certain -- that of suitableness as companions; a suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear inconveniences -- cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure -- and affection and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were disappointments abroad.

A source of real pleasure was in the early receipt of mail from her family, and Elizabeth's astonishment at much of that which she read was immense. Letters from not only Jane, but also from her father and mother, made reference to the enjoyment they were receiving from Mr Darcy's presence in the area. Elizabeth was amazed as she read how Mr Darcy seemed to have won her mother over with judicious compliments on her housekeeping and wonderful meals, Mr Bennet it seemed had taken the time to really try to get to know the man, and reported to Elizabeth that the more time he spent with him, the more he could be pleased about, and Jane simply spoke of his coming out of his shell, and at his civility toward all of the Bennet household. Elizabeth blushed as she could only see such behaviour as a compliment to herself.

It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire, nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither lay; Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenelworth, Birmingham, &c. are sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present concern. To the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs Gardiner's former residence, and where she had lately learned that some acquaintance still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen all the principal wonders of the country; and within five miles of Lambton, Elizabeth found from her aunt that Pemberley was situated. It was not in their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. In talking over their route the evening before, Mrs Gardiner expressed an inclination to see the place again, particularly now she was acquainted with its owner. Mr Gardiner declared his willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation.

``My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard so much?'' said her aunt. ``A place too, with which so many of your acquaintance are connected.''

Elizabeth felt a surprising awkwardness over the suggestion, feeling that if she should see Pemberley she would rather it was at the invitation of Mr Darcy. She felt that she had no business at Pemberley without him, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She must own that she was tired of great houses; after going over so many, she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.

Mrs Gardiner abused her stupidity. ``If it were merely a fine house richly furnished,'' said she, ``I should not care about it myself; but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country, and with your friendship with both Mr and Miss Darcy I would have assumed you'd have a great interest.''

Elizabeth said no more and she when was again applied to in the morning tried to affect, a proper air of indifference, in replying that she had not really any dislike to the scheme.

To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.

Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods with some perturbation of mind; and when at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter.

The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent.

Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road, with some abruptness, wound. It was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; -- and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm in their admiration, and she could not but think how well Mr Darcy would suit such a setting.

They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and, on applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall; and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to wonder at her being where she was.

The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking, elderly and very civil woman. They followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene -- the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it -- with delight. As they passed into other rooms, these objects were taking different positions; but from every window there were beauties to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings.

``This is just a piece of Mr Darcy,'' thought she, ``and of this I might have been mistress! With these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt." She blushed as she recalled her earlier assumption that Darcy would not have welcomed them.

Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached, and saw the likeness of Mr Darcy suspended, amongst several other miniatures, over the mantle-piece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it. The housekeeper came forward,
`` That,'' said Mrs. Reynolds, ``is my master -- and very like him. It was drawn at about eight years ago.''

``It is very like him,'' said Mrs. Gardiner, looking at the picture, "is it not Lizzy?"

Mrs. Reynolds's respect for Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner seemed to increase on this intimation of her knowing her master.

``Do you know Mr. Darcy?''

Elizabeth coloured, and said -- ``A little.''

"Actually Elizabeth knows him quite well," replied Mrs Gardiner, "whereas my husband and I have only a small acquaintance with him. His friend Mr Bingley is recently married to her sister."

Mrs Reynolds beamed at this revelation. " I have heard nothing but good of Mr Bingley's young bride. I am very pleased, for he is such an amiable young man. You must know my master quite well then. Do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, Ma'am?''

``Yes, very handsome.''

``I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery up stairs you will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to be then. He was very fond of them.''

Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn when she was only eight years old.

`` Miss Darcy is a delightful young girl,'' said Mr. Gardiner.

``Oh! yes -- the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so accomplished! -- She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a new instrument just come down for her -- a present from my master."

Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were easy and pleasant, encouraged her communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs. Reynolds, either from pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her master and his sister. And Elizabeth found an awkward pleasure in listening to her.

``Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?''

``Not so much as I could wish, Sir; but I dare say he may spend half his time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months.''

``If your master would marry, you might see more of him.''

``Yes, Sir; but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good enough for him.''

Elizabeth could not help saying, ``It is very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so.''

``I say no more than the truth, and what every body will say that knows him,'' replied the other. ``I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old.''

This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to the ideas she had a first entertained of him. Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was grateful to her uncle for saying,

``There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in having such a master.''

``Yes, Sir, I know I am. If I was to go through the world, I could not meet with a better. But I have always observed that they who are good-natured when children are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted, boy in the world.''

``His father was an excellent man,'' said Mrs. Gardiner.

``Yes, Ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him -- just as affable to the poor.''

Elizabeth listened, with her esteem for Mr Darcy ever increasing by the minute. How very much had she underestimated the man. She was impatient for more. Mrs Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subject of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture, in vain. Mr Gardiner, sensing Elizabeth's interest soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his many merits, as they proceeded together up the great staircase.

``He is the best landlord, and the best master,'' said she, ``that ever lived. Not like the wild young men now-a-days, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw any thing of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men.''

``In what an amiable light does this place him!'' thought Elizabeth. "I wonder if I had known this of him before April whether it would have made any difference to my choice... I would have at least understood him more."

The picture gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings; but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss Darcy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and also more intelligible.

In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked on in quest of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested her -- and she beheld a striking resemblance of Mr. Darcy, with such a smile over the face as she remembered to have often seen, when he looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture in earnest contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's life time.

There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, an even more ardent sensation towards the original than she had ever before felt. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship! -- How much of pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow! -- How much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character, and as she stood before the canvas, on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with an even deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered again all its warmth, and further softened its impropriety of expression.

When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen, they returned down stairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall door.

As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables.

They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, a tentative smile growing on his face, and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect and friendly civility.

Continued in the next section

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.
Overhearings More to the Purpose ~ Section V

Sharni

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Jump to new as of August 16, 2002
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Chapter 23

Posted on Wednesday, 10 July 2002, at 7:28 a.m.

He had been at the forefront of her mind but seeing him was the last thing she had expected, and without any preparation for such a possibility she had, with a great perturbation of mind, received his compliments with a discomfit impossible to be overcome, and knew not what answer she returned to his civil information about how he had left her family. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness as he repeated his inquiries as to how she'd been enjoying her travels, before turning to her aunt and uncle, to greet and welcome them to Pemberley.

Elizabeth listened in amazement as he asked after their health and then proceeded to speak with them about their children, and tell of how much he had appreciated some of their youngest child's antics, in recent visits to Longbourn.

"He certainly attacks everything with delighted enthusiasm," Mr Darcy was saying. " He alone keeps both Miss Mary and Miss Kitty Bennet on their toes, but they are doing a splendid job."

As he had introduced the topic, Mrs Gardiner took the opportunity to make a number of more specific enquiries of her children, before leaving him to a more general discussion with her husband.

Mrs Gardiner was for the moment too preoccupied with thoughts of her young ones to fall into conversation with her niece, so Elizabeth was left to listen to the men and witness for herself the changed manner she had heard spoken of in her family's letters.

After about a quarter of an hour, Darcy suddenly seemed to recollected he was in his travelling clothes and, explaining he had just at that moment arrived from Hertfordshire, took leave to change, but not before inviting them to return for refreshments after their tour of the park. Elizabeth listened nervously as her Uncle accepted on their behalf, before they followed the gardener toward one of the walkways.

They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she distinguished no part of the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then was. She longed to know what at that moment was passing in his mind; in what manner he thought of her, and whether she might hope, in defiance of her rejection, she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he felt himself at ease; yet there had been that in his voice which was not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her, she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with composure.

She chided herself on her discomposure, and tried to convince herself the hopes she had indulged since that day in the Netherfield sitting room, when Bingley had finally passed on his message about the novel, were rational. She had little success though, now that he was here in glorious person, in his own magnificent home, he seemed too far from her reach. Now that she desired his affections even more she found it harder to believe they might still be hers. So much might have changed in the months they had been apart.

At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind roused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.

They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene; it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it. Elizabeth longed to explore its windings, and momentarily imagined doing so with Mr Darcy at her side; but when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only of returning to the house as quickly as possible. Her niece was, therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the man about them, that he advanced but little.

Whilst wandering on in this slow manner, they were again surprised by the sight of Mr Darcy approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before they met.

Elizabeth, given time to try to suppress the unsteadiness of her breathing and the quickness of her heart, was at least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with calmness when he met them. With a glance she saw that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; but she had not got beyond the words ``delightful,'' and ``charming,'' when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, and she unfortunately found herself at a loss for further words.

Thankfully her aunt and uncle were there to make up for her insufficiency. Mr Gardiner entered into a conversation with Mr Darcy which soon turned upon fishing, and she heard Mr Darcy invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he chose offering at the same time to supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of the stream where there was usually most sport. Mrs Gardiner, who was walking arm in arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of her pleasure on her husband's behalf, at such an invitation. Elizabeth said nothing, but hoped some of the compliment might be for herself.

After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two gentlemen behind, on resuming their places after descending to the brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated in Mrs Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found Elizabeth's arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred her husband's. Mr Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on together. After a short silence, the lady first spoke, still acutely feeling the awkwardness of this first meeting after that night at Huntsford.

"I could not have been more surprised to have seen you here Sir," Elizabeth ventured. " I thought that you would be comfortably ensconced at Netherfield for sometime yet."

He acknowledged the truth of it all; and said that unexpected business with his steward had occasioned his returning home at this time.

"The party in Hertfordshire will miss you," Elizabeth commented. "Jane mentioned in her last letter that they were also expecting a visit from the Hursts and Miss Bingley."

Darcy, unsure of whether Elizabeth might be particularly alluding to Miss Bingley in this observation, refrained from replying that it was all the more reason to leave, and letting the comment pass, forgot to answer altogether. The discomfort of the silence was increased by an intense awareness, in both Elizabeth and Darcy, of the physical presence of the person at their side. The man wished that he might take the arm of Elizabeth, as he had done in the past, and slip it through his, but he was not sure he had a right to do so, and the woman was reading his reticence with an increasing anxiety. Finally she could stand the awkward silence no more, and ventured to speak again.

"Do you intend to return to Netherfield when you finish your business?"

"I don't think it is likely I will return there this summer," Darcy replied, in his own uncertainty not noticing that Elizabeth, despite retaining her composure, visibly paled at this information before he moved on. "As many were disappointed at the party being broken up so soon, I took the measure of inviting them to stay at Pemberley in place of Netherfield. They arrive tomorrow evening."

Elizabeth, in her surprise, was trying unsuccessfully to discern what this might mean to her. Was it an indication that he had moved on from where he was in the spring, that he intended to go on in his life without reference to her? If that was the case, why had he made such an effort with her family, why was he not inside hiding from her now - he had the best excuse, having just arrived from such a long and tiring trip.

"So Jane will be here tomorrow?" was all Elizabeth could offer.

"Yes... and Georgiana, Bingley, his sisters, and Hurst. I have been hoping that yourself and the Gardiners might also join us. I mentioned the idea to your uncle, and though he seems a little reluctant at the idea that it might be imposing, I hope I have convinced him to think more favourably on the idea." He paused for a moment before adding tentatively , "I believe both Jane and Georgiana would be upset at knowing you were so close by, but not actually with us."

"That is a very generous offer Sir," Elizabeth blushed, not caring for the moment what either Jane or Georgiana might wish, but yearning instead to know what Mr Darcy himself might feel on the subject. "Do you not have enough to keep you busy with the guests you already expect?"

It was now Darcy's turn to feel more than disconcerted. Did Elizabeth not wish to stay at Pemberley? Had he been acting upon completely false hopes in this premature return to Derbyshire? Was he not to be given the chance to redeem himself, for which he had been waiting, with an uneasy patience, for so long?

"Miss Bennet," he replied, trying to keep his anxieties from his voice. "It would be my very great pleasure to have your party join ours. Be assured, it would seem somewhat empty in the house without you."

Darcy, who felt he had taken a great risk in saying so, would have been gratified if he could have known of the warmth his statement had created in the woman at his side, but feeling a little overwhelmed, Elizabeth had turned her head away so he was unable to see the blush in her cheeks.

More awkward silence ensued as they continued to walk ahead of her relatives, interrupted only by an occasional observation on the summer or the landscape. It was a great contrast to the animated conversation they were used to having on their meetings in the grounds at Rosings. Elizabeth was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and pleased. His wish to have them stay was a compliment of the highest kind, and though she hoped it signified a continued desire to be in her company, his current silence made her question if this might really be the case. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had reached the front gardens, Mr and Mrs Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.

After leaving instructions for the Gardiners to be shown in upon their return to the house, he led her into the sitting room, where refreshments had been laid out. She wanted to talk, somehow could not rest on a subject. At last she recollected that she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale with great perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly -- and though both had, at some level, been longing for this very privacy, they each felt a relief upon Mr and Mrs Gardiner's joining them.

The air seemed to lighten considerably in the company of her aunt and uncle, and the tea proceeded pleasantly, with entertaining conversation, and a return to something like ease. Elizabeth wondered at Darcy being so open to the Gardiners. Never, even in the company of his dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations at Rosings, had she seen him so free from self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now. It was a very picture of all she had heard from her family in their letters.

When the time seemed polite, Mr Gardiner thanked Mr Darcy for his hospitality, and made as if to leave, before Mr Darcy again introduced the idea of their party removing from the Lambton Inn to Pemberley for the duration of their stay. Mrs Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing how she, whom the invitation - she correctly surmised - most concerned, felt disposed as to its acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming, however, that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment, than any real dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of society, a willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for their removal, and the following morning was fixed on as a time to make the transfer. The relief Darcy felt upon this arrangement was not to be underestimated, and he could only feel a little annoyed that his self manufactured business with his steward might keep him away from this company for some of the following day.

At least with the morrow to look forward to, he could watch them depart now with some equanimity, and he walked with them to their transport, handing the ladies into the carriage, with every politeness, but much to Elizabeth's disappointment, no lingering touches. As they drove off Elizabeth saw him walking slowly towards the house, and longed to know what thoughts were now going through his mind.

The afternoon was full, as they had no sooner dined before setting off again in quest of Mrs Gardiner's former acquaintance, and the evening was spent for her aunt, in the satisfactions of an intercourse renewed after many years discontinuance.

The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing but think, and think with wonder, of Mr Darcy's behaviour and of what it might signify. She truly hoped that this might be the new start she had wished for, but could not completely allay the underlying fear that her refusal had been just that which he needed to allow himself to move on, and that his civility might be only a demonstration of the promised friendship. Her mind returned once more to the strength of his original objections, and she wondered if, in the light of these, his feelings really could have withstood the refusal she had given him.

She had definitely noted his exertion in his manners toward her family, but this did not, of itself, prove he had desires beyond those which were platonic. It had neither gone unnoticed that he had not taken her arm when walking at her side, as had previously been his habit, and she questioned whether his eyes had followed her as much as they had in the past. Though she was glad to be going to Pemberley on the morrow, the gladness was mixed with an anxiousness, as she was not sure of how she should act, or of whether she even had the power of bringing on a renewal of his addresses.

Alone in his library at Pemberley Darcy was having similar difficulties in trying to interpret Elizabeth's manners, and in knowing how he should proceed. Somehow he had felt that it should have been much easier to discern her feelings, but he was quite at a loss. She had been so much quieter than her usual self, and though she had not been discouraging per se, neither had she been encouraging. Did this speak of an embarrassment, or was it indicative of the resolve of her feelings against him? Had he been merely deceiving himself in holding on to a conviction that, despite her objections, she truly did care for him. Had he been a fool to think he could repair this simply by attending to her reproofs at Huntsford... had the incivility of his address, and the inappropriateness of the sentiments he'd expressed, been enough to completely smother the flame of any love she had felt toward him... had he remained absent for far too long...?

He now felt a confusion as to how he should act. If he were too forward he felt the risk of driving her away, of showing he was unable to respect her wishes, but if he showed simple friendship she might believe him no longer interested. After basing his hopes on this meeting for so long, it was now hard to think past it. This was not meant to be so perplexing. Back in Hertfordshire it had seemed so logical; he would return to Derbyshire, invite the party from Netherfield as an excuse to also extend and invitation to Elizabeth and the Gardiners, and there he would be at leisure to renew his court of Elizabeth - after somehow finding an excuse for her to stay on with the others when the Gardiners had to return to London - and this time he would demonstrate sensitivity and respect . He now shook his head at such a naïve optimism.

Maybe he should have realised it was an ill-conceived plan when, for civility's sake, he had found it necessary to extend his invitation to include the Hursts and Miss Bingley whom, he suspected, had only chosen to pay Charles and Jane the courtesy of a visit upon leaning that he and Georgiana were also at Netherfield.

Miss Bingley's presence could certainly prove to be a fly in the ointment of his wishes - at the very least she might diminish Elizabeth's desire to stay longer than requisite at Pemberley and, more substantially, she barely afforded him any space.

He chided himself yet again, for his behaviour during all the time he had in Kent. If he had only 'behaved in a more gentleman-like manner' he might by now have Elizabeth beside him as his wife. Indeed, if from the beginning he had been less proud, less stubborn and less arrogant, he might have - like Bingley - been enjoying the pleasures of married life for half a year now; he might have looked forward to retiring with Elizabeth this very evening...

He let out a moan as he reigned his thoughts into line once more. It was time to act; regardless as to whether it would have been better to wait for her in Hertfordshire, he was here now - and she would be joining him in the morning. He was not going to throw away his chances this time!

Chapter 24

Posted on Monday, 15 July 2002, at 5:21 a.m.

As the carriage rolled in to Pemberley the next morning Mr Darcy was there to greet its occupants. Elizabeth could still feel nothing like ease, but knew in herself that it was better to be here than not. Too much was still unresolved, and it was preferable to face him than to hide.

In Elizabeth's view Mr Darcy himself seemed to be demonstrating more of ease than he had the preceding day, and hoped that in her own manner she might not appear quite as awkward as she was sure she'd seemed yesterday. Now that she could look back on their first meeting after that night of high emotion at Hunsford, she could see the inevitability of discomfort upon their reintroduction to each others company, and now felt a little less foolish over the hesitations and silences of the day before. It would have been absurd indeed to think that they could have simply acted as though that night had not occurred.

It had, rather belatedly, occurred to Elizabeth that given the circumstances, Mr Darcy was in a far more uncomfortable situation than herself. He was the one who had been rejected; the disappointment he had suffered had been at her hand, and further more, it was he who had, in writing to her, gone through the pain of exposing his feelings, of explaining himself in some areas - and even admitting fault in others. As much as she would like to protect herself from potentially looking more foolish through putting herself forward where she may be no longer wanted, she was beginning to realise that without at least some encouragement he may not feel it appropriate to go further.

The morning passed away pleasantly enough, Mr Gardiner had immediately taken up the opportunity of sport, and was fishing down at the stream with some other men. Darcy had apologised that he was not able to join him, as he would be in his office with his steward for a few hours yet. Elizabeth and her Aunt took the opening this afforded of talking to the other leisurely as they helped one another settle into the beautiful rooms they had been assigned, and of admiring the different aspects they had been afforded in their views of the grounds of the estate. Their talk was mostly light, as neither spoke on the subject of interest that was most on their minds. Still unsure of where she stood, Elizabeth took care to avoid the mention of Mr Darcy, but she had no reason to fear Mrs Gardiner's curiosity; it was not her aunt's wish to force her communication, though it was evident that there had been much more pass between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy than she had before any idea of. She saw much to interest, but nothing to justify enquiry.

Mr Darcy had finished his business in time for them all to come together for a light summer luncheon, and in consequence of her earlier deliberations Elizabeth exerted herself to join in the conversation more, and even went so far as addressing some of her comments particularly to Mr Darcy himself. Darcy responded with a restrained pleasure, taking the opportunity these occasions afforded to extend the discussion, and to hold Elizabeth's eye for as long as he could manage without seeming impolite. Though feeling acutely self-conscious she overcame the urge to avert her face, and was rewarded by discerning a growing look of cheerfulness in Darcy's countenance as the meal wore on.

Discussion eventually turned to plans for the afternoon, and Mrs Gardiner told of a pre-existing engagement with some other of her Lambton acquaintance.

"Though I doubt if Lizzy is inclined to attend," she added. "I have the impression that she feels she has been enough inside today, and would rather take the afternoon to explore more of the park hereabouts."

Elizabeth had begun to protest that she was happy to fit in with the Gardiner's arrangements, when she was interrupted by her aunt laughing at her.

"It is thoughtful of you to say so Lizzy, but don't think your disappointment at my curtailing of the tour of the park yesterday, went unnoticed."

"Neither did your forced politeness and attention during dinner last evening," Mr Gardiner added with a grin. "As a husband I can not avoid such duties as attending my wife as she and old friends speak for hours on end about people I do not know, but I would recommend, my dear, that you take this escape whilst it is offered."

Elizabeth laughed as she took in the mock look if antipathy Mrs Gardiner gave her teasing spouse and, much to the pleasure of her host, owned that she really would rather stay.

The Gardiners had not long driven off when Elizabeth found herself receiving the offer of company which she had hoped for, and made her way up stairs ostensibly to fetch her gloves and bonnet for the walk, but in reality to steady herself in preparation for this time she was to have alone with Mr Darcy.

As they walked across the lawn together, the small talk they had begun with petered out, but instead of letting the awkwardness envelop her as she had done the day previous, Elizabeth found a light laugh escape from her lips.

"Am I allowed to ask what it is that has caught your fancy?" Darcy questioned with a perplexed expression.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth replied, a smile still pulling at the corner of her mouth. "I was beginning to fear we might be slipping again into that uncomfortable silence of yesterday, and just stopped myself from making a completely inane comment on the weather."

"Yes, I'd have to agree that it wasn't the most auspicious of reunions," Darcy admitted with a charmingly abashed smile. "Your visit managed to catch me completely off guard. I knew from Jane you were in the area, and I certainly intended to locate you, but the very last thing I expected was to walk out of my stables and see you standing in front of me. If I'd had a little more preparation I may have acquitted myself more favourably."

"You acquitted yourself beautifully," Elizabeth protested. "I think it was I who struggled to find a shred of social competence. I must admit to experiencing a crisis of self-confidence, it seemed rather impertinent to be visiting your estate without an invitation..."

Darcy laughed at her circumspection and, holding back a comment to the effect that she should know she was welcome at Pemberley at any time, contented himself with the more light-hearted reassurance that he had always admired her impertinence.

The ice somewhat broken, Elizabeth expressed a desire to explore the little glen with the narrow walk amidst the coppice-wood. Mr Darcy readily agreed, owning it was one of his favourite corners of the estate, and they wandered off, both rejoicing in a return to the ease of their conversation, though neither yet willing to allude to that night at Hunsford.

The scene at the glen held as much enchantment as it had promised, and the two took their time to enjoy the freshness and the beauty of the walk, whilst building on the restoration of friendliness which had now been established. Darcy still held to a slight wariness of how he should proceed with Elizabeth, and had to remind himself more than once that it was better to move slowly than to rush again where he, as yet, might have no right to go.

The afternoon moved on more quickly than either could have imagined, and after resting for a while on a small log bench, both expressed surprise upon examining their watches, that it was time to be returning to await the arrival of the Netherfield party. Darcy stood reluctantly, not really wishing this shared time to end, and put his hand out to help Elizabeth to her feet. He noted she accepted it with an almost tentative smile, but his concern that she might be experiencing a return of her reserve toward him, was quickly overcome upon her only taking back her hand to slip it into the crook of his arm.

They strolled back at a rather leisurely pace, not talking as much as before, and hardly even noting their surroundings, but each was experiencing an acute awareness of the sensations created by the touch of the other, and an increasing assurance that everything might turn out well after all.

As distracted as they were by their own feelings and meditations, they were actually quite close to the house before either of them noticed the two carriages on the drive, a sure signal that Mr Darcy's other guests had already arrived. As they drew nearer Darcy was relieved of the apprehension that he had left them unattended, upon seeing that they were only just then alighting from their transport.

Miss Bingley was handed down first, but the satisfied smile which overspread her face as she again regarded the magnificence of Pemberley, was short lived upon discerning Elizabeth on Darcy's arm as they walked across the lawn: though, as her host drew near, a more forced smile returned to her visage and she warmly greeted the man, whist acknowledging the woman with only the barest civility; for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions to Mr Darcy were by no means over.

The meeting became more pleasurable for Elizabeth though, as she saw Jane alight from the second carriage and, releasing Darcy, she moved to embraced her beloved sister. She had hardly been gone a moment when Caroline took the opportunity of claiming his now disengaged arm in a short lived victory, for Darcy soon required his freedom in order welcome his sister home with an affectionate brotherly hug.

Convinced as Elizabeth now was that Miss Bingley's dislike of her had originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how very unwelcome her appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious as to how uncomfortable things might become with Caroline one of the company.

Soon the whole party had disembarked, and were led through the hall into the saloon, whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows, opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts which were scattered over the intermediate lawn.

Caroline, who had straight away reattached herself to Darcy's arm upon his stepping back from Georgiana, did not move from his immediate vicinity for almost the whole period of afternoon refreshments, but Elizabeth did nothing to compete for his attention. She could see in his countenance enough exasperation at Caroline's constant deference, and continual calling of his attention away from her brother to herself, to concern herself with competing in such an overt manner, and contented herself with the thought that he would rather be speaking with her. She sat instead with Jane and Georgiana, and tried to focus on their information and conversation but found only half her mind was with them, and though she was able to stop her eyes from moving constantly to his side of the room, her thoughts were very much with Mr Darcy.

Darcy however, was not quite so circumspect and, quickly tiring of Caroline's prattle found his eyes often turned to where Lizzy sat, apparently happy in conversation with his sister and her own, and wondered at such composure after the hours they had just shared together. Could she really be so indifferent as to have not been affected? His equanimity was restored though, when Elizabeth, being unable to contain the impulse to do so any longer, looked across, and catching his gaze returned it with a smile so unaffected that his concerns substantially melted.

Miss Bingley saw this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the first opportunity of approaching Elizabeth and saying, with sneering civility.

``Pray, Miss Eliza, it was such a surprise to see you here today. It must be nice for you to be spending the afternoon in superior company. I believed you to be travelling with your aunt and uncle."

"I am," Elizabeth replied politely, choosing not to lower herself to answer the implied insult to her relations, "but it was an added joy to find I would also have the pleasure of other company whilst in Derbyshire."

"I dare say it was," Caroline replied, not yet noticing that Mr Darcy and her brother had moved to within hearing. "And when do you expect your relations to collect you?"

"I believe you are under a misapprehension," Darcy answered calmly. "The Gardiners and Miss Bennet are also staying at Pemberley."

"Indeed!" Caroline replied, barely managing to conceal the disdain in her voice. "It would not occur to many to expect such condescension Mr Darcy."

"I suspect that such an opinion might show an incomplete understanding of Mr Darcy's character," Elizabeth answered in a tolerably calm tone, though inside she was feeling an acute embarrassment in having expressed the very same sentiment at Hunsford, and hoping that her answer might at least convey that she had given due credit to his explaination in the letter.

While she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Darcy with an heightened complexion, earnestly looking at her. In fact, his own mind had likewise returned to Elizabeth's accusation, and to the acknowledgement of a truth in it which had tormented him for months. Had Miss Bingley known what pain she was then giving her beloved host, she undoubtedly would have refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose Elizabeth, by bringing forward the idea of the inferiority of her relations, and perhaps to remind Darcy of the same.

Elizabeth's defence of him, however, soon quieted his emotion; and Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not be more open in her opinion of the Gardiners whilst her brother and Jane were close by. She would have been more irritated still, had she known the very circumstance which had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth, seemed to have fixed them on her more, and more cheerfully.

Their afternoon refreshments did not continue long after the question and answer above-mentioned; and Elizabeth took the opportunity of accompanying Jane to her room whilst Mr Darcy went with Mr Bingley to check on the stable's progress with the horses, and to introduce him to the new head groom. Whist they were gone Miss Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizabeth's person, behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her - the time she had spent with Elizabeth and Jane was enough to ensure her favour and indeed, ever before their introduction, her brother had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana without the power of thinking her otherwise than lovely and amiable. When Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help repeating to him some part of what she had been saying to his sister.

``How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy,'' she cried; ``I never in my life saw any one so much altered as she is since the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again.''

However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he contented himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration than her being rather tanned -- no miraculous consequence of travelling in the summer.

``For my own part,'' she rejoined, ``I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive any thing extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion which is intolerable.''

Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was not the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the success she expected. He was resolutely silent however; and, from a determination of making him speak she continued,

``I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, "She a beauty! -- I should as soon call her mother a wit." But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time.''

``Yes,'' replied Darcy, who immediately averted his face from the censure he read in Georgiana's eyes, and for a second time that afternoon felt the sting of justification in Elizabeth's rejection of him, ``but that was an ignorant comment, made only when I first knew her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.''

Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself, as Darcy left to recoup himself in the solitude of his study.

The day had offered more than he had allowed himself to hope for, but as the events of the afternoon had confirmed to him the forgiveness of Elizabeth, he had also begun to question his worthiness to receive it. Miss Bingley's comments had cut close to the bone, and he could only again be ashamed of his earlier ideas and behaviour. They were unpardonable: he could not think of them without abhorrence. Still, as undeserved as Elizabeth's current favour seemed to be, he was not at all inclined to argue with it. She was of course too good for him; but as nobody minds having what is too good for them, he resolved once more to be steady and persistent in the pursuit of her acceptance, and a smile returned to his face as he meditated on what the days ahead might promise.


Chapter 25

Posted on Wednesday, 31 July 2002, at 9:39 p.m.

The days that followed unfortunately did not turn out to be as satisfying as Darcy had hoped they might. Though Elizabeth had forgone visiting with her aunt and uncle on the first afternoon of her stay at Pemberley, she was not to make a habit of neglecting either the Gardiners, or the arrangements they had made prior to Mr Darcy's invitation to stay at his home whilst in the area. Though he understood and respected her constancy to her travelling companions, he could not help but wish that he might have more time in her company himself.

It should not be imagined that Mr and Mrs Gardiner were in any way inflexible with their plans, and Darcy did appreciate that much of their itinerary had been bent to allow more time with their companions at Pemberley, indeed some entertainments had been forgone, and a number of their activities had been adapted to encompass the whole party. Darcy however, was undecided as to whether he found these general concerns more frustrating than not. The pleasure he received from Elizabeth's company was inevitably tainted by an exasperation at never finding a moment to have her to himself. There seemed altogether too many people in their party.

Neither had the tenacity of another female of their group waned. If Darcy had harboured hopes that his 'words' with Miss Bingley might make her less assertive whilst in his company, he was destined to suffer disappointment. It hardly seemed possible, but Caroline had become even more attentive to Mr Darcy and any of his concerns, on top of which this lady was obviously was finding it increasingly difficult to hide her pique with Elizabeth and the Gardiners for the 'intrusion' of their company upon that which, she believed, should be a more intimate party.

There was also the question of whether he had acted too precipitately in his impatience to see her again; of whether it would have been preferable had he waited in Hertfordshire. Darcy was becoming ever more aware that the duration of the Gardiners' and Elizabeth's stay was fast drawing to an end. They planned to travel a little further North for ten days, but had agreed to stop at Pemberley for at least overnight on their way back through the area. He had spent a great deal of time watching for the right the opportunity to broach the possibility of Elizabeth remaining in Derbyshire rather than immediately returning home at the end of her tour, but with Caroline's constant hovering no time appeared right.

Darcy's state of suspense was made even more uncomfortable by a partial return of his insecurity over how a renewal of his address might be received by Elizabeth. Elizabeth's necessary circumspection whist in company may have presented a picture of propriety, but it did little to feed the hopes which had been so revived in the hours they had spent together prior to the arrival of the party from Netherfield.

As for Elizabeth, she did not mean for her behaviour to be discouraging, but it was difficult to act in an easy and openly inviting manner whilst possessed of an uncomfortable feeling of being ever watched. It was not only Caroline's overt attention and interference which made her feel uneasy, but an intuition that the suspicions of many of the party had been awakened against herself and Darcy. It seemed she could hardly speak to him without attracting the, albeit generally discreet, interest of those most of those in the room.

Elizabeth's state though, was less to be pitied than Darcy's, as the last few days had at least given her an assurance of his continued affection. She noted his eyes were turned to her as often as they ever had been, and could sense in them a longing. With this new confidence she could initially view Caroline's interference as moderately amusing, but as an entertainment it had quickly worn thin. It was only on the eve of her last full day at Pemberley before continuing on north, that Elizabeth began to discern how effective Caroline's hindrance might have been. She began to note a return in unease in Darcy's behaviour toward herself, and an examination of her own behaviour brought about a sudden fear as to how her circumspection might be interpreted by Darcy. Might he possibly read it as a signal that though she was happy with friendship, she would not encourage any more?

She felt a little chastened at the idea that, in response to her own self-consciousness, she might have been thoughtless of Darcy's feelings, and only fell asleep that night upon determining that she would forgo the next morning's planned visit with her aunt and uncle, and seek his company, not allowing herself to be intimidated by Caroline's, or anyone else's, presence.

~/~

Darcy awoke after a restless night's sleep, not feeling in the best of temper. With the knowledge that the Gardiners were to make some final calls that morning, and with every expectation that Elizabeth would accompany them, he felt as though at least half the day would be a loss. In his current mood the idea of spending hours in the company of Caroline was too much to cope with, so with no more than a few short words with his steward he left the house early to attend to certain estate business in Lambton.

It was not an auspicious beginning to the day.

Elizabeth and Caroline were both disappointed, and found the company of the other more of an irritation than usual, and it was in a desperate attempt to dispel some obvious tension that Georgiana suggested a shopping excursion to Lambton.

"I can't really imagine that a town such as Lambton would have anything of interest to most of us," Caroline had snapped in her ill-temper, not careful of the offence she might cause Georgiana until the words were out of her mouth.

"I, for one, would love to go," Jane answered calmly, lest Caroline's rude comment lay in the air. Elizabeth also welcomed the distraction, and if Caroline felt ill-inclined to go, it was all the better.

"I too believe I might enjoy such an outing," Louisa added, shooting her sister a silencing look before any more ill-conceived comments could come from her mouth, and taking the advantage of some conversation between Elizabeth, Georgiana and Jane, quietly passed on to her sister the conciliatory information that she believed Mr Darcy was conducting some business in Lambton.

"Georgiana, you are absolutely correct," Caroline offered at the next opportunity. "With thought I can see a morning in Lambton would be a simply wonderful excursion."

With only a little more discussion the women moved off to their respective rooms to prepare for the outing, whist Bingley left to make arrangements for the carriage.

It was only upon their meeting together in the entryway that it became clear that Caroline was very unsatisfied with her brother's choice of transport, lamenting how her dress would be crushed, and the heat that would be generated in such a confined space.

Given that Elizabeth could foresee little pleasure in the company of Caroline, it did not take more than a few pointed remarks before Elizabeth did as Miss Bingley obviously wished, and offered to stay Pemberley on the excuse of waiting for the Gardiners' return. After seeing the carriage off she set about finding distraction in the largely empty house.

~/~

Darcy arrived home and at least found some relief upon being informed that the women were not currently within, having gone into Lambton. A slight hope that Gardiners might return with Elizabeth before the other party arrived back, crossed his mind, but he still despaired of finding any time alone with her. This though brought with it a restoration of his earlier exasperation, and it was whilst in this state of mind he sought the solace of time alone in his library.

As Elizabeth's mind was firmly elsewhere she did not notice as he entered the room, but he saw her immediately, and though it was a moment such as this for which he had spent the last days waiting, he found himself now struck with an immobility as he considered how he should now proceed. His eyes did not move from her as he took in the picture she presented.

She was as beautiful as ever, but something about her spoke of a distraction of thoughts. It was as though she were looking at the page in front of her, but not really attending. His mind immediately went back to that afternoon when they found themselves together in the Netherfield library, and he could not repress a smile at how much her mere proximity had managed to so completely unsettle him that day.

He was startled from his revere as Elizabeth closed her book with a spiritless sigh. For some reason he still did not call his presence to her attention, but simply watched her with appreciation as she stood and moved with a light grace toward, he noted, his favourite corner of his library. He took in her figure as she walked along the shelves - running her hand languidly across the books as she did so. A wave of desire washed over him and he deliberately withdrew his eyes to her face. He could now easily read some discomposure of mind in her expression, and he longed to know of what she was thinking... if he might be in the forefront of her thoughts... if she felt as unfulfilled as he - but a pricking of fear that she might simply be uneasy with his continued attentions, arose to taint his hopes.

He hated his hesitancy, he had been unused to doubt and indecision... but then he'd met Elizabeth Bennet. It seemed that almost since his earliest introduction to her, she had unsettled him with her undoubted attractiveness, playful intelligence and slightly impertinent ways.

He had prayed for this opportunity to be alone with her, but now found it difficult to move past the insecurities which had never really left him since that night at Hunsford - since he had so badly misjudged how matters stood, and arrogantly pushed himself forward to where he had not yet earned the right to go. He had since confronted his wrongs, and believed that he had obtained her forgiveness, but did he also have her favour? Should he be direct - and again tell her of his wishes - or would it be better to simply extend the invitation for her to stay longer at Pemberley come the end of her northern tour?

If he only had an indication of how she was feeling... if he could just have some way of reading her thoughts...

A return of focus made him aware that she had chosen a volume from the shelf, and was examining it now with an air which, though speaking less of distraction, could still not exactly be called easy. She ran the tips of her fingers over the book in a manner so close to a caress that Darcy had to repress a pang of jealousy before catching a glimpse of the gold embossing on the rich leather, and realising that she was holding the very volume which he had lent her all those months ago, the one she had kept with her all the while he was in London.

"Elizabeth..." he said softly, causing her to start before recovering slightly to throw an arch smile in his direction.

"Do you take pleasure Mr Darcy, in sneaking up upon, and scaring the wits out of, the unprepared and unsuspecting?"

The challenge in her voice, the setting, and indeed her whole manner, was so reminiscent of the exchange they had shared in the Netherfield library that a sense of déjÄ… vu shot though him, and he returned her smile with a renewed sense of purpose as he moved toward her with a now deliberate step.

Elizabeth, still recovering from the surprise of his unanticipated company, found any attempt to recover her composure was in vain. She felt completely overcome by his unexpected and close physical presence, and simply worked to present a façade of calmness, but he was now so close that all her senses seemed too overwhelmed for control, and she allowed him to take the book from her hand without question.

"Would you like some assistance in returning this?" he asked in lowered tones, and without waiting for a reply he put out one hand to steady himself against the bookcase, and reached up above Elizabeth to completely misplace the book upon a higher shelf, seemly unconcerned or oblivious to the fact that he knocked several books out of alignment in the process.

Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word and, with the intensity of her emotions, she found herself unable to hold his gaze, which had had not left her face since speaking her name, and she lowered her eyes to the floor. Darcy did not withdraw though, and after a short pause she felt his hand on her chin as he tilted her face up toward his once more.

``You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.''

Elizabeth, though feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, still could not find her voice, and maybe it was due to this momentary incapacity, or perhaps it was just the natural conclusion of too many a month's day dreams, but in an act that surprised Elizabeth almost as much as it did Darcy, she simply answered by standing on her toes and brushing his lips with the lightest of kisses.

The happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never felt before, and it took a moment for him to steady himself enough to speak.

"You don't mind Elizabeth, if I take this as a positive indication you may be weakening toward me?" he asked in lowered tones, and was elated as he heard a hint of Elizabeth's light laugh in her reply.

"Mr Darcy... you can take it as an indication that I would wish to spend the rest of my life with you... I desire nothing more than to be your wife."

A charge of passion and heartfelt delight diffused through his whole being as he finally savoured this answer to all his longings, and he drew even closer to the object of his desire, bridging the fine gap which had separated him from Elizabeth. She gasped at the sensation created by his fingers running up her bare arm, before he slipped them behind her neck to draw her lips once again to his. His kiss, though tender, was not at all tentative like Elizabeth's, and she felt herself melting as the embrace deepened, overwhelming her with a fusion of emotions and agitations which she had never before experienced, nor even imagined possible.

A passing abashment caused Elizabeth to finally break the kiss, and withdraw slightly until her back was solidly against the bookcase. Darcy was momentarily taken aback, but as a quick study of her face reassured him her the action spoke only of embarrassment, he did not move away, but instead moved his hand up to caress her face, running his fingers lightly along her jaw line before tracing her lips with his thumb.

The intensity of sensation which ran though Elizabeth made her feel weak, and she was very glad of the support of the bookcase as he deliberately leaned in to claim her lips once more, softly at first, but with an increasing passion as he moved his hand down to caress the warm exposed skin of her neck and shoulder...

It was only upon the discerning of servant's voices just outside the library, that Darcy pulled back with a slight curse at the interruption. The new lovers stood slightly apart from each other, in an almost guilty silence, and they listened to the chatter move away down the hallway, before Darcy again leaned forward with the whispered suggestion that they might take a walk together in the grounds.

Elizabeth readily agreed, thinking that some fresh air and activity might be a wise choice for them both at that moment, and she allowed him to take her hand to lead her out to one of the gardens, as her mind struggled to come to terms with the delightful, but still bewildering, mélange of sensations and emotions that continued to hold her, and render her seemingly incapable of fully coherent thought. She glanced up at his profile as they moved away from the building, and marvelled at his outward composure - he seemed almost too calm too assured, and she discerned a stab of feeling akin to annoyance, at his incredible self-sufficiency. They rounded a corner though, where the walk was sheltered of the view from the house, and any such feeling completely dissipated as he shot her an uncharacteristic and boyish grin, before taking her completely unawares by lifting her from her feet and spinning her round in a motion that spoke of unrestrained joy.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said as he set her again on her feet, enjoying that she had to hold to him tighter to retain her balance, "I'm finding it difficult to fully believe my good fortune. You have made me the happiest of men."

"Mr Darcy..." she began.

"William."

"Excuse me?"

"William... please call me William. Mr Darcy seems so distant."

"William...?" she tried tentatively.

"Yes my love," he answered in soft tones, as he moved his face closer to hers.

"I've forgotten what I was going to say..." was all she could manage.

"It's of no mind," he answered in almost a whisper. "I can think of a better use for your lips at the moment."

Elizabeth could just vaguely wonder, as once more Darcy's lips took her own, if she would ever again be able to string together a coherent sentence... before realising she didn't even care.


Chapter 26

Posted on Friday, 9 August 2002, at 12:07 a.m.

Darcy continued in his 'better use' of Elizabeth's lips for quite some minutes more, his fingers also finding 'better' occupation in the silkiness of her hair and the smoothness of her skin, leaving both himself and his fiancée more affected than even previous. When he finally withdrew his lips from hers he was further moved as, rather than pull back herself, Elizabeth instead leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder and accepting his arms as they came around her to bring her even closer in a firm embrace. They remained standing thus for some time, savouring not only the physical pleasure of the position, but also the feeling of belonging... of how right it was for them to be together... before Darcy moved back slightly in order to tilt her face to him for another tender kiss, then take her hand to lead her further along the walk.

" It's hard to believe now," Darcy smiled, "that less that a hour ago I was still very uncertain of whether such happiness could ever be mine."

Elizabeth coloured a little as she replied, "My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you. I never meant to discourage you, it's just with so many people attending to our every conversation, I found it almost impossible to act with anything like ease."

"I tried to assure myself that this might be the case," Darcy answered, "but since I misjudged matters so thoroughly in Kent, it has been harder to maintain true confidence in regard to my reading of your thoughts."

Elizabeth, feeling even more embarrassed at this first mention of all which had passed at Hunsford, replied after a thoughtful pause, "We should not quarrel for the greater share of misunderstanding annexed to that evening, The discernment of neither, if strictly examined, would receive credit; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved in understanding.''

``But Elizabeth, what did you say of me that I did not deserve? For, though some of your reproofs were formed on mistaken premises, my behaviour to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.''

"Oh William, ought not the pain of that night now be forgotten? You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.''

``I cannot be so easily reconciled to the past myself. The recollection of what I then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: "had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner." Those were your words. You know not, you can scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me."

``Oh! do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at all. I assure you that I have long felt the regret of that evening.''

"Elizabeth my love, you have nothing to repent in you refusal," Darcy replied. "I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.''

"Oh William, it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, to refuse the man I loved... and I have often wondered if it were the most foolish... a simple yes might have spared such pain... we would have come through eventually, we'd have worked things out, would not have we?"

"Only if my arrogance and thoughtlessness did not smother your love first, if it did not mortally damage your regard before I were able to learn that which I needed to," Darcy replied with a surprising seriousness. "You were right in believing that love cannot survive without respect... and it frightens me to think of what a union between us might have become had you accepted me that night."

"I now refuse to believe it would have been insurmountable," Elizabeth protested, not surprisingly reluctant to credit such a view of things whilst experiencing such happiness. "Your letter showed how mistaken I had been in many of my assumptions..."

Darcy smiled at the mention of his letter. ``Did it,'' said he, ``did it soon make you think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its contents?''

She explained what its effect on her had been, and how much greater her loss had appeared after reading its explanations and professions.

``When I wrote that letter,'' replied Darcy, ``I believed myself perfectly calm and rational, persuading myself that I only wished to clear my motives before you, but I am since convinced that it was written in desperate hope that you might repent of your refusal. If I am honest too, I'll admit to having softened the representation of many of my actions in the hope that you might think better of me.''

"Oh William, you are without a doubt too hard upon yourself," Elizabeth laughed up at him as she led him to a seat in the garden. "Let us accept then, that we both had lessons to learn from that evening, and agree therefore, for neither of us to look back on it with self reproach."

``That is easy for you to suggest Elizabeth," he replied as he seated himself at her side. "Your retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that any comfort in looking back is of innocence. But with me, it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude which cannot, which ought not, be repelled."

"You underestimate yourself so," Elizabeth gently chided. "Look at the pains you have taken, the efforts you have undergone, to change for me. I knew it must be true love..." she grinned, "...when even my mother began writing to me of your excellent qualities. It takes a very brave man to court the good opinion of my mother."

Darcy could not help but laugh. "Remember though Elizabeth, that all my reform might be put down to very selfish motives. Your acceptance was a prize worth working for."

"Well, I will immediately add persistence to my list of all the things I admire in you Mr Darcy."

"You have a list?" he asked, "And what happened to William?"

"A figurative one," she smiled. "And I'm sorry for my lapse into formality. This is all so new."

"Yes it is new," Darcy replied as he slipped his arm about her shoulder and drew her closer to himself, "but undeniably delightful. So what else might you have on this figurative list of yours?"

"Apart from your ten thousand pounds a year, and these beautiful grounds at Pemberley...?" Elizabeth questioned with a cheeky smile.

"Yes... apart from those," Darcy laughed, not voicing that her refusal at Hunsford also proved beyond doubt that she was no fortune seeker.

"If I did not think it might make you vain," Elizabeth replied, "I might tell you of my feelings regarding your intelligence, your humour, your knowledge, your principles, your gallantry..."

She found herself unable to continue as she was suddenly silenced by another of his kisses, which began slowly, but deepened as he pulled her closer and parted her lips with his own...

"You know Elizabeth, " Darcy lamented as he eventually pulled back from his embrace. "I'm beginning to doubt that you'll be able to add patience to this list of yours. I believe the period of our engagement may test me sorely."

"Well, there's always Scotland," Elizabeth answered, trying to keep her voice light, but actually feeling a real sympathy with his sentiment.

"Oh do not tempt me," he replied, shaking the thought from his head as he stood and again offered her his hand. "Come, I think we should walk."

They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. Immersed in the joy and security of loving, and knowing one's self loved in return, they were able to speak of feelings and thoughts that they had never previously been given voice to, or would have even thought possible to express out loud.

It was inevitable though, that the realities of life would eventually intrude upon their thoughts, and it was Elizabeth who introduced them to the conversation.

"How I am ever going to summon any enthusiasm for the remainder of our tour, I do not know. The thought of parting from you tomorrow is not at all a pleasant one. Do you think my Aunt and Uncle might be persuaded to stay on at Pemberley after all?"

"I'm afraid such an action would not secure you of my company Elizabeth, as I believe tomorrow I must leave Pemberley myself. It appears I now have some urgent business in Hertfordshire which I would not delay for the world."

"You plan to go to my father?"

"Without a doubt," he answered with a smile. "I have waited for this time for so long, that I will not now hesitate or delay. I hope to speak to your father straight away, then move on to London to have my solicitor deal with the necessary legalities of the matter. It is a dreadful thing to be so practical at a time like this, I know, but it will mean I can be back at Pemberley before your return, and then we can decide how then to move on without any unnecessary impairment."

Elizabeth could only flash a grin at his businessman like strategy. "A very efficient approach might I say sir. How long have you had this all planned out?"

"It has been formulating in the back of my mind this last half hour," Darcy replied with a grin of his own. " I'm beginning to believe I was wrong when I told you the flaw in my disposition was an unforgiving temper. I think it might be impatience after all."

"I can find no fault in your eagerness," Elizabeth replied, a becoming blush rising in her cheeks as she realised the implication of these words, and she allowed to self to be once again pulled into his arms.

It was rather past the customary hour for luncheon when Darcy and Elizabeth finally returned to the house, but both were too happy to allow the remarks of a very piqued Caroline or the curiosity of the others to unsettle them, simply explaining that they had lost track of time in enjoying the pleasures such a lovely day had to offer.

Surprisingly the rest of the day was passed in a relatively mundane fashion. The practicalities of the Gardiners and Elizabeth packing up, meant that no scheme for any general excursion could be entered into, and despite Caroline's suggestion that the remainder of the party find some more interesting employment, she could find no ally in the idea aside from Mrs Hurst, and she was fortunate to have even her support.

Caroline's feelings of animosity toward Elizabeth had increased upon arriving back at Pemberley to learn that their host had returned early, and was assumed to be somewhere in the grounds with Miss Elizabeth. It had risen to an even higher degree still, as time had moved on with no return of the couple to the house, and in her temper she had sought to lay the blame of the situation upon Louisa.

" I should have known better than to have listened to you regarding Mr Darcy being in Lambton today."

"I only repeated the information given to me," Louisa replied defensively, "and I believe it was correct. It was your own choice to come, and I can hardly be held accountable if he returned earlier than expected."

"Returned to that scheming upstart!" Caroline threw accusingly at her sister, but this was too much for Louisa.

"May I remind you that 'scheming upstart', as you chose to call her, would not have been here Caroline, had it not been for the scene you created over the close confinement of the carriage, and your rather more obvious hints that she should be waiting here for the Gardiners."

Caroline could have no rational reply, but she still chose to leave the blame with Louisa, who suffered the brunt of her sister's ill-temper for much of the afternoon.

If it had not been for the prospect of Elizabeth's early departure on the morrow, Caroline would have found it even difficult to maintain any thing approaching an air of good humour in her continued attentions to Mr Darcy upon his return. At the first opportunity after luncheon she had attached herself again to the object of desire, and would not be dislodged by either his inattention, or even his overt suggestions of how she might otherwise occupy herself.

Still, the underlying fulfilment which resulted from that morning's understanding, could not be dampened simply by such an inconvenience as Caroline's possessiveness, and the two lovers contented themselves in the security of the knowledge of the other's affections, and through the more subtle communication of their feelings through many a shared look or a glance. There were moments when Elizabeth found it difficult to contain her laughter at certain expressions of exasperation, or occasionally even disbelief, in her fiancé's eyes, but the joy he'd feel upon the conspiratorial and cheeky grin she'd send him in response, made the vexation almost worth while.

With any attempt for time alone again with Elizabeth foiled by Caroline, Darcy finally accepted the unlikelyhood of achieving this aim, and instead escaped Caroline through inviting Charles to ride with him, the two men returning just in time to prepare to dine, feeling vigorous and refreshed.

The evening's entertainment however, suited both Elizabeth and Darcy as they sat down to cards at the same table, happy to be seated beside each other after Miss Bingley ,who upon hearing Darcy invite Elizabeth to play, had without a hesitation, come forward to claim the seat across from him as his partner.

Mr Hurst joined the group across from Elizabeth, and found a her capable player early in the game, but became frustrated as her attention to the cards seemed to wander after a time. Mr Darcy appeared to notice it as well, addressing her with a look of pure innocence, as a flush seemed to rise on her face.

"Are you well Miss Bennet, you look somewhat discomposed?" he stated, knowing full well that it was the placement, under the table, of his leg against her own which must be the cause of her distraction. "Is there anything I might get you for relief? -- A glass of wine perhaps?"

``No, I thank you;'' she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. ``There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well."

"I am very glad to hear that," he replied with a gracious smile, deflecting promise of revenge she managed to send him through the look in her eyes.

He played very well through the next few hands, but Elizabeth seeing a kind of smug satisfaction in his face at how easily he'd be able unsettle her, managed to return some in kind, with the very forward movement of sliding her hand onto his knee.

The game did lot continue long after this, as it was ended by Mr Hurst throwing in his hand in horror, exclaiming that if no-one wished to attend he saw no point in continuing. Elizabeth excused herself, explaining she was rather tired and really should retire for the evening, before slipping away to speak in lowered tones with Jane, inviting her to come to her room that night, if she could, for a sisterly talk.

As she cast her eye around the parlour before she left, she was surprised to see Mr Darcy was no longer present, but was therefore almost anticipating it when he appeared to draw her aside into a small alcove in the Hall way, on the way to her room.

"However did you manage to effect your escape William?" she asked, with a smile at being able to feel his arms around her once more after the restraint of the afternoon.

"I said I was seeing about supper," he answered as he moved up his fingers to caress the smoothness of her face. "I'll have to return in a moment, but I could not let you retire without saying a proper goodnight."

"And what is entailed in a proper goodnight?" Elizabeth asked with a whisper as he moved his lips to hers in demonstration, and allowed his fingers to continue their tantalising exploration of her softness, sliding them down her neck to the contours of her throat and shoulders, whilst his other arm pulled her closer to him still.

As occupied as they were, they did not hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late, and they quickly came apart upon hearing Jane's surprised intake of breath.

Recovering swiftly, Elizabeth simply shot her sister an embarrassed grin, then stood on her toes to give Darcy another quick kiss, before grabbing her sister's hand to drag her into her room, where half the night was lost in conversation.


Chapter 27

Posted on Sunday, 18 August 2002, at 11:56 p.m.

Elizabeth made her way to the breakfast parlour rather earlier than had been her wont whilst at Pemberley, but she had woken at first light and, despite the lateness of the hour in which she had finally gained sleep, found her thoughts and feelings still too joyful and too busy to contemplate even trying to lay in a while longer, particularly given the idea which played in the back of her mind that Darcy also might rise early this morning.

She stood for a moment experiencing a quiet disappointment upon entering an apparently deserted parlour, and therefore could not tell if she was more startled or pleased when an arm slipped around her from behind, and a light breath tickled her ear as it carried a whispered "sleep well my love?".

"Well, but not long," she managed to reply, surprising herself as she instinctively relaxed back against his chest. "Jane and I spoke rather late into the night... and you sir?"

"I was up rather late too, arranging matters to allow me to leave early today," Darcy offered, before succumbing to the temptation of placing some light kisses upon the enticingly exposed neck not far from his lips, and smiling as he felt Elizabeth shiver in response.

He loosened his hold momentarily, giving Elizabeth the freedom to turn in his arms.

"You know sir," Elizabeth said, regarding him with an air of composure despite the inner chaos his touch always seemed to create. "I begin to think it is a good thing that we will be apart these ten days. You unsettle me so thoroughly."

Darcy simply returned a smile which held not even a hint of repentance, before leaning in to unsettle her even further with a kiss that spoke rather eloquently of both of his satisfaction and his longing.

Elizabeth finally drew back, completely unable to give her fiancé the look of reproach he no doubt deserved for disturbing her senses with such obvious calculation, as the truth was, she enjoyed it too much.

Darcy, knowing they would not be alone for long, was about to take advantage of Elizabeth's lips yet again when the sudden entry of Georgiana into the parlour caused them to quickly, and guiltily, pull apart. She had not missed the intimacy of the couples previous situation and in an acute embarrassment was about to leave the room when she heard her brother laugh.

"There must be something about sisters Elizabeth, which gives them ill-timing," he remarked. "Last night it was Jane, and this morning Georgiana."

Georgiana just stood there, her eyes affixed on her brother with a stupefaction that he seemed in such a good humour after being interrupted in such a position.

"Georgiana," her brother continued, "I would like to introduce my fiancée, Elizabeth has agreed to be my wife."

The joy with which the normally shy young lady received this news is not to be underestimated, and she reacted with such spontaneous affection as to take both Darcy and Elizabeth by surprise. The happiness she showed in accepting Elizabeth as a sister was both candid and sincere, adding even more to the pleasure of the newly engaged couple. The joy was to be shared further upon the entry of Bingley and Jane - Bingley's heartfelt congratulations immediately confirming his good information on the matter as he welcomed Darcy as a future brother with a manner that was everything happy and genuine.

They made a merry group as they settled down to break their fast, talking over their satisfaction at the engagement and asking more of any plans regarding the specifics of when the wedding might be. Darcy only replied that he sincerely hoped the engagement would not be too long, silencing Elizabeth for a moment as a warmth rose to her cheeks. He then went on to detail his intent leave them to travel to Hertfordshire that day, and was pleased to see that the furthering of his purpose was seen as very adequate compensation for loss of his company for a time. His sister did not seem at all dismayed that she would be left with the full responsibility of hostess whilst he saw to such matters.

"I think though," Darcy said at one point, "that it might be best for the news of our engagement be kept to ourselves until permission from Mr Bennet be obtained and an announcement made in the papers."

"I do not believe I will be able to keep this from my aunt and uncle," Elizabeth ventured. "I cannot imagine being able to hold in such information until I am much past the gate, let alone for ten days."

William directed an appreciative smile at Elizabeth as she spoke, inwardly pleased that she desired to share the news with others. "I should never wish to exclude he Gardiners," he qualified. "I would have no doubt of their discretion. I only meant that it would not be right for the report to go generally abroad before the engagement is properly sanctioned. Elizabeth... you do not think your father will have any difficulties with the attachment?"

"No," replied Elizabeth, Jane and Bingley all at once, giving Darcy all the assurance he wished for.

"I think he may be a little saddened at the distance which will separate us," Elizabeth admitted, "but he will not refuse... I'm sure he will rejoice at my happiness and good fortune... I have a letter upstairs which I hope you will deliver to him."

"Certainly my love," Darcy replied, his casual endearment being enough to send shivers up her spine. "Anything to expedite this all to its most right and proper conclusion."

The group appreciated a leisurely breakfast with only a late addition of the Gardiners to their party, before the business involved in getting away pulled them in different directions. Much to Darcy's great frustration he was unable to snatch any time alone with Elizabeth prior to her departure, so he had to content himself with the intimacy that might be shared with a look, and with the simple touch of her hand as he assisted her into the carriage. It is perhaps not surprising that at the last moment he chose to disregarded the public nature of their farewell, to place a soft kiss upon her hand before reluctantly letting go and watching the carriage until it was out of sight.

It was only upon the disappearance of the carriage that Caroline saw fit to join the remainder of the company. The smug pleasure she felt at the departure of Miss Bennet was by no means insubstantial, and she was truly looking forward to asserting her presence as the only single female who could be of interest to Darcy. Sidling up to him on the steps she determinedly took his arm.

"I can not say how refreshing it is to have the intimacy of our group again restored Mr Darcy," she purred with a self-satisfied smile. "I dare say we will do quite well by ourselves."

"I hope you will," Darcy replied, still a little distracted as his thoughts followed Elizabeth. "I have every faith that Georgiana is quite grown up enough to perform the duties of a hostess."

Caroline could not quite fathom why Darcy was suddenly speaking of his sister's hostessing abilities, but was in too good a mood to question the vagrancy of his mind, and agreed with Darcy's assessment of Georgiana's abilities whole-heartedly.

"It is good to know I'm leaving you in capable hands," Darcy said quite cheerfully, not even noticing he look of horrified realisation that appeared on the face of the woman at his side.

It was too much for Caroline to take in as the second carriage rolled up the drive to the steps of Pemberley, and she could do nothing but stare as Darcy detached himself from her and made his farewells to the rest of the group gathered at the entryway. She was only able to regain her equanimity upon Charles saying something about Darcy's business in London, giving her the consolation that he'd be at least travelling in the direction opposite to Elizabeth Bennet. Plastering a smile on her face she joined in with the wishes of the others that he might have a safe and pleasant journey, before retiring to her room with a headache that would take quite some time to dissipate, though it was nothing compared to the headache that would come upon her only a few days hence after reading the announcement's section of the London papers.

~/~

The days that separated the lovers moved more quickly for Darcy than Elizabeth, he at least had occupation and purpose in his business in both Hertfordshire and London, were as Elizabeth was finding it difficult to muster the appropriate interest and enthusiasm for the sights and landmarks she was to take in during the rest of their tour. Her only consolation was in the Gardiners satisfaction in learning of the engagement, and of them taking many opportunities to talk with her about the worthiness of Darcy, and joining in the happiness of listening to Elizabeth speak of him in return.

The nervous anticipation Elizabeth felt upon returning to Pemberley was acute. The reassurances Darcy had given that he would be home before her arrival were not enough to overcome a slight sense disbelief that everything might go so smoothly for him as to allow it.

Her hopes though, were more than answered as they were welcomed at the door by the master himself, who had been in expectation of their coming for the past hour and a half. Greetings were exchanged and as refreshments were served, Elizabeth even received warmly insincere best wishes from Bingley's sisters on her engagement.

Darcy had taken his place at Elizabeth's side, and was finding it hard to be attentive to anyone, or anything else, but he was trying as best he could. After going through the social motions for upwards of forty minutes however, it became too much for him, and he begged that he and Elizabeth might be excused for a while as he had some matters on which he needed to speak with her.

Both felt a tangible sense of relief as they walked toward the conservatory, but they were also aware that, due to their engagement, propriety would allow them less time alone together rather than more, and of the need to appreciate each opportunity together they could find. Darcy was not slow to make use of this opportunity, and immediately upon obtaining privacy from prying eyes he pulled her to him to claim her with a kiss that left no doubt as to how much he had missed her during their time apart. He had matters which he needed to address with her, but her physical presence... her mouth... her eyes... her body... drove such practicalities from his mind as took her hand and drew her further into the conservatory where he made known to her, yet again, the strength of his feelings, leaving Elizabeth more than breathless and overwhelmed.

It took every ounce of his self discipline to eventually release her. Elizabeth's response to his ardour was everything he could have hoped for, making it more difficult still to pull back and speak of the matters at hand, but possibly more imperative.

"Elizabeth..." he began, before quickly finding himself at a loss on how to proceed. It was not only the distraction created by the proximity of Elizabeth, but a real awareness that he may have been too presumptuous in his planning with Mr Bennet whilst in Hertfordshire, which gave him pause.

"Yes William...?" Elizabeth's eyes regarded him with a slight amusement at his sudden loss of composure, pleased that he too could be as affected as she was.

Well, presumptuous or not, it had been done and it was time to speak to her now.

"Do you recall Elizabeth, joking about going to Scotland...?"

Elizabeth nodded... surprisingly not at all alarmed at where this conversation might go.

"Was there any seriousness in that comment at all?" he queried, before adding "I am not suggesting we run away, but I am asking if you might be open to a wedding earlier than might normally be expected."

"William... the last ten days I have felt a continual longing to be with you once more," she admitted with a slightly self-conscious smile. "I believe was a rather uninspired companion for my poor aunt and uncle... What I am trying to say is... I believe I might find the period of our engagement one of frustration... where there'll be nothing I might care to do, but count down the days until we are wed."

"Can you count to three?" Darcy questioned.

"What are you saying?" Elizabeth replied, giving him a look that contained a significant disbelief.

"Your family is to arrive tomorrow," Darcy went on, "along with some members of my own. Lady Catherine has declined the invitation, but my Uncle Fitzwilliam and his family is expected."

Elizabeth just looked at him as she tried to take in the import and implication of his words.

"I obtained a special licence whilst in London, and have arranged with the local Reverend for use of our own chapel for the Wedding on Sunday... that is Elizabeth, only if you are happy with such an arrangement... I told you impatience was my greatest fault," he finished with an abashed smile, "I obviously had too much time to scheme whilst on my journey to Longbourn."

"People will conjecture on our wish to hurry," Elizabeth felt the need to remind him, knowing the value of family pride to Darcy.

"Time will prove all officious conjecture wrong Elizabeth," Darcy countered. "The opinions of others on this match are of no concern to me... but if they worry you dearest..."

"No... no..." Elizabeth interrupted. "I simply need to know that you've thought this through..."

"I have thought on, and planned for nothing else these past months. I only wish to know how you feel on the matter Elizabeth. Would you rather wait and be married from your home? Just say the word and it will be done."

"So you are offering me a choice here," Elizabeth stated, "between being joined to you at Pemberley in a few days time, in the presence of all who are most dear to me... or of suffering weeks of suspense, on the most part separated from you, whilst being subjected to my mother's planning and nerves regarding a wedding from home?"

Darcy laughed at her succinct estimation of the alternatives before her, whist being unable to resist the urge to run his fingers along the smoothness of her jaw line, before allowing them to wander to caress the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders.

"I would say you have the sum of it my love. I believe it was your father's considerations on your mother's 'nerves', which made him so receptive to my suggestion in the first place, but only after demanding reassurance that I had not compromised you in any way."

Elizabeth felt warmth rising in her, whether it was more in response to the embarrassment of her father's questioning, or the sensations created by Darcy's touch, she did not know.

"I think I have decided William, to actually add impatience to my list of your good qualities," she answered with a becoming blush. "I too am beginning to think we cannot be married soon enough."

Not much more was said after this exchange... but much more was communicated before they responded to the necessity of rejoining the others.


Chapter 28

Posted on Monday, 26 August 2002, at 8:22 p.m.

Given that the passage of a few short days would answer months of longing, Darcy's feelings of fulfilment and happy anticipation could not be doubted. He felt favourably toward the world as a whole, and though he could not be quite relaxed upon the influx of so many people to his home, he dealt with the situation with an admirable calmness. He even bore with the inanities and deference of Mrs Bennet with a cheerful forbearance and if he did shrug his shoulders, it was not till she was out of sight.

Elizabeth herself was truly happy at the arrival of her family, wishing to share her joy with those whom she did, despite their imperfections, really love. Her happiness increased further upon seeing that the improvement of her younger sisters had indeed continued, with both Mary and Kitty having apparently grown in both confidence and responsibility over the weeks in which they had charge of the Gardiner children. It was in Mary that Elizabeth was able to see the greatest change, and this improvement was even reflected in her countenance, making her look sometimes quite pretty. Though her old manner often made an appearance, there where long periods in which she seemed to forget the need to prove herself, and Elizabeth received real pleasure from watching her relax with the children, smile far more, and present a less severe facade in so many ways.

Lydia's behaviour was still cause for some concern, but even she was more restrained in a way, not primarily through any great improvement in self discipline as in the case of her sisters, Elizabeth surmised, but she was doing better because of direct discipline from her father. It didn't escape Elizabeth that both the men most important to her, had made deliberate and definite changes in their behaviour and lives for her benefit, and she felt incredibly fortunate and humbled by such knowledge.

The awareness of how truly blessed she was did not stop there. It soon became obvious that her fiancé's machinations regarding the wedding had not simply stopped with overcoming any legal impediment to the expedition of the service, but had extended to a thoughtfulness of those things more personal that she, and even her family, might require. Upon returning her room after all the of the Bennet's luggage had been unloaded, she found not only had a great many of her own belongings and clothing been brought from Longbourn, but that an unfamiliar trunk was sitting there, apparently complete with some new gowns and an embarrassingly expensive looking collection of opulent nightwear.

The arrival of the trunk was soon explained upon her mother following her into her room in order to gush upon Mr Darcy's generosity and watch her daughter's reaction to the fine gift.

"Oh! my sweetest Lizzy, what a generous man you have captured. How rich and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages you will have! What beautiful gowns, this grand estate, a house in town! Every thing that is charming! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! I am quite distracted. Did you see the gowns he charged me with purchasing for you... did you see the trousseau... not a word about cost... not a word on restraint... and he only spoke of these as something to tide you by until you could go to town yourself."

Elizabeth, embarrassed by her mothers words and overwhelmed at the gesture, could not immediately think of how to respond, leaving a space for her mother to immediately continue.

"Then for him to insist on also buying new gowns for myself and your sisters was too much! I could have strangled your father when he protested, but thankfully Mr Darcy was very obstinate and your father was forced to yield. Mr Darcy maintained that we were not to miss out simply because of the speed of the wedding. Oh! the five days we stayed at his townhouse to allow us to shop in London were wonderful."

This was almost becoming too much for Elizabeth to take in, but thankfully the entry of Jane soon diluted the situation, and a surprisingly moving time was shared by all three as Mrs Bennet showed what she had purchased on her daughter's behalf, the most emotional point being Mrs Bennet's production of a wedding gown.

"Oh Mother," Elizabeth gasped, "How did you know?"

"How could she not know?" Jane asked with a laugh. "I lost count of how many times you returned to that pattern when we chose for my own wedding."

"I recalled how much you were taken by it," Mrs Bennet replied, now even more pleased with her choice upon witnessing Elizabeth's obvious delight in the dress, "and this was made up on special order. Thankfully they had kept all your measurements after Jane's wedding. I'm afraid there was no time for others gowns to be particularly made up, but these have all been adjusted to your requirements. Madame is very clever that way..."

Mrs Bennet actually found herself silenced as her daughter rose to show her thanks with a tight embrace.

"You do not think it too daring?" Elizabeth enquired as she pulled herself away, "...too French?"

"I think it will suit you admirably," Mrs Bennet blushingly reassured her daughter, "and I doubt you'll hear any complaints from Mr Darcy. Are you sure you do not want more lace and ribbons? I bought more to be added, but Kitty insisted you would like it as it is."

"No mother. It is perfect in its simplicity."

Mrs Bennet left a short time later in order to supervise the unpacking of her own trucks, leaving a still somewhat overcome Elizabeth to the ministrations of her sister.

"Mother may have her flaws," Jane offered with a smile, but no one will call her deficient when it comes to fashion.

Elizabeth felt a release of some tension, and laughed at the comment.

"She certainly seems to have an eye as to what might give pleasure to gentlemen," Elizabeth coloured as she lifted and fingered the light, and almost translucent material of one of the many night-gowns. "I do not know if I shall ever have the courage to wear these."

"Oh Lizzy, you will," answered Jane, colouring a little herself. "I thought the same when mother took me shopping before my wedding but now..."

"Is it really like it is said Jane? I must admit to some nervousness. This has all happened so suddenly... but when I am close by him I feel like I have never felt before, and do not think I can be his wife soon enough."

"Lizzy, I envy you being able to marry so quickly. The period of our engagement seemed to drag indeterminately, it was as though we were in a no-mans land, just waiting for that time when our life together would truly begin... and yes, the marriage relationship can be as exciting and fulfilling as they say..." she added in an almost embarrassed tone, "...and it grows even better."

~/~

The crowded state of Pemberley when coupled with all the required preparation for the wedding, left little room for Darcy and Elizabeth to find time alone, but despite being in company, they did manage to be beside each other at every convenient opportunity, and also the occasional inconvenient one. If Darcy's uncle and aunt had been in any doubt as to the feelings and compatibility of these two, their fears were more than quieted upon observing them together. They may have hoped that their nephew might make a more advantageous alliance when he chose to marry, but they could not argue with his obvious affection, nor could they find any thing lacking in the person or essentials of Elizabeth, therefore they chose to be happy with him.

Another welcome addition to the party was that of Colonel Fitzwilliam and his older brother, who were able to join them the day before the wedding. Elizabeth found some amusement in the Colonel's initial embarrassment after obviously having put two and two together over whom Darcy had been so taken with prior to their visit to Kent. That his faux pas during their last conversation at Rosings was at the forefront of his mind, became apparent to Elizabeth upon finding herself in his company whilst out of the hearing of the others in the room.

"I must apologise Miss Bennet, for speaking out of turn at last April. Most of what was said was purely my own conjecture, and if it caused any difficulty between yourself and my cousin I am very sorry."

"Do not worry," Elizabeth answered, smilingly. "We had some matters to work through, but have dealt with them very satisfactorily."

"I am glad to hear it," the Colonel answered, happy to know his error was not to be held against him. "Does Darcy know of our conversation that day?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not at all. I cannot imagine any purpose would be served by such a revelation... and you need not worry, our slowness in resolving our relationship was due to matters other than your words."

"Thank you, and may I say," he offered seriously, "if he'd not realised the prize that you are, far and above his objections, he'd have been a fool indeed."

Elizabeth simply laughed and pointed out that her fiancé's removal from the list of the eligible, might leave more "less objectionable" women for him."

"Yes... I suppose it might," the Colonel replied with a grin.

~/~

The morning of the wedding finally arrived and incredibly the bustle in the house appeared to increase even more. The party of guests may have only been small for a wedding, but as they were all - including the four young Gardiner children - staying at the one house, the number seemed huge. About an hour and a half before the service, an unusual quiet then seemed to descend upon Pemberley as everyone retired to prepare themselves. The priority given to the bride, and the exclusive assistance of the highly recommended personal maid whom Darcy had already employed, meant she was all but ready when an unexpected knock came on the door.

Elizabeth ran her finger across the seal of the note she had just been handed, before opening it. A smile came to her face as she read the message and she immediately excused herself to move through the almost deserted hallways to seek out Darcy's study.

"You wished to see me sir?" she questioned softly upon entering the room without knocking.

Darcy looked up from his position at the window, and for a moment said nothing.

"Oh my..." was all he could initially manage. "Do you have any idea of how wonderfully enticing you look?" he finally added, as he slowly walked toward her.

"You approve of the gown then?" she asked giving a playful little curtsy, which possibly gave a better glimpse of her décolletage than Elizabeth would have intended.

"I can not imagine any future husband who would not approve," Darcy answered, appreciation heavy in his voice, "but I can think of at least one aunt of mine who might be scandalised."

"Somehow the idea of scandalising your Aunt Catherine can not really concern me today," she replied with a cheeky smile, unintentionally discomposing him even further.

"There was something you wanted to tell me?" she prompted after quite some seconds ticked by without him saying a word.

"Ah, yes..." he said, pulling his mind back from where it had wandered. "I wished to give you this before the wedding."

Elizabeth hesitated to take the small case he had produced from his pocket, protesting that he had already been too generous, but Darcy lightly brushed aside her concerns, smilingly urging her to open it.

It was then Elizabeth's turn to be silent as she knew not the words to thank him for the gift before her.

"You do like it?" Darcy queried. "I had it made up particularly whist in London. The main stone had been set in a piece of jewellery which belonged to my mother, but somehow the setting seemed too elaborate to sit well with your taste."

"Oh William, it is simply beautiful," was all she could say.

"Then it suits you perfectly," he whispered to her as he lifted the fine chain and moved behind her to fasten it around her neck, his fingers lingering upon her skin as he did so.

His hand remained playing with her hair as Elizabeth turned toward him intending to voice her thanks, but with him standing so near she instead found her thoughts more easily expressed in actions, and she moved her lips to his. Darcy was by no means unreceptive, and quite some minutes passed before he was able to withdraw himself a little.

"I'll take that as a sign of approval," Darcy stated. He tried to speak lightly in an attempt diffuse the intensity of passion which he felt, but failed dismally as his fingers moved, almost of their own accord, to trace along the chain to the delicate filigree work from which a single exquisite stone was suspended.

"I wanted a token which spoke more personally of my thoughts of you," he told her as he fingered the stone, causing her skin to burn despite the lightness of his touch. "You, like this diamond, have no need for - or even want of - elaborate ornamentation or finery... but are of a value far surpassing that which can be commonly found."

"Oh... you pay me too great a compliment," she whispered. "It is I who has found that which is of worth beyond words."

Not surprisingly a silence returned to the room as Elizabeth found herself again pulled into a fiery embrace which eventually ended with a reluctant withdrawal of Darcy's lips.

"If we do not attend to our preparations..." Darcy stated, a huskiness evident in his voice, "...we will never make it to the altar. Now go," he added with a smile. "I will see you at the church."

~/~

In Elizabeth's mind the service had a sense of unreality surrounding it, which paradoxically came from the very substance and weight of the ceremony. It was as though the very depth of the promises, and the admonishments on the holiness and sanctity of marriage, transcended all that which was worldly.

Darcy would have not at all disagreed with her feelings as he repeated the vows without a hesitation or a doubt; they were true, they were right, they confirmed a profundity of reality and a commitment already begun.

The wedding celebrations following the service though, moved as a blur, and looking back at it Elizabeth had more a collection of impressions rather than memories. The idea she was loved, accepted, and that so many dear ones could share whole-heartedly in her happiness, moved her more than she could say. They made a lively party, and even Caroline seemed to be in tolerably good spirits - the transference of all her best attention to Darcy's elder cousin proving that her broken heart was not beyond mending and that, in her mind at least, Darcy was by no means irreplaceable.

Finally the social demands of the day drew to and end, allowing the couple to take leave of their well-wishers. Relaxing back in seats opposite they said nothing as the carriage rolled out of the drive, Darcy only releasing a huge sigh which spoke of relief, before moving next to his wife as soon as they were out of sight of Pemberley.

"We have survived my love," he breathed as he placed his arm around her and pulled her closer.

"It seems so quiet suddenly... I almost feel it would break a spell to speak above a whisper," she answered, nestling against his side. "Would you believe that it has just occurred to me that in all the activity of the last few days I have completely forgotten to ask where we are to spend the next weeks.?"

"I would certainly believe it." Darcy laughed. "I had noticed your singular lack of curiosity in that area. I thought we might go to the lakes to assuage you disappointment at not being able to go so far with the Gardiners."

"Oh, that is no disappointment to me," Elizabeth replied with a smile. "I will always be more than grateful to them for not being able to go to the lakes. Derbyshire did for me quite well."

"As much as I love Derbyshire," Darcy countered. "I refuse to share my first weeks of marriage with such a melee of friends and relatives as are currently at Pemberley."

"So where do we stay tonight?" Elizabeth asked, hoping he did not notice the small blush which rose to her cheeks as she alluded to the first night they would spend as husband and wife.

"A guest house not quite an hour from here," her husband replied, but the practicalities of the night, and of the weeks ahead, were quickly forgotten as the conversation moved on to matters of more intimacy, giving them opportunity to share, and to begin to demonstrate, the strength of thoughts and feelings each held for the other.

With all impediment to the freedom of their expression removed, their arrival at the guest house was immediately more frustrating than welcome, and both felt rather more an increase in tension than any relief, as they had to postpone the exploration of their new status until after introductions were made, belongings unpacked and supper given at least a cursory attention.

There was a definite unease in the air after Darcy upon entering the dining room, had immediately requested Elizabeth's setting be moved from the opposite end of the long table to beside his. There was nothing obvious in the housekeepers demeanour which expressed disapproval, but both Elizabeth and Darcy could see she was a little put out. After the privacy which had been afforded by the carriage ride, the constant presence in the dining room of the housekeeper and the serving girl seemed, despite their discretion of movement, almost intrusive, and it was as Elizabeth played with her second course, that she leaned toward her husband to speak in a tone that she hoped would not be audible across the room.

"William, I know it is nonsensical when compared to the noise and bustle of Pemberley these last few days, but I actually feel a little crowded... a little too much like we are of interest. Is there any way you could dismiss the servants for the rest of the night?"

"All of them?" he queried with a raised brow. "Will you not be needing the assistance of your ladies maid tonight?"

Elizabeth laughed at this. "I have just come from a home with six women sharing two ladies maids. Believe me, I am not only capable of looking after myself, but quite practised in it."

"I never doubted your capability Elizabeth," Darcy smiled in response. "It is just that I have always thought that women's attire had an abundance of awkwardly placed hooks and ties."

"If I find any difficulty in undressing William," she whispered, her lips to his ear, "I hope I can rely on you to help me out."

Darcy may have been surprised at her boldness, but the certainty that he was by no means dissatisfied was demonstrated not only in the look she received in response, but in his immediate dismissal of all staff until the morning.

Hours later Elizabeth lay in their bed relishing the comfort as her body curled into his, and security of his arms holding her close. She should have been exhausted, yet she refused to yield to sleep, wanting to stay awake still longer to appreciate more the warmth of his body, the weight of his touch, and her overwhelming sense of belonging. A slight movement as her husband adjusted his hold made her question her belief that he had found sleep.

"Are you still awake William?" she whispered, only to receive some ticklish kisses down her neck by way of an answer.

"I don't want to fall asleep," she confided in him. "This is all too much and I wish to take it all in, to get the last out of every single moment of the day."

Her heart lifted as she heard his low laugh. "I understand very well my love, but remember we have tomorrow too... and years to come."

"It's almost too wonderful to accept. It's been quite some day."

"And it's been quite some night," Darcy added, a smile evident in his tone.

"Would you believe," Elizabeth questioned with an incredulity in her voice, as she turned to nuzzle his neck, "that Jane told me it gets even better."

"I would be willing to invest a great deal of time and energy..." he paused for a moment in order to place a light kiss on her lips, "...to test the veracity of such a claim," the next moments proving to Elizabeth that he was true to his word.

Though a number of eyebrows had been raised over the speed of the Darcy wedding, as the years moved on even the most cynical had to acknowledge theirs as a model of a healthy and happy marriage. No-one who knew them well could ever doubt their compatibility or the strength of their affection. This is not to say they never disagreed, but the early foundation of their relationship which insisted that respect must exist along side love, gave them a solid base on which to stand upon at any time of trial.

They learned quicker than most, that a small amount of grace earlier on in a argument could counteract the need for a much greater amount at a later stage, and that holding tight to injured pride was not conducive to the fulfilment or happiness of either. They also discovered that differences in approach and opinion, instead of being a thing to fear, provided a dynamic substance in their relationship which encouraged each to extend themselves and grow, both individually, and as a couple.

When in their later years they looked back over their life together, it was never without a sense of having been greatly blessed. Not only were they given the joy of each other's love, company and even passion, into old age, but they had all the happiness of seeing their three children grow into adults of both intelligence and substance, able to make their own matches of equal sense, love and promise, leaving nothing wanting.

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.